Part 2

 

 

“Duo, you’re not sleeping well, are you?”

 

I lifted an eye over the top of my book.  OK, so I wasn’t reading much of it.  These one-man-against-the-world thrillers are so bizarre, aren’t they?

 

“Sorry, Trow – am I disturbing you at night, or something?  I only get up for a drink, or a read…”

 

Trowa was staring at me.  “Or to cook something – or to have a shower –“

 

I flushed.  So ‘praps I had been a disturbance this week.  But I had things on my mind.  Things other places, as well.  Things that kept me awake, night after night…

 

Trowa threw himself down in the armchair opposite me.  “That’s not a problem.  I sleep little anyway.  And Q expends all his energy during the day – he’d sleep through the Second Coming, I think.  But it’s you I’m worried about.”

 

“No need,” I said, a little hastily.  “But sorry if you’re losing sleep over me.  I’ll stop roaming about at night, I guess.  You need your rest to keep up with this new job, I know.”

 

He was a bright spark, T.  He was running the damn department at this new place, now, some kinda aerospace electronics.  I guess the reason we’d worked so well as a friendship at school had been the mix of our three personalities. Trowa’d always been the brains – Q was the socialite.  I was – well, what was !?  I’d been one of those guys they all said had great promise.  I’d do something with my life.  S’long as I could concentrate long enough to decide what that would be.  But at that time, I didn’t seem to have much control over that aspect of my behaviour.  Gradually, because of my arrogant attitude, I alienated each and every teacher, even my original supporters. 

 

Even Rik.

 

And there’s the story – the real story of why I really left school.  I’d never told T or Q anything much about it.  We’d never shared classes, so our friendship operated mainly on how we were outside school – I never enjoyed talking about ‘academia’ at the best of times, so we easily avoided specifics.  There was plenty else to be talking and joking about, and I enjoyed hearing about their lives far more than my own.  And anyway, at the horrific end, it had all been hushed up.  So they never knew exactly what had gone on inside the school walls. 

 

Why hadn’t I told my friends?  It’s no proper defence really, but you gotta realise what I was like, then.  I was pretty high maintenance.  And I always fought to go my own way – even when no-one was challenging me.  I always took the difficult route; always expected struggle and opposition.

 

I despise myself when I look back.

 

Rik was only a student teacher, for God’s sake.  He was only with us for a month or so.  He looked the same age as me – we were of a similar build and height.  But he latched on to me at once, the light of salvation in his eyes.  I couldn’t understand his interest in me – I was pretty sure by then that I’d pissed my potential away, and I was just biding my time ‘til I jumped ship completely.  He tried plenty of times to get me interested – to get me to connect with a future.  To find what I enjoyed; what I was good at.  To make some constructive decisions as to what I wanted to do.  He convinced me, as well, a coupla times – that I wasn’t a complete moron.  That I could understand mathematical principles; that I could carry out a successful science experiment; that I could write something more lyrical than my name on the toilet wall.

 

But I guess I dismissed him, in a way.  He was only a student; I compared him to me.  I thought he was a fool to be dragging himself down in a long and difficult study – committing himself when he was still so young himself, to trying to change and control a bunch of young adults like me.

 

And then I thought I found out the real reason for his interest in me. 

 

Christ, I was so damn smug!

 

It was the way I was, back then.  I was full of hormones and self-importance.  I mean, I knew I was highly sexual from an early age.  I liked the thrill of finding how my body worked – liked to see the games we were all staring to play with each other; the drama; the physical excitement.  And I found I was particularly adept at all of those.  Enthusiastic, too.  Didn’t have much idea of morality, or inhibition, or restraint.  Didn’t know then that it could cause more trouble than it was worth.

 

Trowa and Quatre would’ve helped me, I’m sure.  If I’d asked for it.  I think they may have been aware of their sexuality, and their affection for each other, even then.  I know that when I went cruising, they rarely joined me.  But we were still mates.

