Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or its characters or its quotations or plotlines. They belong to the Sotsu Agency who owns their trademark, Bandai who licenses their use, Sunrise, and, of course, the guy who created them. I am neither receiving payment for this work, nor do I intend to accept any.

Pairing: 1'n 2, and who ends up seme is up for grabs
Warnings: Post EW. Sappy! Fluffy! Romantic-y! Heero starts out a tidge OOC, not so you'd notice. Heh heheh. Um. Right. It's plot, dammit. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. It's in first person, Duo POV, and highly idiomatic. I am unrepentant about this. If you find yourself very confused, don't feel bad, so am I. Very glancing references to way past NCS since this is fluffy but I couldn't figure out how to keep this 1) post-canon, and 2) still have Heero in it like he is without it. There might be some angst, there might not be. Expect sap. Expect tons of sexual misconduct. Don't expect full-on lemons. Muffie does not like to write lemons. Fluffy D/s. You know, the giggly kind, with lots of sparklies. Okay, maybe not, but still, it's a way fluffy take on D/s. I don't mean any disrespect to anyone involved in D/s, but I find it difficult to take anything seriously, particularly myself.
Squick Factor: Recent Dx1 (air sick bags are located in the seat pocket in front of you)
Spoilers: Yes! Yes! Oh my God, Yes!
Rating: R (restricted to fellow perverts)
Reviews: For a local production, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat was rather well put togeth--er, wrong kind of review. Um. Reviews, any kind that comes my way, are welcome. Muffie is not a primadonna. She's just very insecure for an arrogant egotist, but we won't talk about that.

Wash My Hair
Chapter Two: The God of Death Is Not a Wussy Romantic
by Muffie

We were staring at each other blankly when Dorothy deigned to show up. Okay, so he was staring at his feet and I was doing my best not to stare at his chest. I just wanted to press my cheek to his sternum, then rub my nose along the line of his pec, then brush my lips over his--bad Duo! Bad, bad, bad!

Anyway, my hot chick in red latex came bearing Heero's stuff. I don't know about anyone else, but when I think sleepover, I think of things like duffel bags, pajamas, toothbrushes, a sleeping bag, a change of clothes or two, a whoopee cushion, extra underpants (just in case), and teddy bear. Maybe movies and some popcorn. Dorothy brought over a long metal case that you use to take rifles with you on shuttles, a Golden Retriever sized dog pillow, a bag of sushi, and a typed set of instructions about his daily routine, how and when to feed him, a list of punishments, and what to reward good behavior with. I admit it, I turned five shades of red when I read the part where I could reward him for being a good boy by letting him give me a blowjob.

Dorothy chattered on, blithely opening the rifle case and fondling whatever was inside of it. I didn't hear any of it. All I could see was the word blowjob and Heero's intense blue eyes and Heero's lips and the word blowjob and suddenly I really, really needed a blo--uh, a drink of water. I ignored the long black thing she waved in the air, staggered into the kitchen, and made myself the coldest glass of ice water I could manage. Leaning against the counter so I could both look into the living room and keep my lower abdominal area out of sight, I fished an ice cube out of my glass. Heero, still sitting patiently by the chair, offered me a shy smile. Those lips slowly curved like a reward for being alive which was just as good as the reward of a blowjob. I thought about dropping the ice cube into my shorts where it would do some good.

"And I'll have my phone with me if there's a problem. Slave, you behave for Duo. Good boy." She patted him on the head. Patted him. Like a dog. I would have slugged her. Heero simply bowed his head.

"You know," I said when she wiggled her fingers at us and slammed the door behind her, "I just don't trust her."

Heero made eye contact with my chest, but didn't say anything.

