Date: 8-18-2001
Pairing: 1x2.
Warnings: PWP. Lemon.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing.
Death threats to: Anakerie@cinci.rr.com
This was inspired by nothing more than the fact that I love the Sunday paper. And I did not make up that name in the birth announcement. We have a customer at work who's first name really is Sunrayburn. I agree with Duo's assessment.
You would expect him to be the kind of person to read the comics first. Maybe not even glance at the rest of the paper at all.
You would be wrong.
He reads the entire paper every day, even the obituaries. And he saves the comics for last. I asked him about it once, why he did that, considering he was not a person who enjoyed delayed gratification. He had shrugged and said "That's when I need them. The rest of the stuff in here bums me out. This why I can finish my paper in a good mood."
It made sense. And was just more proof to me, not that I needed it, of how intelligent he really was.
He got uncomfortable when I said that. "Nah, you're the smart one." He argued. "Me, I'm just a good pilot and a better thief. You don't need a whole lot of brain power for that."
It was hard for some people to understand; he had no problem with bragging about himself, but let someone else try and pay him a compliment and he'd turn red and dismiss it.
It was one of the things I was trying to train out of him.
It started as a joke when we first moved in together. We'd gotten into a fight almost immediately and he had commented that maybe we were just too different to share a roof.
"Well then." I told him. "Make a list of the things you want me to work on. I'll do the same for you, and we'll train each other to be more civilized."
To my surprise he had agreed. It wasn't something we ever talked about, but I think we were both pleased with the results.
I taught him to take my love for granted. To accept the fact that I was with him because I wanted to be, and because I couldn't imagine being anywhere else. That when I told him that he was beautiful I meant it. And that clothing left in a pile on the bathroom floor could not magically wash itself.
He, in turn, taught me the pleasure in ice cream, and music, and Ray Bradbury. He showed me how to test if spaghetti was done by throwing it against the wall, and how much fun it could be to play video games.
And to read the comics last.
I returned from my jog that Sunday morning feeling revived. I used to run every morning, but another thing Duo had taught me was that you couldn't put a price tag on extra snuggling time before the alarm went off, so I chose to spend my mornings with him most of the week. But Sundays he was up at the crack of dawn anyway so it didn't matter.
It was nearly October now, and the air had started to turn cooler; the sidewalk I ran on littered with dead leaves. It made me smile to look at them, reminding me of another Duo lesson; the only purpose of raking leaves into a huge pile was to jump in them and scatter them around again.
Well, the second only purpose. I suppose it's a good thing the backyard fence is high. The moon had been full that night, and there's nothing that smells as good as leaves anyway. It was one of those magical moments that you never forget; even if we repeated it each year for the rest of our lives it would never be quite the same as that first time. He doesn't know that I saved two leaves from that pile, and I have them hidden in our room.
So between the cool air, and the sight of the fog burning off, and the leaves, I was in a good mood when I entered the kitchen. I stripped off my T-shirt and tossed it into a pile by the washing machine, and then helped myself to a cup of Duo's coffee. He referred to it as "Maxwell Shack" blend; and his claim that it could peel the paint off of any house wasn't far from the mark. It was bitter and vile and we never drank anything else. Cream was for wimps.
I walked to the living room cradling my cup of glorified turpentine to where my lover was sprawled out on the loveseat covered in his own loose hair and the Sunday newspaper. More paper lay on the floor next to him, beside of an empty cereal bowl and his own drained coffee mug. He was in his usual Sunday attire; a pair of black boxer shorts. I would never forget the time a religious group had shown up at our door one morning. He had answered as he was, and preceded to flirt outrageously with the only man in the group. He had added a lisp and some hand gestures for the fun of it.
That was the last time they ever interrupted our Sunday.
"Hypocrites." He had told me. "Most religions are. Everyone is damned except for them. They preach about love and acceptance, but you see how quick that would hold up if we walked into one of their churches holding hands."
Since I had no desire to do any such thing, it wasn't a problem.
He was chuckling now over something he had read. "Birth announcements." He explained at my questioning gaze. "What kind of name is this? Sunrayburn?"
"Seriously?"
"See for yourself." He pointed at the tiny print. "Sunrayburn Johnson. Man, some parents need to be throttled."
I agreed. Children were still a distant dream for us; we were only in our early twenties and wanted time to enjoy each other before expanding our family, but we had already agreed not to name our kids anything we would be ashamed to be called ourselves. "Well, for the most part." Duo had added. "I'd be pretty unhappy to be called Jessica, but it's still a cute name."
I shook my head and he handed me a pile of the pages he had saved for me, and I sat down on the floor next to him to read. The crossword puzzle sat untouched nearby; we always worked on it later in the evening. When we got frustrated we just started filling in any words that fit, and as a result Tarzan had been played by Ron Egg, Emu, Eel, and Elf. (Duo's discovery that the poor man's last name had been Eli hadn't daunted us a bit, and the question showed up almost every week).
About an hour passed in comfortable silence. My coffee dregs were ice cold and my foot was asleep, but I was content.
