Healing Hands

AN: Unbetaed. Watched the anime Ragnarok recently, and while I've much bad to say about the series, this acolyte girl kept shouting 'Heal! Heal! (magic spell) in the first few episodes, and then, my brain started drifting and... well, this came out of it, in time.

Trowa turned the page of his newspaper, rubbed a bare ankle against the instep of his other foot, precariously balancing both off a tipped stool. Absentmindedly, he reached out for his cup of cold coffee and took a swig. It was getting late, and his evening had been slow indeed. He'd barely had a handful of customers knock at the door of his trailer since the last performance this afternoon.

It had been Catherine's idea. They needed more money, and this had seemed an easy way of achieving that. Trowa had been reluctant, but had gone along with the sham in the end. Catherine had been persistent - and also adamant that Trowa should front them, citing his skills at adapting. Thus, there was now a big sign above his trailer door, proclaiming 'Professional Healer', with slightly smaller print below stating 'Hands-on Consultation and Treatment'.

The trick lay not in having some divine power to cure ailments, but in knowing people. The sort that would come here were either aware they would be conned, or borderline hypochondriacs clearly showing and all but saying what they wanted to be told, or the desperate and seriously ill. The latter group was blissfully the absolute minority. For them, the best Trowa could offer was a sliver of hope, and it was painful to see them leave, knowing he couldn't possibly cure them.

For a time, it had worked. Generally, his performance consisted of making a show; touch ailments while mocking trances or appear deeply concentrated, as well as use incense, candles, lotions and oils to create the feel of a séance. That was what most of the clients came for; a show. Lately, however, their customer base had dried up. There was a new star at the circus - outside the bigtop. Madam Rashmika did not ever enter the ring, like Trowa and Catherine did. Her skills lay in duping the audience before and after the main event.

Essentially, she told people's fortunes and made random predictions of the unforeseeable future. Her trick was also knowing her clients, pulling out their desires without them knowing, or studying their faces for just the right flicker of interest that signalled she was on to something. Then, she told them when they would get rich, what their predestined dream lover looked like - whatever they wanted to hear the most.

People seemed more interested in fake promises of the future than healing current hurts - not that Trowa could claim he was any more capable of living up to his supposed special talent than Madam Rashmika was.

He'd gone to her once, out of curiosity more than anything. Knowing her customer was a trickster himself, she'd been rather blunt in her questions, and she'd said she would do an honest card reading for him. While Trowa sat there with his best stone-face, she'd frowned over her cards, and finally given him a questioning look - though asking none. Instead, she described what the cards supposedly predicted; Trowa would meet a short-haired brunette with a strong chin, a slim build and cool but pretty eyes.

He'd sensed something wasn't right - beyond the bogus prediction - but hadn't been able to put his finger on it.

Madam Rashmika had wavered the fee, but only for a return consultation. She had a couple of warts at her wrinkly left hand as well as the desire to get rid of them, stating the fine line between the proper aura it gave her career and how it scared some of the potential clients off. Of course, she'd known Trowa's mysterious powers were as fake as her own, but the illusion was pleasant enough.

She still got more in return than she'd given. While hardly a professional, Trowa had read up on dermatology and skin-care. He'd stocked up an impressive range of salves, ointments, oils and creams - and he had applied one such supposedly effective at treating warts to Madam Rashmika's weathered hands during their healing session. He wasn't sure it had done more good, medically speaking, but it had lifted her somber mood somewhat.

He folded the paper down and listened. Waiting, he heard nothing out of the ordinary. Thinking he had imagined it, calling it a reflex from old times, he scratched his left wrist right where the shirtsleeve had been rolled up. He picked at the third button of his shirt, cured an itch at his collar bone, nudging his metal dog tags. It was getting late, and it didn't appear he would get any more visitors. The absent murmur of Madam's queue suggested she was running short of customers, too.

