Title: Koji ma Oshi
author: Sol 1056
rating: NC-17 for sex, violence, and dirty mouths
warning: BDSM, psychological issues, post-post-EW
pairings: 2x1, 3x5x3, 4xR
Chapter Seventeen
I woke up before Heero, and in the early morning light filtered through shaded blinds, all I could think was: man, I did a number on my bedroom. Am I ever gonna get the bed back the way it was? On second thought, I might leave it... might come in handy again, braced like that. Hopefully, soon.
Naturally this led to wonderful post-major-fucking, morning-after plots forming in my devious little head. Never let it be said that Duo lies down on the job--well, I was lying down, but I was on the job. Yeah, morning wood, hello, and the visual of Heero? Some of me might've been lying down, but not the parts that mattered.
He was stretched on top of me again, and I clenched and released my right hand, trying to get feeling back into it. Heero muttered something, and curled up closer--if he could, he probably would've crawled inside me to sleep. As it was, he was plastered across me, and when he did raise his head, I was greeted with the silliest smile I'd ever seen. Damn, where's a camera when you need one?
Then the smile turned abruptly suspicious.
"Duo," Heero said, in a voice altogether too quiet. "There's no hair on my arms."
Plan A. I gave him an innocent smile.
He came up on an elbow, and ran his hand across his body, down under the sheets. He turned to me with a frown. "Nor my legs."
Plan A: failure. Time for Plan B: distraction. I groped his ass. "Yep."
"Duo... " Heero blinked a few times, then his eyes went impossibly wide. "Did you... " He flipped over on his back to stare down at his crotch, then looked over his shoulder at me. He looked like he'd just had someone smash a grapefruit down his throat and stomp on his foot at the same time: more surprised than disgusted, and mostly just speechless.
Okay. Plan C: direct attack.
I threw a leg over him, and sat up, scooting forward until my erection was nestled against his ass. Then I wrapped my arms around him, running my hands down to rub against his naked, exposed, crotch. Skin... bare skin... he shivered, and scowled, but I dodged the elbow jab easily.
"I thought it was... " His mutters dropped off, and he hunched over.
"Hmm?" I nibbled along his shoulder, and began stroking his cock. "You were saying something?"
"Stop that." Yep, growling. Pretty funny to see Heero trying to growl while that silly satisfied smile returned to his face, though. His hips shifted against my hand, and he glowered--didn't work. Smile was back almost immediately.
"Why? Sore?"
He grunted.
Well, I had no problem taking that as a 'no'--if he were sore, he would've said so, and then elbowed me even stronger. But he just scowled at nothing in particular--though his cock was more than happy at my ministrations. All I needed was the lube... where'd it go... ah-hah. I kept my hand on him, and caught the tube with my fingertips, dragging it toward me.
"What are you--"
I squeezed, and Heero choked on his words. "Shh," I told him. "You're obviously not awake yet, and failing to bring me coffee in bed, I think--"
"Duo," he said, voice dropping to a definite warning tone. "There is no hair on my body. Don't think you--"
I pushed his shoulders forward, bending him over, and rammed my finger in his ass. So much for conversation. Heero's words went from annoyed coherence to tiny whimpers in nothing flat. Hell, my Gundam couldn't have shut down that fast. Impressive. I crooked my finger, twisting, then pulled out and slathered the rest of the lube in my palm... up and down my cock, and hell, I felt seventeen again--sex three times in twenty-four hours! Damn! I might die young after all, at that rate.
I had no complaints. Nor, it appeared, did Heero. With a few guiding pokes from me, he'd shifted to come up on his hands and knees, and I had one of the best views in the house--my cock, sliding into his ass. Oh yeah. All I needed, I decided--in that last split second before all mental processes would flee--was one more item for the room. A large mirror. Then I could see Heero's face while I slid into him... but the sounds were more than enough.
He whimpered while I pushed in, keened when I dug my nails into his hips and yanked him backwards, and gave an open-throated cry when I sat on my ankles. It seated him fully, and he arched his back against me. Unfortunately, my knees took that moment to remind me that I really wasn't up to doing that brilliant move again. Crap. Rising up on my knees sent him forward onto all fours again, and I had a bit more range as well.
