Teenage Dirtbag Sequel Chapter 10

by Granate, 2004

Disclaimer: I own Gundam Wing. But I'm also certifiably insane, so don't expect that claim to hold up in court.

Duo pulls off the move in record time. I was not part of his start date negotiations, but he agreed to start orientation the next Monday. It’s a very sudden upheaval and I don’t envy him at all. The week goes by in a blur for me since there’s not much I can do to help him until he actually gets here. The apartment he wanted was empty, so he can move right in. He rents a truck and calls me as soon as he arrives. I eagerly help him move in and we barely get all the boxes in the place before I decide it’s time to repay him for the morning he left after the interview. I don’t even let him set up his aquarium. He doesn’t complain. The new place needs to be broken in, after all.

He gets settled and it’s the beginning of a whole new series of firsts for me. He’s my first boyfriend. There’s no discussion or official decision, but there’s no question about it either. Neither of us is looking to date anyone else and we don’t consider ourselves single anymore. We adopt all the hallmarks of a real relationship, the Friday night date is implied, if you will. In short, if he were a girl he’d be keeping tampons in my bathroom. This is a stage I’ve reached only once before. I wasn’t crazy about the feminine products, but that had nothing to do with the rapid deteriorated of that particular relationship soon after. I don’t exactly have a stellar track record in this area.

Despite past failures, I don’t feel apprehensive going into this, which is definitely a first for me. Duo has a one-day-at-a-time attitude about things that puts me at ease. Besides, this is what I wanted, isn’t it? This is what I wanted after our very first night together. He’s also the first partner I’ve not dreaded waking up to. There were a few in the past whose houses I used to sleep at, but on most of those occasions I was too incapacitated to go anywhere else and I got out of there as soon as I could in the mornings. Painful as the initial awkwardness between Duo and I was, we got through it and now we know how to deal with each other. I even learn how to make eggs and pancakes, not that we really have time during the week.

Duo is the first partner I’ve ever been unprotected with. We stop using condoms almost as soon as he moves here. I’m a paranoid person by nature and always used them even when my previous partners were clean and on birth control. However, after Duo and I established that we were both clean, there was just no point to condoms. It’s even better with nothing between us, but a bit messier. I’ll always remember the first time he came inside me. I’m well acquainted with the workings of the male orgasm, but for some reason it took me by surprise, I just wasn’t expecting it after using condoms the times before. It’s not a feeling I could ever forget.

We have non-sexual firsts together, too. This is the first time either of us have had a relationship with a person we also work with. One difficulty we encounter is leaving professional arguments at work. We try to smooth out any disagreements we have on the job before leaving. Working together creates a strange dynamic that requires careful balance in how much we see each other. Some days we’re groping and dirty-talking the entire drive home and barely make it to the couch, and other days we hardly say goodbye before parting. The only trouble is when our wants don’t match up.

To maintain equilibrium, we spend a surprising amount of time apart. We don’t hang out everyday after work and we typically spend either Saturday or Sunday apart. Oh sure, there are weekends that we don’t leave my bedroom, but for the most part we’re pretty moderate. Or as moderate as two twenty-three year old guys are about sex. He’s made a few acquaintances in his building that I know he sees occasionally. I suppose this is good, since we don’t want to get sick of each other. Even if we don’t spend the night together, I always pick him up for work in the mornings.

Duo and I behave in a way that is nothing but professional while at work, but it must be obvious that we know one another very well. We don’t feel the need to tell anyone about our out of work relationship but I’m sure the more with-it people have guessed. Everyone at work already knows me but I can tell they don’t quite know what to make of the pair of us. The secretary laughed and told me once that it’s because we’re the first interns in decades that aren’t bone fide, bespectacled, pocket-protected nerds. This amuses the both of us because Duo still buys comic books and I would sooner give up my left pinky finger than my Playstation, especially now that Duo and I have some rather inventive uses for it.

