Ack! Sorry for such a looooong wait between last chapter and this one! I've been horribly sick for quite some time and have only just begun to recover enough from the constant Nyquil to get my fingers on the keyboard. Thanks to Misty for getting right on beta-ing, even in the middle of the night. ;) My love for her is like rain.
As an added apology, this chapter is twice as long as my usual ones are. So there. Be happy.
Top Ten Sexiest Atheletes
Number one on our list of personal favorites is Heero Yuy, the star boarder of the Canadian team. A rebel with the press and an all-around champion, Heero's bound to appear on the 27th in the Winter Olympics snowboard cross. Very little is known about his personal life, but girls, he's single! Mr. Yuy has been snowboarding for nearly his entire life, and has such prestigious accomplishments under his belt as winning the Diamond Cup in the Trelawney Smash, the grand title in the Z Tour and three consecutive first places in the annual Canadian Winter Games Championships. Mr. Yuy, however, was not available for comment at the time of publication.
There were pictures of me everywhere. Damnit. I turned the page.
Number two on the Top Ten is Duo Maxwell, a crowd favorite! Leading the American Ski Team with four Grand Smash titles and a national league award, this blonde hails from southern California. With his no-worries attitude and a constant smile he's definitely the hunkiest guy in the red-white-and-blue! Having suffered a knee injury last year he's just come from the pits and forced his way to the top once more, and this time around he's ready to compete. See him on the slopes!
How did Duo smile like that, so openly, I wondered? I was almost jealous of his ease with the camera, his photogenic looks and almost feylike features.
Quatre was third, Trowa was fourth, and Wufei himself was fifth. I went on to read the other three articles before lowering the magazine: "What about it?"
"Aren't you excited?" Hilde said, sounding more than excited enough for both of us. "You've made the teen girl magazine scene. Do you know how hard that is?"
"I don't know why I'm first," I said confusedly. "I truly don't."
"Heero, honey, I feel sorry for you sometimes. Looked in the mirror lately?" Hilde raised one eyebrow. "You're a walking Adonis. Relena doesn't know what she's missing." The second the words were out of her mouth she made a little aah and realized her mistake too late.
Suddenly I put down the magazine with a short whap. My face darkened. "Don't talk about her," I snapped, my voice too loud over the silence of my personal dressing room. To the right and left were more atheletes, and they could probably hear through the walls. My nostrils flared as I tried to control my breathing, knowing what would happen next if an anger attack seized…
It had happened before, often, when we first split. I would go into this blind rage and start throwing things around and throwing whoever was within reach against the nearest wall. Nothing was safe. The worst time had been right after it had begun…
"Heero, kid, I know you're pissed off right now, I know your girlfriend's gone and you're depressed and whatever, but your dad said in his will—" the first time J had come to me had been the first time I'd really lost it, and the worst.
"Odin was not my father."
"Odin. He said in his will, you know, he wanted you to go on snowboarding and training with someone professional. He hired me for you. He paid me in advance. Odin left all his cash to you, kid, and he's got… millions lined up, maybe billions, let me tell you, you have no idea. More'n half of it's in offshore bank accounts your mom probably never even caught a whiff of. Basically, kid, I'm here to teach you."
"Get out."
"Kid, look, don't push this—this was what he wanted for you—you've been putting this off six months for some girl, you've got to listen to the damn will sometime. You're the named executor in case of your mother's death, so it's up to you."
"I'm the executor. Is that it?"
"Yeah."
"Then I'm executing this: Get the fuck out of my house. I've had enough of lawyers and friends of Odin's. I hate you all."
"Kid…"
"I SAID GET OUT!" And then everything was blind for a few moments while things smashed around me. I was smashing them. They weren't smashing themselves, obviously, but it was weird to know that I was in control and I was the one making all this destruction happen… a good feeling… I could get used to this…
And then I'd felt someone, one of J's bodyguards, tackle me and throw me to the ground. I'd completely hauled him off me and with adrenaline on my side slung him into the wall, cracking the plaster. There were four of his little cronies in all, and the second one coming at me met the same fate via pushing onto the coffee table. Another two dogpiled me, and well, that was too much, my body just couldn't handle it and I remember slumping down with only my head and shoulders free.
And then J had come over and crouched down right next to my face, got real close, and said, "Heero, you keep this all inside and you're going to explode. Even you aren't above the law. You don't take this out the right way, it'll use you, and you'll kill someone, eventually. I'll show you how to get rid of it the right way – fire like that, I can put it to use. You could get to the Olympics. You could fly if you had snow under you, I'm telling you, I can get you to do it. You've gotta trust me though and sign these papers. It's what Odin would've wanted, kid. I'm the best there is if you're looking for a coach and your father and I… well, you could say we were good friends." He twirled his moustache. I hated people who twirled their facial hair. "He'd be real happy if you did this."
I had liked hurting that bodyguard.
I had enjoyed it.
I could do it again to this old guy, and he'd be dead, just like that, I'd be a murderer.
But I wouldn't. I could use this, I realized. I could make this into a power to be reckoned with: The power of emotions. If I kept all my emotions locked away so none could escape, then I could put all the ones I had inside me to use and use them to help me be the best. If I didn't use this it would use me.
I scowled. "I'll sign."
Staring at Hilde, I half-expected to feel the usual slight insanity nudging at the back of my mind. But I didn't go into an anger attack this time. What stopped me? It felt like there was a plug pulled on all my fire and all my determination to kill the shit out of Hilde just for saying Relena's name. All of it was drained out.
Duo wouldn't like it if I did that to her. Even if she was his ex. I knew him enough to know that.
And that made me laugh a little, just chuckling under my breath. Like those what would Jesus do? Bumper stickers, I could probably manage to get one that said what would Duo do? That's how obsessed I was getting. I was allowing myself to become weak. To become vulnerable, and frail, and easily susceptible to breaking.
No. I was allowing myself to feel human.
"Sorry," I muttered.
Hilde unclenched her fists, drew away from the wall: "What?"
"I said sorry, damnit," I said. "Sorry for not being a better friend. Sorry for not just coming the hell out with you when you asked me. Sorry for ignoring your phone calls and texts for two fuckin' years. Sorry for not letting you touch me."
"…Where did this come from? God, Heero, you don't have to apologize, but God, it feels good to hear you say that, honey. I worry about you." I sagged down onto the couch provided next to the hangers where my boarding outfit was stored, and she sat down next to me, composed as always. She swiped a few strands of bluish-black hair out of her face. "Nobody's perfect. You don't have to say sorry."
A sudden flicker of something. Amusement, I recognized it as.
"Sorry for sleeping with your ex," I said in that same flat tone.
"Hon, it's o—what?"
"I am… telling you. That I am going to sleep with Duo. And I'm sorry."
