Okay, I have a confession to make. I'm a total sex addict.
No big suprise there, right? Duo Maxwell, slut-bunny extraordinaire, such a sex maniac it takes two lovers to keep him satisfied -- one for each gender.
Wrong. See, the confession is... *why* I'm a sex addict.
It's not the bodies -- short and tall, skinny and
curvy and muscular.
Not those gorgeous muscles in Heero's shoulders and
back, the luscious curves
of Hilde's hips, or Dorothy's long, long, *long* legs,
or the God-Given
perfect rack of which Sally Po is possessed.
Bodies are just the means to the ends.
It's not the orgasms. I've been masturbating since --
well, as long
as I can remember. Puberty just made it messier, not
novel. Feeling fireworks
exploding in my knotted guts, and then that weird
sensation of having my
soul sucked out through my cock -- yeah, it's
mindblowing. Incredible.
Wonderful.
It's not why I fuck.
It's not all the different *ways* it feels -- hot and smooth and slick, like volcanic glass, when I'm buried balls-deep in Hilde, or the way Heero's ass milks me like a suction pump, or that strange mix of hot-and-cool air and wetness when I'm getting head, or the feeling of a rough, callous palm against the flesh of my cock... but then, I'm getting ahead of myself here.
It's the faces they make when they're coming.
It sounds cheesy as hell, doesn't it?
But y'know, I've always thought giving a lover an orgasm, watching their reaction, is the closest I'm ever going to come to giving birth.
Because each one is different, like a child. Unique, and personal, and -- hell -- intimate.
Heero is quiet, just this soft, gentle letting *go*, as his mouth twitches into this blissed-out, knowing smile. Like he's -- happy. Diffused, floating, *free*. I love that smile, love how *quiet* he is... not that usual loaded, deadly silence, just quiet and gentle breathing.
Relena whimpers. It's the cutest damn thing. I've never seen her come without putting her fingers into her mouth and mewling like a kitten. She just curls up afterwards, on my chest or in Heero's lap or between the both of us, totally limp and trusting.
Dorothy'll fight against it every step of the way -- probably can't come any way else -- muscles all tense and straining. She'll writhe and growl and snarl like she's being tortured, nails digging into her palms and teeth grinding together... then when it hits her, her eyes flow open like she's been struck by lightning. The few times we've been in bed together, it's always worth it for that -- no matter how long it takes, the look on her face when she just *stops fighting* is amazing.
If Relena's a kitten, Sally's a cat. A mature, slinky, graceful, *sexy* cat. She alternates between out-and-out purring and good-natured yowling -- and clawing, at my back or my shoulders or my ass, or even my scalp when I'm giving head her and making her squirm. On anyone else, it'd be freaky, but with Sally, it's the sign I've gotten her to let down those curls, unbutton that uniform, and let out the animal she is. I love it.
Hilde, though, she's the best. I know it's silly to play favorites, but Hilde -- she giggles. No, wait, "giggle" is too childish a term. She laughs, all full-throated and happy and golden. Her eyes look straight into mine when she comes, completely open and knowing.
Come to think of it, she looks me straight in the eyes when *I* come, too.
And I wonder about the others, too, sometimes. Well... a lot, actually.
Quatre's always so wide-eyed and joyful, that I can't quite imagine what he'd be like; that boy must shoot cum of pure sunlight.
Trowa's so quiet and reserved and cool; does he let go when he's fucking Quat, I wonder? Is he loud and hot and desperate, or soft and shocked and vulnerable? Or something else I can't even picture?
And Wufei. You'd think from how he acts most of the time that he'd be hot and angry, grabbing down at the shoulders of whoever he's pounding into when he's climaxing, then snarling with orgasm and tossing the used vessel aside... but I'd bet any amount of money you'd care to name that he's quiet as hell. Probably bites his lower to keep from crying out -- or just crying.
Then there's Une... yeah, I know she's my boss. Her mental health record isn't too perfect, either, but that's sort of a hot thought: did her different personalities act different in bed? Did Colonel Une mouth profanity and tell Treize to fuck her like a bitch, did Saint Anne gasp and whimper and roll her eyes back in her head? Or is she always just herself when she's coming, stripped down to her essential self? Can you *be* anyone but yourself when you're that naked, that vulnerable, that close to exploding in someone or on someone or around someone?
Shit, now I'm getting all philosophical... but yeah, so, that's why I'm such a sex addict. Ssshhh. Don't tell anyone; wouldn't want my reputation to get ruined now!
Hey! Hey! Cut that out! Get offa me!
Noin! You're *married*! Noooooooiinn! Put me *down*!
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