Catherine had come up with the look - A plain cotton T-shirt underneath, a soft, white shirt with thin stripes of light blue above, flannel drawstring pants and tube socks. It was supposed to say 'relaxed, but professional' - as far as healers went. He wasn't to be a doctor, but more a distant impression of one. He'd already lost the socks for the day, and his shirt was fast following. The dog tags, a memento from another life, another lifetime, remained his only visible body ornamentation to clients, and then usually only the chain. Contrary, Madam Rashmika sported a great number of rings on her fingers, in her ears, around her wrists and even one through her right nostril. Trowa did have a tattoo, but most people would never know of it, given how covered up he usually kept it. All in all, he wanted to project an orderly look. He often kept his sleeves rolled up though, leaving his hands free.

Then, there came a knock at his door.

Jolted, Trowa hurriedly put his paper aside and got to his feet. Thinking it through, he suspected it was just Catherine coming over to nag about something - about cleaning the animal pens tomorrow or helping out with dismantling the bleachers, that sort of thing. He gave himself a quick once-over, formed a hint of a frown and slipped his feet into a pair of loose slippers. If it was a customer, he figured the slippers would match his laid-back style. He brushed off his shirt and fastened the third button from the top again as he walked over to the door. "Come in," he called.

He stopped when he saw who had knocked. "Heero," he flatly commented.

"Trowa," Heero returned, along with a curt nod. "Been a while."

"Yeah..." Trowa said. Almost as an afterthought, he stepped back. "Oh - come in."

"Thanks," he answered and took Trowa up on the offer. He stepped out of his sneakers and went towards the chair Trowa had just abandoned, wrestling off his jeans jacket on the way.

Trowa went over to close the door, then turned around. "Haven't seen you since..." He sent a jet of air into his bangs and tried not to smile upon noticing Heero still stayed true to his tank tops. "It was the time the vice foreign minister toured the L3 cluster, right?"

"Sounds right." Heero hung his jacket on the chair and started rotating a shoulder, rubbing out a jinx in the muscle. "About a year." He looked about the place, accepting the gentle chaos of Trowa's bachelor pad on wheels. His own apartment was neater, but he didn't spend much time there, courtesy of his job as a security advisor to the new government.

"Too long," Trowa said, pulling up the chair he reserved for clients and stepping out of his slippers. He preferred the flat cushion of the wooden chair over this fluffy thing, but Heero had staked his claim. "How's life treating you?"

Heero huffed and focused on him again. "Fair, I suppose." He glanced down the trailer. "You seem to be doing well, too. Quatre told me you'd started a side-show service, but I didn't believe it until I saw the sign outside."

"How's he doing?"

He shrugged. "Fair, like the rest of us. Told me to say hello to all of you, next time I saw you. So, hello."

With a subtle tilt of his head, Trowa grabbed the paper and folded it over. "Tell him I said 'hi' back, if you see him. Tried to get in touch with him last time we dropped by L4, but he was swamped in meetings. Sounds like you had more luck."

"I wouldn't say that... We met briefly during a fundraiser event. No time to reminisce."

The corner of his mouth curved upward. "I know the problem. Had a good talk with Wufei last time he was in the area - not that he came by until after he'd finished the Preventer business that brought him here." Trowa scratched his neck. "So, other than protecting the princess, what've you been up to, Heero?"

Heero looked away for a second. "Not much more than you can imagine - and this isn't a social call, Trowa."

At this, after a slight pause, Trowa raised a brow and leaned back. "It's not?"

"I need your help this time - not as a friend, but as a doctor."

Thinking it was all a joke, Trowa's lips started curling towards a smile. "Healer."

With an unwavering straight face, Heero shrugged. "Same difference. I need help, and you're my latest alternative."

"Okay..." Trowa said in a dubious tone of voice.

"I'll be honest with you - You're not my first option. If Quatre hadn't mentioned what you were up to these days, I wouldn't have known to come here. See, it just won't work. I've seen regular doctors about it, but their advice hasn't been helping. I've tried different sorts of pills, ointments, all sorts of diets. I've seen more specialists than I ever cared to, but it got me absolutely nowhere with my problem. The big headache remained, no matter what I tried. I've been down to alternate medicine for a while now, but nothing works - I was hoping you knew some special trick nobody else did."