 

Despite my eagerness for sex, I wasn’t that interested in the girls.  I’m ashamed to remember, but I did lose my virginity – with some discomfort – to the blonde, soft-skinned sister of one of the senior guys, round the back of the movie house one Saturday night.  I fumbled like nobody’s business, trying to find the places everything went – for a horrific moment I thought I wasn’t gonna get it up – and then she gave me a helping hand, and shoved it in.  She gave lots of encouraging hiccups, while I jerked back and forth on the cold pavement, but it was fairly brief and messy.  I can’t say if either of us really enjoyed it much.  It just had to be done. Then I zipped up, bought her a soda as some kinda tacitly understood payment, and took her home.  I never saw her again, cos they both moved away. 

 

There were many others.  It was like that with most of ‘em.

 

I thought about guys, as well.  That I kept to myself.  The other kids never saw anything but black and white.  Straight – gay.  You like girls – or you’re a fag.  But those were the times that I knew I was different from them, too.  That I still hadn’t found my place.  I jerked off to pictures of boys, as well.  I shocked myself, and of course I had no chance to try it in real life.  I don’t know what might have happened to me.

 

Then I got caught in a solitary detention with Rik invigilating, and he touched me.  He didn’t mean it, I know, not like that, anyway.  But I knew enough about my body by then to know that when he put his hand on my shoulder to help me with a math problem, it was more than a platonic touch.  And I knew I could respond to that.  The feeling excited me, much more than before, with the cold, careless girls.

 

He was shocked, himself.  He told me later that he’d never really examined his sexuality – just thought it was late in developing.  That he loved his job, and didn’t need companions.  But that when he touched me – when he spent time with me – he realised where his desires lay.  He would never have taken it any further, of course not!

 

I was a bastard to him.  I shoulda treated him with the same maturity and respect that he showed me.  I wasn’t looking for a relationship – I wasn’t looking for a sexual mentor or friend, even though I was confused, and I had no-one then that I could discuss it all with.  I shoulda kept his secret and responded by trying to be the student he wanted me to be.

 

Instead, I kissed him.  I kissed him with a hot, fierce tongue; my skills to date were fairly limited, but they were aggressively knowing.  He was too stunned to pull away.  His lips opened and I thrust in and out of his mouth, tasting the difference that was a man; I grabbed his arms and felt muscles there, instead of soft, yielding female flesh.  I slid a hand to his crotch, and felt the thrilling bulge there that I knew was a cock like mine.  No warm, mysterious valley – just a hard, throbbing mountain.  And I knew what to do with one of those.

 

I sucked him off that day; I knelt in front of my astounded and petrified teacher, and I opened his pants, and pulled out his erect cock.  I was gonna jerk him off, but I felt my mouth water, and so I sucked him into my mouth instead.  I was fascinated to know what it’d be like to give a blowjob, not just to receive.  He came very quickly, before I could decide whether I swallowed cum or not – so I did.  Then he slipped his hand into my pants, and guiltily jerked me off in return.  I came very quickly, too – a bloody sight faster than I had behind the movie house with that girl.  And it was far more satisfying.

 

Jeez… I know now that he was interested in me firstly as a teacher.  Then, ‘praps, as a partner.  But back then – well, then I just thought he was like me; a frustrated guy who wanted to get into someone’s pants.  ‘Praps he was that, as well.  He was young, himself.  And I didn’t see why we shouldn’t just get on with it, if we both wanted to.  It was damn exciting – partly because it was such a new thing for me.  Partly because of the risk, as well, I ‘spose.  I knew I was barely old enough to be considering such a thing with a teacher, especially a student one.  He tried to tell me the same thing himself, lots of times.  Then I’d unzip his pants, and ask him to show me more of how guys had sex, and we’d both be lost.

 

But even as I excited him, I confused him – I distressed him.  I think I broke him.