Being that we have this undeserved reputation for not being hopeless nerds, we spearhead a movement to get as many department members as possible out for happy hour. It actually catches on and we all become Wednesday night regulars at a pub not far from the space center. I feel much more friendly and sociable when Duo is around. If he weren’t here, I probably would not have started this social gathering, and I certainly could never have made it work. Fenway and my other bosses have complimented the change in my manner since Duo came on board, saying I’m more agreeable. They rave about his performance as well and it’s all I can do to not act smug.

Someone hears him jokingly call me Intern Numero Uno just once and suddenly we’re Uno and Duo. It sticks like super glue. Most of them pronounced my name wrong anyway, like the word hero. Still, it can get slightly annoying to hear “Hey, Uno, where’s Duo?” eighty times a day. Duo becomes popular very fast, probably because he’s more approachable than I am. If the scientists need a temporary assistant or some kind of help, they ask him first. I can’t say I mind, since he ends up with the jobs like giving a tour to someone’s daughter’s third grade class. He said he got more questions about his hair than the research.

He’s lived in Florida for six weeks when we have our first real fight. Not like the professional arguments we have at work, our disagreements on what movie to see, the playful banter of the bedroom, or even misdirected snapping after a long day. He stops over on a Wednesday evening before we are supposed to meet co-workers for drinks. I let him in and the first thing he does is rifle through my mail; he doesn’t even say hi. I shoot his back a strange look as I lace my boots, but there’s nothing there I care if he sees, so I don’t protest. He turns to me and pulls an envelope out of his coat pocket. He grins and waves it at me.

“Being the responsible adult that I am, I leave forwarding addresses. Unlike some people,” he says. “Which means you didn’t get this.” He flings the envelope at me.

I catch it against my chest and hold it up for a good look. I see the return address and recognize immediately what it must be. I probably would have thrown the thing out if I had gotten one. I loathefully pull the letter out of the slit in the top and read it.

“You’re not thinking about going, are you?” I frown.

“Of course I’m going! And you’re coming with me,” he says.

“No, Duo,” I say setting letter and envelope down on the counter, “absolutely not.”

“Come on, there must be at least one person you want to see,” he says.

I glare and pick up my keys, hoping he’ll get the point that we should get going and forget this stupid conversation. He doesn’t.

“I bet I can name her,” he teases.

“Duo, drop it,” I growl. He looks annoyed with me, but what does he expect? Yes, the mention of our five-year high school class reunion will make me instantly irritable. That shouldn’t be a huge surprise.

“Come with me,” he says, tone changed to something trying to be more persuasive. He takes my arm.

“No,” I say sternly. “We’re going to be late to the pub.”

“How about I promise not to ditch you.”

“No.”

“We don’t have to tell anyone about us.”

“No.”

“I’ll cheer you on if you end up kicking someone’s ass.”

“NO.” My reputation was bad enough, like I need to get into fights five years later.

“Free food!”

“Duo…”

“It would make me really happy…” he coaxes, sidling up to me.

“NO, Duo, I don’t want to go!” I feel like I’m being clear, why is he still pushing this? Maybe my statements aren’t coming across as final as I’d like due to his playfulness.

He rolls his eyes. “I’ll bottom for a week.”

“Ha,” I snort. “You would not.”

He backs off and grins at me. “Only one way to find out!” he winks.

“Stop it, Duo. I’m not going and that’s final.”

“I’m not going out with you until you say yes,” he says, determination written all over his face. He stands with his feet shoulder-width apart and crosses his arms over his chest. Why is this so damned important to him? He can go and have a much better time without me. Why is he pushing this? If he hasn’t noticed, it’s pissing me off, as is his refusal to take no for an answer. If it’s a fight he wants, it’s a fight he’ll get.

I throw my hands in the air and raise my voice at him, unsure of how else to get my point across. “There are things I’d like to leave behind me, if you don’t mind, and that’s one of them! There’s no reason for me to go! There is no one I want to see there! You had friends, I didn’t. Thank you so much for reminding me. Do you really think I want to be following you around all night? Guess again. I’m not going.”