Yeah, oh... so deep. So tight, pistoning my hips into that heat--fuck yeah. I arched over Heero, one hand planted by his head and the other stroking his cock, biting and gnawing along his shoulder. He'd been reducing to grunted whimpers, and I happily growled in his ear, loving the way he shuddered under me.
Y'know, shit. I honestly would give up coffee if this became the daily replacement for how to wake up in the morning.
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Second best thing in the morning: hot shower. Damn my back was killing me, and my knees popped when I moved from bedroom to bathroom. I felt like an old man, and the sight of myself in the mirror didn't help--shit, my hair's a tangled mess. I leaned closer, then pulled my braid around to investigate--crap, I got oil and lube in the hair, too. Yeech.
Twenty minutes to wash body and hair, and another ten to just let the hot water pound down on my back. When I started to feel human--in body, since in mind I was still somewhere quite euphoric--I shut off the water, wrung out my hair, and got dressed.
Heero was waiting at the kitchen table with coffee.
"Your turn," I said, and leaned over to kiss him deeply. He made a pleased sound in his throat, then caught sight of the hair on my arms and made a face. I chuckled. "Go on. Shower. Then I think we'll swing by the shuttle port."
"I have some reports to check on," he said, getting up.
"Yeah, but there're some Runners coming through, and I wanted to do face-to-face while I could... " My words trailed off, too busy enjoying the view.
He was completely naked--still--and I made a show of adjusting myself in my jeans while he poured me a cup of coffee. He glanced down at my crotch, then his, and gave me a disbelieving look before shoving the mug at me.
"What?" I went for innocently amused.
"And people say I'm inhuman!" He snorted at me, turning to go.
I caught him in the ass with the palm of my hand. Heero merely flipped me off over his shoulder, strolling to the bathroom with a nice red handprint on his ass.
I liked the look of that.
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Conversation was limited on the way to the shuttle port--neither of us were big on discussing much of anything while a cabbie sat in the front seat--but what was most intriguing to me was the way Heero changed as much as I did, once we arrived. Nothing so deep, really, but his façade was in place. It dawned on me that I'd always been able to see through that, and therefore had taken him at face value, as someone who had no masks.
Oh, how wrong I was--and it had taken stripping away all of his defenses to realize just how tightly he could screw his face on. If I hadn't seen him arching in the bindings the night before, heard him shriek and beg me to fuck him--well, I sure as hell would've thought I was walking into the hangar alongside one seriously cold motherfucker.
Instead, I was walking into the hangar next to a man who looked lethal, moved with a dangerous air... and under his jeans, had no hair on his legs. It lent a rather twisted aspect to my usual cynical smile, I'm sure.
Heero just glared at me. I had no doubt he knew exactly what I was thinking. He fell in a half step behind--boy, are we fifteen again, or what, Heero? Me, leading the way with a grin and a wave, and him checking all the exits and calculating time and distance required to take down all moving objects in a hundred-yard range. Old habits.
"Maxwell," someone shouted.
A dark-haired man stepped down from the Runner-ship. It was an old behemoth, one that had to date from before the wars, and probably ran cargo from continent to continent, often refueling mid-air.
"Carlson," I yelled back, striding up with a grin, hand out for a quick shake and a hug. "How's tricks?"
"Not bad. Just finished a three-week run. Half my guys have family in this area, so this won the vote for a week's break." Carlson rubbed his forehead, leaving a streak of grease behind. "Glad you came by," he added, dropping to a whisper. He studied Heero for a moment, then me, a question in his eyes. I nodded once, and he relaxed, but only by a fraction. "Check Hangar Eighteen, at the end of the row. Buncha Runners came in late last night... most of them are colony-born, but they're down here for some reason."
I leaned against his ship's hull with a casual smirk. "When did dirtside and the big black stop mixing?"
"We do just fine," Carlson replied, mildly indignant. He glanced at Heero again, who was examining the ship with a disinterested air, but I could see the line of tension in Heero's shoulders. Carlson shrugged. "Just... one of my guys was down at the roach coach getting breakfast, and those Runners were talking about finding repair parts for a X-jay."
