Chapter Six

Saturday - The Press Conference

"That was quite a lap, didn't know you had in ya, you know? Well, kinda not after last night."

Heero's only response to that was a glare as Duo leaned in to his ear, close, close enough that he could feel the peak of his baseball cap in his cheek and the hint of hot breath. They were about to go out into a press conference and he thought it was damn inappropriate to mention that. Fuck, that would certainly change the press Heero got.

"It didn't happen," he said, finally, as Duo had stepped away, fiddling with a watch on his wrist that was for some sponsor. They were in a holding room near the hotel conference room, waiting for Chang, waiting for their own team's PR girl but Heero was aware how close they were to the world's press. He was sure that two drivers jerking each other off would be news even in countries where Formula 1 was less popular.

"Yeah, I know," Duo replied with a wink and before he could say anything else they were no longer alone.

Chang acknowledged them both, his team colours green and black, and he kept his arms folded across his chest. Some drivers, no matter which damn team they were in would discuss the laps and the conditions but Chang was not like that. He made Heero look positively talkative.

The wait wasn't long, the Winner Racing PR girl arriving to state that they needed to highlight how big this was for the team, and then they were walking out to a long table with three microphones. Heero took the middle one, securing his own cap with the tire sponsor Pirelli on as Duo walked past him, brushing unnecessarily so that their bodies touched and took a seat next to him while Chang took the other. Press conferences were one part of the weekend that Heero particularly hated – when he had to sit in front of thirty odd journalists, television cameras and then the random people that somehow ended up at these things. He shifted awkwardly in his seat, leant forward so that he could speak into the microphone and nodded in acknowledgement to the official from Formula 1 who would direct the questioning.

He saw Merquise front row to the left and knew that he'd raise his own quote if given the opportunity. Heero gave him a glare to which he only shrugged and seemed to pick a thread from the cuff of his shirt.

"That was a phenomenal lap – can you talk us through it, Heero?"

The first few questions were always generic and he answered them without any issues. Talk them through the lap. Tell them how he knew it was a good time. All that boring shit that few people would want to read. A few quotes may be taken from it but it wasn't what people were interested in – Heero could see Merquise was waiting for his opportunity, waiting to be given the go ahead to ask the damn question he wanted. It came after he answered blandly about how his father would've felt about his pole position.

"Proud," he replied thinking that it was what they wanted as the sound bite rather than believing it. He was sure his father would've pointed out the one moment he lost control, that tiny moment around the Hairpin and the Fairmont Hotel.

"You have been quoted as saying that your teammate would get himself or another driver killed due to his reckless driving style," Merquise began, looking at his own notepad as though he'd gotten the quote from somewhere else. Heero glared in response. "Have you apologised to your teammate?"

Heero stalled for a second, feeling the gaze of every journalist in the room and he felt like reaching for the water in front of him or something to avoid the question he was being asked. He didn't expect the arm on his shoulder, the contact of a hand on his skin and Duo to lean over in some kind of friendly gesture as though pretending they were best buddies. In any other circumstance he would've shrugged off the action but he couldn't. His eyes narrowed but he tried to remain cool.

"Well, he informed me that the quote was taken outta context so there was no need for an apology," Duo started, a little chuckle punctuating the end of his sentence. "And I totally get that Heero is under a lot of pressure with his whole dad legacy thing so I guess that he may say things in the heat of the moment. I mean, how often has my mouth got me into trouble since I started racing in F1?"

There were a few murmurs, a few polite laughs in response. There had been a few instances where Duo had said something inappropriate.

"No hard feeling towards your teammate?" Merquise pressed, his eyes hard.

"No, none at all," Duo replied with a wink, his arm moving back to his lap from around Heero's shoulders and he settled back into his chair ready to answer his own questions.

Heero glanced at him as he expertly answered as he should, silently seething as he was sure Duo was playing with him and he didn't fucking appreciate it as he got the assembled journalists laughing over some remark. If he wasn't being filmed and broadcast live around the world, he would've got up and left the damn place.

