Title: All Things Unknown and Thusly Terrifying
Author: Taw
Pairing: 1x2
Written: Friday, December 25, 2009 MERRY CHRISTMAS
Spoilers: No ma'am
Warnings: Porn. Terrible, terrible porn.

A/N: This is the only piece of GW smut I've written all year. I just felt like I had to write some porn before the year was over. It's like, 3k of not!porn (the good bit) and 2k of porn (the bad bit). It's a Christmas fic because I'm posting it on Christmas. Otherwise Christmas is 95% irrelevant to the plot.

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They were playing oldies on the radio, something from a century ago, something that was supposed to be a meaningful, insightful part of our Earth Nation's history. I didn't find the whiny subtext scratching out between throaty notes and keystrokes either meaningful or insightful. Harmonious jargon, at the most. The car was stained in odd places and it smelled thickly of crayons, although there were no other signs of children. No coloring books tossed half-heartedly across the backseat, no Saturday morning cartoon soundtracks stuffed into the door pockets. Just a couple tons of hot, clunky, crayon-scented stolen car. I paused with my hands on the wheel and my foot on the brakes. Pulling over to the side of a dirt covered road I unrolled the window and lit a cigarette. If the war couldn't kill me, the accumulation of smoke in my lungs would. I figured that it was better to die early from coughing up blood than die late from fumigation poisoning or over exposure or any other lingering side effect of blowing mobile suits up in space for a couple years of my life.

Such was the Life and Death of Duo Maxwell, self proclaimed God of All Things Unknown and Thusly Terrifying. Blahblahblah, write the eulogy later. At least I didn't have to listen to the damn "oldies" anymore. I briefly wondered why I couldn't have been born before the expansion to space, back when there were such music legends as Marley, Hendrix, The Who, Jackson. Even The Beatles, God help us all. They were all archaic now, mummified in their tombs (if their tombs were even still in existence by this point). Now, you could walk down the street and ask the first person you see of any race, age or gender who the King of Pop was or who dominated the music scene in the 70's and they'd look at you with a question on their faces before rattling off some boring artist from AC173. But to live back then, back when it was real and happening and fresh? God, it would have been incredible.

I asked Heero what he knew about ancient historical music and he had simply grunted and told me that the list of things they'd trained him for hadn't covered such frivolous things. Which only forced me to drag out some dusty and dissimilating disk and blast the best of Queen for a good hour. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that somewhere between tightening the screws on wing's armor, oiling the joints and wiping his brow, he might have actually heard something he liked. But perhaps that's wishful thinking.

It was too hot for Christmas. The car windows were rolled down long after the smoke had vacated and I slammed my fist against the AC unit, hoping that some violence might intimidate it into functioning. It didn't work, but I hadn't really expected it to. Such tactics had never worked on Deathscythe, either. The sweat was clogging up the knots of my braid, slicking my scalp and making the whole mess reek. I took advantage of one particularly sluggish red light to unravel the sticky thing and tie it into a loose bun. I'd braid it again before reaching my destination, of course. Duo Maxwell, self proclaimed God of All Things Unknown and Thusly Terrifying, did have his manly pride.

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My destination was a crafty sonufabitch. Two floors, red brick, white picket fence and a neatly trimmed lawn did not a Heero home make. No, it was more like an old man's face, slightly lopsided with dribbling bits of hanging shrubbery peaking out from wrinkly cracks in the walls. Two dilapidated windows posed as sad, wise eyes and the door was a gash of a mouth opened in a permanent scream. Only the wilted wreath hanging somewhere between window and door attempted to be cheerful, but even that appeared as a badly drawn nose when placed against such a solemn backdrop. I stood on the stoop gaping for a good five minutes, honestly wishing I lived in a home such as this one instead of my piss-stained apartment. Even a sad face was better than no face at all.

Knocking on the door proved to be less difficult than anticipated. I had fantasized about shaking on gelatinous legs, alternating between wiping the nervous sweat from my brow and practicing different styles of handshakes. The reality, after being faced with such an approachable setting, was as simple as standing up to plate and batting away at the old wooden door. Some paint chipped off on my knuckles, but I didn't mind.