 

There was one helluva fuss when we got caught fucking in the gym.  I was laid over the horse, face down, pants round my ankles.  His cock was clenched tightly up inside my ass, but he was moving quite gingerly – we were only just learning how to balance the pain/pleasure thing.  The lights went on suddenly, and our hot, lusty world shrank to a pinpoint of horror at the sight of the caretaker.  I remember nothing more except for an angry, vengeful thought that at least I’d come all over the horse before they caught me – let ‘em get that stain out of the leather!

 

Rik had to leave his job.  I saw him briefly, when he came to say goodbye to the whole class.  Some of ‘em were shocked.  Some just sniggered.  I beat up on those ones, later.

 

But he didn’t try to see me alone.  I thought it was ‘cos he’d been ordered not to.  But I guess he might just have wanted to get away.  From me.

 

I’ve no excuse for my disgraceful behaviour, except that I was very young, and very, very, fucking stupid.  I deserved the punishment – not him.

 

The next day I left school myself, just minutes before they expelled me, I guess.  I had no parents to take the rap – just the elderly, confused guardian from the children’s home.  I expect he was glad that I took off.  One less rebel to worry about.  No-one came after me that I know of.  Why would they?  I tried to get a forwarding address for Rik, phoning up with a voice that I thought I disguised pretty well.  But they told me he’d gone out of state, and then there was noise in the background like other people’s questions, and I put the phone down.

 

And that’s when I thought I’d strike out on my own and see a coupla slices of real life.

 

 

*

 

 

Trowa wasn’t entirely right – I mean, I did sleep.  But it was so restless, that each morning I felt as if I’d had no rest at all.  Quatre usually teases me ‘cos I’m so difficult to wake in the morning – I’m notorious for sleeping like the dead, just like him.  If there was a fire, he says…

 

I’d burn, I reply.

 

But not now.  I’d been disturbed by Saturday’s little escapade, and it had nagged at me every damn night since then.  I worked, regardless; I’d cooked a coupla suppers.  I thought about changing my job again.  I was struggling through that new thriller.  I wandered round the town at lunch times, bought another silk shirt, and might have been discovered thumbing through packs of new underwear.  Decent, but way too expensive stuff.

 

I was burning from all sorts of other reasons.

 

 

*

 

 

When it got to Saturday again, and when I said I was going out, they both looked surprised.  They were staying in, lighting candles and cooking sexy food, or something like that – I knew they’d appreciate me being out, though they’d never ask.  Quatre flashed a look at Trowa, that spoke volumes to those who had the language.  But I really didn’t want to have to explain myself.  I just wanted to get out of the apartment – just wanted some space, to think about it all.  To try to calm my restlessness.  To shake off the smell of Heero that still lingered in my nostrils – the abrasion on my fingertips from clutching at the rough bricks of that alley wall.  To relive the memory of him behind me; the press of his body; panting; gasping; thrusting hard against my back.  Deep up inside me; filling me; ripping through me.  The strange, almost cruel hand around my cock, tugging me with him.

 

I was shocked at myself.  I couldn’t seem to get things in perspective.  All I could think about was him. 

 

I went to the club.

 

 

*

 

 

He didn’t appear until after midnight.  The dance floor had got darker and hotter and noisier, and I’d cursed my obsession at regular intervals ever since I arrived.  I was drinking too much again; I’d been leant against the bar for hours, like some lazy whore.  The number of approaches I’d repulsed was five so far; two girls, three guys.  I’d started out civil, then got progressively sharper.  When the next person approached with the same hopeful leer and what he thought was a seductive line, I glared so hard that I saw him pale.  He veered quickly off in another direction.

 

And then Heero was there beside me, long-fingered hand curled round a drink, as before.  He had the same pants on, I think.  But a darker shirt, some kinda green shine to it.  There was a slim silver chain round his neck; a tiny silver stud in his ear.  I never saw where he materialised from.  He nodded at the retreating clubber.

