Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell ❯ Dawning ( Chapter 34 )

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 34/?

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Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex.

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:
http://www.atsui.org
http://www.gundam-wing-diaries.150m.com/gw /Mookie/gwmookie.htm

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

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Chapter 34 - Dawning

Heero could barely open his eyes. The contacts felt like they'd permanently bonded to his corneas. Too bad they didn't make colored contacts designed for extended wear.

He'd have sworn he removed them sometime during the night, but proof that he had not was making it difficult to keep his eyes open.

Duo was spooned behind him, his erection digging into Heero's back. His breathing was soft and even. Heero found the feeling of familiarity both welcome and unnerving.

He placed his left hand over Duo's, where it was resting on his stomach, and squeezed it gently before lifting Duo's arm and wriggling forward to get free.

He stumbled to the bathroom and filled one of the tumblers with water. His eyes were killing him, and he struggled to keep them open long enough to peel the contacts out of first one eye, then the other.

The lenses went into the glass of water and he rinsed his face, letting the water flush his eyes a bit, too, before rummaging around for the lens cleaning supplies and eye lubricant he'd obtained from Howard earlier in the week.

Several minutes later, the contacts were secure in their plastic case and his eyes were starting to feel less like he'd just spent the last few hours staring unblinkingly into an exhaust vent.

He snagged Duo's robe on the way out of the bedroom and headed for the balcony, feeling the need to reassure himself that the city was still there for some inexplicable reason. He seated himself on one of the deck chairs and leaned back, putting his bare feet up on the round glass table situated between the chairs and crossing them at the ankles. The robe fell partly open, but he barely noticed.

Sex with Duo the night before had been admittedly different. It had all started with that stupid movie. It seemed like his entire life was caught up in drugs, in some form or another. Even in his present situation, he couldn't escape the taint of controlled substances.

His arrangement with Duo technically ended on the morrow, but he was sure that he could talk his way out of it if he really wanted. The only variable in that plan was Duo's reaction. If it were Duo's idea, on the other hand...

He'd made his decision the day before that he was done after this. Did that mean he actually had to finish this ridiculous farce of a service contract?

He rubbed a hand over his face and noted the smoothness beneath his palm. He, for one, had never really grown much facial hair, a trait that gave him a boyish appearance at times and had come in handy in several situations in the past. On the other hand, he suspected Duo probably shaved every morning. It would be easy enough to find evidence of that activity, if he really wanted to verify that assumption, but it was one of those insignificant details that he felt he just...knew.

So what now, Yuy?

He knew the answer to that, for the most part. He just had to decide what he was going to do about the verbal agreement he'd entered into with Duo.

If only things had been different...

"Circumstances rule men and not men rule circumstances," he muttered, then frowned. He hadn't heard that particular line in ages. His mind was obviously working overtime.

Regardless, he would not be ruled by the circumstances he'd mired himself in. For that matter, he'd not be ruled by those thrust upon him, either.

Which brought his thoughts right back to Duo.

In the past twenty-four hours, he'd felt like he'd gone through the proverbial wringer. He'd acted on a hunch, shared most of his findings with Relena Peacecraft, and practically come to blows with her brother, only to later end up involved in a similar situation with Duo.

Which, in turn, had led to a completely different kind of physical confrontation.

He was still struggling with his constantly evolving opinion of Duo, and was forced to admit that a good healthy dose of lust kept coloring things, try as he might to ignore it. He'd realized his physical attraction toward Duo had started Sunday night, when Duo had been so eager to attempt fellatio for the first time.

The power struggle they had been engaged in from the beginning added an almost shameful element to their pseudo-relationship; one that Heero found addictive. As much as he delighted in changing that smug confident look on Duo's face to one of needy confusion, he also found Duo's attempts to seduce him turned him on in ways that he found surprising - and more than a little satisfying.

