Disclaimer: They are not mine.

Pairing: Heero/Duo, Quatre/Trowa
Warning: AU, sex, language, Duo POV, angst

Author Note: This story sort of took over my life a couple of weeks ago... and a few friends I was able to con into reading drafts for me. *grin* This story so matches this 80s request Kanzanhanzai made. Behind the Wheel lyrics. Enjoy!

Watch Me Spin
Part 6
By Merith

The door hadn't completely closed before I was tugging on his hand, pulling him into me. Just because I was letting him pilot the plane for the landing, didn't mean I had to give up the takeoff or in-flight control. I was a top, after all. I'd caught him mid-step, thrown him off-balance, and he fell against my chest. His hand still clutched in my grasp, I palmed his jaw with my other, and tilted his face up. And his lips were mine.

Those brief, flighty kisses exchanged before were nothing like what we did then. Doc was quick on his feet, quick to regain any lost advantage, and competition was fierce. He shook his hand free from my hold, allowing me to frame his head in both my hands. He wasn't moving any time soon if I had anything to say about it.

His tongue was a rolling, writhing thing in my mouth, dancing the fandango with mine. Damn, I'd never been turned on more by someone else's parts in me. I heard myself moan around his lips, and his tongue retreated. My hands tightened around his face; my mouth dove after his.

Coolness, laced with warmth touched the skin above my hip. In a vague sense I knew he'd pulled my shirt loose; the material bunched on his arm as his hand slid up my back. It was his other hand I should have been more aware of. While I fought for control of the kiss, he'd planted a firm grip on my ass, and pulled me crashing into him, pelvis leading the way.

Just watching the guy had left me half-hard for most of the night. Actually having his tongue down my throat gave me a boner that wouldn't quit. And then he slams his against mine? He fought dirty, and scored points someone somewhere was keeping. At that moment, there was no fucking way I could add more than one and one, and that was him and me and nothing else counted.

I broke away; a gasping moan dragged out from my gut. Heero had to have been made of steel or iron or something, cause he went right for my throat, as though he wasn't bothered by the grinding he was doing. Or the returned thrusting I managed. Giving in had never felt this good. Letting him show me how he worked that mouth after wanting nothing but all night was how it was supposed to be, right?

My head lolled back on my neck, my hands dropped to his shoulders, holding on. His arm supported my back, and his hand drove me crazy, working my thrusts with his. And his tongue licked at the skin right where my collarbone poked through the opening of my shirt. His mouth made these great sucking sounds on the juncture between my shoulder and neck. And all I could do was gasp, and moan, and pray to fucking God he'd never quit.

That tormenting mouth found its way back up, stopping to bite on my chin before landing where it belonged. I sucked on his lips, now tasting of salty sweat, and opened my mouth eagerly for more of him. Somewhere along the line, my eyes had closed, so lost to the sensations he fed me. Hand on flesh, fingers tightening their grasp on my ass, lips and mouth heating, cool and shocking against skin.

Again with the sweaty taste and the voice in my head that never quits prodded me aware. I was tasting me. I was tasting my filthy, stinking sweat on his mouth. Abruptly I stopped. My eyes opened and I was pushing on his chest.

Heero stared at me, a bit shocked, but concerned. "Duo?" he asked, still panting. He hadn't let me go, and my skin crawled, thinking of how it must feel under his fingertips.

"Uh..." I hedged. Fuck. What was I thinking? Scratch that, I wasn't. At least not in the way it counted. "Heero, I don't think we should..." His hand slid out from beneath my shirt slowly, and he rubbed my back through it. I couldn't look him in the face, and my eyes darted around the room, avoiding his eyes. His comforter was white.

"It's okay, Duo," he was saying, pulling me into an embrace that had nothing to do with sex. Staring at his bed, I could almost see the lines of that painting hanging in the next room. The gradual sweep of blue, so many hues fading into a gray with touches of white.

"I'm dirty," I mumbled against his shoulder, calmer than from a moment before. My chest was feeling tight, suddenly, and my eyes were stinging. I refused to cry. Instead, I pushed back against him. "I need to go home, take a shower. Stuff." I didn't want him to touch me, my being all dirty.

Heero chuckled, amused. Almost pissed me off, like he was patronizing me or something. "I do have a shower. And it works too."

"Oh." The thought hadn't crossed my mind.

"If you wouldn't mind company," he was saying, tugging my shirt up. "I'd like to join you." Heero stepped back slowly, my shirt hanging from his hand. "I could use a shower myself." His smile was short and tight, but his eyes were telling me he wanted this, he wanted me.

I stifled a shudder and nodded. He wasn't going to try anything or he'd find out first hand just what Greg had. Besides, I was aware people did shower together without having sex. Just because I'd never done so, didn't mean that was the norm. I undid my buckle and watched Heero pull his shirt free of his pants. Fuck me, but he was one beautiful man.

