Disclaimer: We still don't own Gundam Wing as if we did, it would've been a very different show.

Pairings/Warnings: 1x1, 1x2, yaoi, m/m sexual relations of the explicit variety, porn, bad language and hints of angst and sap

A/N: Miss M decided that she wanted to write a little smutty something and persuaded ELLE to make this another joint venture in the same world that Forever was set in. Unusually, we decided to mess around with our usual format and Miss M wrote Heero and ELLE wrote Duo.

Posted again as two chapters but at the same time as they belong together (kinda like Heero and Duo do ;-p)

Caught

Heero

The apartment was empty as I knew it would be. I'd been avoiding spending time in it but now it was Friday night and I had no other choice. I'd spent the week of Duo's absence doing extra sessions at the gym, kick boxing and running with Trowa and spending an unnecessary amount of time at the gun range to perfect my already perfect scores. Trowa now had other places to be and I'd already spent an hour at the gym at Preventer HQ before I had arrived home, dropping my bag by the door as I went to shed my uniform and find something to distract myself with.

It was rare that Duo and I were separated on missions. It had long since been established that we refused to work with other partners as I couldn't stand the idea of someone else being his back up and neither could he. I perhaps was too needy at times but I had never had anything to hold onto in my life before Duo so I felt an overwhelming urge to protect him, hold him close to me and stop the stupid asshole from getting himself killed on a semi-regular basis.

At least I knew he was safe, that the mission he was returning from was done, completed successfully and I had seen his face on a vid-screen, pinched and drawn, eyes tired but uninjured, alive and returning home to me.

I hated it when he'd told me that he had been requested on a mission without me, telling me in post-coital haze as he anticipated my response, the way I'd want to storm into Une's office and tell her in no uncertain terms that we worked together on every mission but he gave me no opportunity to do that – told me the night before he was leaving on a six a.m. shuttle in an act that could be called deceit if I did not know better and that he didn't lie. He argued it was an omission of fact rather than anything else and he calmed me down with a trail of kisses across my shoulders, down my spine, until I wanted him again, pinning him to our bed desperately, not providing him any chance to try and reverse positions as I slid into him again, slowly fucking him and putting everything I felt for him into my mouth at his throat, into my hands tracing patterns over his sides, over his nipples, over his fluttering abdominal muscles, into every movement of my hips, deliberate, slow, making him moan and tell me how good I felt as I thrust into him.

He was hours away now but I comforted myself with the fact that he was coming home. To me. The mission successful as I began to strip off my work uniform, jacket discarded, tie undone, shirt unbuttoned, my body tingling subtly as I did so thinking about how he would be here in the morning. The blood in my veins thrummed in anticipation of that and I felt the first stirring of arousal in my gut. I'd ignored any need for release this week despite the fact my body was used to a regular and passionate sex life without restraint, used to fucking before and after missions, at the Preventer offices, in our car, occasionally in public bathrooms and a number of other locations that could've got us arrested for lewd acts and indecent exposure.

I'd worked out at the gym more to try and exhaust myself – tried every damn thing to dampen down my desires – but despite all those years of conditioning and control, just thinking of my lover drenched in sweat, underneath me, in front of me on his knees, on top of me, his hair clinging in wisps around his face was enough to undo all the self-control I had.

I growled in frustration as I knew the feel of my own hand would be inadequate, that it wouldn't be the experience I so desired, neither the hot, wet suction of his mouth nor the intimacy of being deep inside him. I realised when my fantasies were allowed full rein, he was always bottoming for me and while we frequently turned that scenario around, I couldn't help the image of him begging, willing, wanting me, writhing as my dick hit his prostate and he came undone underneath me. My fantasy Duo was considerably less stubborn than the real version and a pale imitation as I liked my fiery partner who gave everything I ever wanted or desired with wild abandon and hard kisses.

My initial thought was to shower as I was now fully hard. I could have my fantasy, remember whichever moment I wanted but my thoughts flittered to another option that I rarely considered. As we had a very active sex life, I rarely felt the need for masturbation unless it was some kind of mutual game between us and then it was usually an act of foreplay for an extended evening of screwing around. And I rarely considered the vast wealth of images and videos that the internet contained.

It was rare for me to be alone in the apartment or not to be with him on a mission. And I could not deny I had some curiosity. We had occasionally watched porn together but found that it quickly got ignored as one of us would be straddling the other and the sounds of our own fucking would be heard over that of the men on screen. I suppose that was the intention of watching it in the first place but I found myself stripping to only my briefs, my erection tenting the front of them as I went in search of my faithful laptop – the same laptop I'd had since the war, a rare moment of sentiment. It had been ripped to pieces and retooled multiple times but the casing was the same.

I walked back to our bedroom, opening the machine and booting it up as my skin began to feel too tight across my bones. I briefly reached my hand down to touch my dick, trying to relieve some of the pressure that had built up but without attaining too much pleasure and I controlled myself enough to remove it again to open up the internet and find something that would stimulate me.

There were certain things I knew I did not want to see so I made sure my search was refined enough to find something to my taste, my tongue running over my lips as I suddenly found them dry and didn't understand why my body was responding so acutely. There was something forbidden about this, that I was usually so satisfied with Duo that it seemed like a taboo and some kind of mental cheating. I knew he was no saint – that he would watch porn – I'd seen it on his cell phone and his own laptop but I was not used to doing this and it felt illicit.

I found a website that suited my purpose, clicking on a video of a long-haired man being bent over a desk with a guy who was nicely muscled, but not overly so, fucking him. I'd seen gay porn in the past with oiled men who were ridiculously muscled and it was not something I wanted to see – I wanted something that seemed more real – and the caption underneath proclaimed it was "guaranteed to make you cum in two minutes." Which was what I wanted. I didn't intend to tease myself after the way the anticipation had built up and I slid my hand into briefs bringing out my cock as I pressed play.

My eyes widened slightly as the video did not allow for much of an introduction and the two men were already naked and kissing, rubbing up against one another and moaning into each other's open mouths. My hand started to move, my mind helping to provide the image of the long haired man being my man though the man on the screen only had his hair swept back into a ponytail unlike Duo's braid.

It was then I realised one of the reason I'd selected this option rather than a shower and jerking off. My fantasies were silent and one thing I had learnt over the years of fucking Duo Maxwell was that it was damn difficult to keep him quiet even when at times I needed to – when we were in Preventer transport vehicles, when one of us was balls deep inside the other in a public restroom and someone else walked in, when I was going down on him underneath the desk in his office while he was on a conference call with other departments. And the action was fast paced on screen, the long haired man spreading himself over the desk and moaning as fingers prepared him roughly, moaning that he needed to be fucked now by the big hard cock of his partner.

It sounded like the sort of dirty talk Duo used when he was especially horny and needy. I increased my pace over my dick, finding my eyes closing to slits yet still watching the action, merging the fucking on my laptop with my many memories of Duo.

I knew I was close, used my other hand to massage my balls, used my thumb to tease the slit and the men on the screen were reaching climax, the long haired man panting and shouting encouragement to his partner loudly as he was pounded hard.

It was then I found my hand stop and my eyes fully open, my head turning as I heard a cough.

Duo was stood in the doorway of our bedroom, his Preventer jacket removed, his shirt half open and a smirk on his face that looked particularly dangerous. I realised in my distraction and with his superior stealth skills I had missed his return – much earlier than anticipated.

I could hear the men on the screen moaning louder as Duo looked at the scene of me on our bed, his blue eyes predatory.

"Hey honey, I'm home."