slash subgenre: WINGFIC!
DISCLAIMER: OK, the following piece is just cos I really wanted to use the phrase "But Ernesto, your wings, they're so beautiful!" and since Che met with Chairman Mao at some point, it totally works. Plus, I think if el Che ever had any gay sex, he'd totally be a "switch", so this a nice contrast with my earlier Castro/Guevara fic (but Castro, for some reason, in my sick little mind, must always bottom; there's no argument in my mind about this).
Mao and I left the room together. Beijing wasn't as sweltering as Havana or even Beunos Ares, but I was feeling exceptionally warm. Mrs Mao decided that I "looked hot". At first I thought she was paying me a compliment, I'm used to these compliments from the ladies, but only for the second before she felt my forehead. Apparently, I actually was mildly feverish. She suggested that Mao take me to their home at once while she took charge of everything else that needed to be done that day.
It seems I was only having hot flashes rather than actually running a fever, but by the time we arrived at their home, I was so exhausted from the up-and-down of my body temperature alone.
Then came the muscle aches. First my abdomen, then over the next several hours, it had all spread across my back. Mao kept tending to me with deep muscle massages, herbal teas, nothing at all seemed to help. Then I decided to try and sleep it off.
I couldn't get to sleep at all, I was in so much pain. The pain just coursed through my body like rum through a pirate's veins. It got to the point that I was screaming. That's when Mao came running into the guest room where I was sleeping. It felt at first like he was touching me, but then it felt as if creatures, badgers or perhaps dogs, were digging their way out of my back. The pain of what happened next was incomparable.
Something was crawling out of me. Emerging from my body. The whole process seemed to take hours. It probably only took about thirty minutes. The whole time, I sensed that Mao was just standing there, watching in astonishment. The pain was so hard that I couldn't exactly see him through the tears.
When it was all done, I saw myself in the full-length mirror across from me.
"My God!" I exclaimed, rushing out of the room. I had wings. Fully formed, fully-functional, feathery wings. A golden colour. I clamped their muscles tight against my back and put my back to the wall when Mao found me.
"Don't look at me!!"
"But Ernesto, your wings, they're so beautiful!"
"How can you say such a thing?! This is unnatural!"
"I don't want to be special! I wouldn't work manual labour with my people if I wanted them to think of me differently! I am just a man, a man who wants changes, but just a man regardless!"
Mao moved in closer to me.
"But Che, I think your special, I always have."
Mao then kissed me deeply, passionately, running his hands through my hair. He moved his hands down, slowly, but firmly caressing my body. He moved his hands over my buttocks and lifted me up by my thighs and slowly eased his swollen appendage into me. With each thrust from his body, he pushed me deeper down with his hands over my hips.
As the pleasure heightened between us, my own member swelled and I tightened my grip to his back. Involuntarily, the golden wings behind me started to lift us up, slowly at first, but faster and faster with the growing ecstasy into one explosive, simultaneous orgasm. After that, the wings slowly descended us back to the floor.
Mao brought me to bed with him and held me close to him all night.