"I was twenty-one my first time," he was saying, bent over pulling a sock off. "I thought I was in love." He straightened, gave me a rueful smile and dropped the sock to the floor. "She thought she was in love, too." What? "We met..."

"She?" I interrupted.

Heero nodded, completely nude now. "She. Until I'd met her, my life revolved around a plan. Of reaching a goal set before me when I was still a child." His eyes unfocused for a moment, and I got the feeling he wasn't thinking of me. Damn. And here I was ready to do something stupid to attract his attention. "We're still friends." His shrug was casual enough.

So, how to phrase what I wanted to know. "You're..." I bit my lip. Dropping my jeans down, I stepped out of them. "...bi?"

"I don't know if one experience with a woman makes a person bi or not. I like to think of those I meet without labels, though."

I glanced up and he stood there watching me, not at all uncomfortable in his own skin. Shit. And I was the one who worked around men, showered with them, touched them just as naked as he was. I guess it goes to show the difference when knowing someone's going to fuck you and knowing it's never going to happen. Looking him over, I couldn't help licking my lips.

"You work out." Master of the cliché I am.

Heero only smiled and jerked his head towards the side. "Come on. Bathroom's this way." He strode away, giving me one fine ass view. Just watching him walk, my cock got hard and I followed, pulling off my socks along the way.

The bathroom was all tile and chrome. And huge. And Heero was leaning into the shower, adjusting something that looked like belonged in a cockpit. Water started and I stepped closer to see as he turned. He must have gotten caught in the spray for tiny droplets beaded on his bangs. A drop ran down the ridge of his nose and I forgot to be interested in anything else. Suddenly, he was in front of me, his hand my hair, barely touching it.

"Oh shit." I pulled away. Still wasn't ready for that, no matter how close he was getting. "Can't get the hair wet or it'll be hours before it dries." A quick glance around didn't show me a thing I could use to pin it up.

The doc only nodded. "I think I have something," was all he said and then was gone.

Well, shit. I stood on the bath mat, staring at the door. What the hell was I supposed to do? Stand and wait? Sit and wait? I looked at the toilet and shook my head. He probably thought I was enough of a freak as it was.

Music started playing, something different from when we were in the living room, but still no vocals. Its beat faster, more pulsing and I looked for the speakers. I had the feeling Doc changed the tunes to something a little more heated. Not that I minded in the least. Though it was amusing thinking of him wandering around the place with his dick hanging out. His nearly erect dick. Just thinking about him, I touched myself.

It was like he was there, standing behind me, with his hand on my cock instead of my own. I was only lightly touching it; it was hard enough. If I closed my eyes, I could picture him, smell him, and imagining his fucking me did nothing more than make me harder. I wanted to come. Right then. I wanted that release so bad, I thought of jumping in the shower and flipping it to pure cold.

Of fucking course he would walk back in at that moment, me with my hand on my cock and mouth open in a pant. But damn, he was cool. He stopped for only a second, his eyes widening on what I was doing, and then he grinned. His cock jumped on its own.

"Need some help with that?" he delivered that stupid cheesy line with such a growl, I shuddered. It made me wonder if just hearing him talk to me could make me come - no hands, no mouth, no touching. Another mental note taken to ask him if he'd be willing to try one of these days.

Giving my dick another stroke, I grinned back, and dragged my eyes up from his very hard cock. "A hand would be nice."

He was standing in front of me, a bare dick-length away - I knew this because if he moved another centimeter or two, my dick would be rubbing his thigh. He reached behind me, gathering my braid in his hands. It was then I noticed what he held.

"Chopsticks?" I had to laugh.

"Chopsticks." His eyes flicked downward, meeting mine. He was smiling. It felt odd, someone else's hands messing with my hair. But, I leaned into him, lifted my hands to his hips, giving him free access to do what he needed. His cock twitched against mine. Fuck, I wasn't going to last.

He must have finished whatever it was he wanted to do, for his hands dropped to my shoulders. I stared at him, wondering what was next and his cock jumped again. "Shower," he mouthed, pushing on me, turning me around.

The water was warm, pretty damn near perfect between not too hot and nowhere near cold. The showerhead looked like it'd been designed by NASA, and I looked closer at that cockpit control panel thing Doc was fussing with. This apartment was more state-of-the-art than the local Best Buy! Temp control and water flow regulator? To take a shower? Fuck me. But it was nice.

"Too hot?" he asked, standing behind me, but not too close. I shook my head and dragged my attention from the shower controls. "And no, you're not to touch that. I don't care to be scalded, thanks."

I offered up a sheepish grin, shifted a bit awkwardly. Now what? If it'd been me and anybody else, nothing would have stopped me from initiating contact, of getting him into a position most enjoyable. But it was Doc, and I had the idea he had some sort of plan.

