heero/duo, with swearing, written for [ sharon1x2 ] in response to her wanting to read something set to her [ heero/duo preventers picture ] by phantom pele.
sweating the small stuff
I should have known to expect it, and maybe in some ways, I did. But when Heero grabbed me from behind and pushed me into the supply closet, I was startled enough to reach for my weapon. Only, I didn't have it any more. And with Heero's mouth on my neck, I didn't really care what'd happened to it.
"Isn't this usually my MO?" I was telling him, hands now up on the wire mesh cage separating office supplies from field agent supplies. My fingers threaded through openings and hooked around the metal.
Heero was currently unbuttoning my shirt, pulling it out of his way. "Usually," he said, shifting from neck to ear. "But today it was you," he bit my ear, and I was biting my lip to keep from making louder sounds. "who was nearly killed." He was fingering the small hole in my jacket.
"That's... ah..." and my words were lost for a moment. Heero's hand had traveled from chest to crotch, and it wasn't a love tap he was applying. "That's what flak vests are for."
He was growling in my ear, his palm ground against my cock through fabric, pushing the hard, stiff run of zipper and fly against my own stiffening hardness. "You weren't supposed to be there." His fingers were circling my cock. "You were supposed to be behind the squad car."
I grabbed his hand and forced it to move. Heero's half-teasing touches were killing me. And feeling his cock pressing into one of my asscheeks was pushing me over-the-top. If we didn't have another debriefing in the next ten minutes, I'd have him stripped and bent over before he could say please.
"Fuck the squad car!" So I raised my voice. I wasn't giving a damn at the moment. Heero shoved me face-first into the cage grid. Lucky for him I was expecting it; waffle patterns on the face wasn't a cool look for me. "I fuckin' mean it Heero," He was doing his best to make me lose what I wanted to say with his hand gripping my cock in a hard fist. "It had to stop and charging that asshole was the way."
"There were a hundred other options, Duo!" He was grinding his hips into my ass, holding me upright with his right hand splayed over my belly. A hundred other options be damned, I was going to come. At least Heero had kept his voice down.
"Next..." I couldn't speak for panting. "Next time." I closed my eyes, my head jerked back and my hips thrust forward. I was coming.
Just on the brink, just when I could feel it ready to shoot free, Heero's hand clamped down tight. "You had better." His mouth was at my neck again, and the vibration of his words made me shiver.
I fucking came with Heero's cock still in his pants, plastered up against my ass, my cock still in my pants wrapped in Heero's fist, and Heero's mouth biting down on my shoulder. Oh, fuck yeah.
Heero always knew what I needed to let go. Just as I do him.
quatre masturbating for wicked... wicked's request, that is. i mean... well, you know!
behind tinted glass
He is on his knees, kneeling before the window of the pool house. The window curtain is in one hand, his erection in his other. His mouth is open, his eyes fixed on the figure just beyond. His swim trunks are still dry, pushed down to mid-thigh with the drawstring still tied, but he had been in a hurry and couldn't bother to undo the knot.
The boy-not-yet-a-man executes a perfect dive, his body curved with arms over his head, arrow-shaped. A faint splash sounds and Quatre groans low and deep. He lets his head fall back and his eyes close; the curtain wrinkles as his grip tightens. A bottle of tanning lotion lies on its side by his knee, it cap still off, and a trickle of SPF 14 dribbles to the outdoor carpet.
His breathing is rough and he thinks it might be too loud, but for now, he knows he's safe. Trowa is still underwater and even as sensitive as his ears were he'd not hear Quatre now. The lotion smells of coconut and reminds Quatre of the beach. Trowa had been there too.
Trowa is rising from the pool now, water glistening on his skin in the sunlight. Quatre bites his lip, muffling the groan. Muscles bulge in brief exertion as Trowa pulls himself up the ladder, chest just broad enough tapering down to a narrow waist and even narrower hips. Quatre groans again; Trowa is wearing near-shamefully small swim briefs. And the taut material does little to disguise Trowa's package.
Quatre squeezes his hand on his dick. He's moving too fast and he wants this feeling to last just a little longer. His fingers pinch at the head, and he shudders with a quick indrawn breath. Trowa is shaking out his hair, his arms raised up with hands to each side of his head. Water droplets fly in every direction around him; Quatre eases his tongue out to lick at lips suddenly dry.
He begins pumping his cock in slow movements, almost lazy up and down draws of his hand. Trowa has bent over from his side to pick up his discarded towel. He is patting up his arms, down his chest and under his arms. Quatre's breath catches as Trowa's eyes sweep the pool house, but Trowa isn't looking at the windows - he cannot see inside them as darkly tinted as they are.
Has he been gone too long? Will Trowa come looking for him? Quatre shivers again in barely contained anticipation. The idea of Trowa catching him jerking off to watching him just breathe brings him closer.
His breathing is ragged now in short hoarse gasps. He is forcing air from his mouth and just as quickly drawing it back in. His vision grays at the edges; his hand jerks on the curtain. He releases it even as he comes. Trowa's name is a whisper and Quatre falls back on his heels, legs trembling and body thrumming, wanting more.
Raising his hand, Quatre wipes the sweat from his face. He's reaching for the curtain with his other hand, and wonders if Trowa has missed him yet.
"You know," Duo's voice is saying behind him and Quatre turns to stare. "You might want to check the room out a bit more before you..." Duo is sitting up from the lounge and he turns to grin down at Heero. It is obvious what the two had been doing either before or during what Quatre had been doing. "...indulge yourself."