Story: SUDDEN IMPULSE (9 parts)
Author: FancyFigures ([email protected])
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, wish I did, just enjoy writing about 'em for free etc
Category: Duo POV, AU, romance
Warnings: Yaoi, lemon, some violence, language
Notes: Duo gives way to a sudden impulse - one that seems to be someone else's, as well. And so he's drawn to something - and someone - that he finds both thrilling and unnerving. Heero is like no-one he's met before; he's used to being in control. What develops between them is hot, and fierce and potentially very, very dangerous...
Feedback: Tell me if you enjoy it, PLEASE!
I don’t like going to clubs any more. I don’t get drunk. I don’t do casual sex.
Great introduction, eh? I’m assuming you’re not interested in anything else about me. Like – how I look; what books I read; what films I watch. What I think about the weather; what church I follow. If I like basketball over baseball. What my favourite colour is; do I spit, smoke or take drugs. What do I think about guys who do…
Whether my preference is for boys or girls. Or neither. Or both!
No – I’m bypassing all of that crap.
So what the hell is the story I’m gonna tell you here?
It’s the story of how my life was turned upside down. When every core assurance I’ve ever had about myself was undermined.
And what I’m gonna do about it.
I was tired and I was in a foul mood when the guys suggested a trip down town. There was a new club opened – Club UnderGround – and it was fast becoming ‘the’ place to be. Hell, I’m often tired and in a foul mood nowadays! They laugh, and they kid me about it, but the fact remains I’m poor company. I guess they only bear with it out of a residual tolerance – some gesture towards the intangible, but firm bond we seem to have created anew, just by living in the same apartment for these last few months.
Yeah, and I know what they’d say in reply; that it’s more than that. Of course they would. They’re great guys, and I’m just jaded. Quatre and Trowa were already living together, like a happy honeymoon couple, when six months ago, I bowled up at their door with nowhere to go, and a nagging scar on my lower back that looked suspiciously like a knife wound. They’d spoken to me only a dozen times in a coupla years, even though I was only a city away from them – they’d not seen me for over a year. And we’d been close friends before that, when we were kids. We go way back, y’see. Back to when I was the poor orphan from the children’s’ home, and they were the guys offered to see me round a new school.
They never asked what had happened to me, during that time I was away, and I was damn grateful for that – though it was pretty obvious, when I had only one set of clothes, no money, and a less-than-attractive aroma. ‘Sleeping Rough’ by Calvin Klein, it most certainly wasn’t!
And we’ve been easy enough together ever since. They’re both well-off – Q has family money, anyway – but I wouldn’t live off them, however little it bothered them. I got a temporary job at the site round the corner, and took the usual stick for being young, slim and having the braid, and then when I lifted twice the girders as any other guy, the foreman nodded me into the team, and the harassment tailed off. The job became another contract, and then another – I’m fairly well settled now. I pay my way at the apartment, and it’s big enough so that we don’t trample over each other all the time.
They don’t often get embarrassed, the guys. They’re a genuine, nine-carat committed couple, and have been for over a year – they smooch, and they touch, and often I hear ‘em making out in bed at night. Trowa’s surprisingly noisy when his blood’s up. So I have to deal with that, and it’s fine by me. I’m not jealous - I haven’t looked for any company myself for a long time. And I have no issues with them being a coupla guys. Hell, I go with ‘em to their clubs now and then, and they’re pretty broad in their tastes. No – they’ve been great friends to me, and although I promise them at least once a week that I’ll get up enough dough to get my own place, I don’t feel that they’re rushing me out.
So anyway, they wanted to go out, to let off some steam, paint things a little scarlet. It was Saturday night, Trowa got some new promotion at work, and one of Quatre’s multitudinous female relatives just got married or whatever. I couldn’t find much to offer to the occasion, except that I hadn’t run up any extraordinary debts this month, nor slapped any of my co-workers around like I sometimes did. For me – that’s an achievement.
Over the last few months, the move back into civilised life has been a struggle. But I set myself targets, and I’m gonna keep to ‘em. I owe it to the guys – and to myself.