The person inside this personified house was taller than I, with broader shoulders and sharper cheek bones. His hair had grown just an inch since I'd seen him last, but his bangs still drooped like a fussy curtain in front of his eyes. Heero wasn't that different, all things considered. There was one thing that was off, just one. For the past few years his eyes, ever blue, had been building up sparkle. Where there had once been nothing but empty darkness there was now excitement, the satisfaction of productivity. The healthy proof of happiness. I slapped his shoulder with encouragement before I'd said "Hello."

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"Tell me about your journey through social adjustment," Heero commanded me while he stirred his tea slowly.

We were sitting at his kitchen table, a small wooden contraption which wobbled precariously when I leaned a single elbow on it. It was the only thing in the whole house that I'd seen flawed. In sharp contrast to the outside of his home, Heero kept the inside immaculate. The dˇcor was homey with dark tones, mahogany woods, antique chandeliers. It was very renaissance, very pre-colony 1700s. The atmosphere was the opposite of modern. It was even more archaic than Hendrix and The Who. I could instantly picture myself sprawled out in a scratchy blanket before the fireplace, smoking a pipe and reading a book with yellowing pages. I could just as easily imagine this Heero (who had proven himself so startlingly different than the Heero of yore in just under a half hour) doing the same. I liked the image. I found myself willing to stare at it every time I opened my wallet, a photograph with bent corners and smudged fingerprints. It was liveable. Very real.

"A true magician never reveals his secrets," I told him over the rim of my mug before slurping some steaming tea from the top.

"They say priests don't lie, either," Heero seemed confident in saying, watching my face for any sign of contempt and smiling slightly when he saw none.

"They say many things," I quipped, delighting in the way we could pick up such friendly dialogue even though it had been a year since we'd last seen each other. "But I didn't come here to fight in clichˇ's with you, Heero. I don't think that's why you invited me here, either."

There was a moment where no one spoke and the silence would have been deafening had it not been broken by the sound of my indulgent slurping. Eventually, Heero's eyes flicked to meet mine through that dark, fussy curtain. His spoon clicked softly against the sides of his mug and I wondered how much stirring sugarless black tea really required.

"You jump right into it, don't you," he whispered. His eyes told me he fully intended me to hear every syllable. Even his breath was harsh in my ears. I leaned closer regardless.

"I never did like to dance around things more than necessary."

"Three years was necessary?"

"Was it three years? I wasn't counting."

"I wasn't either."

More silence, but I didn't mind. I sucked up the minutes by watching his exhales, steamy as they ghosted over his tea, fogging up his full bottom lip. I counted each of his light freckles that I could have sworn hadn't been there until two years ago. Or perhaps I'd never been close enough to see them until two years ago, almost to the day. It had been Christmas and we'd kissed each other until our lips were numb. I'd had the most difficult time explaining to the rest of the party why my lips were suddenly swollen. Originally, I'd thought Quatre had been the only one to figure it out, but Heero told me later that Relena had smiled too knowingly over the drive home.

Staring at Heero's lips as they formed a tiny gasp of a circle before closing over the rim of his mug made me want to taste them again, closing over the rim of my tongue and other such intimate body parts.

"I want you to stay for Christmas," Heero said eventually, no longer a whisper. His knuckles were white where they gripped the porcelain handle. I reached out a single finger unthinkingly and traced it over his hand until his hold relaxed.

"I have an overnight bag in the car packed for two nights," I admitted, eyes tracing the contours of lace in the white table cloth. "I had a feeling you didn't have me drive all the way out here in a stolen vehicle just to send me home an hour later."

Heero's laugh was a choking gasp of breath that I desperately wanted to swallow. "You stole a car?"

I shrugged.

Heero set his mug down before leaning over the table and grabbing the back of my neck gently, his hands digging into the depths and folds right before my braid began. I leaned into his lips just as he brought mine closer. It was so easy to travel back two years in time to Une's cold bathroom where a Christmas party raged outside. When Heero had pressed me against the wall and we'd tangled together like a Celtic knot of desire and eroticism.

When he released me, I leaned slightly forward, attempting to find more lip but found only empty space. The sneaky bastard was sitting back down with a damn smirk on his face, picking his mug of tea back up and blowing across the surface until it rippled. I wanted to throw the mug across the room, toss the table over and crawl into his lap.