 

“Not your type, Duo?”

 

He remembers my name, I thought.  Something twisted painfully inside me.  Guess I thought he’d spent the last week fucking so many strange boys in the alley that he’d never remember just one…

 

“Dunno,” I mumbled.  I was having trouble making my tongue work – just the sight of him did things to me that I‘d hoped were long buried.  I dropped my eyes away from his. “Been a long time since I even thought about it…”

 

“A long time?” he replied, softly.  That damn voice… “Since last Saturday?”

 

I know I flushed.  I prayed that the lights were low enough that it wouldn’t look too obvious.  “Yeah, well, last Saturday was rather – let’s say – unusual for me.  Can’t say it’s on my regular weekend list of Things to Do.”

 

I felt him staring at me.  I raised my head to meet his eyes.  They flashed, like fireworks; like warning flares.  I couldn’t make out the expression there, though his lips still creased round a self-confident smile.  He was leaning slightly towards me again, listening to me.

 

He pursed his lips, like he was thinking what to say.  I couldn’t imagine this guy ever had an unforced speechless moment.

 

“You come here often?” I blurted out.

 

He didn’t laugh.  So many others would have, eh?  And after I’d been so rude to those others tonight, coming up to me with far more original chat-up lines.

 

“Maybe not.”  He shrugged very slightly.  His body moved like the last gentle rush of a wave on the beach.   “But perhaps I will now.  For you.”  

 

Oh, what -?!  But, funnily enough, I didn’t laugh, either.  Somehow, it seemed neither coy nor corny when he said it.  His voice was low and husky.  His eyes burned with a lust that I guess was reflected in my own.  There was that nagging, insidious smile at the corners of his mouth – his lush, greedy mouth.  The mouth that I wanted to be touching, very, very soon.

 

I despaired of my drinking habits.  But I knew that this feeling wasn’t because I was drunk.

 

He put his drink down on the bar, beside mine.  He was smiling at my confusion.

 

“You want some more?”

 

I knew he didn’t mean the vodka.  “Yeah.”

 

He knew I knew.  Oh, whatever…

 

“But -?”

 

I stared at him.  “But what?”

 

He shrugged again.  The fabric of his shirt whispered over his shoulders.  Even over the deep, throbbing beat of the latest dance number, I imagined that I heard it.  The chain glinted in the hollow of his throat.  My jeans were unbearably tight around the crotch.

 

God, what state was I in?

 

“So, Duo, what’s the problem?”

 

“Problem…?”  I stared at him and he stared right on back.  He was reading something in my expression that I didn’t know was there.  Something that was holding me back from him.  From the pleasure he was offering me.  I thought it annoyed him.  I thought he might just turn round and leave.  Damn, I didn’t want that to happen!  But I didn’t know what I was getting in to if he stayed.

 

“Who are you, Heero?”

 

He shook his head, impatiently.  He looked down at his sleeve – I thought he may have been checking his watch.  In the middle of the heat of the bar, I felt a chill.  “Who d’you want me to be, Duo?”

 

I was angry, suddenly.  “What the hell kind of an answer is that?”

 

He gazed at me, like he was pleased at my anger.  I remembered his reaction last week, when we struggled – so very briefly – out in the alley.  So perhaps he liked a little resistance… I wondered how much.

 

“You like to talk, don’t you?  You’re very…”

 

“Yeah?” I hissed.  “Very what?”

 

He didn’t go on.  His eyes swung to my mouth, and the desire in them sucked any resistance out of me.  I let out a breath that I never even knew I was holding.

 

“Come with me, Duo,” he said.  Very low, very quiet; but full of promise.  I may not have heard the words, because of the noise surrounding us – but I read those lips, and I shivered as his body slipped away from the bar and walked slowly past me.

 

I turned, and followed him as before.

 

 

*

 

We didn’t go out through the back door this time.  He led me out through the restaurant and towards the cloakrooms.

