Written By: Asymphototropic
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam wing.
Author: Asymphototropic (attracted toward the
light, but never quite arrives there)
Rating: NC 17
Pairings: 3x4, 5x6, 1x2, hopeful 3x2x4, 5x2, 6x2
Warnings: Innuendo, fantasies, lemon/lime, fluff
Summary: Each of the pilots reveals their own
fantasy for seducing Duo into their beds.
" Pop Top"
"Damn Une anyway!" Quatre's perfect complexion
flushed under the influence of his fourth bottle of Camelbrau in less
than an hour. It was a pretty harsh invective for him.
"I'm fairly certain it's against Preventers regulations to damn
your commanding officer," Wufei stated, before taking a long
swallow of his Quingdao beer.
"Why the hostility?" Zechs wondered, popping the top on
his next Budweiser. [author's note: he felt like slumming, see?]
Trowa paused with his Big Top Brew half way to his lips. He tongued
the wide mouth of the bottle reflectively. "Une kept Duo late
at work, so he had to cancel with us. A major provocation."
Heero silently quirked an inquisitive eyebrow. He had already polished
off his six pack of Kirin Ichiban and had begun sharing Zechs' case
"We had plans, Barton and I," Quatre grumbled.
In the excitement of this revelation, Chang lost his philosophical
'drink-til-I-spout-haiku' _expression. "With Duo? What sort of
"Get him tipsy and then top him," Barton stated succinctly.
"Trowa!" Winner complained.
"And you were all right with that?" Wufei voiced his surprise.
"Threesome," Winner explained.
Zechs moaned at the mental image. "Well, bad luck then. So Maxwell
is top of your 'want to pop' list, too, eh?"
Wufei scanned the inebriated group of red hot studs. "Just for
the record. Has anyone here ever had his wicked way with Maxwell?"
He noted the universal forlorn head shaking. "Anyone here have
a better seduction plan than merely getting Duo drunk and pliant?
Ha. I thought not." As punctuation, he took another lengthy gulp
of his ethanolic beverage.
"Well," Zechs cleared his throat. "Ahem. I had thought
perhaps music. Find out what Duo prefers and obtain concert tickets.
Perfect seats. Entertain him.
Wine and dine him. Champagne, caviar, and then silk sheets. Hypothetically."
His mild laughter rippled his platinum fall of glittering tresses.
Barton winked with his one visible emerald eye, temporarily blinding
himself thereby. "And then?"
"Oh, ah. Yes. Drape Duo across a luxuriously wide mattress. Slowly
undress him, button by button. Expose every inch of that pale flesh
to view. Devour him with my eyes, and then with my lips and tongue.
Run my fingers through his flame-kissed hair. Turn him, nude, over
a plush pillow. Spread those delectable buttocks wide."
"Tongue that rosy tight hole," Barton took up the tale.
Winner whimpered. "Duo would writhe at that, but we would hold
"Damn Une," Trowa reiterated.
"You don't suppose," Wufei pondered. "That she's sneaking
a little of that Maxwell hip action for herself, keeping him after
hours, do you?"
"Heavens forfend," Merquise shuddered. "What an horrific
notion. Black leather and chains. A studded quirt in her gloved hands.
"Maybe she'd want Maxwell holding the whip?" Chang theorized.
And they all suddenly took large swigs of their respective beers for
"What about you?" Zechs nudged Wufei. Somehow, the couch
cushions had subsided such that the two of them were sinking gradually
gravity on planet Earth being what it was.
Chang replied contemplatively. "Hmm. I believe I would challenge
Maxwell to a round of traditional Greco-Roman wrestling. Best of five
falls in the ring.
Meet him, warrior to warrior. He would be wearing those scant gray
fleece sweatshorts of his."
"Do tell," Barton smirked.