Trowa was about to say that was just it; it was all tricks. There was no mysterious, magic power about him. If Heero had a chronic migraine, the best advice Trowa could give was to find another profession. He strongly suspected Heero was pushing himself beyond what his body could handle. He'd seen that trend often enough in the past. He'd been the one that patched Heero up and escorted him on a thorough crusade of repentance once. If Heero were to slip up on duty any time soon, Trowa wondered what means of penance the man would pick this time - and promptly decided he didn't want to think about it. He sighed. "Look, Heero, I-"

"Please, Trowa," Heero started. He put both arms in over the table, one hand covering the other, a step away from being folded into prayer. "I'm running out of options here. At least give it a try, okay? For what it's worth, I believe in your healing powers."

That made Trowa even more suspicious. If it had been Duo saying this, Trowa would have been certain it was a ruse - but Heero Yuy didn't make this sort of practical jokes. Sure, the guy had humor, but it was a different sort of subtle humor; hardly subterfuge. Still, how could he deny Heero what little mental comfort it would give to fake something? Sometimes, just thinking you were healed worked wonders.

He wasn't sure Heero would be one of those cases, though. His headaches sounded worse than anything Trowa could cure.

"Okay," he reluctantly agreed. "I'll give it a go - but no promises."

Heero sat up straight, visibly relieved. "Thanks, Trowa."

Trowa lifted his rear off his chair and pulled the chair after him towards Heero. Once well within arm's length, he sat down and reached for Heero's temples, softly nudging his fingertips against them. The touch grew into slow circular caresses, occasional treks to ruffle Heero's hair lightly. Trowa splayed his fingers and ran them through the dark brown strands, rubbing his fingertips a bit harder against the curves of Heero's skull. Then, Heero started a deep snicker. Trowa slowed his movements and shot Heero a questioning glance, briefly wondering if Heero was actually ticklish.

Heero's growing smirk suggested that wasn't the case. "Wrong head, doc..." he simply stated.

Pausing his hands, Trowa gave Heero a more thorough look, especially at his right index finger, brought out to point down at his crotch.

His jaw loose, Trowa pulled his hands back and masked up what shreds of embarrassment he had with staring at Heero, alternating between his face and his groin. It was dawning on him Heero did have a headache - but perhaps of a very different nature than what he'd first suspected. "You're serious?"

After a single, curt nod, Heero sighed and slouched back against the chair. "I can't get it up, Trowa," he flatly admitted. "I haven't been able to for a while now. Don't know why - I never had this problem when I was younger."

"You're still young," Trowa shot in. While this was true, as they were barely in their mid-twenties now, it was definitely not the thing Heero wanted to hear, judging from his sudden frown.

"Most of the doctors says it's because of my job - too much stress. It's all bullshit. I have practically no stress in my life now, compared to what we went through during the wars. Despite that, I tried cutting back on work, just in case." He met Trowa's eyes for a moment, then shook his head. "Didn't work. Nothing did. Tried pills, tried shots, tried gadgets, tried all sorts of herbs..." He glanced down at his crotch. "Still no go. Nothing that lasted long enough." With a crooked smile, he straightened up again. "Not like it happened overnight, either. It just... faded away, over a couple of months. Saw a shrink once. She was convinced it was a mental problem, not a medical one." He snorted. "A quack, just like the rest of them."

Trowa nodded softly as he licked his lips, trying to think of something to say. Mentioning that impotence could strike the best of them, inexplicably, didn't seem a good idea. "So... you want me to...?" He glanced at Heero's groin, returning to face Heero's stern eyes. He couldn't say it straight out; it felt too weird.

"Yeah," Heero breathed out, trying not to sound embarrassed. Before Trowa could say anything, Heero stood up and hastily unbuttoned his jeans, allowing gravity to tug them down to his knees as he pulled his dark green tank top up, exposing his entire midsection.

Faced with Heero's flaccid cock, Trowa was again lost for words. He was also lost of focus, and it took him a couple of seconds to realize where his eyes were glued - and look up. He almost regretted it when he met Heero's pitiful, almost pleading expression.

"Please? You're my last hope, Trowa."

"Uh - Heero, I really don't know if-"

Despair mixed with anger. "You think it's easy to ask this of you? You think I could have asked just anyone about this?"