For a second there I thought maybe Hilde had caught on to the anger-attack idea and was going to have a frenzy of her own. But she composed herself just in time.
She sniffed. "He's a bastard anyways. You can have him." She turned her face away, but not before I caught sight of her expression. She looked like she might cry. I had never seen Hilde cry, in all the time I had known her. Not once. She was always happy. "I never really had a chance anyways." Now she sounded weary.
"Hilde," I said. I didn't know how to comfort people, so that's what I said. Her name.
"Well, it hurts a bit, you know. I mean, I was in love with you for a while, there, and put yourself in my place! Working for the guy you like and then suddenly your ex comes swooping down out of a cloud and sweeps him off his feet, I never saw that coming." She bit her lower lip. She was ranting. "Shit, I'm going on again. But I wanted to ask you something and I wasn't sure how you'd react, I thought you'd go into one of those frenzies again and I'd have to call in security and it would create a huge scandal so I didn't want to ask you but God I really do and I'm sorry but Heero do you really want to do this?"
"What?" I couldn't follow her. She'd spoken way too fast for me to understand.
"This, the race, the… Duo, the Olympics," she said, waving her hands for emphasis.
"You are asking me if I want to compete in the Olympics," I stated. The Robot Voice had turned itself back on. Maybe it was my body's idea of a safety mechanism, like an automatic parachute ripcord.
"Ah… yes." She was calming down a little bit.
"I do not know. I enjoy snowboarding. But not for crowds, not like a dog on a pedestal that jumps when the judges tell it to. And I hate all the attention with the press. I hate the fans, every last one of them. I'm afraid if I don't do this, though, I may never snowboard again, and then I will turn to other things to release… pressure." The Robot Voice droned on. She nodded as if she understood every word, which maybe she did. She probably knew me better than any other woman I knew. Hilde wasn't an idiot; she had a MBA. She'd had several six-figure-salary jobs before this one. She was a pretty, smart girl, and what was she doing working for me, I wondered? I was a lunatic.
"To release pressure," she repeated. "Have you considered seeing a doctor?"
"For what?" I snapped.
"Nevermind," she said. She was walking on thin ice and she knew it. "Don't bother. But the other part of the question… are you going to answer it?"
I thought back to what she'd asked. "You want to know about Duo."
"Yeah."
"I met him at the club I went to," I said. "He is different." Robot Voice was serving me well. At this rate I wouldn't have to betray any kind of emotion at all. Perfect. "He treats me like… a friend. Not a boss and not a business associate and not family, but a friend."
"And you met him three days ago and you're screwing him already."
"Not yet," I admitted. My Robot Voice cracked a little bit, revealing some of my normal tone beneath. I hated to admit it but I was a scared little kid inside at the thought of actually doing that with Duo, not like I hadn't before with plenty of guys, but still. He was different. The relationship was sexual and platonic; how often did relationships like that come along? And then I remembered the hand job in the hallway and I actually flushed red.
"You're flushing red," she informed me. "Are you, maybe, nervous?"
"No," I said firmly.
"I could tell you some things," she said.
I gave her a confused what the hell are you talking about, woman look. This consisted of one eyebrow raised very high and my elbow perched on my knee, chin in hand. She, in return, gave me a sultry you know exactly what I'm talking about glance. The silent exchange was immediate.
"I mean. What he likes and all that."
"I thought you didn't want us together," I said quickly. "You were angry this morning." Merely stating facts, nothing more.
"Surprised, not angry," she insisted. "Besides, I want to help you out, I guess."
"Fine. Tell me," I ordered, trying to look as uncaring as possible. Like I really didn't want to know the answer and if she told me, then so be it. I'm sure I came off more as looking half-desperate and half-curious like a kid in a freak show museum.
"Well. He thinks it's really kinky when his partner covers himself in marmalade and wears women's underwear, just to name a few."
…
…Oh, God…
My brain tried to wrap around this and failed, sputtering and dying in a cloud of shiny mental sparks.
Hilde burst out laughing. "I'm KIDDING, Heero. Kidding. Joke. Me, joking, ha-ha? God, the look on your face." She went off into a spasm of giggles. "Marmalade…marmalade... as if. Where the hell did I get that from?"
"Hilde, I will kill you in your sleep," I threatened, and I was only half-joking.
She giggled softly and leaned in close. "No, but really… he has a nickname. Scythe. Call him that and he's yours."
I blinked at her. She blinked at me. I shrugged into my oversuit as I gave her a wary look-over: "Why… are you telling me? He's your ex, for chrissake, you're supposed to be pissed off that I'm with him in the first place."
And Hilde, good woman that she was, just kept on smiling. "Heero, I've realized something over the last month or so, and after today I think it's hit home. I want you to be happy, that's all. And if I can help you do that… then I'm happy, too, I guess."
"Even though you're in love with me." I wasn't going to play word games. I'd never been known for being tactful and discreet like a woman.
She sighed. "Yes, Heero. Even though I'm in love with you. That sounds so soap-opera, doesn't it? But yeah, it's true. I'm not saying I think Duo's good for you, because he's not, and sometime we're going to get together for coffee and I'm going to tell you every last one of his personal secrets out of revenge. But for now… last couple of days you've been sparkling, and I mean happy. That's not normal for you. I kinda like having around a not-homicidal Heero, y'know? And you're my boss, it wouldn't work anyways." She looked like she was about to pat me on the shoulder, but still didn't quite dare touch me.
I zipped up the front of the body-tight jumpsuit. What was this stuff, aerodynamic spandex or something? Clothing was not my forte. I stared down at myself: Emblazoned with the Canadian flag on both sides. Well, wasn't this nice.
It was fifty minutes to race time.
J burst into the room suddenly: "Sorry, had to get some shit done," he said gruffly. "Hey, kid, how're you holding up? Not getting the butterflies, are you? Oh, right, you're never nervous, my fault." He grinned behind his enormous glasses and preened his mustache a little in the corner mirror. I gave a small, indiscernible grunt and sat down on the couch, lacing up my boots.
Scythe… what kind of bizarre nickname is that? Maybe it's an inside joke.
I could imagine, just for a second, that I was on the slope again and Duo was whizzing in front of me. Just once I would like to take that braid down like he'd claimed to have done years ago. Just once I would like to… eh, well, that was a different tangent. But the thoughts remained, and I couldn't afford to get aroused here. The jumpsuit wouldn't hide anything if I did.
Wing was lying by the door, looking surprisingly tattered for a board that was cared for as well as it was. I picked it up and shoved it under my arm, shifting it a little as I fumbled around the desk area for my helmet: "J, where'd you put my—"
"Over there, by the cabinet," he pointed, then went back to talking to Hilde about something-or-other. I almost, almost smiled. They knew me too well.
