Disclaimer: I do not meddle in the affairs of Gundam Wing, for I am penniless and own no copyrights.

This is a sequel to "punk Rock and Blue Jeans
Pairings: 1x2x1
Genre: AU/Fluffy Gen-X Romance
Rating: R
Warnings: Duo's POV. Language, annoyed roommates, annoying roommates, insane Duo-logic, neurotic justification, uber-sexy Heero, and Wufei with incredibly bad timing. LEMON.

Author's Note: The long-awaited sequel to Punk Rock and Blue Jeans! Finally, we see some action. This is my first lemon. Ever. Be kind.

Music provided by the Dave Matthews Band

Every Man a Sinner
by Casey Valhalla

"Hah! Nothing makes one so vain as being told one is a sinner!"
    --from Velvet Goldmine

"The only difference between the saint and the sinner is that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future."
    --Oscar Wilde, from A Woman of No Importance

I think my roommate wanted to kill me.

I couldn't blame the guy. Really. I started out at my desk, normal as could be, playing one of the many versions of Solitaire that computers come pre-equipped with these days.

Problem is, I couldn't sit still. The chair just wasn't comfortable, yanno? Then my hands kind of started moving of their own accord, and the next thing I know, I've got two drumsticks and I'm picking out the beat from Enter Sandman on the edge of my desk.

Not that this was unusual. I'd probably lose half the deposit on the dorm room due entirely to the damage I've done to the furniture by drumming on it randomly.

Then my legs decided they wanted to move. So I got up, went to the bathroom, got a glass of water, came back, walked to the window, opened it, walked to the door, opened that, looked up and down the hall for absolutely *no* reason I could think of, closed it, walked back, and sat down again.

Andrew was at his own desk, working on a Physics paper. Or something. I wasn't really listening when he told me. His typing rhythm had hitched a few times during my circuit of the room, so I knew I was annoying him, even if marginally.

I turned on some music and tried to occupy myself, or at least sit still for a while.

The chair wasn't working out, so I moved to the couch. I grabbed my copy of Rolling Stone en route and settled in, flipping through the pages.

Flip. Flip. Flip.

The rhythm faltered again. Somehow, I just couldn't find a comfortable position on the couch, either; every way I turned something was poking me in the back, or the leg, or something. None of the articles in the magazine struck my interest, and I found myself staring at ads, blankly, not even really seeing them.

About the tenth time I wiggled around to try and get comfortable, Andrew turned slightly and gave me a look.

*That* look. That 'what the fuck is with you, man?' look.

I'd been getting it all week. I was about to give it a name and buy it a collar with a bell.

I gave up on the couch too, and the magazine. I hauled myself up onto the top bunk and lay there, spread eagled, with my legs dangling over the side. Staring at the little glow stars that made up Sagittarius.

Maybe I could blame all this on the planets. Yeah. It's all the Zodiac's fault.

My fingers started tapping out Spoonman against the wall.

"Duo -- !"


"What is your fuckin' damage, boy?"

I knew. But I couldn't tell him. I shrugged. "Just bored."

"Then go do something. You're driving me nuts."

He was right. I should. But if I left the room I knew exactly what I was going to do.

I would go see *him*.

I wanted to see him. I needed to see him. Desperately. I couldn't stand it. Which was why I was doing everything possible to keep myself from actually going to see him.

Logical, isn't it?

I'd been putting myself through this all week. Okay, I was still eating breakfast with the guy, and walking to class with him sometimes or running into him on campus. That's different.

What I'm talking about is going to his dorm room, myself. Going to visit him for no other reason than to be there. To be with him. Not to borrow notes or invite him out or drop off the book I borrowed from him last week.

Just to see him.

No. I didn't want to admit to myself or to him that I'd be willing to do something that - what's the word I'm looking for - CUTE, bleah. No. Cute is *not* my thing.

"You've got it bad, man. You know that, right?"

Andrew cut through my introspection neatly. I sputtered like a teakettle. "What?"

"You could have just told me, you know. I feel kind of embarrassed hearing about my roomie's love life from some anonymous chick in my ethics class."

He heard about. WHAT? "Love life?"

"Apparently you're dating Heero Yuy. Way to go."

I suddenly felt cold. When had that news hit the gossip chain press? I wasn't even sure if we were really 'dating' myself.

But apparently everyone else was pretty damn sure.

Wait a minute. he was saying something about that, last weekend. It was right before he kissed me, which is probably why I don't remember it so well.

*If you're mine, I want everyone to know it.*

That sneaky bastard.