Finally, it was done and they were leaving, Duo going ahead of him and for a second Heero contemplated keeping his damn promise to himself. He was not going to let him get to him. Not going to follow him and maybe beat the shit out of him for the comments, bringing up his damn father again when it didn't need to be said. He was going to leave. Go back to his hotel suite. Rest. Go to another sponsorship event – do all the things he was supposed to and forget Duo Maxwell and his wink and his smirk. Instead, he followed until he realised that he'd gone towards the men's room in the hotel lobby. He looked around to check if he'd been followed himself and entered, hoping that Duo would be there alone.

He was – zipping up and washing his hands at the sink before he looked over at Heero, finally registering who had entered after him.

"We have to stop meeting in bathrooms, 'Ro."

"Why?"

Duo blinked. "Uhh, we don't wanna meet in bathrooms because it's kinda gross and people might think we're doing something else in here. I'm a classy guy. Don't want my rep getting outta control."

"No – that shit you said."

"That was nothin'," he said with a shrug. "Just wanted to give ya a lil credit, smooth this shit over, right? I don't wanna lose my place on this team over this fucking thing. I seriously don't wanna have worked so damn hard to end up at the back of the grid driving some piss poor car."

"You…" Heero began but his mouth felt dry. It was easy when he'd been angry as that meant he could have punched his teammate but this was a more challenging interaction than he first anticipated. "You weren't mocking me?"

"Hell no. Ya think I don't know that legacy shit? Jesus. I read, ya know. Lotta pressure. Easier to be a damn rookie without any of that, the unknown kid from the States who everybody hates," he laughed – not the mocking thing he'd heard before, a little chuckle that was deeper. "It's a whole lot easier for me."

Heero leaned back against the sink counter, raised his eyes to Duo and said the words he'd never meant before.

"I'm sorry."

One eyebrow raised in response. "Seriously? For which part? The killing people comment, the being a general asshole to me or the mutual jacking off thing?"

"Take it however you damn want." He felt it was his turn to storm dramatically out of a bathroom. He'd offered a sincere apology and Duo had not been interested. What more could he damn well do? But Duo stepped in front of his exit and it was apparent the "discussion" was not over.

"Naw, not so fast, Yuy. I wanna know the shit going through that brain of yours."

It was then he registered fingers around his arm. His eyes glancing down to where Duo's hand had wrapped itself around his skin and then back up to Duo's eyes. It was not a situation he wanted to be in – he'd established that thinking of his teammate was not a good thing and now he was stuck in a small space, the Formula 1 press on the other side of a door that did not lock and he wasn't sure how to respond.

"The killing other drivers comment," he gritted out, "and being an asshole."

Duo smirked and then the hand that had been on his arm was now drifting to the front of his shorts and he gripped hold of it before anything could happen.

"Don't."

"I thought you weren't sorry for the whole jacking off thing?"

Heero leaned forward, glad that the stupid baseball cap with tire sponsor had gone so that the brim of the hat did not get in his way as he spoke quietly into his ear.

"It didn't happen."

"It happened," Duo said, a jolt of surprise running through Heero's body as the hand he wasn't damn holding had made contact with the front of his shorts, the touch enough to bring a response from Heero's body almost instantly. A body that had been full of adrenalin and anger for most of the damn day. It was the only way he could explain the automatic response rather than he was acting like some horny fifteen year old. "And I think you'd like it to happen again."

It was difficult to deny that – he dropped Duo's other hand and felt his breath hot against his throat and those skilled fingers were already working at his cock through his clothes and it took a moment to register that it would be better to be in a stall at least. At least, not so damn obvious.

When Heero stepped back Duo was about to say something but he glanced in the direction of a stall and once inside, the door locked, the limited amount of privacy was more acceptable to Heero than the potential for someone walking in on them jerking each other off. This was risky. He wanted to say that but then a hand was at the button and zipper and he wasn't really thinking of the risks attached. He drove a car that travelled at over two hundred and fifty kilometres per hour – risks like this were what he needed for anything else to be comparable.