I sipped some more water and looked at the door until my boner went down. Once it was safe, well, once the front of my pants didn't look like a tipi, I sauntered as casually as possible over to the rifle case. There was a small shaving kit bag that contained necessary man implements like razors and nail clippers. That's where the similarities to my overnight back ended. For one, there weren't any clothes. None, zilch, zip, nada. Not even a change of g-string. There were long things, leather things, metal things, lube things, an assortment of stuff to stick in your ass. Okay, now I was giggling in addition to doing my tomato impression. I looked like Quatre whenever anyone mentioned Trowa and naked in the same sentence or a 13 year old girl at a boy band concert. Heero must think I'm an idiot.

I shifted a whip thingy out of the way and tugged a studded leather strap doohickey out from beneath a thick gundanium bar. It had a long, somewhat rigid strap that had some small D-rings hanging on it and four shortish straps at even intervals. Apparently they snapped together somehow. I frowned. A wrist brace? What in the hell for?

"That's a cock harness, sir."

"A what?"

"Cock harness. You put it on my cock, sir."

I blinked stupidly at him and then at the leather thing in my hand. It suddenly and abruptly dawned on me that this leather thing in my hand had been intimately acquainted with Heero's cock. I was touching a thing that had been on Heero's cock. Oh. My. God.

I'm not ashamed to say that I squealed like a girl when I dropped the thing and slammed the lid shut on the rifle case out of sheer embarrassment because it made Heero do the most wonderful thing. He laughed. You know, the happy kind of laugh that fills the whole room with this feeling of joy, not the creepy I really like stepping on you with my gundam laugh he used to do all the time. With his eyes still sparkling and a smile still playing around his lips, he looked me directly in the eyes and said, "You weren't paying attention when Mistress Dorothy briefed you, were you?"

"Duh." I rolled my eyes. "You know that woman is a complete psycho. I'm not just talking this stuff here." I pointed emphatically at the case full of hot chick in red latex implements just so there'd be no mistake. "She blackmails me into stupid shoe shopping expeditions that last six freaking hours and she has to hit most of the stores at least twice! I'm not doing it again. I'll just live with a week long justice rant."

"Justice rant?"

"Yeah, she keeps threatening to tell Wufei about a few of my more, shall we say, interesting activities that involve some of his, shall we say, personal belongings." I frowned and tipped my head to the left. "Did Psycho Dotty tell you anything about the rest of us?"

He nodded. "I am permitted to exchange email with Trowa; he's still with the circus and stays with Quatre when it winters. He doesn't know where I am or about this." He tugged at his leash. "I knew that Quatre works in Preventer administration. Wufei is a Preventer, but I didn't know anything new about you until a few months ago when she told me you'd moved here from L2. Alone." He blushed--God he was so cute when he did that--and dropped his eyes. "You were with Hilde when I moved in with Mistress Dorothy. She didn't tell me anything else."

I grinned. "I like to tell people that I moved here out of pity for Wufei, and that's kinda true, but after the third fist fight Mark, that's Hilde's hubby-pooh, picked with me, I sold her my bit of the yard. I came here because I missed you guys and I didn't have anything to keep me on L2 and Wufei really did need a partner so here I am. I was surprised when Doro showed up at the shuttle port instead of one of you guys, but I'm kinda glad she did. She's been a good friend for a psycho, other than the shoe shopping safaris."

"I thought Sally was Wufei's partner."

I wish I'da been there for this one. "She was, for a while. She put up with the woman this and weakling that and the rants okay, but he got into a serious snit when she told him that he had issues and needed to take an anger management course if he was ever going to get past his terminal dickhead disease. They had a big fight in the office not long after that. You know how Mr. Snippy gets when he's pouting. They got into a big screaming match. Sally informed him that she wouldn't work with him if he were the last hope for peacekeeping in the solar system and being his partner was the only way to keep the zombified corpses of Barton, Dermail, Khushrenada, and Zechs Merquise from rising up and taking over the Earth sphere again. It probably wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't've stuck his nose all up in the air and informed her that Zechs Merquise was quite alive and well and makes a mean omelette, thank you very much, and therefore couldn't be a zombified corpse, you idiot woman."

Heero started snickering. Okay, maybe not snickering per se snickering like everyone else did snickering. His eyes kind of got this extra brightness in the blue that I labeled "Heero-giggles" a long time ago. He'd so kick my ass if he knew about that.