With my equipment in tow, I stood in front of the door. "I'm leaving," I announced.
"Oh, hang on, you damn worrier, we've got forty minutes," J said lazily. I shot him a glare of death and he put both hands up: "Okay, let me grab my jacket. This is just the prelims, you don't have to be all antsy yet."
I lined up.
Beep. Beep. Beep. GO. I shot off and my mind hazed over. Down the slopes, down the hills, jump here, mogul there, rail to the left and then to the right… more jumps, a few patches of ice, a box or so and then yes I'd already cruised into the finish line.
I turned to face the TV cameramen and the throng of people surrounding the base of the run. Their expressions registered as shock and awe in my mind: Good. I'd done this the right way. I looked back up the hill as other boarders whooshed into their stops a good five seconds behind me.
"A-a-and Heero… Yuy of the Canadian team is in first!" A voice shouted tentatively. "In a record-shattering time for a preliminary trial as well!"
The crowd roared.
I grabbed Wing and an over-jacket, slipping it on, and walked to the center of the finishing circle, staring at the mob. People screamed, threw all kinds of microphones and electronic devices in my face. Cameras flashed. I'll be frowning in all of them, you bastards, I thought silently, and waited for the bodyguard escort that was quickly approaching the contestants, Hilde and J leading them. Hilde was grinning like a fool. I turned away.
An arm grabbed the collar of my snow jacket. "Heero!"
I knew that voice. I turned around to snarl something to them, whoever they were, but then it registered as being Duo's voice and I halted altogether. He was standing just behind me, looking at me with a worried expression. "You did great. You okay?"
"I'm fine," I said stoically. Duo. He likes to be called Scythe.
"Mr. Yuy, is this a family member!" one woman asked hysterically from the sidelines. I turned to her, unsure what to say.
"Nope," Duo answered from the sidelines with a grin. "I'm moral support. Duo Maxwell." He wasn't the slightest bit perturbed at not being recognized by the reporter. He gave me a lazy wink and turned back to the run, giving me his profile. "Get back up there. I'm VIP so I get to be wherever I want, yeah? I'll stay down here." He popped a thumbs-up sign at me.
Just then Hilde arrived and narrowed her eyes at him.
"What are you doing on the boarder's run?"
"I already said I was moral support." The thumbs-up turned into the middle-finger. "I thought they kept trash off the snow, though."
"Oh, shut the—Heero, let's get on the lift," Hilde snapped, pulling her furred jacket tighter around herself, the Canadian flag on the back crinkling. Underneath the jacket she was wearing a no-nonsense navy skirt and dark blouse, snow boots coming up to mid-thigh. One of said boots kicked a bout of snow in Duo's direction as she stomped off ahead of me.
And, like a good little obedient person, I followed.
To the left right over this hill okay down what is that guy doing okay he's pulling ahead of me speed up turn slightly cut him off cut the other one off to the left to the right to the left again mogul and another mogul and now there's the funbox jump okay got it what's that up ahead oh right that's the mound jump okay here's the rail but I'm going to skip it and there's another jump crouch down and soar off the end that's good okay down down down YES
"Yuy does it again!" The announcer shouted.
Every time I pulled in first. Every time there was no challenge. An Italian boarder came up to me and tried to give me a good-job pat on the back. I shied away. Two from the Americans gave me dirty looks as they got back on the lift. I ignored them. My only goal was to compete and survive, compete and survive, compete and survive… the mantra spiraled through my thoughts like a good luck talisman.
Compete and survive.
A haze settled over my thoughts. I did not respond to cameramen and women. I left the press-talking to Hilde and J, who followed me from run to run doggedly. I'm not sure I said anything all day, because what could I have said? I wasn't full of sagely, feel-good advice that they could put on a Cheerios box. I didn't have any love for the sport other than to keep my homicidal tendencies from showing themselves.
I wondered if I was dangerous without a snowboard in my hands. Would I snap altogether one day and just start killing people right and left? Maybe I could hire a big muscleman to follow me around and tackle me if I went insane. But no, that would be annoying, I hated dealing with more people than I had to---
Beep. Beep. Beep. Go!
I slammed out of the gate in first. This was insane, this feeling—I really was flying, wholly and truly. Wing was soaring through the air after every jump. The board had been custom made for me, and I loved it… the salesman had said I wouldn't be able to handle it, but he was wrong…
Left right left right left right left right
I thought about what everyone would say when I won. I'd have to face them all and probably say something then, or at least make a halfway decent speech at the award ceremony. I'd have to take that medal and smile like an idiot…
Straight down jump bend the knees cut this corner here dig your nose in
I wondered if Relena would be watching on some obscure TV somewhere. Maybe she'd be at her family's now, moved out of the apartment we used to share. Probably not though. I'd never met her family and she'd never talked about them, so I assumed she didn't have much contact with them, and less reason for her to be at their house, so that meant she was home alone, or maybe she'd already found someone else to fuck …
That makes me so fucking angry speed up bend the knees faster faster faster
If Odin and my mom were here they'd probably be cheering me on or something cheesy like that. No, wait. My mother would be cheering. Odin would be his usual stoic, uncaring self. He hadn't been my father, but maybe I'd inherited more than I'd thought from him. Maybe more of his teachings had rubbed off on me than I'd have liked…
Almost there this is the last stretch the man on your left is pulling ahead NO
I wonder what Duo thought of all this, and if he could see me on the cameras. Probably. He could probably see me now. The crowd at the base of this last hill was enormous. I'd never seen so many gathered in one place. Not at any of the competitions I'd been in before, at least. God, God, God, I was afraid of this, but I had to do it…
One last push
And the finish line was behind me.
I'd pulled only a few feet ahead of Jaques Ranoire, French team, and he was now giving me the ugliest scowl I'd ever seen on a human being. I stared right back, the bastard. I'd won but there was no joy in the victory. It was sort of like, oh, that's all?
The noise was insane. People were jumping up and down and the entire mass behind me was one flesh-colored blob broken up by the odd country's flag (Canada was prominent, I saw) and there was confetti and mess and sparklers and little whistle-toys everywhere. The winner's circle was suddenly crowded with the boarders as they each pulled into the finish.
I didn't have time for fear to take over at the sight of so many people. I was ushered off to the side and through the side-flap of a tent pitched at the bottom of the run. The Olympic five-ring sigil was emblazoned on the side. Inside were the families of the competitors and, as usual, their personal employees. I was hassled and battered around and eventually stripped of my over-jacket by someone (I didn't see whom) and showed out the other side of the tent.
