WEDNESDAY’S T SHIRT
By fancyfigures
1x2x1, NC17



Duo leaned over the counter of the deserted staff restaurant and groaned. “Guy could die of caffeine withdrawal here,” he grumbled. “Not my fault I’m late for lunch.” A warm hand on his shoulder made him start, but when it slipped inside his collar and began to caress his throat he sighed. “Heero.”

If it were anyone else, I’d expect you to break their wrist,” murmured his lover. “You’re after a coffee?”

“Easier to get the elixir of everlasting life,” Duo grunted. He sighed and climbed over into the kitchen area. “I’ll make my own cup, dammit.” He started to poke halfheartedly at the coffee machine. “Doesn’t it work?”

Heero walked around the end of the counter and joined him. He watched Duo crouch down, peering at the filters and buttons at the front, his pants stretching across the muscles of his thighs. Duo had on a respectable tee shirt today: it rode up his back, exposing the trail of his spine under the skin.

Heero’s lips knew the taste of that taut skin: wet and salty. Memories of a dark night; a groan; a tight, slow entry; an arched back. He shivered.

Duo looked back up at him. “How was the appraisal?”

“Bad,” growled Heero. “They shut down the elevator for an hour. Fumigated it on the basis of nothing more than a hysterical report from that moron in Industrial Relations. I’m on a second warning.”

“I ruined a good pair of boxers,” protested Duo. “I suffered as well.” He stood up. His eyes narrowed as he remembered.

Heero felt a prickle of anticipation creep across the back of his neck. “Maybe it’s payback time.” He stepped forward and Duo backed away, his ass nudging up against the kitchen units. “So how much do you want it?”

The husky words tugged at Duo’s nerves like a deliberate hand on his groin. Heero could always do that to him. “Huh?”

The coffee. How much do you want it?”

Duo watched the rise and fall of Heero’s quickening breath under his clothing. Slowly, Heero grasped the hem of his sweater, and peeled it up over his head.

Duo gaped at the sight of the tee shirt underneath.

“I borrowed one of yours,” said Heero.

I’m the one you gotta blow to get a drink round here

Duo started to laugh.

Heero’s expression was unmoving. “You know what to do.”

“Here?” Duo looked round warily. It was an empty room, but the cleaners came in after the lunch session.

“You want it,” said Heero, shrugging. “Don’t you?” He stepped back and hitched himself up to sit on the counter. At his back was the main restaurant; ahead, he faced the wide-eyed Duo. He slipped his hand slowly up under his tee shirt, creasing up the ‘blow’ and the ‘here’. His eyes grew darker: heavy lidded.

Duo watched Heero’s fingers under the cloth as he teased at his own nipple. His groin felt tight and hot. He was in danger of spoiling another pair of boxers. “You mean coffee?”

Heero shrugged again. “Hot. Wet. Stimulating. You love the taste. Sounds like it to me.” He smiled the sly, knowing smile that Duo often saw in the darkness of their bedroom. He put his hands back down on his knees and spread his legs further apart. “Though you never asked for it in a cup before.”

With a whimper, Duo dropped to his knees on the cold lino floor. His head was on a level with Heero’s lap. Heero leaned back, resting on his hands, and Duo slipped down the zip of his pants. He nosed at the bulge there, feeling Heero’s hard flesh; the damp patch on the briefs.

He lifted out the swollen cock and sighed. The room was cool; full of chrome fittings and softly humming equipment. The thick shaft that he rested on his tongue was hot in contrast. He licked with long, strong strokes, flickering his tongue over the slit, slicking the skin around it with saliva as he moved up and down.

Heero lifted a hand and gripped at Duo’s hair. Duo knew the signs, as always. Hungrily he slid the cock into his mouth, fully and deeply. His cheeks sucked in; his lips held it tight inside. He hummed at the back of his throat, the vibration shuddering possessively along the veins.

Heero moaned once, then his head went back and his hips thrust forward. A burst of hot, rich liquid spewed into Duo’s mouth. Duo kept sucking until Heero’s legs stopped shaking, then he sat back and licked round his lips to catch any threads that had escaped.

“What about my coffee?” He sounded plaintive. “Damned machine’s broken.” He could hear voices in the corridor outside; the cleaners were on their way. He thought he might have missed the deadline for the daily sales report. His mind ran through a lively selection of excuses. He could care less.

Heero sighed. “Pathetic addiction,” he grunted. He fastened his pants and lowered himself gingerly from the counter. Then he reached down to the coffee machine’s plug in the wall and flicked up the switch. An orange light sparked into life and a harsh gurgle came from the depths of the pot. “You only needed to switch it on.”

Duo opened his mouth to reply but there was a sudden flash, the gurgling sputtered to a stop, and the smell of burning cable wafted up from the back of the machine. In the corridor outside the restaurant an alarm started to wail and there was the sound of running footsteps and shouts.

He looked over at Heero, who had his face in his hands. Duo sighed. There was always instant coffee back at his cubicle.

 

 

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