Sex with his johns was just work, and not something to be enjoyed. Sex with Quatre, while it had been gratifying physically, lacked that element of...danger, he supposed. His roommate was no pushover himself, but from the moment Quatre had kissed him, he'd known that he'd never have to worry about Quatre trying to hurt him, physically or emotionally. Heero had never been one to take the easy road, although there were times when he truly regretted his inability to reciprocate Quatre's feelings. Perhaps he might have been able to, if they'd met under different circumstances.

Again, everything revolved around circumstances!

Quatre's last parting words of advice to him had been 'don't kiss on the mouth,' and although Heero really hadn't planned on it, no more than he'd planned on shaking hands with his clients, that imparted bit of wisdom meant so many things.

Quatre wasn't just telling him it was too intimate, something that ran the risk of getting him involved personally, he was also telling Heero that it was a very precious thing, something to be shared when it meant something. Heero doubted very much that he'd ever run the risk of falling for a client, but since he didn't have the slightest desire to kiss anyone, it was a moot point.

The other thing Quatre had been telling him was that he'd broken his own rule and was paying for it dearly.

~~~~~

Duo rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head. The air-conditioning unit must have kicked on during the night, because all the warmth seemed to be sucked out of the bed.

He reached one hand out of the cocoon of bedding and hit the nightstand. With a soft curse, he rolled the other way and repeated the gesture, only to run his palm over the rapidly cooling spot on the sheets.

Heero was gone.

He sat up abruptly and blinked several times. It seemed that the sun had been up for a while. Usually he closed the curtains before going to bed, but he couldn't remember following that practice regularly since he'd gotten to LA.

He ran a tongue around his mouth, wincing at its cottony texture and admitting he probably had a severe case of morning breath.

Not that it mattered to anyone but himself.

But it did matter to him, and he didn't have to suffer from it out of spite, so he got up and went to the bathroom, taking the time to wash his hands and face as well as brushing his teeth before setting out to find Heero. He was pretty sure he'd know where to find him.

~~~~~

How had he allowed things to become such a mess with Quatre? He'd been so caught up in trying to atone for something he had no control over, he'd allowed himself to get close to another person, and had cruelly withdrawn just as quickly.

Quatre always seemed so optimistic, in blatant defiance of the many risks involved in prostitution. It was obvious his life hadn't always been one of living off the street. Heero sometimes detected a little crease of concern between his eyebrows when Quatre emerged from the restroom a respectable length of time after his client did, and it had taken him a while to figure that out, too, much to his later chagrin.

He hadn't really given much thought to Quatre's reasons for doing what he was doing, before this week. Unless he counted the day he'd asked, in a roundabout way, how Quatre managed to cope.

Heero didn't usually beat around the bush, but he'd been so wrapped up in the cloak of misery, he'd been little more than a lost little boy. And Quatre had seen that, and had taken him in, and given him something concrete.

Instead of taking what Quatre offered so freely, he'd slammed the door on his emotions, stubbornly clinging to his lone wolf facade, and left Quatre confused and hurting.

He'd always assumed that Quatre had his own little support group...his sister, who called faithfully, even when Quatre urged Trowa to put her off until another time. Trowa, who always gave the impression that he was listening, even if he was busy doing something else at the same time. Otto, and Nate, and, what-was-his-name, Saul, and the other rotating group of poker junkies that met practically every night to donate their hard earned money to one of their number.

He even had a few regular clients that seemed genuinely fond of Quatre, and Heero knew that Quatre, in turn, had a soft spot for them, as evidenced by that concerned expression he sometimes wore after a job. Perhaps that was why Quatre preferred to avoid repeat customers. Usually he'd tease the ones he'd just finished with by laughing and throwing out some quip along the lines of 'tell your friends,' and damned if they didn't.

Duo...what support structure did Duo have?

Meiran was definitely protective of Duo, in her own subtle way. And perhaps Wufei as well, although Heero doubted Chang realized it himself. And at one time, there had been a girlfriend, Hilde, Duo had said her name was, although from the way Duo had spoken of her, he felt that relationship had been less solid than the one Duo had with Meiran.

