Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell ❯ Nonet ( Chapter 38 )

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 38/?

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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 38 - Nonet

As much as Meiran and Wufei were enjoying their escape from the rigors of daily life, and as much as they both wanted nothing more than to go back to bed, perhaps to watch TV and eat fresh fruit with whipped cream, and act like it really was a second honeymoon and a normal weekend...

They both knew that they had to face reality sooner or later.

At the moment, reality was the situation with the deal that may or may not happen with the Peacecraft Corporation. The reason they'd come to Los Angeles in the first place.

"Would it bother you if you didn't succeed in acquiring this company?" Meiran asked, setting her juice glass down and running a finger along its rim.

He thought about it for a while, then shook his head.

"It could be very profitable, if we sold off its various subsidiaries. VERY profitable. It has some rather diverse interests that are going to waste, since Peacecraft is funneling the profits of the more successful divisions into those that are flagging. Losing this deal wouldn't actually hurt us financially, but it could be a hell of a lost opportunity. Besides, I hate the idea of that smug bastard leading us on a merry chase and thumbing his nose at us. Figuratively speaking, of course."

The visual image of Milliardo Peacecraft giving them the raspberry, and then turning around and looking over his shoulder as he spanked his own ass before dancing away, appeared without warning, and he shook his head to dispel it. Perhaps he shouldn't have encouraged Meiran to fetch them those last two beers last night. He'd have much preferred seeing a parade of pink elephants.

"Sure you're not just saying that because he's well acquainted with your nemesis?"

Four days ago he would have gone into apoplexy had anyone, including Meiran, even broached the subject of Treize Khushrenada.

Last night things had changed, though, and he was able to view the situation with a clear head and an opinion uncolored by self-recrimination.

It didn't mean he had to like the man, but he could admit that his own inexperience and naïveté with criminal defense cases had played a large role in his downfall.

In retrospect, it was probably the best thing that could have happened to him. He'd taken so much for granted back then. He'd taken HER for granted.

He reached across the table to take one of Meiran's hands in his. He was only human, and he'd probably make that mistake again, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. And Meiran would forgive him, and probably come up with some interesting ways for him to make it up to her.

"I don't trust that look on your face, Chang," she said. Somehow her use of his surname had become less an indication of fury and more an affectionate nickname. He rather liked it.

"Just thinking how much I can get away with now that I know how much you like it when I run my tongue along-"

She punched his arm with her free hand, using a considerable amount of strength. He didn't protest her assault, because he thought she looked rather adorable when her face was flaming like it was at the moment.

"That's bedroom talk!" she scolded. "This, in case you haven't noticed, is the kitchen!"

"This from the woman who tried to cop a feel in the cab last night."

"OK, let's get a few things straight," she said, her cheeks still endearingly flushed, but her manner brisk. "First, I DID cop a feel. There was no 'try' about it!" She seemed quite pleased with this declaration.

"And second?" he asked, adopting the most exaggerated expression of rapt interest he could.

"Second," she said, looking a little bit sheepish, "I was drunk."

"Oh," he said. "I see." He nodded, then released her hand and leaned back in his chair.

Her eyes narrowed. "What exactly do you see?"

"The dirty talk embarrasses you. I understand. I'll have to get you drunk more often."

"NO! I mean, I liked it...it's just..." she floundered for a minute, then his last words registered at the same time she realized he was smirking at her.

"Asshole," she said affectionately.

~~~~~

Relena deliberately avoided looking at the clock when Milliardo announced that he was meeting Treize Khushrenada for a late lunch, but she couldn't keep the surprise off her face.

"Don't read anything into it," he warned. "I'm just...exploring those other options before I decide to do anything with Romefeller."

He actually felt a strange feeling of warmth at the smile she bestowed upon him. He impulsively kissed her on top of her head before he left.

"You can clear my schedule for tomorrow. I want to have the entire day open, just in case."

She nodded. It would be just like her brother to have meetings scheduled even on the weekend. She didn't mind doing the work of a secretary, not when it was for Milliardo. Of course, that would change after graduation when she fully planned on taking a much larger role in the company's direction.

He stopped in the doorway and looked at her.

"And Relena?"

"Yes?"

"I assume your schedule is clear as well."

"Yes!"

He gave her a tiny smile, then walked out.

When he found out what she was up to, he might not want her anywhere near him on the morrow, but she didn't want to leave things to chance. It looked like her brother might be on the road to making a decision he could be proud of, but just in case, she needed to have something in her back pocket. Milliardo was the one who'd taught her to always have a Plan B.

And if it turned out she didn't actually need this person's assistance, perhaps there were other benefits that could be reaped.

Because, after all, that was the REAL reason she wanted to make this phone call.

