Yzak Joule sat stiffly with his legs crossed at the knees, drumming his fingers on the arm of the sofa in irritation. With an irate puff of air, he blew out a tense breath and allowed his brilliant blue eyes to wander to the wall clock on the far side of the room. Seven forty-two. Dearka was late.
"Dammit," the silver-haired Coordinator hissed under his breath.
There was hardly ever a time when his blonde roommate wasn't late, but that was beside the point. How dare Dearka Elsman keep him waiting? That son of a bitch almost always left him sitting around, as if he found it natural for Yzak to waste half his evening twiddling his thumbs.
Current matters hadn't helped, either. Damn the stupid Commander and that despicable Athrun Zala, anyway. Next time a meeting strayed that far out of control, he'd be sure to tell Zala to suck his cock. Just because the azure-haired boy was better at everything didn't give him the right to order Yzak around like a bright-eyed puppy dog.
"So help me," Yzak muttered darkly to the empty room, "If I ever get my hands around his skinny little neck, I'll throttle him until he chokes and begs for mercy."
The door to their dorm room flew open with an obnoxious bang. Yzak squinted in annoyance as the noise startled him back to reality. His head snapped around, and he glared daggers at the tanned boy who sauntered in.
"Dearka!" he snarled, "Where the hell have you been?" It was then that he noticed the towel draped casually about the other boy's neck, and the way his white shirt stuck damply to his muscled chest. He looked away quickly, blinking to clear his head.
The blonde caught the nearly undetectable change in expression and grinned mischievously. "I was in the weight room," he responded, running a hand through his slick, wavy locks. "What, couldn't stand being away from me for so long?"
"Very funny," Yzak Joule snorted. "Don't push your luck, Elsman." Everything in his tone suggested danger; the threat had been made perfectly clear.
Yzak was in a foul mood. Dearka tried to keep his face straight as he carelessly tossed his towel aside and made his way to the back of the couch. There was absolutely nothing he enjoyed more than tormenting the silver-haired Duel pilot. He positioned himself directly behind the pale youth, just out of sight.
Yzak's features shifted to a suspicious frown, but he refrained from turning around.
The tan boy stood, hands on his hips, and smirked down at his roommate. "Rough day?" he inquired coyly.
Yzak growled in reply. "Shut the hell up. You weren't even there. How the hell you got out of that meeting beats me, but when I find out, Elsman, you're dead."
"Is that so?" The playful blonde leaned down and spoke low into his quarry's ear, his breath warm on the pale skin of his slender neck.
Yzak twitched, not expecting the sudden proximity. He could smell the other boy's sweat, sweet and tempting, as the blonde began to nibble playfully at his earlobe. He jerked his head away, managing to ignore the suggestiveness of the gesture as he pasted on a scowl.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, whirling around halfway to face his roommate.
Dearka was grinning like a child who'd just stolen the last cookie. "I guess you did have a rough day," he observed, though his grin didn't fade. "Athrun?" he guessed aloud.
The name was all Yzak needed to hear before he was riled up again. "Damn the bastard to hell," he spat vehemently, clenching his fists in a rage. "Commander Le Creuset doesn't even see he's being fooled, and Zala acts like he's the man's god damned sex slave."
At this, Dearka Elsman threw his head back and burst out laughing. Yzak's brow darkened, but the blonde pilot of the Buster barely took notice. He held his sides as tears of mirth streamed down his face.
Yzak looked on in disgust. At this rate, it would take the idiot five whole minutes to catch his breath again.
"I was being serious," the silver-haired youth muttered, his voice nearly drowned out by his friend's raucous laughter. "Get a hold of yourself."
"Come on," Dearka choked out between fits of loud guffaws, "You know you would do him if you had the chance."
Yzak's jaw almost dropped, but he caught himself at the last second, and his face contorted into a terrifying, twisted glare of fury. "Zala? Zala! Elsman, I'll fucking kill you." He tried to hide the rare flush that crept up to his cheeks.
Then the wild shouts he'd been about to set loose caught in his throat. Dearka slid his hands down his arms and leaned over the back of the sofa, burying his face in Yzak's silken hair as he did so. The blue-eyed gundam pilot froze, not daring to draw breath as the boy above him let out a long sigh.
"What are you doing?" Yzak whispered, his throat tightening as his partner slid his hands back up to his shoulders and began to work out the kinks with experienced fingers.
"You need to relax, Yzak," came the simple response.
"I don't need you to help me do it!" the irate boy snapped, though suddenly he felt as if a delicious warmth had taken control of him and lifted his spirits. He was determined, however, not to admit to Dearka that his sensual massage was working.
