Story:               COMMON SENSE – or GIMME 5

Author:             FancyFigures (fancyfigures@hotmail.com)

Disclaimer:        I don’t own ‘em, wish I did, just enjoy writing about ‘em for free etc

Pairings:           (lemon) 1x2x1, 5x3, 3x4 (other assorted citrus) 3x4x5

Category:          AU, Duo POV, PWP

Warnings:         Yaoi, lemon

Spoilers:           None

Notes:              For all those with the flu this year – let Duo and the guys offer sympathy and a distraction to all your battered senses…

Feedback:         If you liked it, PLEASE let me know!

 

                                               

 

Thanks merith, for the support when I languished in my desert!  Thanks daimeryan_rei for the help in kickstarting the whole darn thing!</i>

 

 

Part One

 

 

I’m not that ill.  Right?  I just want to get that straight.  The past week has really sucked, but I’m definitely on the mend.  Heero keeps feeding me that stinking medicine – the stuff that tastes like raw sewerage mixed with liquid sheep excrement.  Not that I’ve ever tasted either – not voluntarily.  But despite my complaints and his intractability, it seems to be doing the trick.

 

But viral infections truly are the pits!  I seem to drift in and out of sleep like I can’t control myself.  And every damned sense seems to be affected, all five of ‘em.  I can’t breathe properly, let alone smell.  My ears buzz continuously; my eyes sting every time I keep them open too long.  When I last tried to eat, it all tasted like that stuff they fill soft toys with.  My legs are two sticks of marshmallow somewhere down the end of the bed; my skin crawls with nameless alien insects, battling Armageddon just under the surface. 

 

I feel like shit.

 

And Heero drifts in and out of my sick room like – well, like Heero.  Taking my temperature; complaining at the piles of used tissues.  Refreshing my water glass.  Looking impatient.  Guess the nursing role fell to him, rather than any of our other housemates, because we’re together – y’know, dating, seeing each other, an item.  Whatever.  It’s been rather casual so far.

 

Not that I’m not keen.  It’s just that – well, he’s Heero, isn’t he?  Not one to expend unnecessary energy on love talk.  Not one to re-state the obvious, after his initial ‘you want to go out?’.  Not one to let anyone – including me - think our lovelife is anything other than second or third on his list of priorities.  Or that’s how it seems to me.  And he’s definitely not one to waste time trying new sexual positions – new ideas.  New stimulation.

 

Not like me.  At least – that’s how I used to be.

 

But - nope.  Ain’t gonna happen.  Heero is a strictly plain vanilla, lights off, snuggle under the covers kind of lover.  No dressing up, no toys, no teasing beyond the minimum foreplay.  If it worked last night, he seems to reckon, let’s go again!  If I’m whimpering with the need to feel his fingers inside me and to come like a rollercoaster gone off the rails, well, let’s get on with it then!  I mean, I’m not complaining, OK?  He’s the only guy I’ve ever wanted to date like this – the only one whose company never bores me – whose wit keeps up with mine – whose body I can tolerate stealing my covers on a cold night.

 

Whose body is something like I imagine a divine gift would be.  Mature; strong; graceful.  Beautifully co-ordinated; richly toned.

 

OK, I can admit it to myself alone, I’m very keen on him!  I’d grab at his arm next time he’s in, if I didn’t feel rather numb in the limb department.  I’d grab at all sorts of things, in fact.  I love the touch of him; love the twist of his muscles, whether he’s closing in on me or wriggling away.  Love the grip of his palms; love the teasing bite of his teeth.  Love the strong neck, baring up and away from me; love the controlled strength of his legs.  The hair – of course – drives me nuts!  Thick and gorgeously soft and always getting in my eyes when I lean over his back…

 

Ahh… there’s that horny business again.  Haven’t touched him – not properly – for days.  It’s murder.  My libido peeks out every now and then from behind the hacking cough, and bitches at me.  But I know he won’t be making any advances while I’m ill – he won’t think it appropriate.  And what my Leery Libido thinks is neither here nor there.  Heero’s the best thing I’ve ever known, and he makes up in enthusiasm what he may lack in imagination – but I’d never dare to suggest anything out of the ordinary to him.  Anything inappropriate.

 

It’s not a problem.  Really.

 

But sleep is a very poor substitute for rolling his lithe limbs in between my sheets.  Even if sleep seems to be all I want to do at the moment.

 

Gonna call up my favourite dream.  That one about doctors and nurses.

 

Gotta love Heero on that virtual casting couch…

 

 

*

 

 

The bedroom is pretty dim, like night has fallen and no-one’s bothered to put on the side lights.  I roll over under the sheets and feel a rather satisfying return of life in my limbs; a tingling along my neglected nerves.  Peel an eye open, and I’m pleasantly surprised to find there’s no sticky mess keeping it glued together.  Guess I might survive this ‘flu after all.

