Usual adult themes include self-injury, suicide, substance abuse, and some boy x boy. Yes, you are welcome.
Heero was always one for routine. And once a week, we would find ourselves curled up on the couch together watching a terrible movie (that I always got to pick), with pizza boxes strewn about us. It was my designated distraction after my weekly psychiatrist appointment, a chance to relax and not have to dwell on what was said during the session. I would usually get onslaughted with night terrors the same night as we attempted to bring down my mental blocks each week.
This evening I found myself in a similar situation, a full belly and mental exhaustion. My head resting in Heero's lap with him stroking my hair. A privilege reserved only for him, and he knew it. The first time I had ever let him really touch my hair was during the war. I had desperately wanted to wash my hair but struggled due to a bullet wound in my arm, which of course he blamed himself for. He had offered to do it, expecting me to decline, as he knew I had some serious attachment to it. No one other than Sister Helen had touched my hair until then. Anyone that had commented on it, usually derogatory comments about boys and long hair, would often end up with a broken nose or worse. Seeing Heero so unsure how to care for it was, and he would glare at me for all eternity if he knew this, but it was adorable. He had only ever just used a bit of soap and then let his own air dry, but now he had this mass of chestnut locks to learn about. He needed some guidance, but his childlike fascination and how carefully he dealt with this self-imposed mission, had me purring under his touch. I never knew that touches like this could be sensual. It took him weeks to learn how to braid it though. I would find braided towels and string for weeks. It was only once he had mastered it did he attempt it. Perfect, just like him.
His hands gently stroked me, and I let them adventure over my skin. He would always linger over my scar tissue, examining each one and making a mental road map of them. He let me cut, knowing it was how I dealt with everything. He didn't like it, but he made sure that I knew he loved me regardless. One day I might not fall into this habit /one day, not yet/. But it had definitely happened less since Heero had returned to me.
As I drifted on the edge of sleep, lulled by his caress, I moaned. I couldn't help it. His hand paused for a moment, and I knew that even though it was almost silent, that he had heard it with his superhuman hearing. He began his deft touch again, moving from my hair to the dip of my waist where my skin was exposed with my t-shirt riding up to expose my midriff. There he traced lazy feather-like circles on my skin. I found myself moving so that I could lie on my back, my head still resting on his lap, but looking up into his eyes. Those eyes, I could get lost in them forever. His hand moved to my stomach and I groaned as it trailed lower towards my lounge pants.
I could feel my pillow harden, and I gave another moan, closing my eyes as my head tilted back exposing my neck to him and creating friction against the bulge as I moved. He faltered only for an instant before his hand slipped beneath the elastic and brushed against my own hardening member, which only made me moan louder and move my head again causing him to gasp.
I opened my eyes to see his own filled with lust, his lips parted and greedy. We hadn't been together since his return. It had been over a year and a half since we had had each other. The last six months had been hell. Quick cold showers and sidestepped conversions. Heero was delicate in both body and mind. And I was terrified of him seeing that state of my body which had become a horrific scarred mess in the time we were apart, knowing that seeing it would cause another internal battle of guilt. Maybe we were ready, maybe not. But the need was there and we both felt it beginning to overflow.
Reaching my arms up to wrap around his neck and pull him down into a crushing kiss, letting him understand not just the need, but that I was ready for him to finally have me again. The kiss was returned with the same desperation. There was never any real need to communicate that particular craving to each other. Silent expressions said more than words ever could. When we parted I found myself being picked up, amazed by his returning strength, and being taken to the bedroom, where I was placed gently on the bed.
As I got comfortable Heero had removed his tank top. This is unfortunately when my anxiety came crashing down around me, suffocating me. He would see me completely naked for the first time in what felt like forever. I still had a bandage around my upper arm with fresh cuts from the night before where I had stressed about the upcoming psych appointment. He had seen parts of me in the six months, but never fully naked. My throat restricted as the realisation flittered across his face. I wanted him but I didn't want him to be repulsed.
I think he understood as I attempted to cover my exposed skin. My throbbing need was painfully ignored. Dropping his shirt he straddled me. Naked apart from his spandex shorts which clung to him. Unable to move while he pinned me, he leaned forward, this time for a gentle kiss. Need forgotten, this was about so much more now. Tears stung the corners of my eyes and I let my arms wrap around him pulling him closer so less of my skin was in view. I didn't want my tears to spoil a moment that was so important in both of our recoveries. But one must have fallen as he gently cupped my chin and used a thumb to wipe it away. "I'm sorry Ro," I whispered.