Heero moved closer, and reached up, removing the showerhead from its bracket. "If you'll let me, I'd like to wash you," he was saying spraying himself down. I opened my mouth - to give protest or acceptance, I wasn't sure at that moment, but instead remained quiet. "I won't touch you anywhere you don't want me to, and if anything I do makes you feel uncomfortable, just let me know." He'd finished getting himself wet, and stood looking at me, the showerhead still clutched in his hand and spraying the floor.

"All right," I agreed, swallowing. I could play this game. I could let him drive for a bit, see where he'd take it. Besides, it'd give me the chance to just look at him. That thought made my cock jump. Yeah, this was going to work out just fine.

The showerhead was turned on me, next. Trickling heat trailed in rivulets from shoulders to calves with the pulsing wet streams he moved over me. He stepped close, an inch or maybe two separated us. I watched his eyes as they flickered over my body, monitoring his motions. Heero looked so serious, so focused on what he was doing. I leaned forward and kissed his nose. He jerked back a half step and looked at me. And grinned.

He reached up around me to replace the nozzle, pressing his shower-warm and definitely wet body against mine. I think he used a little more skin to skin contact than what was necessary, but hey, I wasn't complaining. The soap he used was of the liquid kind in a scent I didn't recognize and as long as it didn't clog the nostrils, I didn't care what it smelled like. He used his hands.

Slippery, but firm, his hands were everywhere - fingers up around my ears, along my jaw, palms covering my neck and gliding over shoulders. And I stood there soaking it up, my own hands resting on his shoulders or arms or on the tiled wall. He was on his knees, looking up at me, asking for permission. Looking down at him, I gave it. His hands lingered on my ass, squeezing the cheeks and watching me. I flexed buns of steel, and got flashed a smile. He brought one of his hands around front and just as he spread the foaming lather around my balls, a soapy finger ran the length between my cheeks.

The jump didn't surprise him. At least I didn't hit him.

"Just washing, Duo," he intoned, his hand almost caressing in its touch. With what his other hand was doing in front, I lost focus on the one on my ass. By then, I was so fucking hard, I thought I'd come with just his touch. He didn't waste time lathering my cock much, but got a stroke or two in.

I was turned to face the spray, and Heero sluiced water up, using his hands to rinse the suds off my torso. His chest flush against my back, his cock wedged itself between my thighs. Its length foreign with its presence, and yet it was all I could do to keep from moving my ass. Having been right where he was now many times, I knew being so close to the target was like being on third base, and the batter hitting a line drive to the shortstop; home base teased with nearness. A lot of me wanted to tease him by wiggling home plate.

Thoughts of making him as crazy as he was making me fled when his hands moved lower. His mouth started at my neck and trailed over my shoulders, keeping pace with his hands. He turned us to where the water now cascading on his back, leaving his hands on my hips.

"The first man I was with," his words were coming to me from far away and not just behind my ear. One hand holding me, moved to fist my cock and didn't give me a chance to think, let alone hear anything. "Was older, and a good teacher. He showed me things I don't think I could have learned with anyone else." As he was speaking, he lowered himself back to his knees; his hand still wrapped around my dick.

"Tell me if you don't want this," his voice vibrated the flesh of my ass. I was breathing in ragged, gasping breaths, my hands braced on the shower door and the tiled wall. The incongruous feel of the cool tile, the warm water and the neutral door only added to the assault on my senses. There was no way I was going to stop whatever he was doing. It felt too fucking good.

I expected his hand to touch me, the one that wasn't pumping me into oblivion. But when his tongue did, I jerked away in surprise. He rubbed a hip soothingly, but continued to breathe and suck at the inside of my cheek. It wasn't as though I'd never been touched there, but I'd never been touched with the idea of penetration ever happening. And penetrate he did. Just a little pressure, his breath hot, his tongue hotter and his hand jerking me off distracting as hell.

Confused would have named my condition mildly. And fuck me sideways, but my body didn't know if it wanted to fuck his hand or fuck his face; thrust forward or back. That double sensation, him wrapped around my cock lightly stroking it, and his tongue stuck in my ass, keeping time. And before I'd only thought I needed to come. His name became a mantra I shouted. So close to coming I ceased, froze where I stood and he stopped.

"Not yet, Duo," he panted, resting his cheek against mine. His fingers pressed in that magic place that keeps most men from spurting. Well, at least it kept me from doing it.

My legs were getting shaky, and when Heero worked his way around to kneel in front of me, I wanted to drop to the stall floor and kiss him. He stared up at me, his hands running up and down my legs. His eyes were so fucking gorgeous he should be illegal. Settling his hands on my hips, his mouth closed over my dick.

