July 7, 2000
Wow...lemons abound... ::sweatdrops::
Okay...I'm going to go watch WWTBAM...
ja ne
~ana~
Heero yawned as he felt lips moving on his neck. "Um..." Then something hard pressed against the inside of his thigh and he was instantly awake. Instinct and desire warred; horniness won out. "Duo." There was...a mouth...moving closer... He wanted him to kiss him on the lips, but that mouth...kept moving away.
His eyes snapped open and he grabbed Duo's shoulders, pulling him down for a long, desperate kiss, tongue probing insistently. They pulled apart panting, still naked from their excursion into the unknown territory of Duo's sexuality. His moved, uncomfortable with where Duo's weight was pressing, and finally flipped the giggling American, tossing him easily to the sheets.
"I'll give you something to laugh about," he teased, and pulled him onto his hands and knees. Duo paused, rocking back and forth as if testing the precariousness of his situation. Sighing, he spread his legs wide, giving Heero an excellent view of the tightly wrinkled skin of his anus.
He took his own hands and placed them carefully on his hips, stroking gently up and down, sliding over the smoothness of his body. "This'll hurt." Cold, clinical, detached. It was the way he knew Duo really wanted it to be, the first time anyway.
One finger circled the tightness, then abruptly pushed inside. Duo wriggled, huffing and making loud complaining noises. "Um...Hurry up!" The muscle around his finger squeezed tightly; the skin beneath the hand still on Duo's hip was trembling.
Another finger. It was always harder to get the second finger in without scraping; it was with a practiced movement that he inserted two fingers. He opened them absently, noting that Duo still hadn't stretched very much. It was going to be a hard ride.
One last finger, and Duo was whining and rocking back, desperate for some kind of pleasure to distract from the discomfort. Sighing, Heero stroked his erection with rough fingers, holding him in a tight claw.
He made a soft noise like someone had stepped on his stomach and knocked the wind out of him, then moaned as the Japanese boy moved his finger in shallow thrusts. It was one of the most erotic sights Heero had ever had the pleasure to witness; Duo, his hair unbound and falling down around his face, panting loudly, lips parted, and sliding back and forth, his hips thrusting slightly.
He pulled out the fingers and coated them with some kind of sun-ripened raspberry cream, then coated his own red, throbbing erection until it was slick in his own hands. "Duo?"
"Unnh." He nodded, sending hair in a swishing motion onto his back. Not hesitating, he slid inside, even as Duo spasmed around him, whimpering. Fully mounted, he moved his hips slowly, ignoring the burning sensation that was slowly enveloping his senses in fire, all dependent on the boy that was moving wildly beneath him.
Heero was inside of him, and it had hurt at first but now it felt kinda good, like someone was teasing him with little touches on the head of his penis. He needed to feel the same pleasure he had the night before; needed to feel the connection that had made it more than sex, for him anyway.
He could never tell with Heero.
His thoughts were abruptly swept into the chalk-bin as he touched something soft and spongy that made a strange warmth spread inside him. Every nerve in his body whimpered with anticipation as Heero slid back, nearly pulling out, then thrust into him so hard that he fell, arms bracing his head.
It was the most incredible feeling. Duo tried to control his body, wanted to hold onto that feeling of being so completely owned. Loved, even. How could someone do that if they weren't in love?
He came quickly after less than a minute, his murmurings growing steadily louder until his voice broke and he let out a cry that was wrenched straight from his belly. It echoed throughout the house, bouncing off various pieces of old furniture and returning, ringing in his own ears.
Heero gave a soft moan and followed, filling him with his seed. He pulled out shortly after, resting on his elbows by his softening penis, lapping his semen from his groin and thighs.
"I..." Duo couldn't find the words, so he said nothing and fell asleep instead.
It was a cold, rainy day. He gave a shrug at a woman as she passed, noting the familiar stance and smile. Rich. Old. He'd done a job for her a few years ago; some rich relative with fat wallet and an even bigger mouth. The water seemed to pour in buckets and in pans, letting up and then assailing the earth in a downpour.
He lowered his head as he saw a figure walking down the path through the park, coming in his direction. No need to be spotted. He was inconspicuous, dressed in jeans and a blue sweater that matched the light blue of his eyes. Running a hand through his now short blonde hair, the professional hitman known only as Zechs mourned the necessity. The targets this time were rich, but they were also influential. He'd changed his appearance, everything from cutting his hair to getting several scars lasered off his face and arms. They could be used to I.D. him; not a good thing when stealth was a first priority.