 

“You gotta place near here?” I asked.  Were we destined for the alley again?  Didn’t the damn man have an apartment?  Or even a car, for God’s sake -!

 

He didn’t answer, just moved confidently through the crowds, acknowledging no-one, pausing for nothing.  I thought I saw a coupla guys nod to him as he passed – another followed us with angry, hooded eyes.  But I may have been mistaken.  Every step was firm, his movement elegant.  I’d rarely seen a guy so physically sensual, and yet so obviously comfortable with it.  I mean, I’m no klutz, but I felt one, compared against him…

 

He slipped quickly behind the counter of the cloakroom – no-one was manning it for the moment; the club was closed to new members for the night, and no-one was ready to leave yet.  There was some kinda security box on the wall by the door behind, but he pressed a coupla buttons quickly, and pushed it open.  He stepped in. 

 

So did I.  Of course.

 

It was a small, partitioned off room, filled with a rack of coats, and there were various bags and backpacks on the floor.  There was a low shelf unit, bolted to the wall, with umbrellas stacked inside and another coupla coats across the top; a chair by the small, high window.  Boxes in the corner showed that they used it for storage as well.  I squeezed myself in through the door, wondering what the hell he was up to.  I wondered briefly about the security control – how he came to know the code.  Then I didn’t have time to wonder about such relatively unexciting things.

 

His arm came suddenly across my face, and flipped the light switch off by the door.  I heard the door click shut behind us.  Immediately there was no more light than the sliver under the ill-fitting door, and a dim streetlight through the window.  I tripped up over some kind of bag; my knee cracked on a trashcan or something.  I was struggling to regain my sight in this sudden darkness when his hand gripped my arm.  I gasped, instinctively.

 

“Can’t wait –“ he growled.

 

He touched me, then.  Just like he did the first time.  Christ, he touched me!

 

His mouth was hot and damp on me, plundering my own mouth, tongue licking inside and probing behind my teeth.  He sucked on my lips, nipping them gently; then slid his wet tongue out again, and ran it around my cheek and out to my ear.  I’d not had this kind of attention for months – seemed like forever.  And from Heero, it was unexpected.  A few words; a hot breath – that was all I’d had so far.  That, and a damn fine fucking a week ago.

 

What sorta relationship was this turning out to be?

 

His hands were at my waist, wrenching down my pants, boxers ‘n all.  He dragged them off my feet, kicked them away.  I found it difficult to move, not sure if there was enough space; not knowing where I was in the room.  And now I was naked from the waist down.  Again, I thought, a little disorientated.  He was all over me - clawing at my groin, a dark, but tangible shadow, tugging my shirt out of the way, fingers sliding in between my tense thighs.  He never said a word – but the attitude was hungry; greedy.  I surrendered to the warm, dominant fingers in the cool air of the room, allowing him to possess me.  To enfold my aching cock.  To do whatever he wished with me.

 

There was a soft moan of satisfaction, and it wasn’t only mine.

 

Then the hands were strong, up around my hips, and he hoisted me up on to the top of the shelf unit.  I felt the softness of wool and cotton from the coats underneath me, a cushion for my ass.  My back was hard against the cold painted surface of the storeroom wall; Heero’s hot body was inches away from mine.  Then his hands shifted to grasp my thighs, and he pulled them apart.

 

My mouth was hideously dry.  My exposed cock was straining to the heavens.  He wrenched me further towards him, so that I dropped down a little, my back awkwardly bent, and my legs waving in the air.  Wide apart; wide open for him.  I knew that at this angle he’d be able to see all of me – my balls; my hole.  My aching, puckering hole.  I felt like a whore would feel.  Whilst knowing I was doing this for free.