They kept on at me – in that pleasant, conversational, relentless way that Quatre has – and in the end I agreed to go. I dragged on my one decent outfit – a dark purple silk shirt over my habitual white vest, and a well-cut pair of black jeans. I grabbed my old leather jacket, and joined the guys at the door. Trowa stood there, with an arm brushing casually against Quatre’s hip. He looked me up and down, and raised his eyebrows.
“What?” I blustered. “Got a zit on my nose or something? Flies hanging open?”
“I almost wish they were!” he smirked. “You look pretty good, y’know?”
“Tongue back in ya mouth, T!” I snapped back, but happily enough. I’ve never felt uncomfortable with Trowa – with either of ‘em. I know it’s all just banter. I assume I’m not their type! “Now I know why I don’t come out with you guys so often –“
“You can come out to me anytime you like,” grinned Trowa, deliberately misunderstanding me. Quatre’s hand appeared at his head, and slapped him resoundingly. Such a gentle-looking guy – such a mean-fisted fighter! Trowa yelped.
“Sense of humour failure, OK?” he growled. His attention was back on his lover, and the sparkle was back in his eyes. Guess Quatre knew he just liked to flirt – but nothing else. Christ, what would the Blond Billionaire do to him if he truly played away? And the swipe seemed to have been forgotten, already; Trowa was murmuring some apologetic nonsense into his ear, and Quatre was aimlessly fondling the front of his pants. Jeez, we hadn’t even got out of the front door yet!
I sighed. “Can we get the hell started? If you’re gonna jump each other on the landing, can you at least move to the side so I can go get my own supper?”
Like I say, they ain’t embarrassed. Quatre grinned at me, and pulled gently away from Trowa.
“Sorry, Duo. You’re right, we must get going, or there’ll be no supper for any of us. The restaurant closes early for the club music to start.”
“Don’t care about that,” I grunted. “Just some food and a drink to be sociable – then I get a cab back, OK?”
Quatre caught my arm as I wriggled past him. I didn’t look at him, at first. His voice was serious now.
“Duo, you OK about this? We just wanted you to be with us tonight. You don’t have enough fun. You always used to…”
I bit off the sharp reply. He didn’t need it, not tonight. “I’m fine, Q. Sorry – I’m a bit tense.”
He grinned back, and we made our way out together, to get a cab. Damn friends, I hissed to myself. My heart was beating too fast – I was stupidly nervous. Why? It was only a club, after all. I’d done plenty of them over the years, hadn’t I? Yeah, my memories prodded me. You certainly did that. Reckon you must be missing all that ‘fun’ nowadays, mustn’t you?
Not a bit, I replied to myself, a little smugly. I’m back in control of my life now. And that is why I’m the better man I am today!
Christ, it was hot in that club! And dark, and loud, and I refused to believe I was getting old or something – just out of practice, I guess. Dinner had been pleasant, and now the lights were down and the music was at full volume. Quatre left the table and danced, from the moment my coffee arrived; a whirling, graceful strip of whipping hair and sleek clothing. Plenty of eyes followed his path into the middle of the sunken dance floor; his sensual gyrations; the smile of concentrated joy on his flushing face. Quatre Winner came from a family that had rarely been out of the headlines in one place or another. But he himself was no mouse - he sought attention like a moth to the proverbial flame. He’d always stood out from the crowd, and since he got older and bolder, I could see that he revelled in it. A small core of fans followed him from club to club every weekend. He had free membership wherever he chose, ‘cos he certainly attracted others in his wake. He’d been on the list for the Invitation-only opening of this club, and it looked like he’d work his usual magic here as well.
“He looks good too, eh?” I bawled into Trowa’s ear. He smelled of cologne and the exotic tang of salad dressing – damn man ate little enough on his vegetarian kick. He didn’t turn to look at me, but I saw his smile. His eyes were glued to Quatre.
“Damn good,” he mouthed back. “Damn good enough to eat…”
Then he did turn to me, and stared at me in that direct way he has. “Sorry if I was out of line, earlier – but you know I was only joking, don’t you?”