Trowa met the cold fire in Heero's eyes with a vague frown of his own. "Alright," he snapped back, harder than he had intended. He looked at Heero's dick again. There was no doubt this would be weird for the both of them. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen Heero naked before. He'd given a younger version of the man before him sponge baths once. During those, he'd even touched Heero's dick - though never with the intent of producing an erection, or with any real intent, for that matter.

He glanced over at the bed, but thought better of it. That was certainly not a place to bring clients. After pinching the bridge of his nose, he took a deep breath.

"Okay, sit back down and spread your legs."

As Heero did just that, Trowa looked down at the pants pooling at his ankles. "You go commando?"

Heero made a soft, nervous smirk as Trowa stood up and went over to a small cabinet over by the foot of his bed, rummaging the shelves. "I used to wear spandex all the time, remember? I never really got used to underwear."

Trowa found the hand-sized tube he'd been looking for. Tentatively, he turned around. "You mean you never wore underwear?"

He sighed contently and tried to relax in his chair. "I didn't say that... but with all those skin-tight flight suits? Are you saying there was any room for that?"

Smiling faintly, Trowa knelt before his friend and put the tube aside. He placed his palms to Heero's warm thighs, coaxing them apart. "You could have gone with one size bigger."

Heero might have given a flippant answer to that, but then Trowa nudged his dick, and a moment later he cautiously took it into his palm and closed around it. Heero's back went rigid, but his cock remained limp.

Trowa rubbed Heero gently while he tried to forget how bizarre this all felt. From how Heero seemed to fight from squirming in his seat, Trowa figured he wasn't the only one not entirely comfortable. Still, he had a job to do. For most guys, he could probably have worked up a hard-on in a jiffy. Impotent guys were a different case altogether.

There was also the fact he didn't know what Heero liked. A hard squeeze or a velvet paw? Pounding against his abdomen or slow and steady? Flickering the thumb over the top or caressing the underside? High or low, left or right? Loose and free or rubbed against his belly?

He didn't dare ask. Instead, Trowa slowly went through them all, with no result to show for other than Heero slowly relaxing, getting used to being fondled by the other man.

Or maybe Trowa's hands were simply no longer uncomfortably cold.

Trowa glanced at the tube he'd picked out, and with a slight, wicked smile he thought of a way to fix that. He abandoned Heero's flaccid cock and undid the cap, applying a good-sized portion of the cream in his hand, cool to the touch. He caught sight of Heero glaring at the substance.

"If that's Tiger Balm, I guarantee there will be no Trowa Junior, ever."

Trowa started to smirk at Heero's flatly toned statement. "Don't worry. It's just a weak lotion. It should feel good, maybe reduce some of the friction when I..." He smeared the stuff out over his palm. "Well, that, and it might soften your skin."

Heero let go a grunt. "The point here is to make things harder."

Trowa looked up, caught sight of a wry grin. "If you want, I could apply some of my hair gel. That ought to give you a permanent stiffie - but I suppose you'd have some trouble pissing afterwards."

With half a smirk, he snorted. "Get on with it."

Trowa gave a curt nod and applied the creamed hand. He heard Heero suck in a breath as the first helping of the chilly lotion met sensitive skin, and he saw the outlines of a six-pack flex halfway draped under the green fabric. Once more, Trowa went through the motions, slowly and methodically, hoping to provoke a response. Still, his luck was minimal. Heero's dick remained almost entirely limp in his palm.

"It's not working, Trowa."

Trowa caught on to the faint disappointment - if not hurt - in Heero's voice, despite how well he tried to mask it. Releasing Heero, he reached for a towel. "I'm sorry, Heero." He made to stand up when Heero grabbed his wrist and glared at him, cool determination perfectly visible in his eyes.

"We're not done. I did feel something, Trowa. Not much, but that's more than I can say for the other specialists."

"So... you want me to keep up the hand-job?"

He looked away for a moment, and the way he subtly nibbled at his lower lip made Trowa wonder if he just imagined it. "Maybe I just need some more stimulation."

"Like what? I don't exactly have a secret stash of porno mags handy."