I glanced up at him to find him looking at something with great interest, licking his lips slightly. I craned my neck to get a better view.
It was an underwear ad, showing several muscular men from the neck down, displaying briefs and boxers that could be ours for half price at Neueman's.
"Only if he comes with it." Duo muttered, leering at the center model.
"Ahem."
He handed me the ad. "He's cute."
I narrowed my eyes. "In a 'cute, but not my type' sort of way." he amended quickly. "Oh, stop looking at me like that. So I appreciate a good package. Doesn't mean I plan to go unwrap it."
He had a point, but as I looked down at the ad in my hand I felt a wicked idea begin to form. The faceless model had his hands on his hips and had thrust them forward slightly. He was good-looking, I had to admit. And he would probably need therapy for life if he could hear what was going through my head.
"Duo?"
"Humm?" He had glanced back at the sports page.
"Do you really think this guy is cute?"
"Well, yeah, sure." He shrugged.
"Cute enough to fuck?"
"Huh?" He put down the page. I knew that he could see the glint in my eye, and knew that jealousy had nothing to do with my question. That confused him and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at his expression.
"Would you fuck this man?" I pointed to the model.
"No, because I'm allergic to bullets." He quipped.
"What if I didn't mind? Would you fuck this man while I watched?"
"I think that coffee was a little too strong this morning." He muttered.
"Just answer the question." I inched closer.
"If I was unattached and he was unattached and he had no objections to getting it on with another man, then yes, I would sleep with him. I have no idea what you're getting at here, though."
"I want you to fuck him for me." I explained. "While I watch."
He stared at me like I'd grown six extra heads. "You've completely lost your mind."
"No, but I bet I can make you lose yours."
He began to laugh. "Okay, show me what you have in mind. If it involves breaking into this man's house and kidnapping him, you're on your own."
I pushed him back down on the loveseat and ran my hand down his chest. He sighed happily. "I still don't understand, but that's a good start."
He felt amazing; he always did. If I was a poet, I guess I'd say that he felt like chemise over steel. He was hard and soft at the same time, his skin giving only so much until it met muscle, and covered with soft down. He kept himself in good shape, although he didn't share my fondness for jogging. He swam a few times a week and went to a gym. Not to mention other forms of exercise that we assisted each other in.
I moved my hand lower, dipping my finger into his navel. He was trying not to giggle; that was a ticklish spot for him. I leaned forward now and began kissing down his side, from his upper body down to the waistband of the boxers.
The now very distorted-looking boxers.
I could have kept going but I had a plan in mind and was going to stick with it. Instead I reached over, dragging my hand across the soft cloth of the shorts to the slit. Using two fingers I spread it apart and reached inside, drawing out his hard erection.
"Ohhhh." His eyes were closed tightly. "I'll kill the first person who rings the doorbell."
"Duo? Do you remember what I said?"
"Wha??" He shift his hips as I trailed a finger down his hardness.
"I want you to fuck this man."
"Bonkers..." He muttered.
I took the slick article in my hand again and folded it, bringing it up to Duo's flesh. I took his erection fully in my hand, the ad between our skin, so that he was pressed right up against the picture of the model.
His eyes flew open wide, and I knew he felt what I was feeling. The paper was cold, making the hot skin behind it seem unusually warm, causing an wonderful conflict of sensations.
"Fuck him, Duo. He wants you." I whispered, moving my hand against the paper.
He thrust hard against the picture, whimpering.
"Yeah, he wants you to give it to him. He wants it hard." I jerked my hand faster, not moving the ad itself. "He's on his knees in front of you, begging for it. His ass is up in the air, and you can see his balls hanging down under it. He's got perfect balls."
I reached down into my own shorts and began to stroke myself with my free hand. "I've been watching you." I told him. "Watching you and him, and I can't take it any longer. I move around in front of him, and he leans forward and I can feel his breath on me. He opens his mouth and I thrust inside of it."
"Heero..." Duo was moaning loudly, and I could feel the paper in my hand start to rip.
"You're still thrusting into his ass as he sucks on me. We're pounding him so hard on each end we almost meet in the middle. Now you're reaching under him, stroking him, rewarding him for pleasing us."
That was too much for Duo to take. His head snapped back and the cords of his neck stuck out and he howled, exploding into the ruined ad. The paper caught most of it, and some leaked through the tears onto my hand.
I wasn't far behind him, feeling that slight tingle that became the itch, that became the oh god, soon, feeling. My muscles tightened up and the release hit me hard. I came in my own hand, on my chest, on the loveseat, and although not intentionally, on an editorial letter condemning homosexuality. (I would later learn that Duo had saved that letter.)
I opened my eyes to see him still trying to recover. He glanced over at me, panting. "I was drunk. It was a one time thing. He means nothing to me. I'll never see him again. I thought of you the entire time."
I looked down at the remains of the article. "Yeah. He was pretty good, though."
Duo slid off the loveseat and joined me sitting in a pile of drugstore ads. "You certainly have some odd fetishes, Heero."