"There's a lot of X-jays doing runs."
"With a crew none of my guys recognized?" Carlson shook his head. "Just that they're keeping to themselves, and that alone is enough to raise suspicion. In my books." He glanced at Heero again, that time a bit more pointedly, and I took the hint.
"Carlson, this is Heero. Heero, make nice."
Heero startled me by flashing Carlson a quick smirk, then arching an eyebrow at me as if to say, how's that? Carlson laughed and clapped me on the back.
"You always do end up with the ones with attitude," he said.
"Do not," I couldn't help but grumble.
"Not what I heard from Howard."
"Howard!" I rolled my eyes. "Don't even talk to me about that old fart. He's been telling stories from here to L3 since I was a kid, and it's getting annoying."
"Yeah, but now he tells stories with visual aids," Carlson said. Bastard looked like he was about to pop a gasket from stifling his laughter; I didn't sulk, but I thought about it. Carlson just grinned wider. "Ooh, you didn't know? Apparently the little lady sent him pictures. Damn, you were one scrawny kid, man."
"Fuck off," I snarled, and tilted my head to glare down at him. "Not scrawny any more, am I?"
"Couldn't fit you into a Gundam now without turning you into a pretzel," he observed, and just as quickly grew serious. "Look, about that crew. Just call it a gut instinct."
Heero's head came up sharply at that, and I was treated to a long silent interaction between the two. I'd counted at least ten heartbeats before Heero nodded, reassured. Carlson looked somewhere between relieved and slightly ill--that's my boy, Heero. Make nice by intimidating the fuck out of my friends. Great.
"I've got to jet," Carlson continued, turning to me. "Meeting the guys for lunch before we start loading up for the next run."
"Thanks for the tip."
"Anytime, Kid." He waved us off, and we left. I couldn't help but snarl when I heard Heero chuckle, but I reassured myself with the thought that he was still hairless.
The one problem with coming to adulthood among Sweepers was that they would never, ever forget anything, let alone anything suitable for use as humiliation aids. Five-one and ninety-seven pounds sopping wet holding a brick, at that. I could've hit six-five and three hundred pounds and they'd still call me scrawny. Bastards.
"What's wrong, Duo?" Heero narrowed his eyes at me, and for a moment I thought that was concern. Then his lips twitched, and I knew he was laughing at me.
"Nothing," I grumbled. "Just planning Howard's funeral."
He nearly stumbled at that, and I realized what I'd said. I blinked a few times, then shook my head, lengthening my stride across the tarmac and down the row of shuttle bays. Man, I had come a long way, if I could make a joke like that.
But it didn't change the fact that I was gonna wring Howard's neck, the next time I saw him. Damned geezer.
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Hangar Eighteen seemed deserted, but for a large carrier jet, not much different from the kind Heero and I had stolen, years before. The hair on the back of my neck went up, and I pulled my braid around, stroking it once or twice.
"What is it," Heero said; his blue eyes darted from shadow to shadow in the large space.
"Dunno. Stay close." It went without saying that I expected him to follow my lead. I pasted a smile on my face, and hollered into the hangar. "Hey, Carlson! Man, you in here?"
Rattling came from the jet, and the hatch was unlocked and swung up. A short man about as wide as the door--and probably all muscle, judging from the thickness of his neck or lack thereof--glared down at me.
"Whaddaya want," he barked. A few more faces appeared behind him, all equally unfriendly.
"Looking for Carlson. Heard his Runner team's in town. They said he docked at Fifteen."
"This ain't fifteen." The guy laughed, a coarse sound, and turned to the tall pasty-faced man next to him, who wore a pilot's patch on his Runner's jacket. "Kid can't count. Hangar's eighteen, right?"
"Right," the pilot said, sneering down at me.
"You heard 'em. This here's eighteen. Get lost."