 

There’s a shadow over by the wall that I can’t identify.  “Heero?”

 

Part of the shadow detaches itself from the gloom and approaches the bed.  “I’m here, Duo.  Are you feeling better?”

 

“Yeah, actually,” I smile.  I feel very lazy– very lethargic.  I wonder what time it is.  “What’s up?”

 

“Duo, you’ve been dreaming.”

 

“Sure.  Whatever.” I yawn a little.  “I’m good.”

 

“No, you misunderstand me.  I mean you’ve been dreaming rather loudly.  All week.  About all sorts of interesting things.  Things I never knew about you.  Things you’ve never told me.”

 

I smile at his eyes, glinting in the dark.  I’m not that interested in the words, just the delicious tone of his voice.  Never ceases to thrill me; attract me.  Heero – my gorgeous, sexy, body-to-die-for, very efficient lover.  Still the greatest thing I’ve ever had.  Still my dearest, deepest dream.

 

My…

 

“Loudly?  What do you mean?”  I struggle to sit up in bed but my arms still feel pretty weak.  I’m panicking.  Does he mean I’ve been talking in my sleep?  “Things I’ve never told you?”  What the fuck had I said?

 

His body comes closer, and the bed dips a bit, telling me he’s just sat down next to my pillow.  I can see his face now – his familiar face – his familiar frown.  Right….

 

“Heero, look, sorry – Whatever I’m apologising for.  “But I am ill, y’know…”

 

“No, it’s fine, Duo.”  His voice is very rich tonight – very warm.  And there’s a rather strange lilt to it.  “More than fine.  I just never knew you were so - adventurous, is all.  I thought you liked things very straightforward – predictable, almost.  I’ve been working on that premise for rather too long, now.”

 

Huh? 

 

“And I’ve missed you too, Duo.” His voice is suddenly very close to my ear, and the breath is rather hurried.  Like he’s been running.  “For all the same reasons you’ve been whispering.  Missed being in bed with you.  Touching you – caressing you.”  His head is leaning even lower; the tip of his tongue flickers out and licks at the lobe of my ear.  “Missed fucking you.”

 

For five precious seconds I’m speechless.  No, strike that – more like ten!  My nerves have sprung back to life like hot little buds; I can feel the blood racing through my veins like someone just opened the flood gate.  I hadn’t realised how numbed my sense of touch had been until now; hadn’t realised how much I wanted to feel his hand sliding behind my head, tangling in my braid.  His fingers rub the hairs on my neck up the wrong way – it’s a tickling feeling; it sends goose bumps all down my spine.

 

Heyyy…” I sigh a bit, because my voice is still a bit croaky.  “That feels so good…”

 

“Want to do more to you, Duo,” he whispers into my ear.  “Want to touch more of you.  You look so delicious in bed – so warm; skin all flushed.  And such things you’ve been saying!  Very sexy, in that soft, thick, sleepy voice of yours.  I never knew you had such tastes – such experience – such ideas…”

 

“Heero…” I sound rather squeaky now.  Fear does that to me.  “What have I been saying?”

 

 

*

 

 

Heero doesn’t seem to be listening to me very closely.  His hand is sliding down my cheek; a damp finger is snagging gently into the corner of my dry mouth.  God, I like the feel of it; like the promise of it!  My head turns instinctively, to lean into the touch.  I thought I’d lost the use of all my senses during this damned sickness.  But I can feel Heero.  Moving so slowly – so sensuously.  Erotic – exotic.  Hands always so sure of themselves – so precise and confident.  They grip tools; they sculpt metals.  They torment me beyond craziness. The man is gorgeous - all muscle and sensual moodiness…

 

There’s a discrepancy somewhere – it’s nagging at me, but I blame it on the passing fever.  I’m distracted, y’see – I’ve regained the feeling between my legs, too.  Warm… things stirring.  Amazing, the recovery abilities of the human body!  I nudge my body that little bit closer to his sensual touch…

 

The thought hits me, again.  Will not be ignored.  This is Heero, right?  Or at least, it should be…

 

I’m getting used to the lighting in the room now.  “What the hell are you wearing, Heero?”

 

“It’s what you said you needed, Duo.  What you really needed.  Not just someone to pick up your tissues and straighten your covers.”  He smooths the clothing on his lap; readjusts something at his left breast.  “You wanted to see me like this.  Dressed in white uniform and starched apron, with a pocket watch at my breast.”

 

I swallow.  There’s a tennis ball in my throat, preventing speech.  There’s something almost as large between my legs, and growing.  He looks damned good in white – hell, I have to admit, damned good in a skirt.  Short.  Tight across his hips.  His shirt has a crisp white collar and cuffs, his hands are held demurely in his lap, resting on his apron.  Cute little hat on his head.  Knees together.  Knees clad in white stockings…

 

My breathing hitches.

 

“How are your eyes, Duo?” he asks.  He licks his lips, gently.  My breathing skips, jumps, then hitches again.