All at once, the blonde stopped, taking a step back and removing his shirt. Yzak held his breath and averted his eyes for his own sake. He didn't know how much more of his persistent roommate he could handle. After all, it wasn't the first time he'd fallen prey to the other boy's graceful body movements and low, pleasing voice. He knew all too well the effects that Dearka Elsman had on him, and he was determined not to give the cheeky boy what he wanted this time.
"I'm taking a shower," Dearka announced, pivoting on his heel and setting off for the bathroom. "Then we can disembark and go to the arcade, like we planned."
"At this rate," Yzak huffed, crossing his arms over his chest in frustration, "The Vesalius will have launched again by the time you're finished. You know, we're lucky we even got to stop here and re-supply."
"You mean, we're lucky that Zala convinced the Commander to give us some time off-duty when we landed." The blonde winked, knowing full well the affect that the comment would have on the ill-tempered soldier.
"Screw you."
"Any time." With that, the bathroom door clicked shut and Yzak was left alone on the sofa for the second time that night.
That fucking bastard. How dare he? Yzak shuddered with hidden delight, recalling the light touch of Dearka's fingers as he'd leaned down to whisper in his ear. God damn it, the blonde knew that he could hardly stand it. As if suddenly remembering something, Yzak sprung up from the sofa and raked his fingers through his hair, biting back a hoarse growl. He paced once around the coffee table. The steady hiss of running water reached his ears over his own harsh breathing, but he cinched his eyes shut and concentrated on matters at hand.
His uniform. He opened his lids and glanced down at the red ZAFT uniform that hugged his slim figure. That's right, he could change out of his uniform and into civilian clothes before they went out. But…
"Shit." His pants were currently hanging from the knob of the bathroom closet. He'd asked Dearka to put them there earlier that morning, after the blonde had complained that they were on the floor and in his way.
Yzak sighed. There was no use in denying what was fact. He'd have to get his clothes. In and out quickly, one little trip – then he could ease his flaring temper while he waited for Dearka to get ready.
He stormed over to the bathroom door and pounded his fist on its glossy surface, listening for a reply. When none came, he shoved it open and hollered a greeting.
"Dearka, whether you like it or not, I'm coming in to get my pants."
"Yzak, is that you?" The blonde's voice was muffled from behind the frosted shower curtain.
"Who else, you idiot?" He seized his clothes and spun around to leave.
"Hey, wait a second, Yzak!"
The pale Coordinator halted, rolling his eyes. "What is it?"
"Can you get me the shampoo? I think I left it on the counter."
Yzak mumbled something dark and unintelligible, then reluctantly shuffled over to the marble countertop and scanned its surface. "Elsman, god fucking damn you, there's no shampoo over here."
"What?" the tanned youth called loudly over the patter of the steaming water. "I can't hear you. Hurry up, will ya?"
"Augh," Yzak fumed. "For crying out loud!" He stomped irately toward the shower until he was sure he was within solid hearing range.
Then he caught sight of Dearka's sleek body, outlined behind the see-through curtain. Though the image was blurry, Yzak didn't need a clear picture to notice the boy's streamlined figure, tight stomach, or muscled arms. There was a sharp pause.
"Yzak?" came the tentative inquiry.
"I said…" He didn't have a chance to finish. Before the words were out of his mouth, the curtain had flown open. Yzak found himself hauled bodily inside the shower alongside his roommate, his arms pinned over his head as his partner took hold of his wrists and held him to the tiled wall. His head cracked against the slick surface as he stumbled, and he swore. Then he looked down at his uniform, which was slowly picking up water as the droplets seeped into the heavy material.
He examined it with distaste. "Elsman, you fucking bas—"
Then Dearka caught his lips in a fiery kiss, effectively ceasing the indignant rant that had been about to come. Yzak struggled half-heartedly, his senses tingling. Dearka's body was pressed forcefully against his own, his weight pinning him in place as his tongue snaked out to roam the inside of his mouth. Yzak let out a soft moan of pleasure, as all his resolve seemed to crumble at the motion. Dearka's lips were warm and powerful, his kiss controlling and dangerously tempting at the same time. The tanned boy's tongue caressed each and every corner in a soul-searing intimation that hinted at things to come, sliding in and out in a deliciously teasing manner that sent raw shivers up Yzak's spine. After that, Dearka proceeded to run his tongue over his lower lip, then bit down just hard enough to draw a surprised gasp from his silver-haired adversary before breaking contact for some much-needed air.
Yzak was stunned. Dearka had never done that before. The gesture was enticing, and he felt himself aching for more as the blonde pulled languorously away, prolonging their touch for as long as possible. Yzak gasped in both shock and longing as the blonde straightened and grinned at him insolently.
"So?"
"Elsman," Yzak managed to grit through his teeth, "Why is it you smell exactly like that strawberry shampoo you always use?" His eyebrow twitched of its own accord.
"Oh, right." Dearka winked, ignoring the stray beads of water that shook loose from his sopping hair and cascaded over his face. "Guess I didn't need you to get me the shampoo after all."