There was a round raised pedestal out front about twenty feet in diameter where we were expected to stand. I looked out at the sea of moving bodies, and had a microphone thrust under my chin, not for the first time. I was drenched in sweat and somebody had thrown a towel around my neck (though I hadn't caught who, again) and I unzipped my suit, just enough to let some of the freezing air in. I hadn't realized how far I had pushed my own body until now. I was panting for breath, eyes halfway closed as I stared at the black screen of the mic and wondered what the hell to say.
"Mr. Yuy, how did you manage to get in first place every run?" the man asked me.
I turned to the cameraman as he snapped at me for my attention. I gazed into the lens: time to act. "I wanted it badly enough," I said in a cold tone.
"I… see. So what about your family, how do you think they'll feel about this?"
"I have no family."
"What about your future? Any plans from here on out you'd like to share?"
"I don't know," I said.
"Well… are you going to come to the Olympics next year?"
"I don't know."
"Will you continue to train after this?"
"I don't know."
"Is there anyone you'd like to thank for this victory?"
"I don't—wait, yes." No, not really. But I did, sort of, owe them this much. "Hilde and J, my press manager and coach." They were shuffled in from the side and pushed on camera with me, the lens panning to catch both their surprised, but pleased faces. Hilde wrapped an arm around J's waist and mine and said, "Yep! These are the two men in my life!" In a bubbly, cheerful voice. The cameraman laughed with her. "We'll be at the ceremony tomorrow cheering him on, don't worry," she assured him.
"Yeah," I said dismally. "I'm excited."
Anything but. Nervous as hell, more like.
I couldn't think. There was something wrong with me, there had to be. I'd just won the fucking Olympics and here I was, lying on my hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. I should've been partying. I should've been out celebrating with Duo, but here I was, just thinking… about Odin, about my mother, about Relena. Swallowed in guilt and misery. I was such an angsty little ball of horrors it was a wonder I didn't self-implode.
That shell that had been protecting me from the world had dissolved when I'd met Duo. Now what could I do? I couldn't reveal myself to him, I couldn't tell him how I felt, I was sure. I didn't have the balls to do it. So when he called, I didn't pick up the phone. Twice. Then three times. I ignored the ring altogether.
"Sorry, Duo," I said to the pillow as I rolled over when the phone rang for the fourth time.
I did not, however, expect it to be followed by a knock on the door.
I groggily stood up and opened it, peering through the crack.
"You weren't answering your phone, you idiot," Duo said, making his way into the room and looking around. "I figured you'd up and left town or something. God."
"No," I said.
"So you don't want to come out with us?"
"I…" I paused. Something was very wrong here. All of a sudden I wanted to fuck him more than usual, and it was almost overwhelming—
--Oh, God.
"Duo. Your hair… is red," I said, shocked. So that's what had changed.
"Yeah. You like? I felt like a change," he said, pulling his braid over one shoulder. "And you said you were into redheads. Besides, I didn't feel like brown or black, too boring. I used to be a brunette anyways."
His hair had gone from a golden colour to a streaked, gold-and-autumn red head of straight, glossy locks. His hair was… perfect. Sexy. Irresistible. I took the braid from him and couldn't help but breathe in the scent of conditioner and shampoo. Delicious.
"I want… you to take your hair down," I said, and as soon as I'd said it, I regretted it. He'd think I was a goddamn idiot for making a request like that. Hadn't he told me himself all it did was get in the way?
"Okay," he said, and smiled.
"I didn't mean that, I—what?"
"But… you've gotta come out with me first. We'll trade favors."
"Oh, bloody fucking okay," I said with mock irritation.
"I get to pick your outfit."
"That's just being overly queer."
"S'what I do best. I'm serious, Heero, let me dress you. I could do it damn well."
I'd never let anyone but him touch me for a very long time. I didn't know if I could… but… he'd never given me any reason to believe that he'd do anything I didn't want. I could trust him, sort of. So when he motioned me over to the bed and pushed me down onto it, forcing me to sit on the edge, I complied with easy grace, trying not to look like a twelve-year-old.
"Mmnkay then. Olympic Canada-print snowsuit comes off."
"What?"
"Do I have to undress you, too? I've already done it twice," he said with a smirk.
"I can do it," I said, and did, shucking the suit I hadn't bothered to remove after leaving the run area. I unzipped the front and peeled it off my chest: Hey, I noticed in the mirror, I didn't look half bad for having come out of an Olympic run. I certainly didn't look any different. I had always had trouble putting on weight as a kid, but now that I was grown up, I had a kind of… I don't know, easy definition to my body. Sculpted but not huge. Long and lanky, not compact. Duo and I had pretty much the same body type, though he was slimmer and less muscular; more aerodynamic-ness, I supposed.
I was in only the tight black underwear that went on underneath the suit. It had been riding up my ass all this time and was incredibly uncomfortable, but I'd been too lazy to take it off.
"Go get in the shower," he said, as if this should have been obvious. "Can't go clubbing when you're not clean."
"Shit," I muttered, and he looked up from the pair of pants he was picking a piece of lint from. "Hmm?" he asked.
"Nothing," I growled, and darted for the bathroom. I'd gotten a sudden hard on, just from him saying that one line. Get in the shower. The ski suit and underwear, unfortunately, hid nothing, so I was glad he hadn't seen. Funny how such a dumb little phrase could… do that to me. Funny, and awkward.
Under the shower spray I heard him whistling as he rummaged through my suitcase and the stuff I'd hung up in the closet, which wasn't much. I wasn't a neat sort of guy unless I found an actual need for being so, in this case, keeping certain articles of clothing from crimping.
He popped his head into the bathroom and I sucked in a breath. "Allright, I'm done," he proclaimed with a grin.
"Jesus, you scared me," I said, eyes wide.
"Hmm." He looked at me where I was, cornered inside the shower stall, and then put a set of clothes on the floor opposite the shower door. "Try 'em on. And believe me when I say they'll look good."
I gave him an odd look, and he retreated, shutting the door. I stepped out of the spray, turned the water off, and snatched a towel off the rack, wrapping it around my waist before holding up what he'd given me. Hmm, what kind of shirt was this? I didn't think I'd even bought anything like this before. I held it up to the light.
It was a dark, burgundy-red sleeveless shirt with a dipping neckline and was little more than a wifebeater in itself. There was some kind of black digitalized logo on the front, the words too slurred to see, and a white crucifix emblazoned on the back. It was loud, and called attention to the wearer. I am not wearing this, I decided.
I picked up the pants. Now these were just outrageous. Black, and leather, and I'd probably have to be poured into them if I wanted to fit. Who the hell had given me these? Probably Hilde on a prank at some point—she'd helped me pack--- and there was no way I could possibly wear these out, they'd be uncomfortable as all hell, I could just tell.
I told Duo so. "I'm not wearing these, just so you know," I said crossly through the door.