"She knocked his ass out cold. She's got a gorgeous left hook. I, uh, appropriated the footage from security if you wanna see." I use a montage of stills from it as screensaver. "Anyway, he went through a bunch of partners after her. He put a few in the hospital, was the direct cause of three letters of resignation, and one of them blamed him for a stint in the looney bin. I never had a problem with him. Even though Une told him that he couldn't change partners unless he actually found someone willing to put up with him, he still puts in a request for a new partner at least once a week." He's just pranking Une, of course. Wufei adores the hell out of me. "You wanna know what just kills me? They started dating casually a couple of weeks ago."

Heero smirked and shook his head.

"Anyway. You hungry? I'm starved. I know this great place down the block tha--" To say that he looked less than enthused at my suggestion was like saying that Quatre had a mild tendency to blame himself a little for every bad thing that ever happened. "What?"

"I don't have any clothing, Sir."


"And, well...." He tugged on the collar.

"I, uh, see. Delivery? I got all the best places on speed dial. Whatcha in the mood for? Pizza? Chinese? Italian? Subs? Burgers? Ribs? Japanese?" God damn was I ever in the mood for something Japanese. And mostly naked.

He smirked at me, though I couldn't figure out what I'd said that was so damned funny. "I'd like something American if it's all right with you, Sir."

I squinted at him, but couldn't detect anything in his smirk. What did that mean? Did he mean that he wanted a Hawaiian style pizza? I hate pineapple on my pizza. Or worse, California style pizza. Whoever thought of putting artichokes on pizza needs to be taken out and shot. Repeatedly. Preferably with a buster rifle. Or would that defeat the purpose of shooting repeatedly? I put a bright smile on. "American, sure! Hawaiian Pizza? Or would you like burgers? Meatloaf?"

He grunted and dropped his eyes to the floor before I could get a good read on his expression. "Whatever you'd like is fine, Sir."

"An answer would be nice. I don't talk just to hear myself talk you know." I frowned at him when he choked. "Well, maybe I do, but I don't ask your opinion just to blow hot air. I asked your opinion because I actually wanted your opinion. If I wanted my opinion, I'd've just asked myself. Hey, Duo, what would you like for dinner, gorgeous? Oh, I don't know, Duo, you handsome devil, something edible and with beef. Great, Duo! I like that suggestion. But no, I asked you, not me."

"Duo." Now that sounded more like the Heero "I Got an Itchy Trigger Finger" Yuy that we all know and love. "I'm the slave. You're the master. That means you make the decisions and I comply with them."

"Fine, then I order you to tell me what the hell you want to eat for dinner."

He glared at me. "Pizza with the works."

I glared back at him. "You hate pepperoni!" The uncultured slug.

He was still glaring, but his bottom lip had curved out a little and he looked more like a pouting little boy than a grown man at the moment. You would not believe how cute he looked doing that. I just about gave in. Just about. There was no way in hell I was going to make him eat things he didn't like to please me.

"Fine." I smirked. "We'll have takoyaki."

I absolutely hated takoyaki and Heero knew it 'cause the one time I tried it, it ended up all over his lap after its return trip. Unlike most things, it tasted better the second time around. Just the thought of anything with octopus in it makes me queasy as hell. It's that narrow slab of rubbery looking flesh that's all pale and sickly looking with those things, those, eww, suckers on it; it looks kind of like Dr. G's nose when his allergies are running. Eww. Moreover, Heero couldn't stand it either. He glowered. Check and mate, baby! I probably would have enjoyed the frustrated expression that he gets when he loses if I hadn't been busy turning green and plotting a graceful way to make a trip to the porcelain god.

"Mexican. Mistress Dorothy doesn't care for it so I haven't had it in a while."

I beamed at him. It occurred to me, quite forcefully, that I could reward him for being a good boy about giving his opinion by letting him give me a blowjob. Trying not to blush like an idiot, I scuttled over to the vidphone and ordered food. I'm pretty sure that I said blowjob instead of enchilada--hey, they kinda sound the same--but I didn't think I had enough blood in my system to blush any harder than I already was.