"I gotta go." I was out of bed and halfway into my jacket by the time the words were out of my mouth.

Andrew didn't respond. I think he was just glad I was getting out of his hair.


It was raining. No surprise there.

I was standing in the foyer watching it rain, watching the drops falling off the leaves of the rhododendron bush outside the door. There were approximately a hundred feet of red brick walkways and some two million droplets of rain between me and Heero's building.

I'm supposed to be angry, I reminded myself. I have every right to be angry if he's been going around telling everyone that we're dating. Because we're *not* dating. I mean, okay, so we went on *one* date. One. That does not constitute dating. Because dating implies a relationship, and there *is* no relationship. We've just kissed a few times. And hung out a bit. And sure I like him and all, and sure those kisses were damn incredible, and sure he's a good-looking guy, and maybe I even checked him out a few times and entertained some ideas.

But we are *not* dating.

I rallied that conviction and pushed my way out the door and into the rain. I walked fast, keeping my head down and my hands in my pockets, watching my boots splash through the puddles. I didn't want to give myself the time to think, to change my mind, so I charged forward and practically flung myself into the East Quad, leaving a trail of water up the stairs.

I stopped in front of his door to catch my breath. Thank god the hall was empty. The last thing I wanted was for anyone I knew to catch me at Heero Yuy's door, all flushed and looking like a drowned rat. I have a reputation to think of, yanno.

I took a deep breath. I raised my hand. I took another deep breath. Damn, this was harder than I thought.

I knocked.

The reply was muffled. "Come in."

I didn't see anyone when I opened the door, but I closed it behind me anyway and stripped off my soggy coat and boots.

You know, Heero and Quatre's dorm room is a damn sight. They have strings of Christmas lights running all around the perimeter, up in the corners against the ceiling. There's a beaded curtain hanging across the area between the bathroom door and the wardrobes, sectioning off the main area of the room. A dark blue area rug covered the linoleum floors, and every square inch of wall space was plastered with posters.

Guess it's called atmosphere.

I stepped through the beaded curtain, letting the strings clatter back into place beside me. No one was in the room. The desks were empty.

There was one loft bed, but it was easy to tell that there was another mattress peeking out below it, on the floor. Navy blue sheets formed a curtain around the lower half, and beyond that I could see a light. I knelt down and pulled the curtain aside.

Heero was lying on his side, facing me, his elbow crooked and his head resting in his hand. He was wearing black sweat pants and a plain, threadbare t-shirt, and his hair was more rumpled than usual, as though he'd taken a nap and not cleaned up yet. A textbook was open on his pillow, the light of a desk lamp shining on the pages, and he peered at me through a pair of silver reading glasses.

Damn, he looks good in glasses.

I shoved that thought away. I was here to confront him, after all, not swoon over him.

He scooted closer to the wall and looked at me expectantly. Not really thinking about what I was doing, I climbed in and settled down on my stomach, crossing my arms in front of me.

He immediately turned back to his book.


He stopped me with a look, a clear blue gaze, and lifted his right hand, touching a finger to his lips. Quiet. We'll talk later. And he went back to reading.

I sighed and let my head drop, resting my chin on my arms. It seemed I'd be here for a while. I looked around, keeping myself occupied by taking in the scenery. I'd never seen Heero's little cave before, but judging by the teasing he got for it, no one else had, either.

A little shelf was arranged at the head of the bed, holding the lamp, a miniature wastebasket, and two rows of paperback books. In the small space above the shelf, pinned to the wall just under the top bunk, was a spread of corkboard covered in snapshots, some of them yellowed with age. My gaze landed on one, a picture of two boys in a back yard somewhere, knee-deep in snow. They looked about eight or nine years old, both bundled up in thick coats, handmade scarves and hats and mismatched gloves. The boy on the left was smirking at the camera, hefting a good-sized snowball in one hand. He was leaning lazily against the other boy, who also had a handful of snow, and was about to shove it down the back of the first boy's coat.

I kept staring at the boy on the left. I knew that smirk. it was Heero, I realized after a moment. And the boy on the right, the one with a death wish, that was Trowa. Even as a child he had that crazy bang hanging over his face, sticking out from under an orange stocking cap.

That sudden, insane jealousy flared up again.

About the time it did, though, I heard a page turning, and felt Heero's hand push my braid aside and slide over the back of my neck. My skin prickled for a moment. Then he started kneading his thumb and forefinger on either side, where my neck met my shoulders, and I melted.

Every muscle in my body relaxed, and I felt like I'd sunk another foot into the mattress. I buried my head in my arms and sighed, closing my eyes. Maybe I could take a nap, or something, until he was done studying. I was definitely gonna drift off if he kept the massage going. What was I here for again?