 

A drop of pre-cum oozed on to my groin.  Heero was suddenly further into the shadows – I couldn’t see his smile; his eyes.  All I was aware of, was the grip of his fingers on my inner thighs and the slight sound of his harsh breathing.  He moved one hand away, and when it came back to touch me, it was covered with something cool and slippery.  I felt my bones creak a little.  My heart was hammering.  His fingers slid into me and I gasped aloud.

 

And then he was back in sight, eyes wide and knowing; the slightest gleam from his teeth in the darkness.  He was moving his body down on me swiftly, mouth aiming for mine.  I sucked hard on his tongue, eager and desperate because I knew what was coming.  His chest wriggled between my open arms, his groin rubbing at mine.  I could feel the nakedness of his cock, rearing out from between the folds of his open pants.  It was almost unbearably exciting.  The sheen of sweat on his bare chest was humming against me, now, and I grasped at his arms, to anchor myself.

 

Guess he’d come prepared this time.  Or maybe last Saturday’s condom-less status had been the exception.  I felt his stretching fingers finish their work, and his cock up against my entrance - it was hot and slick with latex and lube.  I didn’t need him to spread my legs even further, but I let him, because it was a touch from him – an intimate one.  He slid his hands under me, and lifted me and my ass up off the cupboard.  And he entered me like last time.  Hard.

 

I think I moaned.  We grunted; we moved together.  He was face to face with me this time, though I could barely see his expression in the dim light.  But it was good to feel him flush up against me, and I clutched him as best I could.  He smelled great, whereas I was sure I smelled of too much sweat and vodka.  I was crushed up against the wall as he thrust into me – my legs were lifted high and I was pinned back only by his arms and the force of gravity.  I folded my feet around his back, and bent into him.  It was a good and exciting angle for me – a damn good angle!  He hit my prostate more often than not, and I had difficulty holding myself back from arching in his grasp, and probably falling flat on my back on the floor.  My cock groaned between us, rubbed by his skin, and begging for release.  His knees knocked against the cupboard door, and the flimsy structure groaned a protest as we rocked above it.  The coats had fallen to the ground long ago; I heard the dull thud of a coupla umbrellas falling after them.

 

Duo…” It was a whisper from him that I barely caught.  He was panting – his breath was fierce on the side of my neck.  “Touch yourself, Duo – I can’t –“

 

I peeled one hand from his shoulder, and felt him adjust his stance so that he took my weight again.  His legs bent briefly, then straightened again; he continued to thrust into me, his thighs under mine, the open zip of his pants starting to scratch at my exposed flesh.  I didn’t care.  I fisted my fingers round my cock, and I started to pump, gratefully.

 

His breath hitched, and his head dipped – he was watching it, my hand twisted up between our tight bodies, riding up and down my swollen shaft.  His teeth tightened briefly on the skin of my shoulder.

 

Close…” he hissed, and his hips started to slam into me more quickly.  I could feel him swelling inside me – I squeezed at myself, dragging myself desperately to completion.  He was gonna come soon, and I was either gonna be flattened against the wall, or be yanked unceremoniously down on to my ass.  There was a nagging pain in my lower back already, trying to keep myself upright as he fucked me.  But I didn’t need any help to get there – the climax came rushing like a geyser, and my pumping hand became a blur. 

 

Heero shit -!”

 

I started to moan, and then the last things I saw before the ecstasy robbed me of sense were his eyes opening wider in the half-light, and a shocked smile spreading over his mouth.  Even as my hot cum hit our stomachs and began to drip down between us, he gave a shout and fell hard against me, pushing me upwards, and pressing bruises into my buttocks, as he jerked, and came himself.

 

 

 

*

 

 

It was damn quiet in that tiny room, despite the harsh, ragged breathing.  My legs fell away from his hips; he pulled his cock out of me and let me back down awkwardly to the floor.  I leant back against the wall.  My whole body throbbed with it; with the climax – with the excitement – with the physical strain.

 

“You OK?” I whispered in the darkness.

 

I felt him nod.  His head was bowed against my shoulder; his hand gripped my waist, as if he were supporting himself as well.