"Yes, you are, or I'm forcing you into them, pretty-boy," he called back effortlessly, his sultry voice carrying even through the wood of the door. I stared down at the clothing and had no doubt that if anyone but Duo had tried to force me into them they'd have a couple of broken limbs.
But I was powerless.
I sighed. All the fight drained out of me. The clothes went on, the pants a bit hard to pull up. But eh, the underwear I'd been wearing all day had been more uncomfortable than these turned out to be. Actually, they weren't half bad. I turned to the mirror and stared at myself.
Hey, I looked okay.
No, I looked… good. Like a guy Cinderella all ready for the ball. If the 'ball' was a club full of hypeheads and drunkies with Olympic athletes all over the place. But it was… I don't know, embarrassing… to see myself like this. Like part of me was being unveiled that didn't want to be.
"You done yet?" Duo called.
I opened the door and stepped out meekly. I was met with a sudden body pressing against me and lips against mine, a hand snaking around to grab my ass. I was… surprised, but pleased nonetheless. He was into this, which was a good sign; his tongue pressed into my mouth insistently and I reciprocated with a meeting of my own. Duo gave a moan and a shiver against me, pulling his mouth away only long enough to trail his other hand lazily up my spine. It tickled a little. "Damnit, sorry. You look… well, I thought you'd look hot, but I guess I lost control." He grinned up at me, seizing my lips again. "I want you so fucking bad, Heero," he whispered, teeth grazing my lower lip.
"Now," I said urgently. "Damnit, now—"
"No," he said. "Not yet. After tonight. I'm gonna make this good."
"Then we need to get tonight over with before I explode," I said really quickly, kissing him with a ferocity I didn't know was inside me. Like it was burning to get out, alive and independent of myself. I wanted to be inside him, as dirty and uncharacteristic as that sounded in my own mind. I wanted all of him. I wanted the side he didn't give to other people. I wanted to make him moan like he did now, stretched out like a cat in my arms and all but purring with pleasure. Wine colored hair was a nice touch, and it glimmered red-gold in the light from the ceiling fan.
"Cab's gonna leave if we don't move," Duo said. "I already called."
"Oh, fuck the cab," I said, pulling away. "Fine. Let's go." I looked down at him, seeing he'd brought the clothes he needed to change and had already donned them. A dark green shirt that laced up the front with a black satin ribbon, sleeveless as usual, and black denim that hugged his hips. His slightly paler skin showed through and he was beautiful, feylike, exotic in a way, the color of his hair contrasting with the green and black sobriety of his clothing.
The cab ride lasted too long.
As we walked into Charisma for the third time, Duo's cell rang and he flipped it open: "Yeah? Where are you guys? …uh-huh. Nah, we just got here. Yeah, I brought him. –shut up." He chuckled. "Yeah. Bye." Snapping the phone shut, he pointed off to the side: "They're over there in the back chamber."
I hadn't even known there was a 'back chamber' at all. This club must've been at least twice as huge as I'd thought before. As we headed through a dark red curtain, I spotted Quatre, Trowa, Wufei and Kit Lorenza off to the side of the room, lounging in a veiled booth, drinks already in hand. Looked like tonight was a mixed-drink night, because everyone had something different. Quatre had a tall red glass in front of him with something frothy that was bubbling.
"How gay," Duo said snarkily at the glowing glass as we slid in.
"It's good," Quatre said brightly, completely undaunted by the insult. "Heero! Congratulations on the medal, you must be so proud!" he grinned at me, and I shrugged nonchalantly. He then went on: "Me and Trowa are gonna go up to the bar later, do you two want to… er, come?" he paused, and suddenly gave Duo a weird look. "Your hair. You dyed it, didn't you?"
"Yeah. Like it? And about the bar…no, we're all-right," Duo answered. "Unless you want to, Heero?"
I remembered the bartender from the other night, the one with the attitude. "No. He might recognize me as the… well…" I thought of the way I'd beaten those two men's faces in. The bartender might have made the connection. If he was on-duty I didn't want to take any chances. Duo seemed to get what I was talking about, because he suddenly nodded. "Oh, right. No. Definite no. We'll stay down here."
Quatre shrugged. "Mmkay. Why'd you just decide to go redhead, again?"
"I found a reason," Duo said, and flicked me in the shoulder with two fingers.
Kit giggled from the side. "You did very well, senor Yuy," she said in heavily accented English. "Where I come from, there is… not snow. You were very good on the snow. You were almost…" she struggled for the word: "Almost flying, no?"
"Uh," I said, "Thank you." The gratitude seemed odd coming from me.
Almost able to fly. That's what they'd told me when I'd dropped out of flight school. Just a few more months and you'd have been a pilot, no sweat, a damn good fighter pilot if there ever was one. You're cut out for being in the air.
"De nada," she replied, waving her hand dismissively. Wufei scootched over closer to her and put his arm around her lower waist, probably curling his hand over her thigh if her blush and settling of her head on his shoulder were any indication.
I wondered… if that would work on Duo. Hmm.
The thought struck me impulsively. I wanted to try this like Relena and I had used to do when we'd still been together. I slid my hand under the table and onto Duo's left knee, which was closest to me. He didn't stiffen, but I saw his eyes slide sideways to meet mine. Just the barest hint of a question.
I drew a line from his kneecap up to his hip with my pointer finger, keeping my eyes perfectly on Quatre as he talked about the events of tomorrow. His hands, folded in his lap, squeezed together subconsciously.
"'Cause the award ceremony tomorrow is for all the men snowboarders. The slalom was yesterday…" I slid my hand over his hipbone, over the indentation between his crotch and thigh, just the barest tickle as it moved for more dangerous zones. He settled forward in his seat, elbows on the table. The waitress came and asked for our drinks; I shifted my hand so that it rested firmly between his legs.
"Vodka soda," I told her. Duo's arousal swelled slowly beneath my fingers. He choked out: "Uh—the same, whateverfuck" I stroked one finger lightly over the fabric of his pants, the touch transferring through the thin denim and to the supersensitive flesh below.
"Duo, you okay?" Quatre asked.
"Yeah, fine, just… uh… stubbed my… toe," he said in slow, panting breaths as I started to stroke one hand up and down the area, then paused to work the zipper down.
"Oh. Sucks. So yeah, we're going down to Harvey's after tomorrow's ceremony and then probably sightsee around the town until…"
I slipped my hand inside his jeans and straight onto his erection. Okay, so the old practice was coming back to me. I'd given handjobs before, obviously, and been told I was quite talented (when was I not talented at something? It seemed as if anything I endeavored to learn, I immediately learned) by numerous partners. I just hadn't done it in a while, that was all. Good to know I still had it.
Maybe I wasn't as much of a robot as I'd previously thought.