The picture perfect couple. The mother was gorgeous and the father was, while not exactly a bishounen, somewhat attractive. So lost in his thoughts was he that he didn't even see that the figure had stopped directly in front of him. They ran into each other, the other person's shoulder dipping into his chest and connecting squarely with his solar plexus.
He felt his heart skip a beat as he glanced into familiar Prussian blue eyes, and then the face that framed them. "Michael," he said softly. "It's been a long time." Michael was still thin, still wearing clothes that hinted but never revealed. Utterly desirable. He smelled of sex and sweat; his clothes were impeccable, with the care one takes when one attempts to fuck someone on the side. It was just like him. It was good to know that some things in life never changed.
"Not nearly long enough."
"I'm going to kill your parents, Heero." To his credit, those jaded eyes didn't even blink at the use of his real name. His answer made more than a few heads turn, although that could just have been his face.
"Good. Fuck them. They deserve it." The words were inflected with only a hint of bitterness; he'd been working on that tell-tale sign, learning to keep his face *and* voice emotionless.
"They'll be dead before you get home. You'll never see them alive again." Heero shrugged. "The dead stay dead and tell no secrets."
"They know no secrets of mine. Who put you up to it?" He smirked, and the blonde man knew that he knew. It was comforting, in a way, to have the only other living relative give his blessings.
"You know I can't answer that." Zechs lifted a hand from his hip and drew a finger from Heero's forehead down to his chin. The Japanese boy made no move to draw the finger into his mouth; either he was rusty or things were different since the last time they'd met on the foggy streets of London.
Some things stayed the same. They were as unchanging as the moon's cycle, as the wheel of samsara, as nirvana and heaven. Love for one.
"It's been a long time." Zechs smirked as the slender creature before him moved forward, resting his arms on his shoulders and pressing his body, hot and soft, to his. He lowered his lashes slowly, a trick Zechs had taught him. It made him look younger, somehow. Vulnerable. He liked doing that to a boy as experienced as Michael.
Lust for another.
"Not nearly long enough." Then Zechs bowed his head and took his lips, hands moving rapidly over the developing muscles of his chest, fingers plying gently at two hardened nubs. The streetlights and fog around them added a hazy afterglow; various people walked by, never once looking at the two young men making out in the street. Michael, his angel fallen from the skies, made a token sound of protest, then went limp.
"Your place," he whispered huskily. It drove him crazy, the way he latched onto him, placing himself entirely in Zechs' hands. He could feel himself straining against his black wool trousers, and pulled him onto the grass, then up the front steps and into his rented house.
Sex with Michael was always a gratifying experience. He had no doubts that, even at the tender age of fourteen, he had taken more lovers than Zechs had in his twenty years. His kisses were too deep, too assuming. Even the false air of innocence was...that. False.
But that never stopped him from bringing him home. New York, Paris, London, Rome. Every place was the same. All that mattered was that he had a sex-crazed boy squirming in his grasp, and a handy place to lay him down and screw him. That was all it was; there was no emotion besides desire and no tenderness besides that of a want not to permanently injure.
But as he led him, the air around them crackling with tension, into his bedroom and took his clothes off, first his little brown shoes with a thudthud, then his long tan pants, his shirt, and then his boxers, swishing like silk, he could feel a warmth suffusing him from the inside out. Not the way it was supposed to be.
"I left them on for a reason," he growled as the Japanese boy bent to pull his white school-boy socks off. He straightened slowly, and crossed the room, tangling his fingers in Zechs' long blonde hair, letting it caress his exposed skin. "School is in session, little boy." His hand caressed the soft skin of his buttocks, imagining how it would look cherry red from a ruler's touch.
Michael's eyes widened, but he only whistled appreciatively as Zechs extricated himself from his long arms and threw open the armoire. Strap-on dildos, various whips and other sex toys that grew kinkier and kinkier the farther down his blue eyes strayed, graced the tastefully inlaid wooden piece.
"Now," Zechs purred, pulling on thigh-high bitch boots and two fingerless gloves, "you're all alone in detention, Michael. You were so bad..." He advanced, smiling kindly, and wrapped one leather- clad hand around his cock, pumping fast. It hardened quickly in his hand; he walked backwards towards the bed, eyes never leaving Michael's, still holding his penis. The boy had no choice but to follow or lose the incredible sensation of soft leather moving over his erection.
"Mr. Hanley says you misbehaved in math class. Little boys should learn their mathematics. Now I want you to count out loud. By 7's." Confused, his lover stared up at him pertly, then shrugged and laid on the bed, resting his head on his arms.
"Seven..."