~~~~~

Sally Po had given up trying to make any sense out of the recorded conversation she was listening to and started throwing pencils at the ceiling until a dozen were dangling from the drop ceiling tiles.

When her partner came in and took one look overhead, Sally shrugged as if to imply, 'what can I say? I was bored.'

One of the pencils fell to her desk, and less than five seconds later, the rest of them followed, making Sally cover her head with both arms as they clattered around her. Her partner seemed to find it very amusing.

"Just wait until YOU'RE the one trying to translate this strung out junkie's garbled stream of words and sentences." She actually snorted. "Perhaps 'sentences' is far too generous a word. Next time, I'll take trying to read a physician's handwriting any day. This is ridiculous."

She turned off the digital recorder and swung her chair around. As she opened her mouth to speak, her phone rang.

She held up a finger to tell her partner to hold that thought, then reached for her cell phone, until she realized it was her desk phone that was ringing. She held up a different finger in response to the laughter her mistake had generated, and hit the speaker button.

"Po."

"Sally," Iria greeted warmly. "I'm glad I caught you."

"You could have called the cell phone," she said, giving the other occupant of the room a meaningful look and throwing an eraser toward the smirking expression she got in return.

"You asked for a contact on the East Coast. I have good news and bad news."

Sally was suddenly all business, and her partner leaned closer as well, as if afraid to miss anything Iria said.

"Good news is, I have a name for you. The bad news...there has been an increase in the number of emergency room cases that show signs of potential substance abuse cropping up in Manhattan. You'll be contacting one of the physicians at St. Luke's-Roosevelt Hospital Center. He's handled a lot of the recent cases. The cases where the symptoms are present, but the blood tests are inconclusive, seem to be unique to the Roosevelt Division Emergency Department."

Sally wracked her brains to remember the differences between the two divisions, but her partner saved her the trouble.

"Roosevelt - that's the one near the Lincoln Center."

"It also tends to cater to the tourist and business sect," Sally remembered. She could almost picture Iria nodding in agreement.

"You'll want to speak with Nathan Geary. Nate seems to think that it might be a deliberate move, targeting unwitting guinea pigs on Roosevelt's end, seeing as the St. Luke's Division is not far from Columbia University's Medical Center."

"But on the other hand," Sally mused, "Roosevelt is practically on top of schools like Parson's and-"

The phone on the other desk rang, causing a mild curse as her partner ambled over to answer it.

"Will Geary be expecting my call?" Sally asked.

"He said he'd do his best to accomodate you whenever possible, but he'd prefer if you could try to call before lunch, as he prefers doing his rounds in the afternoons on days he isn't on call for the E/R."

Sally glanced at the clock. It was well past lunch now, but she supposed she was better off using the afternoon to compose a list of questions so she didn't need to keep pestering the good Doctor Geary because she'd forgotten something.

Iria didn't offer any additional information to share. Sally wanted to ask her if she'd heard from her brother, but didn't want to bring up a painful subject. Iria didn't need any more distractions, and it might be considered to be in poor taste to remind her.

On the other hand, what kind of friend would she be if she didn't offer her support?

"Iria," Sally began.

"Yes?"

"Forgive me for asking, but-"

"No," Iria sighed. "No, I haven't heard from him. But you're right. He's got a good head on his shoulders. And I'd nearly forgotten, he seems to have a couple of guardian angels as well."

"Guardian angels?"

Iria laughed. "Well, not exactly. But I get the impression that he has someone watching his back. I think I should be on a first name basis with the man who answers the phone every time I call looking for Quatre."

Sally hoped that was indeed the case.

"So what about the rest of your clan?"

"Almira hasn't changed since you met her," Iria said. Sally winced, remembering the way the eldest Winner daughter had looked down her nose at her when she'd first gone to Henderson with Iria to spend winter break in a much warmer climate.