While we waited for the delivery, I stowed Heero's, uh, gear, in the closet where I planned on leaving it, unmolested, until such time as Dorothy came to collect it, from the closet, by herself, so I'd never have to look at it again. I am not ashamed to admit that I'm not a fetishist. It sounds better than squeamish, I mean, the God of Death, squeamish? Over a little bit of leather bondage gear? You bet your ass! Ha, you get locked up by a buncha sub-human monster rejects masquerading as Oz prison guards and see how into whips and chains you get. If I ever see Une with a riding crop again, I'll pee my pants. Not that the whole notion of Une and sex of any kind doesn't make me feel like I've gotten a mouthful of raw octopus. Ugh. Moving right along. My idea of bondage is silk scarves and my idea of torture revolves around rose petals, feathers, and a lot of kissing. Not that I'd ever admit any of this to anyone. The God of Death has a certain reputation as a total badass to maintain, mind you.

Heero was practically grinning at me when I turned around. I fixed him with a death glare that'd do even him at his quit fucking up my mission best a run for his money. Bastard fucking giggled.

"I'm not squeamish!"

He smiled. "Of course not, sir."

It is fucking hard--is it ever fucking hard -- er, scratch that. Make it damned difficult. Yeah. It's damned difficult to maintain the proper level of pique with Heero when Heero is almost naked and smiling at you. Fucking hard isn't that far off from an accurate description of the state of affairs inside my shorts. A quick, well, certainly not a lengthy enough glance downward proved that fucking hard was coming close to describing the state of affairs inside Heero's, uh, pouch as well. Either that or he lined it with something to make it stick out like that. And let me tell you true, that was a nicely lined pouch. Was that what I thought it was? Sticking up a little bit over the top? Was--oh my God. Okay, first order of business, clothes for Heero or he'd end up being the meat in my taco before he could get out the hot sauce.

Ripping my eyes away -- I needed a crowbar -- I forced myself to go into my bedroom and find a pair of pajamas that Quatre had gotten me for Kwanza--don't ask, I didn't get it either. They were the ugliest set of PJs to ever grace the face of the earth and most of the colonies. Except this one colony in the L1 cluster where everyone is entirely too weird for words. I think I hid them under the bed. Yup! Operation Make Heero Into Less of a Sex God So My Dick Will Go Down was well under way. Or would have been. Heero objected.

"It pleases you to see me like this, sir," he said and glowered at the pajamas as if they were created solely for the purpose of mortally offending him.

"It would please me more to see you in this!" Not really, actually, not at all, but I needed to think with the head that was attached to a yard and a half of braid. Yeah. Thinking with the big head and big picture rather than blowing it with rampaging hormones would please me very much.

His eyes latched on to the center of my body and my boner twitched, like it was waving hello, here I am, come and give me a blowjob! I put the pajamas in front of me and blushed nine shades of red. See? his eyes said. You want me!

"It's an involuntary reaction." I respected him way too much to take advantage of him like that, dammit. And, well, I had um, some of that, um, emotional type stuff going on and let's not forget to mention my pride. If I was going to have Heero it would be because he wanted me as much as I wanted him. Anything else would just hurt too much. And it wouldn't be right. I wasn't Relena to think that even though he didn't love me, I loved him enough for the both of us and dive right in to take advantage of him in his obviously weakened state. Oh shut up. The God of Death is not a wussy romantic!

He was smirking now. "I think that it pleases you very, hn, nicely to see me like this, sir."

Did he just say I had a nice dick? Well, he did say that he was gay and maybe a little--no! God, Duo, you ass, that was just lower than low. I hit him in the face with the PJs. "Just put 'em on, Heero."