The guy's jacket was red. A Runner. But being so distinctly unfriendly was rather unusual for Runners, who tended towards the talkative, social types. They had to be; they were always on the move, and always strangers in every town except among other Runners. It was Sweepers who tended towards closemouthed, protecting their sources closely, but even then Sweepers weren't much more comfortable than Runners in any port--and port was the last place to start a fight. No room to run, really.
"Shit, my mistake. Party every night," I replied, peering around at the carrier like I was fascinated, "and it makes for every day being fuzzy, know what I mean?"
I stepped back a half step, pleased when Heero reacted instinctively and moved with me; it meant he remained at my left shoulder, and just a few inches behind me. At the same time I rubbed my thumb and forefinger together, as though wiping off something on my fingers. At the edge of my peripheral vision, I could see Heero frowning down at my hand before he recognized the old signal. He lowered his head to stare at the Runner crew from under his eyelashes, and stayed behind me. Satisfied, I tucked my hands in my jeans pockets and rocked back on my heels.
"You can fly things this big?"
Heero didn't make a noise. Probably didn't even move, but I could feel the amused disdain rolling off him in waves. I resisted the urge to elbow him to get him to stop, though I knew the fat guy in red hadn't noticed Heero's response.
"Yeah, kid," the guy snarled. "Look, we're busy. Ain't running a tour operation here. Your buddy Carlsberg--"
"Carlson."
"Yeah, whatever. This hangar's number eighteen." He glared at both of us, then slammed the door shut.
"Sorry!" I yelled up. "Didn't mean to interrupt the beauty sleep!" I waved cheerfully, then turned and strolled off. Heero followed directly behind me, on edge and annoyed with me. I could tell. His footfalls were echoing a little louder than when we'd walked in. "Chill, Heero," I said. "Oh, and start planning now what you want to wear tonight."
"Duo," he replied, in that tone of voice that indicates bodily harm will be imminent of no explanations are forthcoming. Or, more precisely, tell me what you're doing or I'll be very cranky.
"Hold on," I retorted, waiting until we were outside. I took a deep breath and stretched, arms over my head, then grinned widely at him, recalling the familiar face over the fat guy's shoulder. "Turns out we've got a snitch on that crew. Not sure if he'll talk to me. I've met him before, so he might."
"And?"
"We're meeting him at the club," I said, ignoring Heero's immediate tension. I glanced sideways at Heero's intent profile. "You up to playing both roles at once?"
Heero was silent for a moment, and I knew he was assessing his abilities. When he nodded, only once, I knew he'd passed his own mental test. Good enough; it'd have to do. Because frankly, I wasn't sure I could play the submissive and also be ready to drop into Preventer's mode at the snap of a finger. If he thought he was up to it, I'd trust him on that.
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Heero met me at his apartment door wearing leather pants--tight enough to remind me he had a nice-sized cock--and a leather jacket. He'd not yet put on socks and boots, and he had no shirt... and the only other thing he was wearing was a smirk.
Nice image.
"Need a drink before we go?" He maneuvered easily around the stacks of books, heading into his tiny kitchen, and getting me a glass of water. "I'll be right back."
"Sure." I set my bag on the table and drank the water, leaning against the countertop. With every sip, I tried to get the last nine hours of online conversations, email, and three conference calls out of my head.
There were just too many damn Sweepers and Runners out there, and only one of me. They didn't know Heero well enough--though with my reference they were willing to extend Hilde-plus-Gundam-Pilot-02 to mean Hilde as ally of all Gundam Pilots. But even with Heero helping--to some limited extent; he did better on the written interface than person--it was still a crapload of catch-up, even having only left work three hours early, the day before. That's all it took to fall behind, and then coming in three hours late... fuck. I was wiped.
I'd been able to notify most that I wanted their eyes and ears narrowed down to the Preventers, but even that was... well, disturbing. If anything, I was getting more reports, not less. Inconsistent rules, questionable interpretations of shipping laws, bribes, and corrupt officials looking the other way--or worse, going after Sweepers in defense of competing Sweeper teams. Open season for Sweepers and Runners to manipulate and play the system, with the Preventers more than happy to help out with egregious, repeated, preferential treatment.
"Duo?" Heero stood before me, taking the glass out of my hand. "You okay?"