I was always unbalanced when he got serious. “Yeah – of course,” I managed to grin back. We were virtually lip-reading over the throbbing beat of the music. My chair was buffeted by people struggling past the tables to get dancing, or to the bar.
“But I wasn’t lying, Duo. You look great tonight. I can’t believe you’re not hit on all the time. And you need a partner. You need something…”
Many a true word spoken in jest, I thought. I thought again what good friends they were. They just didn’t know what I’d been through – and what I wanted to leave behind. They thought everyone wanted to be like them.
“Only spares here seem to be guys!” I laughed back. There was, indeed, a surplus of guys, though it wasn’t an overtly gay club.
“So?” smiled Trowa. The music beat was changing, slowing down. I saw his attention slipping away, waiting to meet Quatre if he returned to our table. But he turned back and caught my own eyes wandering. “Is that a problem?”
I stared back. It was the bluntest question he’d ever asked, concerning my love life. I’d never discussed it with either of them, since I left school. They knew I was OK with them living together. Obviously I knew that they were lovers. Their friends visited, straight and gay; sometimes I joined in the occasion, sometimes I withdrew gladly. It was nothing to do with anyone’s sexuality. Just my moods.
“Maybe not,” I offered him, reluctantly.
But he was relentless tonight. In a very different way from Quatre – in a far more assertive way, I must say. I was caught off-guard. “I’ve never seen you date, Duo, not since you came back. You never hook up with anyone while we’re out. You rarely go out on your own for any length of time. But you’re a good-looking man. I mean – I’m not trying to drag you into the TQ connubial bliss club, y’know?” I smiled back at him, warily. “But you always loved attention.”
“You mean sex?” I grinned lightly at him.
He refused to be drawn. “Not just that. You were lively – tactile. You’re still generous with yourself, as a friend. So you need some kind of intimacy for yourself, don’t you?”
“Nah…” I replied. Stop that damn music – bring Q back to the table! I needed to distract my well-meaning friend. And soon.
“I know there was some trouble at school – when you dropped out…”
I glared at him. Nothing had been made public – there was no way he could know…
He shook his head slightly, accepting I wouldn’t talk about it. I never had. The two of them had continued to be my friends, even when I left town. They never asked details; never pressed me to tell them what had happened to turn my life into shit. They went on to college; on to jobs and the beginnings of adulthood. Like I should have done. They had no idea what I went on to. I called, of course I did – we talked now ‘n then. But I wasn’t good on the phone, and I never wrote. I didn’t like to tell them where I was; what I was doing. Ashamed, probably. Our lives became less and less comparable.
They never complained; they never reported back to the children’s home that I was still in contact with them. Just chatted to me when I did call – and then when that started to be less and less frequent, they always told me I could come to either of them, when I needed to. They really were exceptional guys. Still are!
“Yeah, OK, Duo. I know - that’s past. And I know you avoid questions about your time away, and I respect that. But maybe that’s when you met ‘em, eh?”
“What? Who are you talking about?” My attention was slipping – I was wondering where the nearest cab rank was.
“The person you left behind. I think that must be it. Someone you were close to, while you were away last year. And something went wrong. So now you’re avoiding the memories –“
“Leave it, Trowa,” I growled. “You’re wrong.”
“I don’t think so,” he continued. There was a cast to his deep green eyes that made me nervous. He was moving on to dangerous ground. Dangerous for me.
“It’s not right to try to forget it all. Especially if it was something good in your life… You shouldn’t be afraid to take people in; to build friendship. To care. Why shouldn’t they be part of your life anymore? Was it a girl? A guy -?”
I yelled at him. The heat had risen up through my body, and raged at me, bringing me almost to my feet.
“There’s no-one! He’s dead! He’s dead, OK?”
Thank God the music had started up again at its worst, or Security would’ve been on their way over. My voice was loud and harsh, and my angry, pained face was forced up against Trowa’s shocked one.
We stared at each other, appalled at how things had slipped out of control.
“Trow…It wasn’t what you think, y’know?” I could hear the break in my voice even as I fought to control it. “It was just something…just someone I thought a hell of a lot of…”
“OK…” he murmured, a strong hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, Duo. Didn’t mean to pry. To upset you.”