"I love you Duo," came the quiet response. "I love every single part of you." He moved my chin to guide my eyes to his. "Show me."
My heart skipped a beat and I closed my eyes. Somehow I found myself nodding slowly, silent permission for him to pull my shirt from me. I was losing a metaphorical shield. Sharing myself with my love shouldn't have been as difficult as it was. But the weight of his body, as he straddled me, was comforting.
I raised my arms as he tugged the shirt over my head. The movement tugged on the bandage, but there were only superficial wounds beneath that likely would not bleed. The sudden coldness and exposure caused goose bumps to flash against my skin. But it was replaced with his gentle touch as he began to stroke my arms. Inspecting each one /comparing it to his first encounter with them/. He ran his fingers over the deepest scars that were almost ravines. They were thick, white, and sensitive. I gasped as his lips met them; leaving gentle kisses over the damaged tissue. Tears threatened to fall again but again I refused to let them. He took particular interest in one long faded but still familiar scar that bore the signs of stitches that he had placed so very long ago. It trailed from the crook of my elbow down to the wrist /failure/.
"Duo…" He leaned back and rested his hands on my chest. An accidental brushing of my exposed sensitive nipples made me quietly gasp. "Duo, look at me." I opened my eyes slowly, expecting to see disgust on his face, but instead, I saw acceptance and love. "You are beautiful."
"Really?" I bit my lip.
He nodded. "Really." This time when he moved forward to capture my lips, he purposefully brushed my nipples, knowing full well that that was one of my turn-ons. The kiss we shared was an outpouring of everything that had been building for the last six months together. Everything that we hadn't shared, everything that we regretted that we hadn't done, was in that kiss. It was a kiss of pure desperation that triggered those feelings deep in my groin, which had begun to harden again painfully, not remembering when it last felt the bliss of release.
This time when he pulled away, instead of returning to my arms, he moved lower, taking control, while I felt like a deer in headlights. His tongue flittered over each nipple in turn before he blew on it. I gasped in shock as the feeling sent more lightning bolts down to a bulge that was being suffocated by the tightness of the material imprisoning it. He laid kisses down my chest until he reached the elastic of my lounge pants and underwear. He lightly rubbed me through the material causing me to almost beg his name. After being teased for what felt like forever, he slowly removed the last of my clothing and exposed my member.
I was acutely aware that for the first time in what felt like forever, I was fully naked before him, and the anxiety was returning with a vengeance. Before it took control, Heero had dropped his mouth down onto my cock and gave it a quick suck, knowing that we were both close to reaching our limits.
Quickly he removed his own shorts, releasing his own throbbing erection, and reached over to grab the lube from the drawer beside the bed. The lube now slick on his fingers gave him pause, suddenly unsure of himself. But I guided his fingers down to my entrance. We both needed this. Encouraged, he circled my hole, gently pushing into it. As much as I needed this lovemaking, he was driving me nuts. I clenched the sheets tightly and tried to push myself onto his fingers. He smirked at me before slowly and carefully sliding it into me causing me to gasp and throw my head back as the familiar pain washed over me in anticipation of what I knew would come soon. A guttural scream escaped me.
He was still smirking as he watched me writhe before him. Moving that finger in and out of me, slicking the passage before another finger joined. He stretched me with familiar experience. When he brushed that sweet spot in me, I was begging for him to take me. It wasn't long until he removed his fingers, and applied another thick coating of lube to his own throbbing and forgotten erection. I groaned at the emptiness but knew what was coming.
We shuffled around until he was able to easily slide into me. I wrapped my arms around him and he slowly entered me inch by perfect inch, filling me completely. There is nothing else that compares to this feeling of being connected to the one that you love so completely.
He started to move slowly within me, at a slow but steady pace, until his body quivered with his own desperate need for release and he began to thrust into me harder and faster. His cock hit that special place in me and I saw stars, over and over again. On the verge of my release, my passage tightened around him, and my nails dug into his back leaving half-moon welts that bled against his perfect pale skin.
Thrusting more frantically now on the edge of his own release, he hit me in that magic place again, and I threw my head back almost screaming his name. He groaned, reaching around to pump my own cock desperately until the feeling was all too much and I came gushing into his hand. After a few more thrusts he filled me with his own release and then collapsed around me.