Duo’s fists drop to his sides. “You know, I was thinking maybe you’d like a chance to reintroduce yourself to people, Heero!” he says angrily, “Or maybe meet them for the first time! Not everyone was all bad – even you! But most people don’t even know it! I guess I just want people to know the Heero I know, to know what you’re really like! But, Jesus, if you’re going to be like this…”

We stare crossly at each other for a moment. He looks at his watch.

“Well, we’re late to meet the guys,” he says bitterly, “I don’t know about you, but that’s where I’ll be.” He turns on his heel and the door clatters behind him.

I seethe at the space he was occupying only a moment ago. He’s the one who made us late in the first place! Him and that stupid idea. Now I don’t even feel like going out. I grunt and throw my keys on the counter. I don’t know how he’s planning to get to the bar now, but fine, whatever, he can just go without me. To the pub AND to the reunion. Reunion. Ha. Like there was ever any “union” to begin with.

I kick off my shoes and pad heavily into the kitchen. I get myself a beer from the fridge and flop dejectedly into a kitchen chair. Ugh. Our first fight. I fold my arms in front of me and slump onto the table. Why does he have to be so damned insistent about things? I hate being bugged incessantly after I’ve already said no to something, it just makes me angry. A simple no can turn into me digging in my heels and making a big mess of things. I don’t react well when I feel like I’m being attacked; I tend to get defensive. I raised my voice to him. I should know better than anyone that that is not the best way to make yourself heard. It never worked on me.

I stew and pick at the label on my bottle for a while. I don’t like that he left here angry at me. I start to think those weird paranoid thoughts, like what if he gets hit by a bus and dies and I never get to make up with him and tell him that he was the only thing I wanted to take with me from those awful years. I’ve done that now, and I don’t want to look back. And if he gets hit by a bus, I wouldn’t get to tell him that I love him. Stupid and sappy as it sounds, it’s true. In previous relationships, I would wonder how you know if you love someone but now I realize that there’s no answer to that question. If you have to wonder, you’re not in love. I haven’t said it out loud to him yet, though. It’s only been a month and a half! I guess that’s why I’m hesitating, I mean, how can I know in a month and a half? But I do. Such is the nature of our relationship, the two of us have never quite understood the meaning of “taking it slow.”

Oh, and don’t forget the make-up sex. If he gets hit by a bus, we’ll never get to have make-up sex. I shuffle to my coat and dig my cell phone from my pocket to send him a text message, “Don’t get hit by a bus and die, I want to make up with you.” I suppose I have those panicky what-if-he-dies thoughts because, hey, it’s happened to me. It’s taken me four years to come to the conclusion that Jay wasn’t all that bad, and we could probably get along now. Granted, he was not the best parent, and we fought constantly, but I think he must have cared about me somewhat. He made my life miserable sometimes, but it was me who made my life miserable most of the time. I wish I could tell him that I’ve realized that, but I can’t. I wish he was still around to see me now, maybe I’d finally make someone proud of me.

I set the phone on the table and sit back down. I want to make up with Duo, but the reunion is still a problem. I don’t want to go. I just don’t see the point. It’s just going to be the same people acting even more phony and trying to impress each other with how far they’ve come and how successful they are now. Every high school nerd’s revenge dream-come-true, right? Well, not me. I’m sure my turn-around would be positively heart-warming, which is only another reason not to go. How many times would I have to explain it?

There are things I don’t want to revisit, not even to make them right. Relena was probably the most positive thing in my life for two years, but I don’t even want to see her. Not because I don’t care about her, but because I just want to leave it where it is, not dredge it all up. I continue to shred the label from my beer bottle in contemplation. It might be nice to see her, I didn’t leave her with much closure. I was rather… abrupt, and I’m sure I must have hurt her. I doubt she’d even care anymore, I’m sure her life’s all wonderful now and I’m heading up the “past mistakes” category. On the other hand, she always did care about me, and she managed to keep me relatively stable. Maybe it’d be nice to have the chance to tell her how much she meant to me.