Without warning, Zechs rammed the smallest dildo in his collection, still fairly impressive, deep inside of him. Michael let out a choked cry and winced, tossing his head back and forth in time to his thrusts, making sure to touch that spot inside him. His little Asian lover had always been the dominant one before Zechs, never taken. He had shown him the pleasures of submission, and the novelty of it assured that he would always get to be on top.
"I don't hear you counting." He gave a disappointed sigh and pulled out the dildo, finding a slightly larger one. He didn't want to stretch him too much, but he also didn't want to hurt him. A lot.
"Fourteen...twenty-one..."
He screamed as the blonde man pushed it inside of him. This one was special; he'd ordered it from a decidedly evil German woman with hideous English that sold sex toys, and it had a special button... Zechs reached between Heero's legs and pressed the small blue dot on the bottom of the dildo. It began to vibrate, rubbing against his prostate with ruthless efficiency. He writhed, sliding his legs closed and apart, the sound of his skin rubbing against the sheets filling the room.
"Twenty...eight..." His voice cracked at the end and the man smiled, pleased.
"Thirty-five!" His hips thrust up, begging for his hands, anything. His eyes had darkened to the color of the blackest night, shiny with moisture, his wrists wringing.
He mumbled something incoherent, and he smirked. Here was the breaking point. It hadn't taken very long. "What was that?"
"Forty...three..."
"Wrong." He pulled out the object he'd been hiding under his thigh and slid it around Heero's slender cock. "Now you can't come. You've just failed your math lesson, Michael. That's very bad. Perhaps you need some...discipline from your principal."
He nodded eagerly; Zechs hid a grin behind his hand. Flipping the boy over, the vibrator still moving inside him, he raised his hand high and slapped those two slightly round cheeks, harder and harder until he felt wetness pooling in his pants.
Michael's buttocks were red, and he could feel the heat rising from his body. He wanted it as much as Zechs did.
Removing the dildo carefully, it buzzed in his hand for a moment before he shut it off. Michael moaned in protest, still positioned over his lap, and thrust against his thigh impatiently. Chuckling, the assassin moved behind him, placing his knees just inside Heero's, and levered his body up so he was positioned not an inch from his entrance.
Draping his body over Heero's, he began to thrust, the heat and the feel of velvety skin, hitting that spot harder and harder until his lover was letting out loud, sharp cries, begging for his release. They moved together, hips thrusting frantically, Zechs' hair falling over his face, drowning him in a musky scent.
Loath to move his hands from their place on Michael's hips, he slid the cock ring off quickly just as he thrust one last time. His fallen angel let out a half whimper, half ecstatic groan, and came, his erection spurting clearish white fluid all over his thighs. Zechs followed soon after, pulling out as he collapsed, exhausted.
Michael looked gorgeous, lying there in the afterglow, eyes shut, long lashes curling up against his eyebrows and cheeks, shimmering with sweat, legs parted, his anus already tightening. His face was slightly flushed, the rosy tint making him look like the wanton school boy he'd played.
No one was born to the curse of beauty. He wondered what the boy had done to deserve it.
"I have someone," Heero said simply, although his own desire was palpable. Zechs nodded. As it should be. He was alone; there was no room in his life for a mate, but Heero was young.
"I miss Michael," he said softly, and walked away. He could feel Heero staring after him, no doubt with that only slightly perplexed look marring a perfect visage. Even that faded into the distance the closer he got to Heero's home.
Relena could feel her face flushing. She was losing control. This was bad. Quatre had invited her over for tea, and now she sat, clutching a china cup, smile wavering slightly.
"I insinuated no such thing," she insisted, looking from Trowa to Quatre. The two were holding hands and looking blissfully peaceful; they'd probably fucked each other into oblivion right before she'd shown up, she thought with obvious disgust scrawled on her face.
"You did! You said--" He paused. "We both know what you said. You'll get what's coming to you, Relena Darlian. And you leave Heero and Duo alone, too."
"Or else what? Heero is mine. He's gotten over that whore." She took a sip of tea; cold. "Why, we're getting married!" Trowa coughed.
"You're his step-sister, Relena. Your parents--"
"Aren't a problem," she finished smoothly. "Heero wants to. He practically begged me to." She laughed. "I'll be going now. I want you both to come to the wedding."
Quatre looked at Trowa, troubled. "I saw Heero leaving Duo's house early this morning." The blonde woman's smile, strained even before, tightened.
"Probably breaking it off with him." Why, that scheming whore! she thought, fuming. She would have to get Zechs to kill him too.
End Part Ten
Ariana
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