I tried to shake the moment off. But I felt suddenly withdrawn from everything around me; a bubble of lonely misery and fear, deep in the heart of the dark, busy, noisy, sociable club. I was scared again; I was crouched on a sidewalk, miles from here, crouched over a crumpled, bleeding body. A scene that looked like some cheap, corny movie. And where it looked like I was crying…
It had, indeed, been while I was away. While I was throwing caution to the winds, and embracing a much wilder, independent Me. There had been a guy; I had been close to him. But it was true, what I told Trowa - I hadn’t been soft on him, or anything. I’d learned my lesson on that, some years before. It was just a – I dunno – a friendship, right?
Wufei was older – he was properly educated. A great guy. Always reasonable – always fair, even when I was at my most aggressive. Because at that time, I was gradually, destructively, spiralling away with my dangerous ‘independence’, and he stalled me for a while. He was helping me out. Helping me find a way back to a more sensible path before I blew myself out completely. He had a place, and a job, and respect.
But all that stuff – it didn’t save him from being knifed in a gutter outside his apartment block, did it? Just for a lousy wallet and an old watch. Whereas Duo Maxwell – the guy with nothing but an old vest and jeans and a qualification in street smarts – fought back and broke the mugger’s wrist before he ran off. I survived.
I never heard that they caught the bastard who did it. What kind of fair is that?
It wasn’t long after that I stopped the drinking and sex and clubbing, and the abuse of whatever other substances were on offer. And every other sordid thing I was involved in, but we won’t go into that now. All by myself – but because I knew Wufei would have wanted it. Sort of in his memory. Then I came back to find the others, and a different life…
The throb of the club beat was seeping back into me. My eyes focused back on Trowa, and his concerned look. I’d never told him anything about it. Why would he be interested? It was all behind me now.
“I’ll get another beer, OK?” I mumbled. “Q’s on his way back and he looks like he could use one.”
Q came back to the table, all limbs and sweat, and batting off a crowd of clamouring, less-than-hopeful hands at his ass. He slid into the seat beside T, and their existence shrank back to each other.
I started to drink after that. The first beers tasted OK. The next ones started to pall, but I didn’t ease up. I switched to vodka – it had been my poison of choice at one stage. When I nodded my head to the barmaid’s next offer, I felt a residual sway in my body. Damn, I was out of practice!
It was while I stood again at the bar, a little wavy round the edges, but steady enough to be thinking about getting the hell out of the place to go and sleep it off – it was then that I saw him. Just a guy, really. A guy who stood at the other end of the bar, nursing a clear drink, leant casually on the shiny, beer-stained surface.
He was tall as me, dressed in similar black jeans, though they were slung lower on his narrow hips, and clutched most suggestively round a compact little ass. His shirt was long-sleeved, and buttoned halfway up his chest. It was pale, perhaps a cream or a gold colour – I couldn’t decide under the dim lighting. I could see the shadows of a well-developed chest under the fabric; wide shoulders, and a skin that was darker than mine.
I didn’t usually ogle guys y’know. I didn’t go ogling anyone, actually. I always kept my head down, and my needs tight inside. Had done, since…well, for a long time. It was the safest strategy I could think of.
But I gazed at him. I was like some kinda cartoon character – I reckon my mouth may have fallen a little open. People came back and forth to the bar, and I seemed to see him through them. I looked up into his face and it was striking. Way beyond striking. He was dark there as well, eyes shadowed by heavy lids; a long, straight nose. Thick, night-black hair, cut almost raggedly on his head, falling over his forehead in unruly spikes. As I watched, he sipped at his drink. Slowly; deliberately – like he wasn’t particularly thirsty. His mouth wasn’t large, but the lips were thick and richer than I’d have thought from his slightly Asian look. They were glistening with the liquid.
I knew – of course – what the feeling was, deep in the pit of my stomach. ‘Praps a little lower. Long time, no see, I thought, wryly. But I was just as sure that it wasn’t gonna get a hold of me.
And then he looked up, and straight at me.
