Chapter 3 - In the Living Room
The coffee steamed under Duo’s nose, but he was light years away. It was disturbing still, the stranger that had taken Heero’s place. Duo thought he knew him, and not in some kind of stupid amateur pretend psychoanalyst way. He thought he had been so sure of Heero, even to a degree of certainty that trust was based on. Despite the war and all the lies and cruelty, he had a friend, a really solid friendship, even if Heero didn’t know it just yet. The possibilities from there were endless. Trust? Love? They all hung in the balance. After all, sometimes you just needed someone to fall back on, responsive or not. And he thought Heero could be that person. Heero would always be there, in some steadfast form or another.
But now… Was it all wrong? Was Duo completely ass backwards wrong about knowing Heero? The sexual urges, the eroticism, the unconventionality; these things weren’t Heero. These things weren’t what Heero represented. Where was the control? Where was the efficient, single-minded focus, the discipline? Perhaps he was wrong then…
Sure, all this new information didn’t really prove that Heero wasn’t still as kind in his own subtle way, or loyal or strong, if they had any bearing on those traits at all. But it cast a doubt over him, and that was something Duo couldn’t afford. This was war; this was something ugly and frightening. He could only allow himself to show weakness in front of the people he trusted completely, who wouldn’t have ulterior motives and take advantage of his momentary lapse. He thought he knew Heero…
It was in the middle of his fourth coffee that things finally started to fall into place. One by one the little details fell into neat little rows in his mind. Maybe the steady supply of caffeine enhanced his thinking process, maybe the answer was always there but he’d been too stupefied and horny to grasp it. But now that he had it, things were beginning to make a lot of sense. Perfect sense.
No, he wasn’t wrong about Heero. What he thought were single unrelated attributes were only manifestations of a greater one, the ultimate thing that made Heero who he was. The one thing that Duo could put all his faith in, a single foothold that kept Heero familiar. Yes, it was all there in the beginning. What makes Heero tick? Duo felt he had the answer. Now the only thing left to do was confront Heero with it, and with a dirty teenage side thought, have some really good fun while he was at it.
The house was dark as expected; Heero hated to draw attention by opening all the lights. Pragmatism, one of those sub-attributes. Duo found the Wing pilot easily enough, the sizzling from the kitchen didn’t leave much room to wonder. It was almost trademark, the tank top and biker shorts and stone face. “I’m back.”
Yes, perfectly predicable, safely predictable. “What? You didn’t miss me?”
“You’ll have to make dinner for yourself; I only have enough for one.”
“Nah, got something from the diner down the street.” Duo avidly watched Heero’s firm ass, the unconsciously moving hips; he’d seen them all in their full thrusting glory. He smiled lasciviously to himself. “Actually, I’m feeling a little dirty. I’m gonna go take a shower.”
Hot watery fingers, slippery soap, echoes of every breath he took. Decidedly the shower made Duo horny as hell. But soon, he reflected with patient enthusiasm, he’d prove his theory right and shut the case of what makes Heero Yuy tick, not without a bang he hoped.
Heero was reading on the couch, a folder in his hands that screamed OZ base schematics. On the way down the hall Duo had decided on the passive-offensive strategy. Aloof but firm. Things would be easier that way. No stupid subterfuge and all that shit, just hastening the lovely sweaty ending he imagined. Accordingly, he threw himself down on the couch next to his target. “Oof. Nothing beats a good shower I say. So Heero, wanna tell me about why you did what you did with Wing yesterday? Or in our room this afternoon?”
The folder and printouts slipped neatly through Heero’s fingers. His eyes betrayed a moment of solid fear and embarrassment before descending back behind his stolid resolve. A firm line thinned his lips as he raised himself off the couch. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Duo anticipated the move. Yes, he knew Heero very well; he’d never doubt that again. He grabbed the Japanese boy and quickly yanked him back down. He scooted over closer. “Actually, I think I do. I think I’ve figured it out.” Heero actually wet his lips, and the thought only made Duo braver. Another inch nearer, faces right upon each other. “It’s control, isn’t it? The feeling of having power over every single thing in your life?” Heero made no movement of denial and Duo took the chance to slowly snake across his lap. “Your half moans, your refusal to touch yourself. Oh yes, you wanted to control it didn’t you?” An audible gulp. “To control the pleasure? You made that toy, you forced yourself to try and master each wave of pleasure like you did everything else in your life. Just like another mission?”
Heero’s breath rolled over Duo’s face, dark blue eyes boring with awakening fire. It was utterly erotic. “Duo…”
Duo seized Heero’s lips in a kind of kiss that was meant to burn someone from the inside out. Merciless. “It was a commendable effort you know, but it would’ve never worked. Not with pleasure, not with how good it can feel.” Duo ground himself hard against Heero, fingers crawling up the muscled column of neck and wrapping snugly around. He straddled Heero, inhaling deeply. “Control can be good, but losing it…” Duo exhaled a shaky breath as he dipped to suck on Heero’s jaw. “Losing it is so much better. Don’t you want to feel what it’s like having your precious control slip away?”
Heero’s hands answered the question swiftly, sliding up under Duo’s shirt and skittering exploratory fingers across his chest and back. His voice was only marginally less frantic. “Slip…”
Duo crushed their bodies together and ground slowly and roughly. An unchecked breathless growl escaped Heero’s throat, a sound that could only be adequately described as delicious. It rang of success. Duo Maxwell had solved the case. And got a reward too: promises of trust, love, all that good stuff that the future might hold, but more importantly to his 16 year old mind, long rough sex. And to think, it all started out with a simple question about what Heero did on his time off. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but Duo was sure the cat went out spent and sated. At least, he intended to.