Suddenly I realized just *where* I was. In Heero's dorm room. In his bed. Alone. With him.

My stomach twisted into a knot, and the knot started to burn.

I became acutely aware of every nerve ending in my body. I felt the softness of the dark gray comforter that covered the mattress, the smooth slip of Heero's fingertips on my neck, the weight of the clothes against my skin.

Mostly, I felt the warmth radiating off of him. Dorm beds are tiny, yanno. We weren't touching, but he was only about an inch away. A miniscule bit of space to prevent full body contact.

At that range, I was surprised he couldn't hear my heart pounding like a jackhammer.

I heard the soft thump of the book closing, and his hand vanished from my neck. I propped myself up on my elbows, and tried to remember what I was going to say to him. It was the dating thing. That was it. He was setting his glasses on the shelf, pushing the textbook off to a corner.

He looked at me, his bangs dangling over his eyes, his mouth in that little smile he's always using on me. I stopped, jaw hanging open, and my mind went completely blank.

I could see him moving closer, but I was frozen. This wasn't supposed to be happening, I was here. to. his lips were brushing over mine, briefly, the barest touch. My eyes fell closed and my breath left me in a rush, and I was leaning closer, my mouth still open, searching for his.

I heard a whimper, but didn't realize I was the one who made that sound until I heard him chuckling lightly. I opened my eyes, and his finger traced the curve of my cheek, down to my chin. I shivered.

He leaned forward again and kissed me, gently, then a bit harder. His tongue lapped at the corner of my mouth and slipped inside.

And that was it. I was gone.

I was only aware that I was being shifted onto my back because his arm was around my waist, and I could feel his hand through my shirt. As soon as my arms were free they latched onto his shoulders, pulling his chest against me. His right leg settled between mine, his groin pressed against my hip, his left arm wrapped under my neck, his fingers trailing over my ear. He was heavy against me, and warm, and god, his mouth.

He broke the kiss for breath, panting hot against my cheek, and nibbled at my lips before latching on again, sucking my tongue into his mouth. His free hand was wandering, slipping under the hem of my shirt, sliding over my stomach. god. I pushed back against the touch, as though I could get more, as though I could melt our bodies together and do nothing but feel.

When his fingers brushed over my nipple I thought I might scream, and all the blood in my body shot straight to my groin.

I moaned into his mouth and broke away, panting. His breath was harsh and ragged, his mouth planting hot kisses all around mine. I slowly became aware of the fact that he was moving against me, pressing himself against my body, sliding his leg along my thigh; there was a definite bulge digging into my hip, matching the one currently straining against my jeans. His fingers found my nipple again and my entire body jerked at the shock that touch sent through my system.

His hand traveled back down, over my ribs, down the hollow of my stomach, to trace a line across the waistband of my jeans. He stopped just below my navel, brushing at the skin there, raising goosebumps. He toyed with the button.

"Do you want this?" The whisper was a breath against my cheek.

Want, oh hell, yes, my entire being was a writhing fucking ball of want.

It was the 'this' part that was giving me trouble.

'This' being him, Heero, touching me. Caressing me. Driving me insane with pleasure. Not that this was a bad thing.

Except, of course, that he was a *guy*.

He was trailing kisses along my jaw, down my neck, sucking at my collarbone, nipping lightly up the front of my throat. god. but his hand hadn't moved, still hovering at the button, plucking at it. Waiting for my answer.

I didn't think I was coherent enough to give him one.

I must not have been, but I don't think he was either, because neither of us heard the bathroom door open.

What we did hear was the rustle of the bed curtains opening, and a sharp voice barking, "Yuy!"

Heero paused and gave one last lick to the spot on my neck he'd been sucking on, and looked up. I could only clutch at his shirt and peer around him.

Wufei was framed in the gap of the curtains, one hand still raised to hold them open. He looked like his eyes were about to pop out, and his mouth was still half-forming around whatever he had to say.

I couldn't see Heero's face, but I was damn sure he was giving Wufei a glare that would freeze nitrogen.

Very slowly, Wufei dropped his arm and stood, the expression on his face never altering. The curtain fell back into place, and a moment later I heard the bathroom door close with a click.

Not long after that the throb of loud electronic music could be heard through the walls.

Heero didn't move for a full minute after Wufei left, then he looked down at me. His face softened, though he was still frowning, and he kissed me gently. "Stay here."