I don’t know what to do. One person isn’t enough to make going to the reunion bearable. Duo said I could hang out with him and his old friends, but that would feel so forced. He’s right about one thing, though, I wasn’t the person they thought I was. At this stage, I’m not even the person I really was then, if that makes any sense at all. I can’t be angry with anyone for not giving me a chance, since I never gave them one either. I wonder if five years has made everyone more mature. I guess it would be possible to go and meet some people and not have it be awful.

I think what I really want to know, though, is will Duo truly bottom for a whole week? The idea seems laughable. We take turns at top and bottom, and sometimes the definitions get a little blurred. Usually, if one of us has a strong desire to do it a certain way, we’ll do that. Otherwise, it’s up to who ever has more energy at the end of the day. It’s sad to say that, but I think that means we’re becoming adults. Currently, I’d say our relationship is pretty much 50/50 in that respect. I’d have scoffed at that a year ago, but there’s just something about the look Duo gets in his eyes.

I lean back in my chair and stare across the small room at the invitation on the counter where I tossed it. The reunion is just one night, what if we could make the trip a few days? He’d probably like to see his aunt, we could catch a race at the speedway and he could see his buddies. I run a hand through my hair. God, I can’t believe I’m considering this. The very place I’ve been trying to run away from for the last five years. There were reasons I didn’t leave a forwarding address. Many of them.

Still unsure, I move to the couch and lie there staring at the same page of a book until the phone rings some time later. There is a text message from Duo’s number that says, “Duo got run over by a car and can’t talk to you right now.”

“Not funny,” I growl out loud and then text him back those exact words.

He replies in a moment with, “It was just a Cooper Mini. Duo should be released from the hospital sometime tonight. Really, his huge, hulking, masculine, God-like body did more damage to the poor little Mini.”

I snort at the phone. Well, he can’t be drinking too much if he’s typing all that. I reply, “Just call me, dork.”

His immediate response is, “Dork.”

I glare at the phone. Why am I dating the most exasperating man on the planet? I make a final effort, “Just call me or come over.” I hope he’ll come over, I feel like it would be easier to make-up face to face.

Sometime later the phone rings with a call from his number.

I flip on the phone and ask, “Still alive after all?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Good, wanna make-up?” I ask. Why beat around the bush?

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have I left like that,” he admits.

“And I shouldn’t have let you.”

“I was frustrated. You can be so stubborn. You just stuck your head in the sand and refused to listen to anything I said,” he says seriously.

“Stubborn? You’re one to talk,” I counter.

He laughs a little bit. “Ok, true,” he says and takes a breath. “And Heero, I do understand where you’re coming from, the way you feel about the past, it’s just that this means a lot to me, you know? I want to have you there. I don’t think it’ll be as bad as you think. There’s a lot of people I don’t want to see either, but people change. Look what five years has done to us!”

I frown and grumble a bit. Well, how very mature of him. I guess that makes some sense. I’d always thought he felt the same way I did about it, but it sounds like he’s looking at things differently these days.

“Come on, Heero,” he continues, “we barely knew ourselves back then, how could we have really known those kids? Give this a chance.”

I sigh. “I’m giving a yes with conditions,” I tell him.

“Really?” he asks excitedly and then chuckles, “you and your conditions.”

“One: you can not, under any circumstances, ditch me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

I ignore the fact that he just called me baby. “Two: what’s between us remain private,” I say. I don’t want to offend him or anything, but I don’t think everyone needs to know. Like the workplace, it’s just not their business.

“Right. We’re friends. We work together and I dragged you along to the reunion. That’s the story.”

“Three: I can leave at anytime.”

“I want an hour at least,” he insists, “You can’t walk in there and then leave before even pinning your name tag on.”

Name tag. I shudder, but call up some reserves of courage. “Acceptable,” I agree, “Four: you are in charge of all travel arrangements.”

“Ok,” he says. “Is it ok if we stay with my aunt?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we tell her about… us?”

I think about that one. “We’ll see when the time comes,” I tell him. “I was thinking maybe we could take a day off for the trip, if you wanted to plan something with your race crew.”