"Yeah." I sighed, and gave him a tight smile. I didn't feel like smiling. I imagined he could tell; his expression remained impassive, those steel-blue eyes flickering over me as if assessing injuries. "Just tired."
He didn't ask me if I were up to it. There was no doubt I had to be, since we didn't know how long the Runner crew would be dirtside, and there was even a chance my long shot guess was too long for even my devilish luck.
"The guy's a dominant," I said, and pushed away from the counter. The sapphire blue leathers creaked with the movement, and I wished for my nicely broken-in riding leathers. I could wear them, no doubt, but I'd be dying of heat stroke after ten minutes in the club. And I knew I'd made the right choice of the black mesh top when I caught Heero staring at my chest. I snapped my fingers by my face. "Eyes are up here. Ogle me later."
Heero smirked and crossed his arms. It made his pecs stand out even more nicely, and I realized I was the one ogling. Damn it, pay attention. Heero is second mission--right now, there's a pre-existing assignment that overrides everything else. I took a breath, and that statement went from minor nagging to becoming the truth. Heero must've noticed the change, because his smirk faded, and he dropped his arms, waiting.
"The guy plays with Celestina when he's in town. I know she's always there on Wednesdays, so hopefully he's joining her." I checked my watch; almost nine. We'd get there by nine-thirty. "He seemed to be a cool guy, though I don't know why a Sweeper's moved to Running. But I noticed he also stands on roles, at the club."
"Which means you intend to, as well."
"Yeah. You up to it?"
Heero snorted. "What are your rules?"
"Half-step behind me, flank my left side." I pondered the question, sorting through the behaviors I'd seen. "Don't move away without asking first, and return as soon as you can." I added, just to be a smartass, "let me do the talking."
He rolled his eyes, and picked up his keys from the counter. "Anything else?"
"Hm." I eyed his ass in those tight leather jeans, and decided I wasn't just going for the mission. There was a certain dominant I'd not seen in two months, that I knew Heero had been seeing on a semi-regular basis. Time I start marking territory. "Stop."
Heero halted at the kitchen threshold, looking over his shoulder with a puzzled expression.
"Come back here," I said, smiling in a predatory manner. His eyes narrowed, but he walked back to me, only looking somewhat confused when I turned him and bent him over the table.
"Duo?"
"Tonight I'm Dao," I reminded him. "Unlike you, my name's not exactly a household word."
Heero chuckled, then tensed when I stood behind him, reaching around to undo the jeans and pull them down around his thighs. He started to stand up, protesting, and I placed my hand between his shoulder blades and pushed him back down.
"Stay there," I ordered, running my other hand across his ass. "I'm not done."
"Dao," he said, but his voice had gone husky. Good sign. Excellent sign.
I reached for my bag, withdrawing the two things I'd need. He stiffened, muscles tightening under my palm when he heard the tube's cap pop off. I poured out enough, one handed, and didn't hesitate: I rammed my finger up his ass, and he arched his back, moaning softly. I stroked in and out, relubing twice--with all the calluses on my hands, it wasn't nearly as gentle or smooth as my cock would have been and that made lube not just a requirement but an undeniable necessity. By the time he was rocking against my hand, I knew he was ready, and withdrew my finger. Then I pressed up against him, holding him in place with my legs. I dropped the tube into my bag and brought out the buttplug.
About time... stupid thing had been gathering dust long enough. I detached the two parts, leaving only the plug itself in my hand, and began pressing the small red plug into his ass. He moaned, striving to take in more and more with each shove, until it slid in with a pop.
"Dao," Heero murmured. His forehead was pressed to the tabletop, his hands splayed. He shuddered, and raised his head an inch. "Please... "
"Shh," I said. "You'll wear that all night, just so you don't run the risk of forgetting who you're going home with."
"Like I could possibly--" He broke off with a moan when I prodded the plug one more time, making sure it was seated fully.
Then I pulled up his pants, and felt along the back seam for the raised screw pointing out from the plug. Raised screw--yeah, something like that. I chuckled, and pulled out my shortest blade. A single, tiny puncture, a bit of wiggling the leather around, and the screw pushed through. Knife put away, I picked up the second half of the plug, and carefully screwed it on. Heero was silent, but his breathing was ragged.