Heero snorted at the thought as he got to his feet. As he almost fell, he became aware of his denim ankle shackles. Disgruntled, he stepped out of his pants, took a hold of Trowa's wrist again and tugged him along over to Trowa's bed. Heero crawled in on it and stood up on his knees, then promptly placed Trowa's dry palm over his bare ass. "Slick up a finger and shove it inside me while you work my dick. You got long fingers, you could probably reach my prostate easily - it might help."

Trowa struggled to keep the hand on Heero's firm rear still, eyes shifting between it and Heero's face. "Uh - Heero, I really don't know if that would work. I've heard of prostate stimulation, but I-" He swallowed, his throat going dry. "Besides, this skin lotion is oil-based. It wouldn't be too good for-"

He nodded towards his discarded clothes. "Check my left pants pocket."

Trowa followed Heero's gaze. Frowning softly, he was let go from clasping Heero's butt with a faintly wet sound. He went to check the discarded piece of clothing, pulling out a small, purple bottle. He stared at it, at Heero. "Astroglide?"

Trying to be as nonchalant as possible, Heero shrugged. "I came prepared for this eventuality." He shifted from one knee to the other, then leaned down on all fours. "Please?"

He looked from the lube in hand to Heero; his face, his ass, the limp dick he could see glimpses off behind Heero's thigh. He had difficulties being indifferent about this, but nodded hesitantly. "Okay..." He walked over to sit down at the edge of the bed, his back to Heero's face.

Heero grabbed a pillow and lowered his head to it, his tank top sliding up his torso. He reasoned keeping his ass in the air and legs apart would allow Trowa fairly easy access. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing as he heard Trowa squirt some of the Astroglide onto his fingers.

Trowa put the small bottle aside, pried Heero's ass cheeks apart and grazed one lubed finger down the crevice, across the pucker and back.

He couldn't help himself. As Trowa continued to tease his anus, a good shiver went through his body, and he felt himself flexing against Trowa's fingertip. Managing not to blush, he muttered "Sorry, bit nervous..." into the pillow.

Trowa didn't want to let him know he wasn't alone. "Just... try to be calm. I don't want to hurt you here, Heero. If it's in any way uncomfortable, tell me, and I'll stop."

"Okay..." Heero mumbled as he closed his eyes again, willing his body to relax. He still let go of a hiss as Trowa dipped a digit inside him, probing around gently.

After some initial fumbling, Trowa managed to squeeze out a small amount of the skin lotion with just one hand. Most of it even landed in his palm. For a moment, it bothered him. Then, he realized where his other hand was, reminding him of the pretty much naked man on his bed. If things went as Heero hoped, those sheets would need a serious wash. Trowa decided he could sleep without them for one night. Sliding a bit down along Heero's side, he put one knee onto the bed and groped around for Heero's cock, the cold lotion causing another shiver in Heero at first touch.

As the lotion was warmed up, Heero let go a moan. "Feels good..." he breathed into the pillow. "Another finger, Trowa," he added, making a sharp hiss. "Yeah, almost there..." He arched his back as Trowa's fingertips grazed just about the right spot, and he struggled to calm down again.

Trowa felt Heero hardening in his palm, but even as he kept reaching towards Heero's prostate, Heero's cock lingered at the half-hard level, refusing to go entirely erect, no matter how Trowa tried to coax it. Minutes passed by, feeling like hours. Finally, at another of Heero's deep, guttural groans of delight, Trowa had had enough. It was all becoming too awkward. He let go of Heero's dick and withdrew his fingers from Heero's ass, searching out the towel. "I think you've had enough."

It had taken a moment for Heero to register Trowa had pulled back, and as he pushed up to all fours again, he turned to glare after the other man. "Are you fucking kidding me, Trowa?! You almost did it! You nearly got me up with that performance. Come on, just a little bit more, and-"

Not turning to look, Trowa took a deep breath. "I think I've done just about all I can do for you, Heero. I'm sorry." With that, he tossed the towel aside and sat down in his chair again.

Heero shuffled off the bed, coming over. "No, you haven't, doc..." he muttered, his hand on Trowa's shoulder as he walked past. He knelt before him, palming Trowa's knees. "You've definitely got the magic touch..." he added, sliding his hands up along Trowa's strong thighs, brushing the flannel and increasing the gap he leaned into. "But... I think I need your wand... your big wand..."