And who do YOU have, Yuy?

He'd had Kitty. At one time, he had his parents, and to be honest, should he really need anything, he probably still did. But not for this.

There hadn't been anyone else since Kitty.

Oh, really, Yuy?

OK, he admitted grudgingly. There had also been-

The sound of Duo clearing his throat made him sit up and slam his feet on the ground. Heero felt about as close to a blushing schoolgirl as one could get, completely embarrassed, as if Duo had some way of knowing Heero had been thinking about him.

Duo sat down on the other deck chair and placed two bottles of Evian on the table. Heero took one gratefully, carefully avoiding watching Duo as he sipped his own. He wondered if Duo had deliberately eschewed any sort of covering on his body as some sort of payback for all the mornings Heero had wandered about the suite stark naked.

Duo, on the other hand, didn't avert his gaze. He remembered how Heero had looked the day before, covered with sweat, taking a long swig of water after his workout. As he watched Heero's head tilted back this time, his eyes closed almost blissfully as he drank, Duo thought perhaps he should have put something on before coming out to the balcony.

Or maybe not, he amended, as soon as he realized Heero's attention was riveted on his dick, currently at half-mast after imagining Heero gulping down something besides spring water.

Heero took another long swig from the bottle, but didn't swallow. Before Duo could process that information, Heero's head was in his lap, and the water was released over his cock, a rush of both warmth and cool, and then there was heat as Heero sucked.

He hadn't expected this, but he wasn't complaining. God strike him dead if he so much as protested the talented mouth working his erection. He tried to put his water on the table, but his unsteady hands knocked it over. The bottle's contents spilled over Heero's head, and once the bottle emptied enough that the stream ended, Heero pulled his mouth from Duo long enough to toss his head back. Droplets of water flew from his hair, and then his tongue was back on the underside of his shaft, and Heero's hands were massaging his balls.

Just before he was ready to climax, Heero pulled his mouth away, and Duo's mouth opened to object before he realized Heero was reaching into the pocket of the robe. A condom was quickly rolled on, and then Heero resumed his previous activity. Despite a small flash of disappointment, it didn't take long for Duo to fill the latex sleeve as his hips bucked frantically beneath Heero's face.

God, if that's how it felt to have Heero's mouth on him without a condom, something he'd experienced twice now, what would it feel like to shoot his load down Heero's throat?

No point wondering about things that will never happen, he told himself.

Heero slid the condom off and stood up. He held his other hand out to Duo, who accepted it. Heero pulled him to his feet and they locked eyes for a moment. Heero dropped his hand and walked past him, towards the bathroom.

Duo watched him go.

He had one more day.

~~~~~

Duo ordered breakfast for the two of them while Heero showered, and then picked up his cell phone and called Wufei.

Only to get Wufei's voice mail.

He blinked in disbelief at his cell phone, as if it had somehow tricked him.

Wufei wasn't answering his cell phone?

He considered calling the apartment, and got as far as dialing the number before hitting the send button, when he remembered Meiran's face the night of the art gallery.

He'd glanced up at her once while he and Wufei were speaking with the Landrys. The wife had practically started drooling the minute Duo paid her any attention. His proven tactics were working like a charm. Then she'd run her fingers along the edge of his sleeve when her husband was disagreeing with Wufei over something, and he'd felt his stomach revolt at the contact.

Had he come on too strong? Usually he could do it with smiles and almost-touches, but never went so far as to actually lay his hand or any other part of his body on them. It was all in the promise of things to come, not in the actual participation of illicit affairs.

In need of a momentary distraction, his eyes had sought out the familiarity that Meiran and Heero represented, to find Meiran sipping champagne in that way of hers that barely counted as drinking. He'd never really seen her imbibe. His eyes had then flicked toward Heero, whose attention was on Meiran at that moment. Heero didn't bother carrying a champagne flute as a prop. Why would he need to?

Meiran's gaze was suddenly riveted on Wufei, and even from that distance, he could see the affection she had for her husband.

Had Hilde ever looked at him like that? He honestly couldn't say he remembered.

Then the unwanted caress of long manicured fingernails returned, this time on his lapel, and he forced his attention back to Mrs. Landry before she'd realized he had absolutely no interest in what she was saying, and even less than that in bedding her.

He'd told Heero that first day that they had one thing in common, screwing people for money.

For a brief moment, as Rita Landry touched him for the third time, he'd thought perhaps they had more in common than that.