I tried to think it was a trick of the light – he couldn’t possibly have known I was staring, we were too far enough apart for that. But I didn’t move my eyes away, and so he saw me. His eyes shone clearly across the smoky fog of the bar. Wide – deep coloured. Reflecting all the lights and colours of the room, and absorbing them at the same time. They were hypnotic. Things stood like that, for all of ten seconds. Then he lifted the glass very gently, as if he saluted me. And his mouth twisted into a slow, arrogant smile.
No, I thought.
His head inclined a little, as if he were calling me over. There was no way we could have heard any words over that din.
No, I thought again.
And I pushed carefully past a group of partygoers beside me, shouting and laughing as they handed out bottled beers amongst them, and I walked over to him.
I stopped close enough to him so that no-one else would force their way between us. But far enough apart that we wouldn’t touch accidentally. His eyes were still on me, but he’d put the glass back down on the bar. I don’t know whether it was the vodka in me, or the astonishing glow there was to those fabulous eyes. But there was an aura that sparked off him like electricity. I didn’t even have to touch him to feel it. I felt the current through my whole body.
I guess he looked a little like him. Like Wufei; it was the black hair – the Eastern look. ‘Praps that was why I’d been drawn to him.
But that wasn’t enough to explain the thrill inside me.
What was the matter with me? Shouldn’t I say something to him? Try to explain my rudeness?
I said nothing at all – my throat was closed to all traffic. My eyes devoured him – my nerves reacted with a terrifying, erotic fervour.
He was watching the expressions on my face; the heavy lids slid down over his dark-bright eyes and back up again. It was as if he’d taken full measure of me in that second.
And then he leaned into me and I smelt him – the slight sweat and the damp skin of his lips; the tantalising trail of an unknown perfume.
“I know somewhere we can go. Wanna come with me?” he murmured.
God, did I!
I followed him, never more than a foot behind him, as he cut his way through the bodies on the dance floor and out towards a back exit that I didn’t even know was there. We still hadn’t touched in any way. I was like a lamb to the slaughter; and I knew, in my heart, that’s what I was. I told myself we were gonna find a quiet room, and talk; we were gonna share a joint, or another drink. Couldn’t do any of that over the noise and scramble in this place. And then I’d get that cab, and go home and make strong coffee, and forget the whole damn evening…
The door was flush into the wall, and wouldn’t have been noticed by most of the clients there tonight. There were no signs on it. But he pushed on it like it was familiar – like he knew it’d be open. It slid outwards easily, and I followed him through. There was a heavy clunk as it closed behind us, and the sudden drop in noise was almost a shock. I could only hear the beat now – the regular, throbbing bass. And I realised I was outside the building – out in the night air.
And then my back was slammed back against cold bricks, and his mouth was on mine. Not a word, not a request – just hard, wet lips, crushing mine, and a fierce tongue pushing for admittance. My palms were flat against the wall, but he didn’t try to hold me there. It was enough that his mouth claimed me – that I surrendered immediately and willingly and damn, damn eagerly!
Look – I’ve always had a healthy libido. At least, that’s what I’d call it, if I felt I should be kind to myself. I dislike categorising at the best of times, and I don’t know whether I’d call myself either gay or straight. There’d been a complex and varied sexual history, following me around until I moved back here – I’ve had girls and guys. But it depends on the person, doesn’t it, not the gender. I can get excited by both – I can respond to both. Let’s face it, I have done…
Drop it! I thought. Those times have gone…
But I could genuinely say that I’d never felt this rush of consuming, desperate lust before! The terrible need – the solely physical reaction that made my head spin and my heart tighten in my chest. A deep desire to touch – to grab – to possess.
We never spoke, though I’d have found it difficult with his probing tongue inside my mouth. Even though I’d opened my lips almost faster than he’d asked of me, and sucked him in, rolling my own tongue against him, tasting the hot skin, and the taint of alcohol still warm in his mouth. He was gasping, and I knew damn well that I was. We were out in a narrow side street, almost an alley, with the blank back views of tall buildings around us – it was quiet, except for the beat from the club behind our bodies, and the occasional wailing siren in the traffic far away. The night wind had dropped, and the weather was dry; I remember being fleetingly thankful for that. I knew he wasn’t going to take us back inside for a time yet.