It was clear enough to Trowa where Heero was staring, where his warm palms were trailing, thumbs in vanguard. He definitely stiffened, and not just with his back - and there was no way Heero could miss what he was provoking. What he'd been provoking for a while now. "Heero-" Trowa hissed as thumbs brushed against his testicles, swiping upward. "Are you...?"

He paused. "What, gay?" Smirking, he used his thumbs to outline Trowa's erection through the flannel, only to put a broad palm against it, rubbing it tenderly. "Yeah... Why the hell do you think I suggested the fingers? Are straight guys turned on by stuff jammed up their rears?"

Trowa was having trouble keeping his composure, or remember how to breathe, for that matter. "I... don't know..." he mumbled.

Heero kept grinding against Trowa's crotch, pushing the flannel against the rigid shape, almost making it so that it and the thin underwear beneath was not there at all. Heero leaned in, those two layers of fabric all that separated the warm breath off his lips from Trowa's dick. "I want you, Trowa..." he muttered in a deep voice. "Want this in me..." His lips touched the flannel and curled towards a grin. "This is the right tool for the job..."

The lining had slipped with Heero's ministrations, and a smudge of black low at Trowa's abdomen caught Heero's eye. Curious, Heero tugged Trowa's pants and underwear down just enough to expose the rest of the tattoo; a small scorpion at Trowa's beltline, stinger curved to strike. He leaned in to kiss the dyed skin, delighting in the subsequent hiss Trowa made.

In retrospect, Trowa wasn't sure when the knot of his drawstring flannels were undone, or when they and his underwear were pulled down. All he knew was that his hard cock was fast out in the open, and Heero's mouth was kissing its way down the underside of his shaft. "Want you to fuck me, doc..." Heero stated, landing another hollow kiss, pulling foreskin back. "Want your big cock in me..."

For a brief moment, he thought far enough to perhaps retort that he considered himself average, uncomfortable with the description.

It remained with the stray thought when Heero sucked both his balls into his mouth, playing his tongue against them. Trowa gasped, slipped his hips forward.

Heero pulled back, bobbed Trowa's dick up and down with a loose grip around his base. "Want this so bad," he whispered as he embraced the cockhead with his lips, sucking ferociously, repeatedly. The shallow blowjob left him free to take a peek upward, giving Trowa a stern, but pleading look.

As if Heero's mouth hadn't been enough, the expression pushed Trowa even closer to losing it. He fisted Heero's hair forcefully and was ready to thrust himself into Heero's face, craving release. He might have done it too, had not Heero's strong hands held his hips back.

Heero slipped Trowa out of his mouth, leaning back. "Yes, I want your cock - but not in my mouth." Hurriedly, he stood up, crossed his arms and wrestled off his tank top as he walked over to Trowa's bed, feeling Trowa's eyes wander his backside. Once there, Heero knelt down and crashed his head into the pillow, arms lax down his sides. "So... fuck me, Trowa..." Ever so subtly, he wiggled his ass, trying to egg Trowa on.

It definitely worked. Rushing, Trowa stepped up, struggled out of his flannel pants and underwear and close to ripped off his striped shirt. He'd worry about missing buttons later. Much later. "You have lube. What about condoms?"

He smirked as he watched Trowa wrestle off his T-shirt, exposing the soft curves of his chest. "Right pants pocket..." he said dejectedly as the cotton cleared Trowa's head, his dog tags falling back to his collarbone. "Your choice, though. I'm clean - just had a full medical. You?"

Trowa stepped onto the bed and lined up behind Heero. "Nothing I know about. Been a while since I..."

"Got laid?" Heero filled the brief void with.

He nodded, not caring if his cheeks started to flush.

"Well, that's good enough for me," Heero stated, grinding his cheek against the pillow. "Now, fuck me already!" he growled.

There really was no need to ask Trowa twice. He reached for the Astroglide and palmed a generous helping. He rushed to work the lube onto his cock, got into position, pried Heero's ass-cheeks apart and nudged his head to Heero's opening. Then, he thrust forward; one hard, fast, continuous advance.