 

“It’s damn tight in here…” I tried a feeble joke.

 

“Damn good…” came the hissed reply.  I wasn’t arguing.  Just wondered what I was gonna say now.  How do you follow a fucking like that?  Judging by my earlier, pathetic ‘come here often’ gambit, I knew I was out of practice in charming my partners.

 

Didn’t think Heero was looking for that, anyway.

 

What was he looking for?

 

I bent at the knees, fumbling for my pants.  My boxers were pushed into my hand, and I felt Heero’s sweaty palm underneath. 

 

“Thanks.”

 

Silence, as I dressed myself.  I was sticky all over my stomach; I didn’t want it to soak through my clothes when I still had to walk out of here.  I had the handle of a backpack tangled round my ankle; one of those damn umbrellas was jabbing its point into my kidney.  I wondered if we needed some sorta code to get out of here, or whether I’d actually end up spending the night.

 

But there was suddenly another crack of light, and I knew that Heero had opened the door back out to the club.  The noise level increased; I heard someone shriek with laughter.  I could see his silhouette against the yellow light – then he turned, and I could see his features.  He’d run his hand through his hair, smoothing it down.  His shirt was buttoned carefully.  The pants looked like they’d been moulded to his body at birth.

 

I suspected I looked like I’d been dragged through the proverbial hedge, and then back again just for the hell of it.

 

He was staring at me, so I guessed that must be it.

 

“So, Duo…” he murmured.  “You gotta go?”

 

I couldn’t make out the inflection in his voice.  But I knew my cue when I heard it.  “Guess so.”  What was I meant to do?  Thank him for the hospitality?  For the fuck?  Some weird, adult spin on ‘Thank you for having me?’ 

 

I straightened myself up, determine to retain some kinda dignity.  I was finding it difficult.  I stared back at him; at the indecipherable expression in those wide, deep eyes.  At the still, controlled body.  At the shape of the lush, plump lips that matched the mark of teeth on my shoulder…

 

Yeah – difficult, indeed.

 

It was a long walk home.

 

 

 

*

 

 

The following Saturday, the guys insisted on coming out with me.  When I suggested the club again, Trowa lifted an eyebrow, but agreed readily enough.

 

“The food’s good – there are few places with decent vegetarian options,” he said, mildly.

 

“The music’s great!” enthused Quatre. 

 

“Though Duo doesn’t dance…” murmured Trowa, turning to gaze at me.

 

If they were trying to draw me out, they were gonna fail.  Too many years of hidden agenda – I was an acknowledged master of the mask.

 

The meal was, indeed, good.  Quatre and Trowa fondled each other throughout, then Quatre went to dance, as his public demanded, and Trowa sat with me, sipping a beer thoughtfully.

 

“Who is he, Duo?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“The guy who’s watching you.  The one you’re staring at.”

 

Heero stood, as before, at the bar.  People pushed past him, grabbed drinks, rolled away laughing and shouting.  He still stood there.  A coupla large guys stood close by, but they didn’t turn his way.  No-one else approached him, though I saw plenty looking.  Guess he has a better protection strategy than I do, I thought sourly.  Then I was ridiculously pleased that he did – I don’t know what I would have done if I’d seen him pick up someone else.

 

I hadn’t assumed that he’d come here again.  I didn’t know what his habits were.  Where he spent his weekends.  Christ, I knew nothing about him except his first name – if it were genuine – and the feel of his cock inside me.

 

Kinda strange reference, eh?

 

I saw no reason to lie to Trowa.  “His name’s Heero.  I – I had a drink with him the other Saturday.”  Sort of the truth, wasn’t it?

 

“He’s familiar – but I can’t say I’ve seen him regularly down here.  Is he local?”  Trowa, despite his quiet manner, knew most of the bar owners and regulars in town.  He was trying to say something to me, apart from the words.  I could sense that much.  And the look he threw Heero’s way was wary.  “Are you sure you know him?”