I slid my hand over his shaft, down to the base, and began fisting him in a slow, commanding pace. He sank down a little onto the table, eyes fluttering, but maintained a sitting position. Amazing how nobody even noticed my arm moving; well, we were sitting so close, nobody would be able to tell unless they peeked under the tablecloth.
"What with gas and all that, we ended up pushing the car halfway to…"
My hand brushed the tip of his cock and he made a noise like a starving puppy, so softly nobody could hear if they weren't listening over the murmur of the back chamber. Quatre and Wufei talked on, oblivious to us.
Hmm, interesting. He was uncircumcised. I slid the tip of his foreskin back and touched the pads of my fingers to the exposed nerve endings, sending a feeling akin to a thousand electric shocks up the length of his groin. I knew this from experience, and also from the fact that his legs turned to nothing and he braced his elbows against the table, barely remaining cognizant at all. He was keeping a scream in from the look on his face. He'd come any moment, I was sure.
I plucked the napkin from my lap (an old habit) and balled it up as I gave his weeping cock one last touch. He grabbed the cloth, slammed it into his crotch, and bit down on his lower lip to keep from crying out as he orgasmed—hard. His head and shoulders slumped down on the table entirely between Quatre's red-drink-of-whatever and the centerpiece, a bubbling lava lamp.
I smirked.
"And then we—hey! Duo, you okay?"
"Yeah, just tired," he slurred after a few seconds. "Sorry. Long day."
"…You aren't sick or anything, are you? Should you be out if you're like this?"
"Fuck off, man. I can handle it," he said with a lopsided grin to make sure Quatre knew he didn't mean it. "I feel good, actually. Amazing. Yeah." His head fell back onto the tablecloth, and after a stunned second or so Quatre, Trowa and Wufei chuckled. Quatre, still laughing, picked up his glowing drink and raised it to his lips.
The glass was covered in beads of perspiration and it slipped through his fingers just as he lifted it, spilling all over his face and down the front of his shirt. It was only a quarter full, but he was still soaked.
"Oh! I'm so clumsy," he said, dabbing at it with part of the tablecloth. "I never get this—"
"Here," Trowa offered, possibly the first word I'd heard him say all night. "Let me." He was wearing a longsleeved black shirt; he raised his sleeve and wiped the liquid from Quatre's cheek, staring at his eyes all the while. They made contact and a line of magnetism swept between them, Trowa's hand pausing on the napkin. All of a sudden he leaned in and kissed the blonde, his bangs obscuring his expression from the rest of us.
Quatre gave a mmf and set the glass aside, cleaving to Trowa and pressing his hands against the man's chest as he was enfolded in two arms. And then, to all of our shock, Trowa actually looked up at the blonde and smiled.
They started kissing again and Quatre pressed against the back of the seat as Trowa was caught up in the heat of the moment, pursuing his lips with intensity. Duo and I turned our heads towards each other and started laughing at the same moment Wufei murmured a suggestion to Kit and they left the booth.
"We've had our drinks," Duo said, having recovered pretty well though his face was still flushed. "I consider that a night out."
"Then…?" I said, almost not daring to hope.
"Yeah. Let's go," he said with a wink. "They'll still be here in a few hours, I bet you. Honestly, Heero—under the fucking table?"
"I was repaying your favor," I said honestly.
"Yeah, well, can't say I wasn't grateful," he said seductively. "That was hot and I'm not even gonna ask where you learned to do that. I thought I was the better one at these things."
"Everyone's got their special talents," I said, and we left.
The entire ride home I was… a mix of feelings. Anxious, enamored, definitely turned on, but not… well, it was hard to put the last emotion to words. Fear, maybe, was the closest thing I could get. A good kind of fear, though, and not enough to outweigh the want. God, I wanted him. Sure, it'd been a while, but that wasn't enough to stop the carnal feeling, the pull and I was going to explode.
I realized we weren't at my hotel. It had begun to snow.
"Where's this?" I asked, looking at the ivory-on-brass shine of hotel doors as they swung open, as a doorman whisked open the cab on my side and I stepped out reluctantly, Duo right behind me. "My hotel," he said. "We went to your place last time."
I'd have felt more comfortable in my own room. Now I was out of my element, here, and what if something went wrong? I had half a mind to jump, like a caged animal, and dive for the cab before it drove away. Duo whisked around to the driver's side and thumbed over a few bills, speaking to him in a tone I couldn't hear. I was being covered with flakes of white, fluffy snow.
I stared at the door. I can still get in. I could run. I'm a pretty fast runner.
And then I mentally kicked myself. 'Run'? What the hell was I thinking? Yeah, a fantastic mental image, that. Me sprinting away from this swanky hotel dressed in club finery. No matter what I wouldn't turn away from this, no matter how reluctant I was, no matter how much I thought about Relena and missed her, too. I want her back. No, I don't. Do I?
"It's okay," Duo said, and I realized he was right next to me, grinning at me with one arm moving around my waist. "I'll be good, mmkay?" I wiped snow off my hair with one hand.
"Y-eah," I said brokenly, and allowed him to lead me inside. The doors swung shut behind us. Well, there goes my 'run away' idea…
He flipped a card out of his pocket with one hand and showed me to the elevator. It was late out, so nobody was in the lobby save for a few teenage girls, who openly stared at the two of us. I shot them a death glare and Duo shot them a "hey, babe" smile. Just to show how different we were. I was terrified.
"I'm number 231," Duo said as he slid the card through the elevator readout and it began to rise, stopping a few seconds later on the second floor. We got out. He led me to a large oaken door and swiped the key once more before the door beeped open and we were let inside.
Oh, well, this isn't… so bad, I thought absentmindedly. There was a sitting room out front with a couple of chairs and a fireplace, and a couch pressed against the wall, a few avant garde pantings hanging around. A small kitchen, too, with a fridge in the corner. Off to the side was a door that led to the main bedroom and bathroom adjoined, an enormous bed seen beyond.
"A king size," I said, looking at the bed.
"I roll around in my sleep," he said, grinning. "Unless I'm, y'know, holding onto someone."
There was a pad of paper on the kitchen counter, a pen-scrawled message hastily slanted across the first page. Ski waxing. Call me. Zechs.
"Didn't get your skis finished yet?" I asked, motioning at the message. I recognized the name Zechs as the press manager he'd told me about himself, which registered safely in the back of my mind. He looked at the note, frowned, and shrugged. "I did though. Maybe something sponsor-related." He tore off the piece of yellow paper and crumpled it up, tossing it in the wastebasket and making it.
I looked through the wide window on the other side of the sitting room. The snow was thickening. It was beautiful; a shame I couldn't have had better snow today on the run, though it hadn't made a difference in the end.