"I'll blow ya if you do the same," Duo said, his mouth on his throat.

"I thought you weren't some Victoria… fuck…"

He was about to quote Duo's own words back at him – that he'd said he wouldn't blow him like the Victoria Secret model had offered but then a hand was in his shorts and bypassed underwear efficiently and his hard dick was wrapped in a hand and that was about all he could think of.

"Yeah," he breathed as a way of agreeing to that deal.

It wasn't that he didn't blow guys – just that he didn't blow them as often as he received. That his relationship with Trowa had been good and uncomplicated because it was always equal, always damn swapping positions and mutual pleasure. It was just the fact it didn't mean anything beyond sex that meant it had been easy to leave behind without any thought. Maybe he was like his father – using people and leaving them behind.

But those thoughts were not on his mind as Duo slid down his body, feeling a half hard dick as he ground against him before kneeling on the floor. Least it was a damn bathroom in a fancy hotel, Heero thought in hindsight, as they were both in the team clothes of polo shirts and shorts and the whole experience of sucking someone off in a dirty stall was not something that was a turn on if you were kneeling in fuck knew what.

Thoughts though were soon banished as it seemed Duo didn't want to play around or tease him, which Heero was grateful for – he didn't need a tongue to run around the head in teasing motions or any of that. Instead he had open lips over his dick, a hand at the base and then the warm wet heat of a mouth taking in as much of him as Duo could. It seemed it was pretty damn accurate what he imagined – that one way to stop the sarcastic comments was having his cock in his mouth as he was silent apart from an occasional hum that caused vibrations that felt too damn good. Instinctively, he reached out for that braid, his own guilty masturbation fantasy now not just a fantasy as he wrapped it around his hand and looked down to see Duo's eyes closed, mouth open, allowing him to move his hips in shallow thrusts in and out of his mouth. That damn surprised him but then he wasn't going to complain as the movement in imitation of actual fucking was sending sparks up his spine and then the visual image was pretty damn good – seeing his dick slide deeper and then out of open lips.

Guess that was the advantage of Duo's whole "I suck dick" statement – that he knew what felt good and was experienced at it. He felt himself dangerously close to approaching orgasm but then felt that warm pressure evaporate, replaced by a trail of saliva and nothing else.

"Duo? Heero?"

He looked down at Duo who met his eye, poised in front of his hard on, and they both knew it was easier not to speak in this damn situation. It was the team PR chick probably checking that they hadn't killed each other due to the whole bubbling testosterone bullshit. She'd probably thought Heero had followed him to punch him in the face or something. Not that he was currently being sucked off – or had been until she rudely interrupted.

"Are you in here?"

Heero's breath hitched for a second as he felt a tongue just at the tip of his cock, the roughness and pressure of it making a low moan escape his lips and he could only glare at Duo. Thankfully, she didn't hear and whether it was because it was the men's room or whether it was because they hadn't answered, the door closed.

"Close," Heero murmured and he heard Duo laugh – that same laugh that had started this damn thing – and then it was gone, replaced by lips and tongue working his dick.

He could have specified that they were close to being caught but then words were pretty much useless at this point as fingers went to his balls. Duo obviously had picked up his responses from their jerking off experience and knew it was something Heero liked. Then he felt his body tense as a finger explored and he felt the brush against his entrance, the hint of it there along with the stimulation around his dick making his thighs tense, his hand tighten around the braid in his hand and his hips thrust forward as much as Duo would allow. He looked down, the image of Duo blowing him being the final thing he needed as he felt his body pulse, felt the mouth around his dick relax to swallow the cum and he tried not to make much damn noise as he came hard.

The warmth left his cock and he knew his breathing was not entirely normal as Duo rose to his feet, his hands brushing at his knees. Heero's fingers let go of the braid, watching it slip from his fingers and wondering why it was for some reason such a poignant image. He wasn't given opportunity to damn recover.

"Your turn."