He must have figured out I meant business because he sighed a little bit, then stood up. Next thing I know he shucks off his g-string and I'm getting an eyeful of Heero Goddamn Yuy in all of his glory and I do mean glory. I whipped around so fast my braid smacked me in the face. I said something, hope to God it was nothing about blowjobs, and beat feet for the bathroom where I promptly locked myself in and hid in the bathtub. I'm talking hide like Mike Stallion, Agent Magnum of my fave vid show Preventers: Black Ops getting his ass shot at by a couple of full autos complete with tracer rounds hide.

Oh my God. Heero was. He was. Oh my God. The front of my jeans had my erection bent at a funny angle, but I was too busy hyperventilating about Heero being completely and gloriously naked to notice that I was trying to break my dick in half.

"Master?" Heero called, then knocked on the door. "Are you all right?"

Master?! Talk about your instant boner-killer. "I'm fine. And my name is Duo!"

"Master Duo, the pants have ripped."

Freaking fabulous. He was probably still completely and gloriously naked. Well, hello Mr. Erection, it's ever so pleasant to see you again when you're completely not wanted. "Just find something in my closet!"

There was a pause on the other side of the door and I took advantage of the quiet to very carefully rearrange things without the primer setting the charge off, if you know what I mean.

"Wouldn't you like to choose something that you'd like to see me in, Master Duo?"

Dark chocolate colored silk pajama bottoms--the pair I kept stashed in the top of my closet just 'cause they were the same color as his hair--and that you know you want me smirk of--No! Dammit. Dammit. Dammit! I sank my fingers into my hair and tried to rip it out by its roots to restore a little sanity. "Anything is fine!"

"Master Duo, are you all right? What would you like me to wear for you?"

"Just go pick something out and put it on, whatever is just fine." C'mon, Heero, just go do it before I do something we'll both fucking regret and you hate me forever when you come to your fucking senses.


That was it. I couldn't take it anymore. "Goddammit, Heero! Just go and fucking pick something out and put it fucking on!"

Dead silence for a moment, then a very subdued, "Yes, Master," and footsteps padding toward my bedroom.

I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall. I don't think I'd ever felt this frustrated in my entire life, not even when that rat bastard G explained Operation Meteor to me in full and I realized that in order to keep 'Scythe, I'd have to help murder everyone on the planet. My best friend and the man I'd secretly loved for forever was calling me master. He was offering me everything I would have jumped at a few years ago, when I had more hormones than brain cells, but I couldn't take it because it wasn't right. I didn't know this Heero. I didn't even like this Heero. Well, that's not fair, or really true. I didn't like the way this Heero made me feel. I didn't like the subservience. I hated it. God, it was like Dr. J ordering him to self-destruct all over again and then watching him push the fucking button.

I wanted my Heero back. My partner. I wanted the Heero that broke me out of prison instead of shooting me. I wanted the Heero that saved Relena's fluffy pink ass instead of assassinating her--after I beat some sense into that Heero's head for not shooting her at least a little bit. I wanted the Heero that saved the earth and the colonies. I wanted the Heero that told everyone from Treize Khushrenada right on down to frumpy prep school boys to kiss his spandexed ass. Maybe I never would have gotten to see that Heero completely naked and maybe I never would have had the opportunity to order up a blowjob, for crying in the beer, from that Heero, but that Heero was my friend. This Heero, well, this Heero wasn't really Heero to me. He was just acting too wrong. I would never let this Heero wash my hair. The one that called me baka, well--

The doorbell. Thank God. New plan. Get food. Eat food. Get blanket and pillow for Heero. Set him up on the couch. Hand him the vid remote. Barricade self in room. Go straight to sleep. Get up and go directly to work. Go home with Wufei and his boner-killing lectures on proper decorum for a Preventer agent.

"I'll get it!" I yelled and charged the front door.


I ignored the voice coming from the bedroom and threw the door open with a wide grin fixed firmly on my face. One cute Spanish girl stood under mounds of take out boxes. Now to get her out of here before a stubbornly naked Heero decided to come up front and argue with me about putting pants on some more. "Jacinta! Baby!"