 

Know him?  I felt like shouting.  I’ve been fucked by him, Trowa!  My mouth was dry again, despite the drink I’d just taken; my legs felt weak.  I wasn’t sure if my head was on straight, ‘cos I seemed to be feeling a little dizzy.   I was beginning to realise that being fucked by Heero was maybe more than just his cock up my ass and his hands on my buttocks…

 

“He’s very attractive,” murmured Trowa.  “Guess he knows it too, eh?”  The music was escalating again, as I was learning it always did at this stage of the evening.  It was getting difficult to hear each other, though I didn’t think T would take that as an excuse for ignoring him.  We both watched Q dancing, weaving through the crowds, drawing the music to and through him.  T continued to stare, possessively – I let my gaze drift back to the bar.

 

The evening was becoming surreal.  And, to be honest, it was hurting to sit there, with Heero only feet away.  I wanted to go to him.  I wanted to touch him again.  He was in the ubiquitous black jeans, but matched tonight by a sleeveless vest, in some kind of dark blue silk.  A black leather jacket was slung over a shoulder.  Had he just arrived?  Or was he ready to leave already? 

 

He looked back at me – I was absurdly pleased that his gaze came straight to me, like it sought me out.  And held me.  If he lifted that glass as he’d done before, with its subtle invitation, I’d be there in a second. 

 

“You OK, Duo?”  Trowa was a blur at the periphery of my sight.

 

“Yeah, of course I am.”

 

“You seem kind of – distracted.  As if something’s nagging away at you.  You wanna tell me anything – anything I can help you with?”  T’s voice was low and urgent.

 

“Nah, I’m fine.”

 

“Duo…” T sighed, as if he didn’t know how to go on.

 

He meant well, I know.  He would’ve had to have been blind and stupid to miss how I gazed at Heero.  How my whole body leant towards him.  I was kinda surprised to see that Heero seemed to be the same.  He continued to gaze at me, that slow smirk teasing at the corner of his mouth.  I saw his gaze flicker to Trowa, then back to me.  A lifting of his lids; a lazy droop back to cover the flashing eyes.  It was all the encouragement I needed.  Just needed to tell T, I guess, that I wasn’t gonna be gooseberry to him and Q for the rest of the night…

 

I stood.  I think I heard Trowa sigh with frustration.

 

“Thanks, T, but I gotta go.  See you two back at the apartment, OK?”

 

“Duo…”

 

“Yeah?”  My mind wasn’t on my friend any more.  It wasn’t really here at all.  It was reaching out for Heero; reaching for his sharp, rare words; for his fingers inside me.  For his goddamn arrogance.  For the carelessness he’d given me…

 

“Is this what you want?”

 

“What?”  What did T mean?  But, of course, it meant that he knew…he knew what I was thinking; where I was going.  Maybe what I was gonna do.

 

I can always talk to Trowa.  Q is a little more volatile – but T has been supportive of me in many ways.  And he’s often very wise, considering his young age.  Not that I’ve always got time for wisdom.  He reminds me a lot, actually, of Wufei, in his character and his self-confidence. 

 

But I wasn’t ready to share my feelings with anyone yet – not even my closest friends.  Hell, I wasn’t quite sure what highlights I coulda given them, anyway!

 

Christ, I hope they never asked me for Heero’s full name…

 

“Be careful, Duo.”

 

I didn’t look at Trowa but I smiled at the seriousness in his voice.  “What are you, my mother?  I’m fine.”

 

I watched as Heero slipped the jacket over his shoulders and pulled away from the bar.  He started to walk towards the main exit with a long, slow stride.  He wasn’t trying to leave me behind, I somehow knew.  But an irrational panic rose up in me as if he were.  I grabbed my coat off the back of the chair.  My eyes followed the broad shoulders and the tight ass. 

 

And then so did my legs.

 

 

*