It was then he did think for a moment that he could leave the bathroom – that he'd not actually promised he'd return the favour – but he wasn't a complete asshole unlike popular opinion. He pushed Duo towards the stall wall in imitation of the altercation in Spain, like the bathroom on the yacht, and blue eyes widened a little at the hint of force. He slid one hand deliberately down and felt that Duo was hard, squeezing the cock he found there, and Duo's head went back against the stall at the pressure.

"You're hard for me just from sucking my dick," Heero said, twisting Duo's own words from their little escapade on the terrace of the Fairmont.

"So suck me off, Yuy… shit… you seriously don't want me to beg you…"

He'd stroked through the material of the shorts, the roughness of it creating extra friction, and he could tell that Duo had been hard for longer than him without release so the stimulation would feel more intense. The little moan and the crudeness of the language had an effect that Heero hadn't expected – it made him think about what they'd talked about on that terrace. That he wanted to fuck him. He wanted to hear the noises Duo made – wanted him to say all those things as he was balls deep in his ass – and he stopped the motions through Duo's shorts, hands finding buttons and zipper as he went to his own knees, feeling the cold tile against them as he pulled down boxers and shorts enough to bring out Duo's dick.

He smirked and looked up, breathing on the tip of it and he could see Duo had no damn patience now – a hand went to the back of his head and he tried to push him forward. He relented, his tongue circling the head first, tasting the hint of pre-cum before he opened his lips and he heard Duo's reaction – a muted "fuck" as he began to bob forward. His own hands stilled Duo's hips, not allowing him the same movement that he'd been allowed. Heero wasn't going to let him fuck his mouth, he was going to have the control over the experience and he could tell Duo was torn between his desire to move his hips and to just slump against the stall and enjoy what Heero was doing.

Trowa said he was good at giving head. Something about him being mono-focused on a task that meant that no matter what task he was given, he'd put all his effort into fucking doing it and that was his damn theory on why Heero gave good blowjobs. It was a rare long speech during their period of fucking on and off and Heero had only shrugged it off, unsure whether it was a compliment or an insult. He used his tongue along the underside all while letting the dick in his mouth nearly slip all the way out before taking more in – using his cheeks, using a hand to stroke any part his mouth was not pleasuring.

"Fuck… you're good…"

He heard the words and they made him pause for a moment as they were said in a more affectionate tone than anything they'd done before and he felt a hand on his face. One was still in his hair encouraging movement but… fuck.

This wasn't happening.

The hand stroked his face gently, moving away bangs from his eyes, a sort of touch that felt intimate – that was more than something you do for someone who is blowing you. And then he said his name, breathy and low.

"Heero…"

It really wasn't fucking happening.

Heero moved back onto his heels, the hard cock sliding from his lips and he felt the hand twist tighter in his hair to make him move his mouth back forward but he said one word.

"No."

He dislodged the hand in his hair and rose to his feet, tucking his own dick back into his underwear and shorts without looking at Duo.

"You are not fucking serious?" There was clear incredulity in his voice. More than that. He was flaming pissed.

"Jerk yourself off," Heero replied coolly and unlocked the stall, stepping out without looking back, wiping a hand across his lips. He could hear more swearing as he exited – the sound of a zipper and clothing being readjusted but he'd already stepped out into the main lobby of the hotel and even if Duo caught up with him, he was not going to tell him to suck his dick in front of the press – he had his playboy straight image to maintain.

It took him until arriving back in his own suite, running fingers through his hair, that he realised he'd truly fucked up. He shouldn't have let it get that far. Shouldn't have been exchanging damn blowjobs and sure as hell, Duo shouldn't have been telling him he was good, shouldn't have been putting his fingers on his face, shouldn't have said his name like that.

None of it should've happened as he had a race to win, a shadow to step out of – he had to be calm, focused and race ready. Instead, he was looking down at the street circuit from his hotel, punching the safety glass of the window in a futile gesture, and he realised he'd just walked out on giving Duo a blowjob because his hand had touched him gently, because he'd said his name like it meant something and for some reason that had been too much.