Work Text:
Burn For Me
by Pirate Turner
"WE'RE TOYS!" Woody thundered. "WE'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO FEEL THIS WAY! IT'S WRONG! IT'S -- "
Buzz broke into the Sheriff's tirade from where he stood right before him, his helmet off and his eyes nearly glowing with the magnitude of feelings rocketing throughout his soul. "Tell me I don't make you burn," he demanded, his voice low, even, and incredibly husky, "and I'll leave it alone. You'll never hear another thing about this from me again for as long as we live."
Woody stared at him. He was absolutely certain, in this moment, that if he'd had a real, beating heart that the sound of its pounding would be deafening both of them. Instead he threw his cloth arms up and spun around on the heels of his boots. "THAT'S JUST IT!" he yelled, glad to have a chance to get away from Buzz's scrutinizing look that read him all too well like a book. "WE'RE TOYS, BUZZ! I CAN'T BURN! IF I DID, I'D BE DEAD! AND WE DON'T FEEL! NOT LIKE THIS! NOT FOR -- " He blustered. "NOT FOR EACH OTHER! WE CAN'T! IT'S NOT RIGHT!"
"Ranger," Buzz spoke softly, "for the first time in my existence, I find myself no longer caring what's right or wrong. If being in the right means that I'm not supposed to feel the way I do for you, then sign me over to the dark side, Woody, because rather or not you admit it, I know there's a fire inside of you leaping just as high and bright as the supernova threatening to burst through me at any time."
He jumped forward, grabbed Woody's flimsy arms, twirled the cowboy around, and crashed his lips down on top of his. He held his flinging arms against his strong body and covered him with the effects of his love, his muscles straining and sweating with the need that he'd come to instinctively accept that only this man, this other toy if they must be truthful, could ever fill for him. His hands caressed his quivering body with the strength of a mountain that refused to stop and the velvet touches of a butterfly's wings. His tongue pushed his way through into the warm, sweet contours of Woody's mouth, and he dove home through silken cotton.
Finally Woody stopped fighting. His body at first went lax in Buzz's arms, and then, ever so slowly and tentatively, he began to return the astronaut's touches. He swept his cloth hands gingerly over Buzz's plastic suit, wishing that he could feel how his best friend's naked body would be to his touch. Would it be as hard as the outer plastic, -- he shivered --, or even harder?
Buzz waited until Woody began to kiss him back and then slowly, ever so reluctantly, he lifted his lips just a breath's space away. "Now," he commanded, gazing deep into his big, brown eyes, "tell me you don't burn for me too."
"I do," Woody whispered.
"Then come back to the toy box."
The End