His hands touched me then, heavy on my shoulders like a blow, pressing me down the wall. I struggled for a minute, not sure what we were doing here – my hands went to his upper arms, restraining him. I tried the pressure myself, seeing if he would buckle instead.
Something flared in his eyes, but they were too close to me, and he was too much a stranger for me to understand it. But there was excitement there, and a challenge that I’d never had before.
“Get down!” he hissed. Out here, in the fresh air, his voice reverberated in my ear. It was deep, and rich, and I felt how it matched the strength of his body. I slid, less than elegantly, down on to my ass.
“You gotta name?” I gasped, struggling back up on to my knees. He’d turned around, so that it was his back against the brick wall now. He was fumbling with the zip of his pants with one hand, and grasping at my hair with the other. And I was letting him. “Any name?”
He glared at me, like he might tell me to go to hell. But something in my face caught him. He twisted my braid around in his hand, almost thoughtfully. And then he smiled. “Heero.”
Strange name, I thought. Fucking strange everything…
“I’m Duo –“ I mumbled, but he wasn’t listening. He was tangling his fingers in my hair, savouring the feeling of the length and the thickness. I know it fascinates a lot of people. And then the smile had gone, and he was tugging my head forward towards his groin and the open zip. I could see the bulge under his boxers. I could feel the heat on my cheeks, even before I reached my hand up and slid it inside. He hissed, and his hips jerked once.
Not a word, still. No please. No thank you. But I grasped the thick shaft as if it were the Holy Grail, peeled it out of its thin, silk prison, and took it fully into my mouth.
He pressed himself back hard against the wall, and groaned. I leant into his legs, holding the creased cloth of his pants, and began to move my mouth up and down, dragging my tongue along with it. The smell of his balls was musky and erotic – the dark, rough pubic hairs tickled at my nose. And his cock was thick and harsh in my mouth, and tasted like nothing on earth. I’d forgotten how good a cock could taste – the sharp tang of living flesh on your tongue; the wrinkles of skin smoothing under your lips, stretching over an engorging organ. I could feel the pulse of the vein along the side of him – could taste the droplets of pre-cum as they oozed out of the slit for me to suck up. His hips were straining against my hands, thrusting into my mouth in a parody of fucking. His fingers gripped tightly against my scalp, though he had no need to force me up and down – I was sucking for my own delight as well.
I hadn’t done this for so long… I tried very hard to pace myself; to control the excitement that was racing around me, making my hands clench too tightly at his muscular thighs, my mouth gobble hungrily at his cock. But he didn’t complain, and I think that he liked it that way. Our combined breaths were short and rasping, and there were slight clouds from his mouth as he panted his heat into the cool night air. My head bobbed back and forth, making soft, suckling noises, and his grunts accompanied me. I wished to God I could get a hand down into my own pants and relieve the ache I was suffering there.
I don’t know how long it took – I was lost in the rhythm of my devouring, and it seemed like I’d been joined to his groin for ever. My mouth had always been filled with this flesh, always been bruised against his taut skin as it kissed its way deeper and harder. But I felt the ripple, deep in his balls – the tightening skin against my chin; the catch of his breath as it announced the imminent end. But even as my heart raced at the thought of swallowing him, and my lips tightened on him, he yanked my head back, sliding me off him.
Panting, I licked my swollen, frustrated lips. Lifted my head to stare up at him. He held me tight, but his eyes were half closed. His chest heaved with the desire – his thighs were shaking slightly under my touch. His cock jutted out into my face; red, damp with my saliva, and damn angry at being denied completion. He looked superb; a vibrant, aching statue of a man, and I wanted so much more of him that I felt a physical hurt.
“You wanna take me?” My voice was breathy – I felt like I hadn’t used it for weeks. I knew what I was asking. It was all part of the strange surrender issue that had consumed me this night – I was contemplating letting some near stranger bury his cock in my ass, and I seemed to accept it as OK. Welcomed it, in fact.