She grinned back at me. "Hey, Mr. Duo. Kind of hungry tonight or were you finally gonna invite me in and share..." Her mouth dropped open and her eyes got very, very wide. "Madre de Dios!"

I looked over my shoulder and my eyes got very, very wide, too. "Holy God."

Heero's leash was gone, but the collar was still there. So was a pair of my jeans that were worn threadbare in the rump and knees. And what those jeans did for the rippling expanse of golden skin over those flexing and bunching muscles in his chest should come with a mature audiences only warning sticker and an optional post-orgasm cigarette. His eyes were narrowed and firmly locked on Jacinta with the old don't fuck with my mission glare of his as he stalked toward the door. Okay, yeah, I've seen him half naked before, but never like this. Never so predatory, like a tiger or a wolf. He was like a walking wet dream.

Jacinta almost dropped our food when Heero padded to a halt behind me. There was a brief moment when I'm pretty sure Heero was the only person actually breathing before he slid his arms around my waist and nuzzled his face in my neck. "Master Duo has company," he growled. "Company that doesn't share." And then he licked me. He fucking licked me. Right along the throat where I either had no pulse or too much pulse and oh my fucking God I was going to melt into a puddle of frustration and satisfaction right there on his feet with Jacinta watching the whole thing with her mouth wide open and her eyes so big they were gonna fall out of their sockets.

"Uh," Jacinta squeaked. "Mr. Maxwell, your, uh food." She thrust it forward and just about dropped it again because she wasn't taking her eyes off of Heero at all. I somehow saved the cartons from certain disaster all over my cheap, apartment brown carpet. Just call me Libido-Run-Amuck-Man, savior of Mexican delivery food everywhere.

Somehow, despite Heero's breath warming my collarbones and the sudden inability of my brain cells to pull together as a team, I managed to dig the creds out of my pocket and pass them over the Jacinta. She stammered out a gracias from halfway down the hall. Heero gently tugged me backward and shut the door. After he locked it, he took our dinner from my arms and carried it to the table.

I, the brilliant genius and suave man that I am, blinked at the door like a moron. What in the fuck just happened? I pinched myself. I did it again, harder. I was awake. Why in the hell did Heero just terrorize the delivery girl? And why did he lick me? And did he have to scare the hell out of Jacinta? And if he scared Jacinta that bad, would they deliver here again? Manny's made the best Mexican in town!

Slowly, because I really didn't know if I wanted to know, I turned around and ambled over to where Heero was quietly setting the table. "Uh, Heero, what was that all about?"

His eyes flicked in my direction, closed off as only the Perfect Soldier can close them off, then he returned his attention to aligning my mismatched silverware perfectly.

"C'mon, Heero, you can tell me."

His jaw twitched and I almost expected a grumpy "shut up, baka" snarled in my general direction.

I frowned when he did nothing other than shift one of three forks minutely to the left. "Heero."

"Dorothy said that you weren't involved."

What? "Huh?"

His jaw twitched again. "I was under the impression that you weren't involved with anyone."

"You mean Jacinta?"

His lips compressed and gave the single place setting a glare that should have shattered the plastic plate. "She seemed...nice."

I blinked. Then I did it again. What the hell? "I'm not involved with anyone. I just like to flirt."

He didn't relax any, instead he opened up the food cartons, then pulled back the chair in front of the place setting. "Sit, Master."

I crossed my arms over my chest.

He glared at me.

I lifted my chin and jutted my jaw out stubbornly.

He gave me a look of acute frustration that I hadn't seen since he first realized that even his worst death glare and most dangerous sounding omae o korosus couldn't shut me up.

Unaccountably satisfied with that, I seated myself in a chair to the left of the place setting and yanked the box of tacos over. You ever make it to Brussels, you have got to try Manny's. He makes his own tortillas and they are to fucking die for. Well, to kill for at the very least. The next thing I know, the box is yanked away before I can get my mitts on one of those luscious lovelies, my chair is twirled forty five degrees, and Heero Yuy is straddling my lap. Before I can shut my gaping mouth, Heero says, "You're my Master and I'm going to feed you," in a tone that distinctly says, "and you'd better cooperate or omae o korosu, goddammit!!" Okay, so I added the goddammit part myself because Heero'd never say it, but, c'mon, you know he's gotta be thinking it.