“Really? You mean that?”

“May as well have other things to look forward to on the trip,” I shrug.

“Ok, is that all with the conditions?”

“No, one more,” I smirk to myself. “I want a whole seven day week, not a five-day work week.”

“What?”

“Of you bottoming.”

“Oh, you’re holding me to that?” he whines. I love that whine.

“Absolutely. Think you can handle it?”

He snorts at me with quickly collected bravado. “The question is, can YOU?” he says.

My face flushes at his allegation of how much I like being bottom, but I give no external sign. “You think you’re so clever. Just for that, I want Duo Bottom Week to span our trip.”

“Ugh, fine,” he grumbles, “but no backing out of this trip last minute!”

“Ok,” I say, although every functioning brain cell is screaming that I’ve just made a huge mistake. Only Duo could convince me to do something like this. I believe I deserve some compensation. “So, we’ve made up, want to come over?” I ask.

“Angling for make-up sex are we?” he teases.

“I missed you,” I say quietly. Damn. I have been reduced to tight-lipped, evasive answers in record time. How does he do this to me?

He laughs. “It was only a few hours ago! And you must have sent that text message pretty soon after I left. Geez, for our first fight, you sure didn’t last long,” he kids.

“I don’t like fighting.”

“Wait, you weren’t really worried I was going to die, were you?”

I just breathe into the phone, not knowing what to say. I guess it was pretty stupid now that I think about it. I want to say something to brush it off, but I can’t speak because the only words on my tongue are the ones I’m still afraid to say.

“Aw, Heero,” he pleads, “don’t think like that. I don’t like fighting either, and even if something did happen, you know that I… Ok, I’m coming over.”

We hang up and he comes over, and we have very reaffirming make-up sex.

The reunion is only two weeks away. I guess the postal service took its sweet time with the forwarding. The days go pretty much as they always do; Duo is diligently keeping his promise of making our plans for the trip. He offers to pay for my plane ticket, but I tell him it’s not necessary. The reunion is a Saturday night, so I get us Friday off. We’re in luck, his team is in a race at the speedway on Friday night. That was fun last time, so at least there is something to look forward to. Well, it was fun because they didn’t yet know I was going to steal Duo from them.

Before I know it, I’m packing my suitcase. I’m still trying not to think about Saturday night. I can panic about it later, right now I’d like to forget about it. We go straight from work to the airport on Thursday. I’m a little irritable after ten hours of work. We’ve both had to work a little extra to make up for the day off. He knows enough to give me some space and leave me alone, but I soften when he falls asleep as soon as we’re in the air and ends up on my shoulder. We’re still at that stage in our relationship where him drooling on my sleeve is cute. Or maybe it’s just him, and he’s so smart-assed and independent, so it is cute when he drools in his sleep like a mere mortal. Especially when he wakes up and sees it and bites his lip, debating whether to tell me about it or not.

His Aunt meets us at the baggage claim and gives him a big hug. I feel a little guilty about separating them as I watch them kiss hello. We’ve only met briefly, but she greets me with a hug, too. She offers to take my bag and I decline, of course. We answer the standard questions about work and Florida and NASA on the way to her house. I sit in the back and let Duo do most of the talking. We pull into the driveway, and I’m just assailed by memories of the place. Playing video games and smoking on prom night, talking about cars, fixing the fence after I crashed into it. I felt like this when I came here to find him the first time, and it hasn’t dulled any. Maybe it’s more palpable because Duo is with me this time. I wouldn’t say I’m shaken, but maybe I’m feeling a little out of sorts.

Inside, something smells great and I’m hoping it’s dinner, although it’s late. I drop my bags against the wall and excuse myself to use the bathroom. When I shut off the tap after splashing some water on my face, I can hear them talking.

“The guest bed is all made up,” Helen says as they come down the hall. I can hear Duo moving our bags through the narrow hallway.

“That’s all right, he can sleep in my room,” Duo says rapidly. This is interesting; we never came to a conclusion about this. I suppose she’s his relative, so it should be up to him. Their voices sound farther away, and I imagine she followed Duo into his room. I dry my hands and face quietly so I can listen.