You just won the gold medal in snowboard cross. You should be excited.
The thing was, I didn't feel anything. Not excited, or elated, or happy, or any of those things winning such an honor was supposed to incite. I just felt normal. It was another test I had been put to and like the Perfect Heero Yuy I was, I'd conquered this test. There was nothing more to it. Relena, I thought sarcastically, would have been so proud of me, were she here to care.
"Sit down," Duo said.
I jittered. He raised his brows at me: "I'm not going to hold you down and screw you, Heero. I'm offering you a drink. And—correct me if I'm wrong—you're thinking of your ex, aren't you?"
"Of course not," I said icily.
A moment passed.
"…Well, yeah, I am," I admitted meekly. Meekly. I sounded like a mouse or a scared child. This, quite simply, did not happen. Ever.
"Now talk."
"What?"
"Just talk. I'll hear it. Scotch or beer or… think I've got tequila?"
"Scotch," I said without thinking, and sat down on the couch, my back stiff and my posture perfectly upright.
There was silence.
"My parents liked her," I said. "Well, Odin wasn't my father, sure, but he liked her well enough, and she was pretty… pretty nice, you know? Good with kids, that sort of thing. I always thought maybe I'd have a family someday and she seemed like she was good at handling one. We were the perfect couple and everything was just fine, me training and winning all these tournaments, and her being a teacher on the side and all that. It was quaint. And then they up and died, car went off a cliff and nobody ever found out why… " I stopped. You will not cry.
"…And then I did, I found letters. Odin was some kind of hitman, an assassin or something, and someone planted that trap for him that night, they sent him a warning they were gonna do it—I mean, how fuckin' cheesy does that sound? Who becomes an assassin?" I laughed bitterly. "But that's how he was making the money to support my mom and me, and he always treated me like I was his real son, and fuck, he had a lot of money and suddenly it was mine. Relena wanted me to use it and I said no, it was blood money, and then…" I stopped. "Then I stopped caring."
"About what?" I heard the spicklefwshhhh of liquid being poured into a glass.
"About everything," I said dismally. "Life. Myself. My health. Our future. Our future. I stopped caring about her, didn't kiss her anymore, no sex, nothing. She left me and never looked back. And me, the bastard I was, I deserved it, you know? I came around her home a few times but never actually got up the courage to knock."
"I don't blame you," Duo said quietly. He had his red-gold braid over his shoulder. Two glasses, both scotch, filled to the brim.
"You should probably get me drunk before I break something," I said quietly.
"Go ahead. I can afford to lose anything in this room," he said, and smiled.
I stopped cold, staring at him. "I might break something irreplaceable," I said.
"Everything's replacable."
"Not everything."
"What are you trying to prove?"
"That I'm dangerous. I'm a freak. I can't feel."
"You felt pretty well when we were in that hallway," he said, smirking.
"I don't even hardly know you. Why are you doing this to me?"
"Does it matter? I like you. Always have. Heard your story somewhere around, started researching you, pulled up your past accomplishments. Heero, you were the reason I wanted to enter the Olympics. I fuckin' idolized you for years, you know that? I've been skiing longer but I never wanted to join the American team until I heard about you."
"So you knew about me," I said flatly.
"Do you want to know about me?" he returned.
"Yes," I said.
"Fine. Okay. I was a slum child, had a brother Solo. Weird name, but that's what we were called. Druggie parents probably, and for all I know I'm a coke baby, maybe that's why I'm addicted to high speeds and adrenaline." He grinned. "Anyhow. Solo and me, we lived in the streets for a long time. He died of pneumonia, don't even remember much about him except his face. I got adopted by a rich couple. Helen and Maxwell. Never called 'em "mom" and "dad" except for a few times, but that's what they were to me anyways." He stopped, thinking.
"Maxwell was a good guy, kinda uptight though. He wanted me to get into this prestigious school where they send you off to all kinds of freaky countries and it's like a trade, right? So I went to Wufei's school. Short story: Found out I was gay, learned to ski, moved back to the states, started up a life of sex and skiing. Now I'm here. I compete in two days. That's my life."
I'd been drinking from my glass this entire time. "I'm a bad therapist," I said.
"I don't need a shrink," he replied, taking a seat on the couch.
"Yeah, but…" the alcohol was going to my head, making me feel slightly lighter and airier, somehow happier. My depression had lifted, taking my fear with it. "…good to hear that shit anyways." He looked at me, eyes lifting. His eyelashes were still a dark brown. "C'mere, you're gonna fall over," he said, drawing me against him. We were the same height and probably the same weight but he somehow was solid, realer than I was. And really, really warm, too. He exuded a kind of inner warmth I didn't have.
Okay. It was time.
"What do you… want?" I asked tentatively. "From… me?"
"I should be asking you that," he said, laughing cheerfully. "But since you asked…" he turned his head to me and kissed me.
Slow and passionate, the slightest promise of his teeth grazing over my mouth, his tongue drawing me in and closer with each slight movement. I took his braid in my hand, tugging his head against mine when he pulled away a fraction of an inch, binding us together, our bodies leaving no space between.
He spoke against my mouth. "Hair fetish?"
"You said I could," I reminded him, and slipped the rubber band off the end, still kissing him. In a matter of seconds I had switched from fear to lust to fear to lust again. My emotions were a tipping scale at the minute, and I didn't care. It felt good. He sighed. "It'll get in the damn way, but whatever, Yuy."
The braid unwravelled easily in my hands as I combed my fingers through his hair. Just like Relena's—no, better, I debated to myself as he moved his mouth down to suck on my neck, both of us falling sideways until he was on top of me and we were sharing the same breathing space. He reached up as I finished letting his hair out, the tendrils spilling over his body down to his waist, and pulled the lace at the top of his shirt. The cloth fell away easily. I grabbed him by the arms, pulling him back down, running my hands down that skin and oh, God it was perfect. Flawless. No scars or marks here. I kissed him, lower and lower, watching the reaction on his face as I dipped my tongue into his bellybutton, trailing the pads of my fingers ever so lightly down his abs.
"Not here," he said jerkily. "Bed. Now." And climbed off me, dragging me hastily into the other room, me stumbling behind. Once more we cleaved and now the bed was behind my calves, tripping me up, which was okay. The mattress was soft. He looked even more wild with his hair free like that, but even more beautiful, too.
"You're beautiful… Scythe," I growled to him, and rolled over on top of him. Now who had control?
"So," he said, reaching his hand up my shirt and lazily toying with my nipples, "Are you.—What?" He stared at me openly. "Wait, did you…?"
"Your nickname," I said, and suddenly felt heat rise to my face. Shit. What if Hilde was leading me on?