I put my arm around him and nuzzled his damp neck. "Any complaints?"
"Of course not. You make life interesting." He smiled at the touch, and made a small noise of appreciation. "Gotta make the coffee like that more often, I guess."
"Not the coffee." I muttered, kissing him. "Just you. I see you and I get all kinds of crazy ideas."
"Like what?" His neck was salty against my lips.
"Like taking you right here on the newspapers."
"Oh?" His eyes were starting to return to that glazed state. "When?"
"Now." I whispered, moving up to lick his ear.
He nodded and rose to his knees, sliding off the boxers and casting them aside. He was already hard again, and I mentally compared him with the men in the underwear ads, and found them greatly lacking.
Duo has a long scar that starts at his knee and goes up his left hip, skirting around his groin and ending almost at his waist. He does not remember how he got it, so he must have been very young. He was embarrassed about it at first, and I had to teach him that I wasn't repulsed by it, any more than my own scars bothered him. In contrast, it simply made the rest of his body look even more perfect.
So today he knelt there in front of me, scar exposed, body hard, breathing deeply, his pupils wide in lust. I was in heaven and I reached for him, kicking off my own shorts absently.
We kissed almost violently, falling back down in the papers. They were slick and cool, like the underwear ad had been, and we rolled around for a while, doing nothing but kissing and rubbing. I whispered into his ear in Japanese; telling him how much I loved him, how much I wanted him, how beautiful he was.
He rolled onto his back, staring up at me and panting. "We're on the personal ads now." He said suddenly, and I couldn't help laughing, wondering how on Earth he'd managed to notice.
I fumbled around under the loveseat ("It's called a loveseat for a reason and I want some loving on it, damn it!") for the tube I knew was there.
He nodded and moved his legs apart, tilting his head to the side.
"Single white male, 22." He moaned as he felt the first finger tease his opening. "Seeks single man, preferably Asian, to share...oh god, more... the finer things in life."
I moved the finger into him and he arched his back, mewing.
"Must be strong...more!... handsome... must like... black coffee..."
"That stuff is NOT coffee." I muttered, and gave him another finger.
"Must enjoy...three, please! crossword puzzles and quiet Sundays at home."
"You're not being quiet." I pointed out, and inserted a third finger.
"Please contact Box 1249. Serious inquiries only."
"Oh, babe, I'm definitely serious." I told him, removing my hand.
He grinned and turned over on his hands and knees, and I moved behind him, separating his knees with my own.
His head hovered over part of the paper and he snickered.
"Homosexuality is wrong!" he began to read.
"Oh?" I shifted myself, tickling his opening with the head of my shaft.
"I'm am writing this to bring to everyone's attention a major problem with this world. That problem is homosexuals."
"Scum, all of us." I agreed, and slid forward slowly, moaning as I felt his body swallow me a centimeter at a time. "As this person with a third grade education can clearly see."
"Homosexuals will bring about the downfall of our world." Duo read on, and suddenly thrust back hard against me, taking me fully inside of himself. "They openly flaunt the word of God and seek out innocent children to turn to their deviant ways."
"Do we?" I asked, moving backward and thrusting again.
"I was only sixteen the first time you screwed me." He moaned, sliding a little on the papers.
"I was sixteen too!" I countered.
"There you go. This person is right. We deviated each other."
"And you were wearing..." I grunted.
"My priest outfit. Talk about flaunting the word of God!"
"You weren't wearing it the whole... time..." I reached below him and grasped his erection in my fist, stroking him slowly but firmly.
"No, you ripped it off of me pretty quick." He remembered, tightening his sphincter muscles around me.
"Elephants go against God's will!" He continued. The fact that he could still read was mind-boggling.
"Elephants???"
"Well, I can't make out this word. There's a big old wet spot on the paper."
"God believes that homosexuals should be put to death." His flesh twitched in my hands, and I knew that he wasn't far. I slowed down.
"But the elephants can be spared?"
"Guess so. God wants his true believers to wipe out homosexuality wherever they find it."
"This person." I felt that wonderful tingling again. "Must have... a hell of a long distance bill... all those calls... to God."
"I urge you to be the hammer of God." He was breathing so hard now it was hard to hear him.
"And pound homosexuals." I added.
"Whatever...works..." He tensed. "Pound um hard. Harder!"
I slammed into him a few more times, reveling in the slick heat around me, and then felt the sheath go almost painfully tight as he released himself into my hand and on the papers. I let myself go then, hugging his hips to me as I filled him to capacity.
He sagged down onto the papers and I fell next to him after withdrawing, and put my arm around his waist, pulling him closer.
"Sincerely." He gasped. "Relena Peacecraft."
"WHAT?" I sat up, and saw that he was laughing.
"That says Edna Murchen!"
"Got ya." He turned toward me and giggled into my chest.
We cuddled in what was left of our newspaper for a long time. After a while he dug out the comics and read them to me.
There were people who spent their Sundays climbing mountains, and skiing, and snorkeling.
Poor fools.
End
(:./lasha/sunday)