"Bastard. Look at my uniform!" He glared at the giddy boy in front of him, who seemed amused rather than sympathetic. "Elsman, I'm dead serious. I'll fucking kill you. It's so soaking wet I can hardly move."
"Well then," Dearka placed the palms of his hands on either side of Yzak's head, taking a step closer and effectively boxing him in. "Why don't you take it off?" There was a roguish glint in his amethyst eyes.
"You started this mess," Yzak pointed out with a disdainful snort, "So you finish it."
Dearka's eyes widened as he caught the subtle hint in the furious boy's tone. Yzak almost smirked, his momentary victory apparent. If this was what Dearka wanted – fine. Yzak would let him have his way. For now.
"You'd better make this worth it, Elsman," he exclaimed as Dearka drew nearer, the scent of strawberries wafting through the small space between them.
"You'd better not lose your control until I'm completely done with you."
The scalding water pounded down on both of them as Dearka slid a strong arm around Yzak's waist, drawing him closer still, until the blue-eyed youth could almost feel the blonde's firm abdominal muscles through the fibers of his drenched uniform. His eyes flickered shut as Dearka planted a hot, wet kiss on the side of his neck, sucking lightly on the tender skin before ceasing to trail a multitude of heavy kisses all the way down to his collarbone. The blonde hastily undid the clasp at his neck, extending his tongue to lap eagerly at the hollow of his partner's throat.
Yzak shuddered in ecstasy, his grip on the other boy's shoulders tightening as his breathing became heavy. Dearka's free hand skated underneath his uniform and up his side, then ran across his chest and down to his stomach. The next thing he knew, his outfit let out a wet splat as it fell to the slick tile floor. Next was the lower section of the red ZAFT uniform. Dearka clamped his mouth over Yzak's own, sealing away any protests with another deep kiss that rocked him to his core. Yzak Joule, however, was far beyond the point of protesting. All he could do was submit, his knees like jelly, as the rest of his formal regalia came away beneath experienced fingers.
He let the other boy's kiss work him into a state of intense yearning, a heavy lust laden with passion and a strong urge for more. Yzak would have done just about anything to keep the tanned youth pressed against him, to continue to feel his touch at the nape of his neck as his firm tongue massaged the cavern of his mouth. However, it was clear the blonde had other plans.
He pulled out of the kiss, drawing a disappointed groan from his silver-haired toy. Yzak opened his eyes, taking in the full sight of his fellow Coordinator. Steam swirled around him in thick wispy tendrils, framing each curve and contour of his body in a way that also seemed to accent every bead of water that slid down his smooth flesh.
"Look at you," Dearka shook his head ruefully. "I've barely gotten started and you can hardly stand it."
"If you know exactly what I want," Yzak panted, "Then why bother torturing me this way? Dammit, you selfish bastard, just take me right now!" His tone bordered on a weak plea, but he caught himself in time to add a characteristic glare of annoyance.
"Now that wouldn't be any fun, would it, Yzak?" He gripped Yzak's waist roughly and ran a hand through his silvery hair, nuzzling the nape of his neck as he spoke in a low, seductive murmur.
Yzak tilted his head back submissively while Dearka moved his lips to his chest. "Son of a bitch, Elsman – this is too much."
He received no reply. Dearka was on his knees, carving a path of rough kisses down the blue-eyed boy's chest and to his lower abdomen, where he followed the trail of a water droplet to his groin area with his tongue. Oh god – that tongue. Yzak burned with a desire that threatened to overpower him at any moment, while Dearka let his hands rove teasingly up and down his thighs and over his stomach, his fingertips sending tingling sensations jolting like lightning through each of Yzak's nerves.
Then Dearka stopped, turning off the water with a squeak of the faucet. Yzak's icy blue eyes snapped open, and he shot a questioning look at his partner as the blonde shifted the shower curtain aside and stepped out, reaching for a towel to dry himself off with.
Yzak cursed. "Dearka, what the f—"
"Get out," Dearka ordered, his breathing ragged and uneven. "Dry off. Meet me in the living room." He leaned over and whispered softly in Yzak's ear, his breath hot on the pale boy's skin. "Let's make this a bit more fun, shall we?" The door clicked shut behind him as he exited, leaving the opposite gundam pilot gazing at empty space for a full thirty seconds before he had the sense to move.
Yzak didn't think he'd ever done anything faster in his life.
He ran a towel quickly over himself and pulled on his jeans just in case, which luckily had fallen outside the shower when Dearka had hauled him inside. Not bothering with a shirt, he threw the door open with a crash and stopped short halfway to the sofa.
"What the fucking hell are you doing!"
A/N: Oh my. What IS he doing? Bwahaha, probably some naughty, naughty things. More to come soon.