"S'what Solo used to call me," he said, the grin returning. "Hilde told you, didn't she? Damn, that woman knows what I like." He pulled the back of my head down for a kiss, whispering things against my ear that made me crazy as one hand slid from the shirt to the button on my pants, then inside, then wrapping around me and giving an encouraging squeeze. I couldn't help it – I moaned a little through my teeth.
The areas around his nipples were a dark brown and I smoothed my hands over them, feeling him writhe beneath me but not let up in his ministrations. I was halfway between heaven and hell. I didn't know if I wanted him to stop or not, all I knew was… I wanted to be happy with this when it was done. And so far, so good, right? He knew not to push me over the edge yet, a good thing, and paused halfway to let me lift my shirt over my head.
I shucked him of his pants as he did likewise to me, and once again I found myself turned over and now we were lying side by side, his hair all on one side and pooling on my chest, silver and gold and burgundy in the soft lamplight spilling in from the kitchen area. It was dark in the bedroom, but not so dark we couldn't see; his face was a ghostly silhouette against the snowy window, giving me a daring smile as he pulled up against the headboard and looked back at me, completely naked.
Okay. I hadn't done this in a long time, but yeah, I could manage, I thought. It hadn't been so long I didn't know what to do, obviously. This stuff was natural. It just sort of… flowed. I grinned up at him: "Lube?" was all I asked.
"Yeah. Jeans pocket."
"…Your jeans pocket," I echoed with a small smirk.
"If I'd have had it my way we'd have fucked on the club floor. Just get it before I explode," Duo said, eyes shutting for a moment as he wrapped his hands in the bedsheets. I crawled back and fished the tube out of his pocket, rubbing a little on my hands before returning to him, pressing against him, kissing him harshly, grinding the both of us together…
"But Scythe, I want you to beg," I whispered in his ear. This was true. I longed to hear him say my name, just once, but I wouldn't have admitted it. For now just the sound of his voice would be good enough.
"Get off your high horse—ahh"
…I rubbed my thigh against his erection as I slipped a finger inside him. This produced a long, breathy sound from him, barely above a whisper, the digit stretching and worming its way into the soft heat inside. He was tight but not too much, so it wasn't too hard, and a second finger followed; I curled my hand up when I was buried inside him and found that spot and he arched his back up off the pillows, the soft flesh of his throat exposed to me and my mouth. Mm. Duo tasted like a perfume all his own.
Three fingers now, and he wasn't taking it quietly but he was into it, and both of us were sweating a little. I always sort of liked it when my partner sweated—it meant they were enjoying what I was doing. I licked his neck and he writhed more in perfect ecstasy. "MmohGodHeero," he groaned. "Now, Christ, now…" his cock was red, face flushed, begging for release and I wasn't giving it to him, not yet. I laid my hand atop his member, the slightest twinge of skin on crotch and he was shivering in pleasure, thrusting his hips up into my hand unrestrainedly.
The sight of him spread out like that beneath me made me want to either fuck the living daylights out of him and tear him apart in the process or put a gun to someone's head and pull the trigger. It was hard to tell these urges apart.
I took a moment to prepare myself as quickly as possible before the first slow thrust, penetrating him and brushing against his prostate. He tingled underneath me with his head thrown back, moved onto me, pushed back, and together we set a rhythm. His arms came to wrap around my waist, holding me to him, inside him. I withdrew, thrust again, and did it slowly—I was taking my time with this. He wasn't making too much noise, more breathing hard than anything, and I could hear little tiny ahs of pleasure with every shock I sent up his body.
The only good word I could think of was joined, because it felt like the heat from his body was coming via electric tickle into me and he was all around me and I was inside him. Perfection. They say nothing's perfect but that's what this was. Is there a word to describe the simple completion, the unification of sex? Tight and very, very real, that's what it was. He won't leave you: this is real, I thought. And there was a kind of safety in that. Duo would not desert me. It was okay.
"JesusChristHeeroharder—"
I felt the usual plateau and knew I was standing on the very edge, one more thrust and blankness covered my vision, I couldn't see anything but the patch of Duo in front of me, his eyes half-shut and his cheeks tinted red as his muscles contracted around me, our two bodies pressed together and the mood in the room was primal and thoroughly male, but I wouldn't have traded right now for anything in the world. He gave a half-cry as he came. This is it, this is what I've been missing, I thought. Yes.
I felt the warmth pooling in my groin tighten, then all I saw was black.
The next thing that brought me back was the sound of breathing, us breathing together—funny how the body matches its breathing to whatever's next to it—and the warmth was nearly unbearable. Feverish. The musked smell of release was everywhere. And there was Duo, and he was smiling back at me, that crooked smile that drove something in my mind insane. "Damnit, Yuy, that was good," he said, and wrapped his arms around me.
"Yeah, well," I said, and as the afterglow faded from me it was replaced with a solid, comfortable warmth. Like watching your favorite movie on a snowy day. I could remember having done that once or twice, when I was smaller, but not recently…
We both lay in each other's arms and panted and pressed against each other, absorbing life from body to body. Eventually he stirred: "They say you're not supposed to do this, but I think I'm in love with you. Fuck me," he said, looking up at me.
"Just did." I had no reply for the first part of his statement. Not yet. My brain struggled to cope.
"Figure of speech, love. Sorry."
"I don't know if I…" I frowned. "Don't know if I do yet. I mean."
"Love me, you mean?"
"Yeah."
"I don't expect that, Heero," he said, and kissed me. "But I feel it's only fair to make an invitation, yeah?"
"Invitation to what?" I raised my eyebrow.
"Mmf. More sex, please." He waggled his eyebrows. "And to train with me."
Train. "You're going to enter the Olympics again?"
"If I make it, sure. Money's good, fame's better. I've got a few homes around the world at the moment—when this is over, you're welcome to join me. We could take a trip together. It'd be fun."
Well, this was sudden. I calculated the balances. Calculated every possible way I could answer that question, and thought more about what would happen if I did…
…Stop thinking so much, a voice told me. Do something spontaneous.
"Sure, 'Scythe," I said, barely smiling, and pushed my legs under the coverlet.
I was wearing a cum-stained pair of pants and my shirt was on backwards. I had no shoes on. The hotel people didn't mind. Just waived me by, passed me on.
I stuck the key in the door and shrugged into some normal clothes, staring at myself in the mirror. I don't look any different, but I feel…
…felt what? Good? Amazing. Fantastic.
A moment later, a knock came. Who the hell? I hoped it wasn't Hilde. I didn't feel like talking to her at the moment, nor J.
I looked through the peephole and fell to my knees, pressing my forehead against the wood.
No. No. NO.
It was impossible.
There was no way this could be happening to me. It broke all the rules.
I opened the door.
"…It's me, Heero," said Relena, and smiled.