Heero cried out, half muffled. "Yeah," he panted loudly, "Just like that."

Trowa took hold of Heero's hips to steady them. He waited until he felt Heero relax before he pulled back, slammed back in, again and again. With every thrust, Heero pushed back against him, craving him deeper, harder, faster. Trowa struggled to oblige, and for a while, it completely slipped his mind why they were doing this.

As it finally returned to him, he slipped one hand in under Heero, across his taut stomach and over his cock and balls, working them with one hand, his other palm caressing the small of Heero's back, massaging his lower spine.

Progress. Heero was definitely hardening now, but now Trowa wanted to see as well, and it was a hassle to jerk Heero off in this position. Slowing his pace, he leaned forward across Heero's back, and with savage, shallow thrusts he whispered "Turn around..." in Heero's ear. Not waiting for acknowledgement, Trowa slowed to a halt and pulled back, although the very tip of his cock remained within Heero the whole time he shifted over to lie on his back. Trowa hissed at the feeling, barely resisted the urge to bury himself in Heero again when he was halfway over, his leg high in the air.

With Heero flat on his back, Trowa coaxed Heero's legs back and up, spreading them to give himself better access to Heero's crotch. Shoving in deep, he put both hands on Heero's cock, pumping Heero almost in synch with his fucks, going faster and faster. There was no doubt now; Heero's erection was full and hard, his testicles tight. From the corner of his eye, Trowa saw Heero fist the sheets, tugging them off the bed as he moaned through clenched teeth. "Yeah... more, Trowa..." With hazed vision, his eyes wandered Trowa's body, ever downward, eventually focusing on the dark mark as the scorpion rammed repeatedly against his skin. He smiled, muttered "Sting me..." before sucking another hard breath, fingers tearing cotton.

Trowa's dog tags clattered against each other as they hit his sweat-slick skin. He did his utmost to provide for Heero's demands, pounding into him even more furiously than before, more desperate. Heero's cock throbbed in his hands, and Trowa finally let go, struggling to find support against the mattress instead as Heero's fingers sought out and reached around his neck, pulling him down.

They kissed; sloppy, rough, tongues sparring and leaving saliva trails. Their lips burned against each other, breaths came as gasps, and Heero cried out as he came fiercely between them, semen splashing Trowa's abdomen as well as his own stomach and chest.

As Heero's ass muscles flexed in his climax, he clamped down on Trowa's cock, and with a savage groan of his own, Trowa could last no longer, shooting his load deep inside Heero, thrusting himself dry before slowing down.

Once done, his arms buckled, and he came crashing down on top of Heero. They panted, kissed, pawed each other, kissed again, before Trowa finally thought enough to slide on out and roll off his lover.

Minutes passed before either of them had the wits to speak. "You did it, doc," Heero breathed out. "Thanks..."

Trowa opened a sluggish eye to glare at him, mouth but a line. "Heero, you're a damned liar..." he muttered.

It took a few seconds for the words to register. Heero tilted his face to meet Trowa's green eye, the other obscured by his damp bangs. "Huh?"

"There's nothing wrong with you at all, is there?"

Heero pressed his lips together at first, thinking of what to say. He started to say one thing, but changed his mind. "Not with my dick, no... but there was something wrong."

He sent a puff of air into his bangs, fluttering some of the strands aside. "Like what?"

Again, Heero hesitated. He struggled to push himself up on his elbows and stared down his stained chest and abdomen, rubbing one leg against the other absentmindedly.

Trowa sighed and sat up at the other end of the bed, pulling a knee up to rest his chin against. He watched, waited.

"I watched the show earlier," Heero began. "Saw you at the dagger board, and when you danced around up in the rigging." He started to smirk. "Those costumes show off your body very well. You've filled out nicely, Trowa."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Thanks, I suppose." He took in the naked form splayed on his bed. "You've shaped up more, too."

Heero shrugged and looked away, ignoring the slight additional flush on his face. "Part of growing up." He took a deep breath, exhaling up towards wayward bangs. "I saw you... and I couldn't keep from daydreaming what it'd be like to fuck you."

Trowa flagged a brow at the direct remark, but otherwise kept a straight face. "Well..." he mumbled, hugging his leg. "Not quite what happened, was it?"