I died. I know I had to have. Lips, tongue and mouth, pressure sucking and swallowing. Watching his head bob the length of my cock, watching my flesh disappear into his mouth, there was no fucking way I could stop from coming. Nothing, not even that magical spot was going to help. I think I managed a warning, but believe he was prepared. He pulled back just enough to touch his tongue to my cockhead.

Long ropy threads shot from my cock, and I watched him lick at the first and then move his face about, letting me come over his lips, his chin, his nose, cheeks and even a brow. When I collapsed against the wall, he swallowed my dick again, cleaning it, sucking out the last of the come and I fought to keep from pulling away; at any other time his taste buds wouldn't have been felt. Now they tickled, made me shiver.

Slowly, other sensations returned. The surf's tide receded from my ears to where only the water hitting the stall floor and my own breathing could be heard. Nerves I never knew I had were pounding a throbbing beat from navel to crotch, and a vague impression that tingled inside as well as out around my ass. It wasn't until he pulled his hand away that I realized he'd been finger fucking me.

"You all right?" he asked, slipping up between my braced arms.

My come cris-crossed his face, dripped from his chin, and he looked sexier than hell. Still breathless, I attacked his lips, sucking the taste of me from his mouth, and rubbed my face with his. At that moment, he could have suggested anything to me, and I would have done it. Feeling his cock jabbing into my groin, tasting my own come in his mouth, my dick got hard again. Damn, I was feeling fucking fantastic.

"I think you need to show me what else you know," I managed, still supporting my upright position on bent arms.

Heero laughed silently, his chest moved against mine and I tried to glare but wound up smiling instead. I rested my face on a shoulder facing down. Steam rose in misting rolls about his ankles, and the scent of his soap tickled my nose. It made me think of Irish Spring, but more woodsy and less harsh. With almost a jolt, Heero was working me away from the wall, and my support, back into the spray.

"For tonight," he was saying before dipping his face into the water's flow. "I'll show you something." I splashed water on my own face. "The rest I'll save for other times." And I shivered.

Looking at him, I realized how serious he was. From almost the start he'd been hinting at more, suggesting more. This wasn't going to be a meeting of a few hours, nor was it a one-night kind of thing. He wanted ...a relationship? I knew I was doing that freight train through my nose noise, but it couldn't be helped. It was no longer anywhere near therapy. It wasn't even in the ballpark. I felt like I'd hit a homerun with the bases loaded, but had no clue where first base was.

"What are we doing?" I finally forced out through numb lips.

"Besides taking a shower?" he asked softly. I could see it in his eyes he knew exactly what I meant. "Maybe we should take this to the other room." He reached around me and pressed a button; the spray stopped instantly. His hand dropped to my arm, and he squeezed the shoulder joint in a gentle grasp. "It's going to be okay, Duo."

I nodded and moved to the now open door. "Whatever you say, Heero," I mumbled. Limbs stiff, I reached for a towel hanging on the rack.

"Duo," Heero was right behind me. I didn't answer, but instead dragged the thick cotton over wet skin. "Duo!" he said with a little more force, and I'll be damned if he didn't pull me around like we were in some romance movie. "You're hyperventilating. Stop it!" He was shaking me like the proverbial rag doll and I had to grip his arms to remain standing.

"Okay! Knock off the whiplash technique." We were locked in an odd tableau, his fingers digging into the flesh of my shoulders, mine into the flesh of his arms. My breathing returned to a rate little more normal with me staring at his chest.

"Listen, Duo," he was speaking in a calm, low voice. "Tonight can be as much or as little as you want. We can stop right now, if that's your choice." His fingers eased off and instead of claws ripping into my shoulder, they became soothing pads. "You can go home, go on with your life as it was and we'll never see each other again."

I nodded, still not meeting his eyes. Feeling a little ridiculous, I let him bend down and pick up my towel and even drape it on my shoulders. "Thanks," I mumbled, and began to dry off.

Heero remained quiet as he used his own towel. From the corner of my eyes, I kept catching him watching me. When I was dry and uncertain what to do with the now wet towel, he pulled it from my hand. "Here," he said, handing me a robe. It was one of those really thick, white ones you see hanging in the bathroom of expensive hotels, but without the monogram.

After I'd put it on and cinched the belt, I noticed Heero wore a matching one, but in blue. And I only thought his eyes were fucking gorgeous before. He caught me staring and frowned just a little. I was about to apologize, for looking, for being a jerk, for ruining the good time we were having, for whatever, when he stepped up close, touched my face and kissed me.

"I don't think you'll be needing these." His hands were in my hair, and a heavy thump hit my back. Oh, right. Chopsticks. He started to turn away, and I grabbed his arm.

"Hey, I-I'm sorry about that," I stumbled some. "It's just that... well, shit..."

"It's okay. I told you it was and I mean it." He tossed those sticks towards the sink, and jerked his head to the door. "Let's go sit, okay?" I nodded and followed him out.

on to part 7

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