 

“Huh? Fine.”  They are, too.  First time for a week I can look at him without them watering.  I lean very slightly upwards, my lips begging to touch at his.  But his head turns away.

 

“Good!  At last.  So now you can watch me.”

 

“Watch -?” 

 

“Isn’t this what you wanted, Duo?”  There’s a glint in his eye that I’d say was mischief, if I didn’t know him better.  Think I know him better.  He stands up from the bed and takes a step away.  He lifts his right leg and balances it on the bed.  Cute little lace-up shoes – he has fine ankles, of course.  And I’m looking rather closely at them.  Then those careful hands of his slip up under the hem of his skirt – they’re tugging at a fastening somewhere up between the Golden Gates that are Heero’s thighs.  Then they appear again, slowly – and gloriously – rolling a stocking down his long, strong leg.

 

 

*

 

 

I whimper out loud now.  My eyes might be watering, but not from the effects of any virus.  All I can see is the fantastic sight of Nurse Heero slowly – and very professionally – stripping in front of me!  Is this the same guy who whipped away the TakeMeToBed catalogue that I found in Trowa’s briefcase, with a brow twisted in disgust?  Is this the same guy who snatched the pack of tiger-print thongs out of my hands at the supermarket?

 

Heero has been abducted by alien lap dancers.  I have never been such a fan of science fiction as I am right now.  His hand strays to the other leg; teases at the lace top of the stocking.

 

He pauses, and slips a forefinger into his mouth.  Pensively.  Provocatively.  His lips purse round it.  My stomach clenches of its own accord.  “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’ve confessed these feelings to me, Duo.”

 

“You are?”  I’m still squeaking a bit.

 

“I’ve been holding back, you see.  I’ve been afraid of shocking you – of overwhelming you.  I’ve tried to keep anything too provocative away from you – I’ve never wanted to embarrass you.  And I wouldn’t jeopardise our relationship for anything.  But you know that, don’t you?”

 

“Do I?”  I’m beginning to sound like a trapped mouse.

 

“You must do!  I’ve never known anything like it – never wanted anyone like I want you.  It’s so very special to me.  But it has been a strain – to be what I thought you wanted.  To keep my desires in check until I knew if you shared them.”

 

Now I just open and close my mouth like a goldfish.  A goldfish that’s rather too horny to stay afloat.  He’s rolling down the other stocking; he’s slipping his arms out of the apron, and perching the hat very carefully on the bedside table.  All with a very slow, methodical approach that’s so Heero.  And so not!

 

He steps back to the bed, dressed in only the uniform.  His deft fingers loosen the top buttons of the shirt.  The short skirt stretches across his bare, muscled thighs.  “Let me finish your appraisal, Duo.  Your diagnosis.  I can’t be expected to provide the appropriate treatment without evaluating your current medical status.”

 

Heart stopped, I think.  Violent erection pressing insistently against belly…

 

My eyes follow him like a starved man follows bread and water.  He’s cracking his knuckles; he’s gazing at the area of my groin with a feral light in his eyes.  He’s standing with legs slightly apart as if ready for trouble.  Like I’m going to offer any.

 

“Now I must check you out – for the purposes of your prescription.  You understand, don’t you?”

 

Unhhnn.”  I expect my words are intelligible to some far-flung prehistoric tribe.

 

“Watch carefully, Duo,” he murmurs.  “I’ve been waiting for you to recover your proper sight.  You said you like to watch me, didn’t you?”

 

It’s a rhetorical question.  My eyes are like a greedy bug’s, staring at him; drinking up every move of his athletic limbs as he kneels at the side of the bed.  His hands take hold of the covers and flip them swiftly off my own legs.  I watch him watching me - or rather, the huge bulge in my shorts.  The smile on his lips is pure, unadulterated evil.  I wonder – not for the first time tonight – what percentage of Heero’s inhibitions those aliens might have removed.

 

I wish I had a few more protective items of clothing on – then when he peels off the flimsy shorts, leaving me stark naked, I’m damned glad I don’t.  His mouth comes down on me with a great and awesome reverence – he licks, and sucks with gusto, as if he wants to savour me.  Not like his previously attempts, rushed and apologetic!  “God, I love this,” he moans, and the vibrations round my super-sensitive cock make even my fingertips itch with galloping lust.  I open my mouth quite timidly.  I want to say how much I love it, too – I want to say that I’m glad we’ve cleared up any misunderstandings we may have had about each other – I still want to know what the hell I’ve actually been saying in the depths of my fever –

 

But I just moan, as his tongue teases at my slit; as his lips laugh around my aching flesh.  As he draws every last drop of pleasure out of me.  As I come with a gargled shriek, spurting into Heero’s eager mouth, and clutching like some kind of possessive maniac at his thick, soft hair 

 

I wonder if those aliens have got hold of me too.