Wufei/Duo. PG-13. ~200 words. Crossdressing.
There’s a ripple in the air, tangible, sweet to breathe.
He lounges. That’s the only word for it. Lounging.
He knows they’re watching him. Some stare openly, eyes alight and want beating hot against his skin like frantic gasps. Others take quick glances, faces flushed. Their eyes dart over his body, swipe greedily along the lines of bare arms and look quickly away before they’re caught with a hand in the cookie jar.
It makes him smile. A slow, deliberate curving of generous lips and a wide mouth. There’s a ripple in the air, tangible, sweet to breathe. He knows what they’re thinking, he can see it written across their faces, stark as black newsprint on white paper. There’s only one thing a man thinks when he sees reddened lips and a wide mouth. He knows, because he thinks it too. And it makes him run his tongue over his lip, taste the slick gloss there.
“Damn,” Duo says, and he means it. His glass hovers in front of his lips, hiding his mouth from view. The hand that strokes one stocking-clad thigh is just a little too hot. “The way you bitched, didn’t think you’d do it.”
“No, Maxwell.” Wufei lifts a hand to his dark hair and drags it lazily through the strands, eyes alert under heavy lids scanning the crowd. “You didn’t think I’d do it this well.”