There is just no way in hell to erotically feed a taco to another human being.

I'm sitting there, trying not to giggle around a quarter of a taco while the rest of it hits what little room he's left on my lap for messy taco bits, while he's trying to keep that I'm going to have to use the nearest weapon of mass destruction on you if things don't start going my way immediately look off of his face. Quatre thinks I'm insane, but I think Heero looks really cute when he's all Duocidal like that.

I swallowed the bite I managed to get while he's trying to fish the taco parts from my pants. "C'mon Heero, I can feed myself. You gotta eat too, buddy."

He smirked at me again. I'm starting to really not like that smirk. I swear he's trailing the edge of the taco shell up my dick. "I'm going to eat my dinner off of your lap with my tongue, Master."

If he hadn't a been sitting on my lap, I would have been doing my Mike Stallion, Agent Magnum taking cover in the bathtub impression again because that was the only way I was gonna be able to maintain the sanity and the willpower to not take advantage of what Heero would never offer if he'd been in his right mind. I should mention, at this point, that my jeans were way too tight. And I'm pretty sure he knew it. I mean, he couldn't miss it since he'd decided to start fucking squeezing the damned thing. With his fingers. Don't ask me how, but suddenly he was on his ass on the floor and I was halfway across the apartment, ducking behind the couch.

He stood up and stalked toward me. "I know you want me, Master," he purred. He fucking purred as if he wasn't sexy enough as it was! "And I want you."

Then he pounced.

He had me flat on my back, one hand tangled in my braid, the other one sliding inside of my shirt. I opened my mouth, I'm pretty sure I was going to protest, or maybe moan, or maybe beg for more, maybe it was just to whimper. I'm going with C, if you don't know the answer, it's always C on multiple guess tests. Right before I could beg for more, he slides he tongue inside of me. Inside of me. Of me. Heero Yuy stuck his tongue inside of me. Heero's tongue was in me. I could now die a happy man because my life was fucking complete.

I couldn't help it. My hormones overpowered my last working brain cell and I just melted into him. Right there on my floor behind the couch. His tongue tangled with mine and spread this heat and this wetness through my whole body that was kind of like getting set on fire with starlight. If that makes any sense at all. I moaned into him and did something I'd enjoyed during quite a few nocturnal emissions: I sank my fingers into his hair and palmed his butt cheek. Nirvana, heaven, the Elysium Fields, Valhalla, the Happy Hunting Grounds, none of them can come close to the feel of Heero's thick hair and Heero's perfectly engineered butt cheek. If they weren't enough to get me to cream my pants, the taste of his mouth could just about get me there.

We'd just started a slow grind where button fly met zipper when the vidphone went off. Heero solved the problem by licking my tonsils. I had no idea that Heero could make a vidphone stop ringing just by sliding his tongue along the roof of my mouth.

"Maxwell!" Wufei bellowed.

I jerked and would have bit Heero if he hadn't lifted his head to give a Glare o' Instant Death to the vidphone.

"I know you're there, you idiot! Answer the phone!" Wow, he sounded Pissed. Not just pissed, but Pissed. I wondered if he'd finally got around to discovering what I'd done to the ringer on his cell phone. "Maxwell! Answer!"

Heero had apparently decided that the wad Wufei had twisted his panties into wasn't all that important because he dropped his mouth back down to mine again. It was too late, though. A pissed off Wufei could kill a good hard on almost as fast as Une on the rag could. He's got this little high-pitched sort of whine, like Relena when she's howling for Heero, playing around in his voice when he gets uber-pissed that grates on the nerves. But don't tell him unless you don't mind being spitted on a katana. He's a little uptight that way.

"Maxwell, quit fooling around and answer the phone!"