“Yes…” he murmured. His tongue slipped out and moistened his lips. He bent his head forward and gazed back down at me. “Yes!”
I stood, my knees a bit shaky themselves. He watched me as I slipped open the button of my pants, and unzipped myself. I was standing here in some open alleyway, and I was gonna strip myself for this guy to fuck me. Anyone might come out after us!
Did I think that was terrifying – or exciting?
I slid the pants down my legs, and flipped the boxers down after them. They caught slightly on my own aching erection. I was damp at the tip – swollen and desperate to be free of fabric. I kicked the clothes away to the side. I stood in my crumpled shirt and boots, and nothing else. The night air rustled gently against the shirt tails – blew soft trails into my hairs and under my balls. I wondered when I had last done it in the open air – I couldn’t remember anything.
Heero was breathing very heavily. He stared at my body, greedily. “Turn around,” he rasped.
I did, and felt him move up behind me. His cock nudged at my ass cheeks – caught gently on the silk of my shirt. It was a shaft of pure heat. His hands came back to my shoulders, and he pressed me forwards so that I threw out my hands to protect myself. I was forced up against the wall, my back a little bent. His hand slipped down to my buttocks, touching me there, possessively. He shifted a leg in between my knees, and spread my legs further apart.
My cock grazed unhappily against the brickwork – this was gonna hurt one way or another.
“You got a condom?” I snapped. I was scared, I guess. And horny. And unused to this whole thing – it had been such a long time since anyone had taken me.
To give him his due, this whole thing seemed to have taken him as much by surprise as it had me. I heard him curse, and his hand stopped its smoothing of my buttocks; its creeping around inside the crack, nuzzling at my hole.
“It’s OK, I have,” I sighed. I couldn’t believe I was saying this! “In the back pocket of my jeans.” I felt him bend down and scrabble round in my discarded clothing. I wondered if the damn thing would be out of date by now – some old acquaintance had slipped it to me one Saturday night, just for a laugh. I never intended to use it – I wasn’t looking for that sorta entertainment. I heard Heero give a small, tight laugh – he’d obviously found the sachet of lube as well. Well, now he’d know what sorta slut he was dealing with, wouldn’t he? I knew I was red with embarrassment – but I also knew we didn’t have any kinda conversation going where I could explain that I wasn’t like that, really.
And, anyway – looked like I was, didn’t it?
“Now…” I hissed. “Do it now, Heero – don’t make me wait –“
My cock hung down between my legs, and I reached down with immense relief, to clasp it. Then Heero was there, quite suddenly, leaning on to my back, his breath steamy at the nape of my neck. I felt the open zip of his pants snagging at my thighs – his cock teasing between my cheeks. My hole was aching – it was flexing itself in desperation, trying to tempt him in. I was dead scared that he’d never get in – I had to be tight as a gnat’s ass from lack of attention, I was sure. But from the soft, slippery touch of his cock on my chilled skin, I knew he was protected and lubed up. And then – oh my God! – there was a similarly slick finger pressing gently into me; probing; stretching…
Another thing I’d forgotten – the blessed, unmistakable delight of being fingered! My back arched, and I whimpered. His other hand twisted itself tightly into my braid and held my head back, sharply. The fingers slid quickly out of me. My legs opened wider – my ass presented itself into his hand. I wanted him so badly I thought I was gonna spontaneously combust.
He let out a deep, guttural sound in my ear, and he thrust into me. I yelped, and jerked with the shock, but his arm snaked round my waist and held me to him. He pulled back a little, then thrust again – and my body moved with him, pressing me further into the wall so that my head was flat against it. He straightened again, pulling me slightly back, and started to fuck me with a steady, strong rhythm. I wondered, with some amazement, how long he could last – he’d been ready to come only minutes ago. But there was no sound from him, or shiver in his body, that made me think he wasn’t in total control.
“Me – mine too –“ I gasped, not really knowing what the hell I was talking about. But he obviously did, because his hand left my waist and came down to my groin. He batted my flailing hand aside – I was doing a pathetic job of pleasing myself, because my concentration was far, far away – and he fisted around me with perfect precision.
