Overture
You know what really twists my knickers? I don't know his name. He
knows mine, although you'd hardly think it considering he's used it
exactly one time. See, I handed my name over to him on a platter,
innocently thinking that he'd tell me his back because that's what you
do, isn't it? Someone saves your ass and you tell them your name.
Apparently, no one ever read this guy the rulebook. And it just pisses
me off because that's just one more point he has above me on the
scoreboard. It's all right, the game isn't over yet and I still have
time to catch up before we go into the final round.
At least he remembered my name. I suppose I should be grateful for
small favors. Be kind of embarrassing to spend all this time and effort
to chase him down, only to have him go, "Do I know you?"
So now, here we are in our 'borrowed' aircraft with him preaching all
high and mighty to me.
"I don't think you understand how important this mission is," he said,
sitting just as calm as can be next to me while I do all the piloting.
Oh, yeah, like I'm some kind of fucking moron who doesn't understand
that killing all the OZ leaders would probably end the war. Guess he
thinks where battles are concerned I'd be better off going door to door
selling Gundam Scout cookies than being on the front line. Well, he'd
better get used me being around because until I find out how to crack
this nut sitting next to me, I'm not going anywhere.
"This is our chance to finally destroy the OZ organization," I said,
figuring that if I spelled it out for him I could prove I'm not a
complete moron. "Then I can go back to space," I added cheerfully.
Now, if there is one thing that you don't do as a pilot, it's use the
autopilot. You just don't, not unless it's going to be a really long
and really boring trip. It'd be like a professional chef using a
machine to whip up a soufflé.
Nope. If you want it done right then you'd better just fly that sucker
by hand. It's just one of those unspoken rules. Which is why I did not
expect to find myself sprawled across Spandex Boy's lap anytime soon.
Someone apparently needs to verbalize those unspoken rules to him.
He'd flipped on the autopilot and had me out of my seat before I could
even scream like the girly-man I am. Arms pinned behind me, straddling
his lap and his face about an inch away from mine.
Oooookay, then. I can work with this.
"Did you want something?" I asked sweetly, as if we'd just bumped into
each other on the street and he wasn't about to pull my arms out of
their sockets.
"Why are you following me?" he demanded. Yeouch. Nobody make their
voice cold like this guy. I'm surprised he doesn't spit ice cubes.
I managed to laugh, no way in hell I was going to tell him that this
was really starting to fucking well hurt. "Following you? You've got
quite the ego, don't you?" I said. I didn't actually -say- I wasn't
following him, can I twist the truth or what? "Our missions are the
same, you know. Why else would I be following you, anyway?"
He didn't say anything, but he didn't let me go either. All right then,
he wants to play rough? I can play rough too. A little twist to keep
from breaking my arms, and I melted against him, squirming a little as
I pressed my crotch against his. Ah, spandex doesn't hide very much,
now does it?
His eyes widened slightly, mouth dropping open just a little as he
sucked in a sharp breath. Oh, yeah, not expecting that, were you,
Superman? Off guard and hard as hell, this was just where I wanted him.
Not one to bypass any advantage, I kissed him, hard, slipping my tongue
between his parted lips and hoped like hell he didn't decide to bite it
off. He didn't. Instead, he went one step better and kissed me back,
nipping at my lips with his teeth.
Violent kind of guy, ain't he? Makes my nipples hard just thinking
about it.
I pulled away, sliding off his lap and I think he actually -growled- at
me.
"I'm not going anywhere," I assured him, kicking off my boots before
climbing back on. He grabbed me again the second I was close enough and
held on this time. Heck, somebody is hard up for it, aren't they?
He kissed me again, all wet and sloppy, and damn I could get to like
that. Who knew that someone who seemed so restrained any time I talked
to him would go off like a firecracker at practically the mention of
the word sex? He was getting pretty damn impatient for it too, hands
scrabbling over me as he tried to figure out how to open my clothes.
The last time I'd only been wearing a tank top and shorts, so it hadn't
been an issue.
Apparently, he still wasn't horny enough to ask for my help but he also
seemed to be about ready to just say 'fuck it' and rip my clothes off,
which would leave me to pilot my Gundam bare-ass naked and even I'm not
that kinky.
Tearing my mouth away from his, I managed to gasp, "It's a jumpsuit."
When that didn't seem to penetrate his thick skull, I batted his hands
out of the way before he could do any real damage. "Here, like this."
No wonder he wears spandex.
Whatever coolness points he lost for not being able to unbutton a damn
shirt were immediately reinstated for the speed in which he managed to
strip my clothes off. Which left me naked and shivering a little in the
cockpit of a stolen aircraft.
I started laughing. I couldn't help it. This situation was definitely
at the top of my weirdo-meter and the look on his face sure as hell
didn't help. I only laughed harder, and I probably would have fallen on
the floor if we hadn't been scrunched together in a tiny co-pilot seat
that damn well didn't recline. Somebody should write to Khushrenada and
complain.
That thought made me laugh even more, and I might have just kept it up
for a while if -someone- hadn't gotten a good double handful of my hair
and yanked. Hard.
I yelped, and again found myself nose to nose with Spandex boy. Sheesh,
he really has a way with people. I'm surprised they haven't drafted him
to be a fucking telemarketer with his people skills.
"We're not in your bed," he stated calmly and I blinked. Boy, got a
good grasp of the obvious, doesn't he?
"Um, you're right," I said slowly. Hey, never can be too careful. Put
him in the wrong situation and I bet this guy would snap like a soda
cracker. "We're not in a bed at all."
"Then this time, we do it my way."
I blinked again. This wasn't part of the script. And then I promptly
forgot any thought of a script, first draft or even cliff notes because
he fastened his mouth on my neck, one arm around my waist and the other
hand moving down south of the border to see what he could find in my
lap.