~~~~~

Quatre rubbed his eyes as the sun streamed through the flimsy kitchen curtains. He had fallen asleep in the chair and he had an awful crick in his neck from the awkward position he'd taken. He'd stared at the damn bottle of bourbon for the better part of the night, but hadn't opened it.

He ran a hand over the stubble on his jaw. He thought perhaps he'd shave in the shower this morning to save time.

Yeah, Quatre, and where exactly do you need to be that you can't take the time to shave in front of a mirror?

He wanted to go to the bar, and yet he was afraid to. He might have asked Heero for his opinion, without looking like he was fishing for information, but that option wasn't available to him at the moment.

When the hell had Heero said he was coming back home, anyway?

He leaned forward until his forehead touched the tabletop. He was tempted to bang his head a few times, and couldn't resist chuckling at the notion. That's one way to knock sense into your head, that voice taunted him.

He got up. Despite his lethargy, he needed to stretch, and a shower might help alleviate the cramping in his neck and shoulders.

Heero could have massaged away the tension. If he were there.

It's your own fault, Quatre. You're the one who...

Who tried to get him to love you. Who knowingly answered one question when you knew he meant another. Who pushed him in the direction of the Ferrari, knowing that it was going to irrevocably change things somehow.

Who lately had developed a knack for pissing off Trowa by simply breathing.

He removed his clothes and left them in a rumpled pile by the bathroom door. He'd pick them up later, and well before Heero came back. If he was coming back. Quatre had always felt this odd connection to Heero, but after they'd made love, it had intensified. The only other person he was that close to was Iria. He could tell whenever one of them was calling, and with Heero, he seemed in tune with the other man's moods more often than not.

Quatre was rather adept at reading people. He'd picked it up at an early age from his father, who was able to use body language and mannerisms to tell when someone was lying, or nervous. It was one of the reasons he was so good at poker. Not many people could out-bluff him.

Trowa's words came back to him. 'You've got to stop throwing the games and letting Otto win.'

That bothered him. He could rationalize his empathy towards Heero, but Otto, who was really little more than an acquaintance? The first time he'd found himself unwittingly throwing a decent hand, he'd sworn not to drink and gamble at the same time.

Then it happened again.

He didn't really mind losing to Otto, because the man was genuinely a caring person, and he doted on his family. He seemed to put on a false face of good cheer, but Quatre had quickly realized that it was no more than a mask.

It wasn't fair. Quatre just couldn't let Otto gamble away what little resources he had. Eventually it became habit for Quatre to get sloppy whenever Otto's tells indicated he had a potentially winning hand.

He turned on the shower and cursed the lack of sufficient water pressure, but tilted his head anyway so the feeble spray could hit the spot on his neck that needed attention. A weak little warm water massage was better than nothing.

Trowa was starting to make him feel guilty for avoiding Iria, too. He knew he was being unfair to his sister, but she was getting overly anxious about something, and he couldn't face going back home just yet.

He didn't want to leave Heero.

Selfish, Quatre. That should have been your middle name. When are you going to stop thinking about yourself?

When I get what I want. When, just once, I get my little slice of bliss pie out of life.

He was tempted to tell the little voice in his head to fuck off when it repeated its earlier chastisement.

Hell, he was starting to wish someone on the fourth floor would flush their toilet, just so he'd have that sudden rush of scalding hot water, like he did yesterday.

He ignored the fact that the water hadn't been hot, just like he was planning on ignoring that annoying voice for the rest of the day.

tbc