"And Dad...well, he seems to be on the verge of making a decision."

From the tone of her voice, Sally assumed that meant Iria's father had been rather indecisive as of late, but there seemed to be more to it than that.

"So everything is copasetic?"

"Not yet, but getting there."

"Thanks, Iria," Sally said, hoping that she was conveying more than just simple gratitude for the work her former schoolmate had done.

"Anything for you, Miss Poo," Iria teased, using the name that Almira had insisted on calling Sally during the entire week she'd stayed with them.

Sally's partner might have looked at her oddly as she shared a laugh with Iria, but she was the only one in the office by then.

~~~~~

Duo walked to the desk and spent a few minutes typing furiously at his laptop computer as Heero sat on the loveseat, wondering if he was expected to stay there or not.

He did so hate to be predictable, he thought, a smile teasing the corners of his lips not for the first time that day.

The sound of clacking keys stopped, and then he peered over the back of the loveseat to see that Duo had turned to the leather tote containing the other computer. He removed each piece and assembled them without difficulty, although not nearly as quickly as Heero had.

He flexed his right index finger awkwardly after applying the cuff, then thumbed the switch on. After a few experimental motions of his finger, he had the hang of it enough to find successfully use it as an input device. Once he'd found what he was looking for, he returned to the desk and his laptop.

Duo's idea had taken root, and he wasn't sure if his plans were really all that brilliant, but he had managed to succeed in risky business ventures on occasion by going with his first impulse. He quelled the plaguing doubts that crept in and typed his criteria into the search engine.

It was certainly not what he'd imagined when he woke up that morning, but it could be interesting.

He nearly threw his half-formed plans out the window, though, when he returned to the loveseat, only to find Heero stretched out on it, with his head on one of the seat cushions and his legs apart and draped over the opposite arm rest.

His attention was riveted, not by Heero's position on the loveseat, but the sight of the unzipped jeans and Heero's hand stroking his erect penis, the motions languid and caressing.

Oh, shit, he thought.

Heero's eyes were closed, but Duo knew damn well the man knew he was standing right there, because it was then that he licked his lips and moaned softly.

If it was a show, it was a pretty damned good one. The thought made Duo's cheeks flame.

Heero removed his hand long enough to bring it to his mouth and suck on the first two fingers. He placed the glistening digits on the head of his cock and slowly slid them down the length of his shaft, until his other fingers, which were tucked under, reached his balls.

Duo was transfixed by the sight of Heero's thumb playing with the clear liquid seeping from that tiny slit, and he found himself reaching for his own zipper.

He watched Heero's hand move lower, the fingers disappearing in crotch of the jeans, touching currently unseen parts of Heero's anatomy.

He closed his eyes as he pulled his own rapidly awakening member from his pants, and was aware of a rustle of movement, and then a warm hand covering his own.

He didn't open his eyes, but just focused on the feel of Heero's hand moving with his. Heero removed his hand just long enough to jerk the jeans past his hips roughly. Once the pants were lowered to his knees, it was back. He could feel the calluses on Heero's fingers, the slight dampness of his palm, and the image of Heero, doing what he'd done earlier that morning, danced behind his closed lids.

Then Heero's other hand was fondling his balls, and one work roughened rough finger gently eased between his buttocks. Duo tensed slightly until he realized that Heero had no intention of penetrating him.

What had Heero said earlier? The skin in that area was 'rich in sensory nerves?' He hadn't been lying. He felt his knees turn to jelly, but he seemed to gain strength from Heero's touch even as his hands were making Duo blind to everything but how GOOD it felt.

His eyes flew open in shock as he felt Heero's breath near the head of his cock, and he looked down to see Heero's mouth just inches from their joined hands.

That was all it took. Their hands were covered with the warm white fluid, and the extra lubrication it provided as Heero continued to move their hands up and down along his softening dick, albeit much more slowly, was enough to make his hips jerk a few more times.

He stared at the dripping mess that covered both their hands, and had to reach one hand to Heero's shoulder to steady himself.

It was the first time, in all the times he'd been with Heero, that he'd not worn a condom as he climaxed.

tbc

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nonet - a musical composition written for nine instruments