When I was done, I stepped away with a wicked little chuckle. "Okay, now we're ready."
Heero stood up--I was gratified to see he was unsteady on his feet--and then he twisted around to stare down at the bright red devil's tail hanging down from his ass. He grabbed it, bringing it around to point the forked tail at me.
"What the hell is this?" Heero glared. "I'm not wearing this--"
That's when I hit the remote control in my pocket. His eyes went wide, and he gripped the tail tightly, hissing through gritted teeth.
"I'd say you are," I purred, and stepped forward. I caught him by the hips, then cupped his ass and yanked him up against me. Oh, he was hard, so fucking hard, and my own erection was more than happy for the pressure. "As a matter of fact... " I bent down, kissing him deeply until his eyes half-closed. Glazed, panting... oh, he was beautiful. "I do say you are, and that's final. And... you'll wear it all night. Misbehave, and it won't go well. Behave, and you'll get a reward." I released one hand to dig in my pocket for the remote, and flipped the button. Heero moaned in my arms, hips thrusting against mine.
"That... " He panted, getting his words only once I'd cut off the vibration, "is not a reward." He narrowed his eyes at me, but the glower didn't carry its usual iciness. "That's torture... Dao," he added, as an afterthought.
"But the best kind. So be good, or I'll make you call me Master." I couldn't resist.
Heero arched an eyebrow. "Master of idiotic--"
I hit the switch.
"Ah... " His open mouth, wordless, was too tempting. I ran my tongue along his lips and into his mouth, until he kissed me back. He pressed himself against me, almost as though he were trying to crawl up me, into me... and hot damn, Heero was humping my damn leg, moaning helplessly, finger trembling, hot breath on my mouth...
And we'd never get to the club if I kept that up. I turned off the vibrator, and he slumped in my arms.
"Don't... do... that... again," he warned.
"Right," I agreed, cheerfully, and got a snarl for my efforts. "I'll call a cab. Come on, we've got scenes to see and people to do."
Heero scowled, but straightened his jacket, locking the door behind us. For a moment I rethought having him walk a bit behind me--I'd be missing out on seeing that red vinyl tail moving behind him with each step, the curve at the end bringing the forked-end up as if waving hello. Naw. I could always enjoy it again later. Besides, not seeing it constantly in front of me would at least be one less distraction. I hoped.
He walked down the hallway, just behind me, giving off those guarded vibes--and I knew they were currently concentrated entirely on me. He was trying to prepare himself for the next onslaught, and watching me carefully to determine what kind of clues would give him warning. Fuck, I was supposed to be good under those circumstances? To hell with that! I can hardly manage it the best of times.
So naturally I had to hit the switch one more time as we left the building, and Heero nearly fell down the stairs from freezing mid-step at the momentary jolt in his ass. I kept my face straight, but he wasn't fooled. He growled and stalked off towards the cab, while I followed, perfectly nonchalant. He yanked the door open, not waiting for me, and got in--and I was treated to the sight of Heero coming up off his seat just as rapidly. Got ya in the ass, eh, Heero? He glared, daring me to laugh, and settled himself back down gingerly, doing his best to keep from sitting directly on the tail.
"Providence and Thirty-eight," I told the cabbie, then sat back. I spread my legs, and at an angle the cabbie couldn't see, I palmed my erection through the leathers. Heero frowned, reaching out, but I swatted his hand away. He made a face, crossed his arms, and sulked the rest of the way to the club.
I don't know how I managed to keep from even just grinning... but by the time we got to the club, I was in work-mode. Beyond work-mode. Intent, focused. It was all one big scene, really... and I'd make any power-play necessary to bring down the assholes who'd sold the crap that had killed my best friend. Heero remained behind me, close enough for me to feel the heat off him, catch that familiar scent of gun-oil and spices. He was in the mode, too, and all the fun devil's tails in the world wouldn't keep us from doing what had to be done.
On to Chapter eighteen
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