I think I squeaked, which I admit with great shame but hell, you have
someone like him wrap a hand around your very eager hard-on and see how
verbal you get.
Either he had taken some excellent notes that one time we were
together, or he was just a really quick learner because in about two
minutes I was ready to just give it up. The guy has a way with a hand
job, I'll tell you that right now. Gentle at first, and then harder as
he goes, rubbing his thumb over the tip and I just about came right
then.
But I could also feel his erection poking me in the butt through those
ridiculous shorts of his, and I hate to let such a lovely thing go to
waste.
With great regret, I pushed his hand away and he gave me the greatest
look, that sweet little confused expression that makes him look about
twelve, and makes me feel like some kind of fucking child molester. But
the cock I was freeing from his shorts didn't belong to any child, and
the expression was lost pretty quickly, melting into one of a typical
lusty teenager.
I pulled one hand free and spat into it, much to his consternation
apparently because he gave me a look that was a little repulsed, but a
lot horny. Horny must've won and I gave him the best seductive smile
that I know how.
"You're a soldier, you know how to make due with the materials at
hand," I purred, and he nodded, eyes wide as I smoothed the spit over
his erection. Pretty poor lube, but -I'm- not a virgin, and I've used
worse.
Squirming around, I got into the best position I could, considering our
tight quarters, until he was pressed right against my tight little
opening.
He seemed to have short-circuited something along the way; his hands
were shaking where they rested on my hips and he was almost gasping for
breath. "Duo," he breathed, eyes wide. "You...can't...oh!"
Well, what do you know? Twice in one day he'd managed to say my name.
I'll make a human out of him yet, you'll see. I gave him a sweet smile
and kissed the tip of his nose.
"Now, which one of us has done this once and which one has done
it...er...more than once?" I said, shifting so the tip of his cock rubbed
against my ass just so, and his hands tightened on my hips. There'll be
bruises tomorrow, I'd bet money on that. "Unless you've made some major
lifestyle changes recently, I've got more experience in this one,
soldier boy."
He started to say something but it melted into a groan as I pushed
down, gritting my teeth as it did damn well hurt. Lousy lube and no
preparation do not make for painless sex, just in case you were
wondering. But fuck, I wanted this, wanted it bad and even if there had
been a gallon of Astroglide in the cargo area, I wouldn't have stopped
now to go get it.
True superhero that he was, this guy just held perfectly still and let
me do all the work. For about ten seconds. The moment I felt my ass
brush against his thighs, his hips gained a life of their own and he
just fucked me for all he was worth. However, by this point, Khushrenda
and an entire fleet of OZ soldiers could have waltz on into the cockpit
wearing ballet slippers and tutus, and I wouldn't have fucking cared.
So I just held on and enjoyed the ride, and let me tell you, it was the
ride of my life. I don't know why I was surprised, who could fuck
better than Superman?
Don't know how long it last, but by the end we were both slippery with
sweat, and when he came, he just about crushed me into the control
panel. I'm going to have some really interesting bruises from that,
I'll tell you. At the time, however, I was too busy coming myself to
give a flying fuck, and when we finally collapsed back into the chair,
we were both a sticky, sweaty mess.
I doubt he cared either. And I was this close to coming again when he
swiped a finger across my stomach and tasted it, for all the world just
as calm as he could be. He tasted my semen. He tasted -me-. Talk about
lust inducing.
Who the hell is this guy?
Just then the autopilot beeped, which scared the shit out of me, and
broke the mood just a bit. We were about fifteen minutes outside of our
destination.
Since there wasn't anything to be done for the mess, these planes don't
have a shower in them, another thing to include in my letter to OZ, I
shimmied back into my clothes as I was, and I must've done it a little
too well because soldier boy gave me a look that stated clearly that he
wouldn't mind a second helping, ma.
And they call me a slut.
Seat belt. Seat belts are good, and I hastily buckled myself into mine.
He looked vaguely disappointed but he flicked off the autopilot and
took the controls himself.
I busied myself tidying up my hair, can't fight OZ looking like a well-
fucked floozy. Even better, I looked like a well-fucked floozy priest.
Bet not many guys wearing this outfit walk around with that expression
on their face.
The silence was just about killing me when I finally broke it. "Are you
ever going to tell me your name?"
Silence.
Big shocker, there. "Well, then I'll have to think of my own name for
you," I decided. I slid down into my seat, tilting my head back to
moan, "Ooooh, it's the Spandex Ranger!" I writhed beneath the confines
of my seat belt, rubbing my hands down my thighs as I thrust my hips
upward against an invisible lover. "Oh, oh yes! Take me, Spandex
Ranger...oh...ohhhhh!" I shuddered theatrically, reaching my 'climax' and
cast a sly glance at my silent audience.
He wasn't even looking at me, the bastard, and I wanted so badly to ask
him if the reason he frowned so hard was to keep himself from smiling.
Nah.
"Ahhhh," I sighed, sagging into the seat and wiping imaginary sweat
from my forehead. "Who was that masked man?"
He was still steadfastly ignoring me and I sighed again, for real this
time, and decided to devote my talents to someone who paid better
attention. Me and my plans for breaking through to Mr. No-Name-Who-
Fucks-Well.
What had I gotten today? No name yet, and he'd fucked -me- silly this
time. Huh. No points this round.
But that was all right, we were still in the first phase of Operation
Spandex-Boy. There was still time before the final battle.
Looking out the window, I ignored my wonderfully conversational
companion, quietly humming the 'William Tell Overture' under my breath.
***
Heero.
Heero Yuy.
His name is Heero. Heero. Shit, I should have known.
Why me?
-finis
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