"And nothing else. His exposed skin would be gleaming with fragrant
oil. As I tumbled him, pinned him firmly to the mat, my face pressed
between his shoulders, they would be trembling with unexpended strength,
damp from striving. I would inhale his aroma."
"Lift that heavy weight of braid aside, nuzzling sensitive skin,
newly exposed," Quatre suggested.
"Feel his heart pounding against you as he reluctantly but thoroughly
yielded to your skillful mastery," Merquise added.
Barton licked his lips. "You would lower those clinging shorts
down slender yet muscular thighs. Only to reveal perfect gluteal curves,
framed in the tightest black jock strap."
"I specified he was wearing only the shorts," Chang protested
the proposed perversion of his fantasy. "But I'll grant you the
athletic supporter, strictly on the basis of artistic merit. The contrast
of midnight and ivory, fabric against flesh." He offered his
slightest exotic smile to the group, shaded onyx eyes glinting. "However,
if you insist on imaginative details, I suggest you use your own scenario."
Barton's voice echoed into the depths of his wide mouth bottle. "Hmm.
Yeah. Duo spread sandwich."
"Maxwell in the middle." Winner's sweet carnelian lips parted
to reveal sharp canines in a predatory chuckle. "The three of
us, collapsed in a sweating heap.
On an inflatable raft, high and dry on a deserted beach."
"Our salt laden clothes, turned ragged from overexposure, would
tear away easily," Trowa proposed.
"Mmm. Yes," Quatre agreed. He sipped his beer. "After
a careful search of our bodies..."
"Which would involve considerable mutual patting and stroking."
"We would discover our sole supply, a large tube of luscious
"Which we would have to apply to every single millimeter of exposed
"In order to obviate the risk of sunstroke."
"Taking into consideration Maxwell's extreme pallor, we would
start applying the ointment to his skin. I would take his back, and
Winner, his front."
After a moment's contemplation of the comparative merits of Duo's
ventral and dorsal surface, Quatre queried, "who gets his ears?"
Barton reflected upon the cunning curves of the L2 Kid's helix, the
delectable softness of the cute lobes. "You take the right ear,
and I'll get the left."
"Likewise, his balls."
Merquise groaned aloud. "Unfortunately its all strictly unreal."
"And extremely unlikely at that."
Silence settled upon them, interrupted by only one stifled belch.
"I'll get Maxwell," Yuy suddenly declared.
They all stared.
"Care to wager on that?" Merquise raised an elegant eyebrow
at his former rival turned colleague.
"Bravo. Two hundred credits says that you can't seduce Duo."
"What's your plan?" Quatre laughed at Heero's abrupt shift
"Watch and learn," Yuy stated emphatically. He opened his
ever-present laptop and clicked up an email transmission screen.
Merquise read the evolving message aloud over Heero's shoulder. "Maxwell.
I want to have sex with you. Come to my apartment after you get off
Yuy." Zechs chortled. "Sheer romanticism, if ever I saw
it. Who knew the perfect soldier was also the perfect poet?"
Shrugging, Heero returned to his beer can.
Ten minutes later, his remote com sounded on his belt. He popped it
open. "Yuy here. Maxwell? Are we on for tonight? Very well. I'll
see you in twenty minutes. Yuy, out."
"Damn!" Barton exclaimed as Heero headed for the exit.
Winner's aqua eyes popped. "I can't believe that actually worked."
"The simplest strategy being none at all," Wufei settled
closer to Merquise.
"I'm out a fast two hundred credits. Alas," Merquise mourned.
Chang touched his sculpted thigh in a gesture intended to comfort.
"I guess you could say, Yuy has a way with words," Barton
muttered, shaking his head.
"I told you beer would work," Winner scrunched closer to
"It was supposed to work on Maxwell, not Yuy."
"Maxwell. Yuy. Whichever." Six pilots divided equally into
twos. An equitable arrangement.
As Barton sighed softly, Quatre popped the top off another Camelbrau.
~ * ~
to "The Art Of Seduction" Index