I squeezed out from under Heero and dropped into the seat in front of the phone. I briefly considered running like hell instead, before I could let things get all out of control with Heero again and do something he'd hate me for once he was out from under Dorothy the Spawn of Satan's influence. I pushed the button and Wufei's smiling face glared at me.

Heero knelt on the floor and glared at me. I'd give that one a 7.9 out of 10. Wufei was suckin' at a 6.4.

"Heya, Wufei. What's up?"

Woah. Now that was a 9.6 glare on Wufei now. Anything over an 8.5 was invariably Zechs's fault. "That, that woman, Po, deliberately wrecked my car. I will need a ride to work in the morning. You had better not make me late, Maxwell, or I will make certain that you regret it."

"Why'd she wreck your car?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his wall. "That is none of your affair. Be here by 0630."

"What'd ya do? Tell her Zechs kisses better? Or did you accidentally call out his name during a moment of passion?"

He was back a 6.4 glare. See, I told you he adores me. "It's hardly my fault that Zechs is a superb shot and she is not."

Notice he didn't deny anything.

"And I've done none of those things you accuse me of. You will cease speculating on my love life, Maxwell. It's unbecoming. Don't forget, be here by 0630. Not five minutes after, not fifteen minutes after, not even one minute after. 0630 or earlier."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll see ya, tomorrow."

Wufei gave me a suspicious look, then stabbed the disconnect button on his vidphone.

I leaned back in my chair while Heero glared at my vidphone with intent to dismantle. I covered my face with my hands and took a deep, long breath. Wufei, of all people, had just saved me from Heero's kisses. At the moment, most of me could have cheerfully strangled Wu while the few working brain cells that weren't yelling "clear!" and using defillibration paddles on the rest of me brain cells that my hormones had choked were breathing a healthy sigh of relief. I so needed to get my brain cells a set of Mike Stallion's pistols. They not only never ran out of ammo, they could hit a target through three feet of gundanium. No more hostile takeover by the Hormone Alliance.

Heero slowly crossed the room on his knees and my libido was all over it before I could find a stick to beat it back with. He rubbed his cheek against my thigh like a big, affectionate cat. "Master."

I closed my eyes and tried not to breathe in the Heero scented air so I could remember that right now he had two options, Mistress Spotty Dotty the Psycho or me. Considering that he was gay that kind of cut his options down to one. Not only was that not very flattering--though my libido seriously did not care--it wasn't right.

Pushing the chair back, I stood up and managed to escape his clutches long enough to get to the table. "Well, you heard the man. I gotta get up at an obscene time in the morning. You know, if God wanted me to witness the sunrise, he would have made me a rooster. You mind taking the couch? It folds out into one of them bed things so it's not too bad. Hilde used it last so it's clean. You know, she really brought Mark to heel; man doesn't even fart in his own home anymore. That's just low. A man should be able make any bodily noises he wants to in his own home. And scratch his balls."

Heero trailed me to the table, but he was giving me one of those looks again so I figured it was safe to assume I wouldn't get a repeat of the lap incident.

"Hey, help yourself to some chow, buddy. I've gotta microwave if you wanna reheat it or anything. I think my milk has chunks in it, so you might want to skip the hot sauce if you're like me. Hey, you should go with me to work. Une's been practically in heat to get you to work for Preventers." Now that was a good idea. If he could get a job somewhere, you know, and be a real person again, then I could see if he'd like to maybe date me.

"I don't want them to know where I am, yet, Master. I just want to stay with you for a while." His eyes gleamed. "I want to sleep in your bed. With you."

Visions of Heero's naked, sweaty body wrapped up in my naked, sweaty body swamped me before I could jump that mental ship and I choked on my taco. Before I could properly appreciate the distraction choking on a taco supplied, Heero was behind me, wrapping his arms around me and giving me the Heimlich Maneuver. My taco bite went flying and I quit choking. I was thinking that not only was this breathing stuff a good thing, but Heero doesn't know his own strength right before my eyes rolled up into my head and I passed the hell out.

on to chapter three

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