I groaned then – loudly, and demandingly, and I began to thrust into his hand, just as he thrust into me. I was dripping with pre-cum, and I guess his hand was still slimy with lube; whatever the reason, his fingers slipped firmly and swiftly up and down my cock, and teased the excitement further and further up from the coil of lust deep in my groin. Heero may have had control of his bodily responses, but I was hurtling over the edge some time very soon! We rocked together, nothing to be heard but the wet slap of sweaty flesh against even more sweaty flesh; the harsh grunt of a body slamming against another; the panting of two people concentrating on what must be surely one of the most purely physically satisfying feelings ever discovered…
To my shame, I climaxed a few seconds later. Christ, I’d never felt so good in my life, and for so many months I’d had no practice in controlling the suspense. My body wanted it, and it wanted it now! I gulped and sobbed, and pumped out the hot, creamy seed all over his hand, watching it through ecstasy-blurred eyes as strings of it sprayed on to the rough ground at my feet.
He let out another of the guttural moans – guess my muscles were spasming, no longer under any control of mine. But even as I started to relax and slump under his body, he clutched me back around the waist and started to speed up his penetration. I could hear his heart hammering against my back – his breath shuddering. The shiver I’d been waiting to feel in him started to run down his torso and into his legs. I could feel it at my hips; feel his legs crushing against mine, his groin trying to sink even deeper into me. It felt damn good that I was doing this to him!
“Shit…!” he hissed out into my hair, so that I barely heard it. His fingers pinched at my skin, he bucked a coupla times more against me, and then I felt the extra swelling up inside me, and the sudden increase in heat, that meant he was coming.
In the distance, a car horn sounded; some motorist angry at having to wait for a red light. And then the silence fell again around us.
Heero groaned softly above me, and straightened himself up. He pulled cautiously out of me, ripping off the soggy condom and throwing it to the ground. I heard the soft plop as it fell on to the cracked concrete.
I realised how little our skin had touched, though my ass and legs were bare and his pants were still wide open at his groin. I struggled to regain my breath. Craning back to look over my shoulder, I saw his cock hanging out, falling limp now against the cloth; shining in the semi-darkness with a sheen that was made up of damp latex, lube and the juices from out of me. There’d been virtually no other contact between us, besides the sex.
I heard the sound of the zip – saw him cramming himself back into his pants and underwear.
Great, I thought. That’s that, then. Talk about a soulless fuck.
I searched my mind for some witty responses; some get-out lines, long forgotten in my experience. I creaked my way upright as well, still leaning on the wall for much-needed support. My shirt fell softly over my bare groin, but I still winced at its touch. Anyway, what the hell was I complaining about? It had been the hottest, fiercest, most exciting fuck I’d ever experienced!
Yeah – I’m a guy who struggles with relationships at the best of times.
I bent and grabbed at my clothes; tucked one of my legs in to start dressing myself. Heero watched me tug up my pants; seeking to fasten myself in again. I hissed at the tight style of the jeans – Christ, I thought ,almost hysterically, if I’d known I was gonna need to pull ‘em on and off quickly, I’d have chosen the sweats instead… He caught my arm as I staggered a little. I bit back my thanks. Though, Christ, he’d earned ‘em! In many ways.
“I gotta go…” I stumbled out the words. Yeah – very witty! He was staring at me. He was all zipped up, all done and dusted, and calm as anything. Maybe there was something still lingering… a breath heavier than before; a flush on his smooth skin. He wasn’t rushing off, after all. Hadn’t dropped me a coupla bills, payment for services rendered…
No, I was a hypocrite – I was creating some kinda justification for something that had been nothing but lust; nothing but a fast and furious race towards mutual satisfaction.
“OK Duo,” he said, softly. That deep, steady voice. ‘Praps he had been listening when I told him my name. He shrugged slightly – the arrogant smile was back, twisting its cynicism across his good-looking face. “There’s a catch at the top of the door if you need to go back inside. See ya.”
He turned away from me, and he walked back down the alley towards the main streets.
I leaned back against the wall for another fifteen minutes or so, watching my breath on the increasingly chilly night air, and wishing fervently that I was still smoking.