“So, you’ll be in the guest room, then?” she asks.

“Uh, no,” he says, “I’ll be in here too.”

“Both of you in this little room?” she asks. I don’t think she quite understands yet.

“Yeah, we’ll fit,” Duo says. He sounds nervously cheerful, a tone I’ve learned to pay attention to. She raised him, so I’m sure she knows it better than I do. There’s an awkward silence as she figures things out. I’m really glad I’m in here. I wonder if she knows about the boy he says he dated in college.

“The guest bed might be a bit bigger,” she says uncertainly, “And the room is less cluttered.”

“We’ll be ok in here,” he says. I can hear the relief in his voice.

“How long have you two been… seeing each other?” she asks so quietly I almost can’t hear. I don’t know her well, so she’s difficult to read, but she sounds a little confused.

“Pretty much since I moved down there,” he answers.

“Is it serious? Do you love – ”

Oh no, I can’t hear the end of this one. I jerk the handle loudly and open the bathroom door as noticeably as I can. They both look up at me as I enter the small room. She smiles at me and pats my arm as she passes me.

“Duo’s got your things,” she says, “dinner’s ready if you boys are hungry.” She leaves us alone.

“I told her,” he whispers. I tell him that’s fine. It’s probably better anyway, we don’t want to have to be sneaking around under her nose all weekend.

We follow the scent to the kitchen where Helen is filling three bowls with stew from the crock pot. It looks as delicious as it smells. Neither Duo or I are stellar cooks, but at least he tries. I’m pretty much clueless in the kitchen while Duo is merely inexperienced. He says something to that effect as Helen sits down with us and passes the bowls and spoons. There is more chatting and dessert. She refuses to let us help clean up, so Duo excuses us to get our things in order and get some rest before she can break out the photo albums.

I follow him casually towards the bedroom, and then he all but drags me from the hall into his room. He closes the door quickly and kisses me. I’m caught off guard and allow him to finagle me to the bed and push me onto my back. His kisses become desperate and demanding as he fists his hand in the short hair at the back of my head. I thought I was exhausted, but I quickly feel my energy level rising. He breaks away and leans over me with a feral grin.

“Is it kinky of me to want you to fuck me in my old bed?” he whispers hastily.

“Yes,” I hiss and pull him down by the braid. Oh, that’s twisted, but I’m sure as hell not going to complain. I roll over him and our mouths meet again. Granted, it’s only three days into his week of being bottom, but he’s been enthusiastic about it so far. That’s how Duo is, though, when he sets his mind to something. I’ve been enjoying it too. I don’t think I could go a week without fucking him.

“Now or later?” I pant, my hands pausing at the button of his jeans

“Let’s do it now, we’ll just have to be quiet,” he whispers back. I smirk. Oh, this is indeed getting kinky. I rid him of his pants as soon as I can and bring him to full erection with my hand. He reaches for the hem of my shirt, but I swipe his hands away and move down the bed in search of his dick. Why I feel I must test his resolve to be quiet, I don’t know, but I wrap my lips around him and suck hungrily. We must look ridiculous, all our clothes on minus his pants, but I kind of like the mental image. He grunts softly, bucks into my mouth, and smothers his face with a pillow. I probably don’t need to say this, but I have gotten a lot better at blow jobs.

He flings the pillow at me when I stop and get up off the bed. I strip off my own clothes and grope through my bag for the lube. When I turn back to the bed, he’s fully naked and stroking himself. I lean over him and leer at him as I remove his hand.

“I didn’t say you could play with my toys,” I growl into his ear. “Knees.”

He quickly gets onto his hands and knees as I ready myself and admire him. His backside is in the air and his head is bowed, his braid tumbling over one shoulder. He moans my name impatiently and stretches his ass towards me. I take hold of his hips as I position myself, and then enter him slow and steady. Tonight, having him like this, in this room, I want to feel every centimeter. Fully in, I collapse onto his strong back and catch my breath. I rest my cheek on his shoulder and move my hips in small circles just to tease him.