Heero finally looked straight at him. "Well, I'm flexible." Again, he flashed a quirky smirk. "Just like you." He slowly licked his lips. "Thanks, Trowa. It was good, damn good."

"Yeah..." Trowa sighed out, slouching forward. He caught sight of the towel, grabbed it and tossed it at Heero.

Accepting it, Heero wiped the worst mess off himself, then crashed down at the mattress again, interlocking his fingers behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. One of his feet found Trowa's side, and he swiped his toes against Trowa's skin.

Trowa slid a warm palm up and down Heero's smooth shin in return. For a while, this was all that went between them.

"If you want to be successful," Heero finally stated, "you should put up more signs. I almost didn't find you."

"Oh?"

Heero patted the open space next to him. Trowa nodded, crawled over and lay down beside him, not minding as Heero rolled over on his side, sliding a thigh between Trowa's, fingertips making circles down his arm. "Went inside another tent first. Some old woman - I only meant to ask her for directions, but she gave me this weird stare."

"You saw Madam Rashmika?"

He leaned in, touched Trowa's lips to his own, glad to feel Trowa's fingers dig into the hair at the back of his head. "Never caught her name. Before I had a chance to say anything, she asked me if I was looking for someone." He looked Trowa straight in the face, and his lips curled into a wicked smile as Trowa shifted his hand down Heero's back, then around to brush knuckles along his side, just hard enough to bump along every rib. "I told her the truth - I was looking for a fairly tall guy with long, light brown bangs, deep, green eyes... and a body to die for."

Trowa started to smile, leaned in to meet Heero's mouth with his own, their tongues meeting for an instant before they pulled apart. "What did she say?"

"She gave me this weird look and went over to check her cards. She rushed to put them in some sort of strange pattern, then gaped at me for a moment. After that, she finally gave me the directions." He reached up to flip Trowa's large bang backwards, smoothing his digits across Trowa's forehead. "And then I found you."

For an instant, Trowa was lost in thought. It was starting to look like Madam Rashmika had said the truth about his dream lover back then, after all - except, she'd obviously decided to go vague on the gender. Perhaps she'd worried about offending him, somehow. "You're not bullshitting me again, are you?"

Heero slowly shook his head. "I don't lie all the time - not unless it'll get me what I want. Not growing hard when you palmed me has got to be one of the toughest trials I've ever gone through, but I figured I had to... test the waters, so to speak. Got the idea when I saw the sign outside."

"You could have just asked..."

Heero started to snicker. "Right, like 'Trowa, I want to fuck you hard' would have been a good opener..." He raised a brow subtly, shifting his leg upward between Trowa's. "Would it have worked?"

"Maybe..." Trowa said with a smile, leaning in for another light kiss. As soon as it was done, he untangled himself from Heero and stood up, feeling Heero's eyes glued to his ass as he walked over to the door and locked it.

"So... what are you doing, doc?"

He picked up on the very faint traces of nervousness in Heero's voice, but pretended he hadn't heard, not wanting to insult his lover. He started walking back, not minding the way Heero's gaze drank in his body. "I was thinking of keeping you overnight, for observations." He flashed a smirk. "Wouldn't want you to have a relapse, would we?"

Heero snorted, scooting further in on the bed, vacating his old spot for Trowa. "Definitely not."

Trowa put a knee at the mattress. "And I might have to administer further treatment."

"Whatever you say, doctor..."

He was kneeling in over Heero now. "Unless... you have somewhere else you want to be tonight, that is..."

Heero hooked a hand around Trowa's neck and coaxed him down. "I think I'm right where I want to be, Trowa..." He flashed Trowa a leer. "Now, care to show me if your lips are as hot as your hands...?"

Obliging, Trowa met him in a sloppy, wet kiss, soon enough making a path with his tongue and lips down Heero's sharp chin, skirting the edges of a vaguely defined pec, crossing the subtle outlines of a six-pack, rounding the belly button... and downward.

If anyone, particularly Catherine or Madam Rashmika, noticed Trowa's trailer shake throughout most of the night and again in the late morning, they politely said nothing, letting rutting dogs lie.

-end-