The sudden absence of his body made me shiver, and two seconds later I was already craving that heat. My rational mind kicked in for a moment, telling me that I really ought to get out now, while I still had a chance, or at least do what I came here to do instead of losing my head every time he looked at me. Gazed at me, really. that blue stare that seemed to suck me in.

The front door locked with a snap, and shortly thereafter the bathroom door did the same. Before I could ponder the possibility of escape any further, Heero had returned to the cave, and was intent on returning right where we had left off.

I tried a feeble approach. "What about Quatre?"

"He's got class for another two hours."

Neither of us said anything after that. Our mouths were otherwise occupied.

My straining senses told me that my shirt was being removed, and the brush of cold air over my skin confirmed it. Just as quickly the chill was replaced by warm hands, and Heero's mouth left mine to plant kisses down the line of my throat to my chest.

"Is this what you want?" he asked again. He should really ask me these things when it's easier for me to think. I opened my mouth but all that escaped it was a soft moan.

His mouth latched on to my left nipple and sucked. I yelped and arched off the bed, pressing my chest against his mouth, my hips jerking uncontrollably. Oh god. I needed. I needed.

"You have to tell me, Duo," he whispered against my skin, licking his way back up to my mouth. "I need to know."

His hand was back at the waist of my jeans. He tugged at the button, once, and then slid a single finger along the bulge under the fabric.

Dear sweet fucking god!

I'm ashamed to admit that I begged. I pleaded. I don't even remember what I said, just that I finally found my voice, and my voice started babbling independently of the rest of me.

The rest of me was focused entirely on his hand, while it undid my pants and slid inside.

His mouth was back on mine, hungry, feverish, and his hand wrapped around my cock. and. oh god, yes. he was pressing against my side, rubbing himself at my hip, and I was writhing. I was. *yesssss*. drowning, thrusting back into his hand. oh please. please.

Everything ached, burned. My voice lost any semblance of coherency, descending into choked moans and shuddering breaths. Heero dropped his head to bury his face in my shoulder, drawing in breath through his teeth. "Touch me, Duo. I need you to touch me. Please-"

My hand slipped down of its own accord, feeling its way across his taut stomach, wriggling under the elastic of his sweatpants, underneath the fabric of cotton boxers, curling to clasp around him. He jerked and moaned, shaking my body beneath him, and his hand squeezed.

I couldn't think.

I gasped, shuddered, my perception shrinking to a single, white-hot point. oh god. oh fuck.

I couldn't breathe.

He was moving faster, we were both moving faster, panting into each other's mouths. yes. oh god yes.

I couldn't. couldn't hold it in.



It took me a while to crawl my way back to reality. I felt groggy, sated, and desperately wanted a cigarette.

Heero was still lying half over me, his breathing just beginning to even out. His head was resting on my shoulder, his face flushed but relaxed. He looked peaceful, lying there, his lips slightly parted, eyes closed, dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. If I trusted my body to move, I might have stroked his cheek, brushed his bangs out of his face.

Instead, I decided I didn't want a cigarette bad enough to change this position.

He shifted, and his eyes opened. He studied my face for a moment, and apparently saw what he was looking for. He smiled.

Tha-thump. Tha-thump.

I really needed to do something about this noisy heart of mine.

He kissed me softly, and rearranged both of us until he was on his back, and I was lying sprawled across his chest, my head tucked under his chin. One of his hands was at the small of my back, clasped on the end of my braid. The other was stroking my hair, running fingers along my scalp.

I snuggled against him and relaxed. If I knew how to purr, I would have.

After what might have been five minutes or five years, he sighed, his breath stirring my bangs. "What did you want to talk to me about, anyway?"

The sound of his voice rumbled under my cheek, buzzing in my ear. I settled into my position, finally comfortable. "Nothing, really."

He hummed in response, as though he didn't really believe me. "Wanna take a nap before dinner?"

"Mm-hmm." I remembered something. "What about Quatre?"

"He has a key."

I chuckled a bit. "What about Wufei?"

"He'll live."



"Sing for me?"

He was quiet for a moment, and I was afraid he wouldn't do it, after all. I felt the vibrations in his chest first, and that combined with the sound of his voice, singing softly, lulled me to sleep.

"You've got your ball, you've got your chain, tied to me tight, tied me up again. Who's got their claws in you, my friend? Into your heart I'll beat again. Sweet like candy to my soul, sweet you rock, and sweet you roll, lost for you, I'm so lost. for you."

His voice faded into the soothing beat of his pulse under my ear.


I barely heard the question, already halfway to dreamland.

"Sleep well, love."


back to fiction

back to casey valhalla fiction

back home