I know a lot of people complain about this position, but we like it. I find nothing “impersonal” or “undignified” about it. On the contrary, I think it’s very intimate. Sure I miss seeing his face, but there’s something about the mechanics of the position that we like. The person behind can get more power behind his thrusts and the person in front has more freedom to move and meet them. When I’m behind, I like having the entire expanse of his back to kiss and bite, not to mention easy access to his dick.

I straighten up and wrap his braid around my fist before I use the other hand to spread him farther. I set my jaw and clench it shut to keep the groans in my throat as I begin to fuck him in earnest. I can see that Duo has something in his mouth to keep him quiet, but I can’t see what it is nor do I really care at the moment. I know how to rev him up, but I also know how to really set him off. When I’m ready, I switch my game plan, allowing my grip on the braid to slacken as I lean down and plant a hand on either side of him. I like how it feels when my chest and stomach slide against his back, skin to skin. I nibble up his spine as I continue to pound into him. I detour at his shoulders while one hand slides up the inside of his thigh. His more aggressive reactions show he knows exactly what I’m going to do.

My hand wraps firmly around his dick and his back arches instantly. I pump him faster than I’m thrusting, to scramble him just a bit. I move my mouth to that very special place on the back of his neck that is usually hidden by his hair. I just barely rest my lips against it, letting my panting breath rush over his skin. He bucks under me and I have to work to keep control of the rhythm. I speed my hips and then squeeze his cock and bite his neck at the same time. I wet it with my tongue and then my teeth scrape and nibble. His entire body shudders with the effort to stay silent as he comes in my hand.

One of these days, I’m going to be able to hold out and ride him through an orgasm without climaxing myself, but I haven’t been able to yet. There’s something about the way his body tightens like a bowstring and how his movements go totally wild. I press my face into his shoulder to muffle the groans. When the feeling ebbs, I wrap my arms around his waist and just hold him. He arches slightly into my touch even though I know his arms must ache from the strain. I don’t want to let him go yet.

“Heero,” Duo whispers and pushes back against me gently. Finally I straighten up and pull out of him. He collapses onto his front and I grope for a nearby tee-shirt to wipe us both off before grabbing him again and pulling him to me for some post-coital snuggles. Duo and I are normally fans of the roll over and go to sleep routine, but in the rare event that I feel like cuddling, there’s no stopping me. He laughs lowly and rolls over to throw his arms around my neck and kiss me. I don’t think I’ll ever get over how right it feels with him.

I doze off for a few minutes, but wake when I feel him kiss my forehead and climb out of bed. When I open my eyes, he’s got his pants on and is heading out the door with a small bag. I sigh and roll onto my back, settling with my hands under my head. His room hasn’t changed much since the last time I slept in it. Ok, now I’m getting a kind of perverse kick out of this. There’s the bookshelf and the desk. The closet door is narrow and the dresser is five drawers tall. There are various things on the bed. I pick up a beanie baby in the shape of a platypus. It’s wet.

Duo comes back in and stops after closing the door.

“Damn it,” he says softly, shaking his head, “You’re making me regret promising to bottom for the week.” I assume he’s referring to my nakedness. I hold up the unfortunate platypus.

“Is this what you had in your mouth?” I ask.

He snickers. “Yup.”

“You sick pervert,” I laugh, throwing it at him.

He catches it. “It was just there,” he explains, “I just grabbed at whatever was closest.”

“Or you wanted to profane a perfectly innocent stuffed animal,” I suggest, throwing my legs over the side of the bed. Remembering that this isn’t my house, I pull on some pajama pants before heading to the bathroom with my toothbrush.

We go to sleep holding each other. We don’t normally do that. Duo sleeps on his back with his limbs all flung out, and I’m a side sleeper, so we usually like to have our own space. I think the room and all the memories are affecting us in similar ways. I’m trying to keep them at surface level and not analyze them too deeply, but I can’t help wondering what the next three days will bring.