"Heero." I cleared my throat.

"Duo." He didn't.

Our eyes met. Knowing, understanding, mine saying now, take me now and his saying wait.

I didn't want to wait. I'd waited my whole life and four years. Now it was time to end this game of Pin The Tail On The Lover and start a new one--with Heero. I wanted everything I ever did from that point onward until the day I died to end in "with Heero."

Duo has sex with Heero.

Duo starts a relationship with Heero.

Duo moves in with Heero.

Duo goes to parties with Heero.

Duo cooks meals with Heero.

Duo takes a fucking piss with Heero.

His bedroom was a dark place with chairs made of deep mahogany and rich blue walls. I like to imagine it had some bright spots in it but I didn't get to see much beyond Heero's lips and hands as they mapped across my face. I remember his bed, though. It was a beastly thing with soft white blankets and pillows in such quantity they took up the whole top half of the mattress. I had to practically pull myself up to get on it and then it was like sinking into a bath of warm water. The comforter deflated around me and I had to toss half of the pillows across the room before I suffocated in cotton and down.

Heero was there. He pulled me to him and sucked on the skin of my neck, dipping his tongue in the hollows and nibbling slightly on the jutting contours. His hands were cold when they slipped under my shirt and I pressed myself close enough to steal some of his body heat. It was like someone was reaching into my chest and massaging my heart, taking away all of the heaviness from being alone for so long.

But there was something else, something unidentifiable which seemed to grow stronger when I removed first my shirt, then Heero's. I touched my hand to his chest and felt his heart beating wildly under my palm, proof of his humanity. I clung onto him until I could feel the percussion right on top of mine. For a while we stayed entwined and kissed. Shirtless and warm, the fluids of his mouth mixing with mine, the friction between our tongues. The only sound was that of our lips colliding again and again--an intake of breath here and there. His hands were in my braid and mine were clutching the muscle of his back as if he was an unhinged door keeping me afloat on a wide, dark ocean.

For a moment I truly believed that I'd die if I stopped touching him.

"Duo," he breathed into my mouth. I managed a little murr of acknowledgment. He pulled away from my lips just enough to press his forehead to mine, his thumbs tracing soothing circles along my cheekbones. "I like kissing you."

It was the sweetest thing I'd ever heard. It seemed more fit for a woman, but my aforementioned masculine pride would have to wait until later to feel the pain of such a statement. At that very moment, I was more than happy to be on the receiving end of those words, especially since I wholeheartedly agreed. I told him so.

"I bet I'd like doing other things to you, too, Heero. So take off your pants." Heero grunted in surprise and pulled away from me, staring at me for a few brief moments before exploding into laughter and collapsing onto my chest.

"Was that an attempt at bedroom conversation? I've heard Relena talk dirtier than you."

Not wanting to think about whatever sex Relena had been getting while Heero had been staying with her, or the particulars of whatever he'd overheard through the thin walls of her bedroom, I changed the subject by pushing my lover hard onto his back. I wasted no time figuring out the complexities of his belt, either. His pants were off before he'd finished laughing and I was staring down his impressionable member.

It wasn't the first time I'd seen Heero naked, but it was the first time I'd seen him naked and with an erection. I took the time to soak up all the details. Like the way his foreskin clutched tightly to the head of his penis, or the weight of his balls as they gathered in my palm. He hissed and moaned and I sucked my index finger between my lips, thoroughly wetting it before using it to gently peel back the sheath that gripped his proud cock the way a mother would grip her children to keep them safe from harm. As soon as the head was free to pulse and throb without such strict confines it oozed moisture.

Here, Heero was delicate. Intimate and human and unprotected. The fact that he was letting me handle him in such a way, unsheathing him and invading his most personal space, made my stomach flutter in time with my heart. Trust wasn't cutting it. This was so much more than that and I showed my appreciation by burying my nose in the muscular "v" of his hips and sighing with happiness. My fingers curled in his thatch of pubic hair, tickling the sensitive flesh it protected. Heero moaned and tugged at my braid impatiently and when I looked up I saw the flush of embarrassment and arousal spreading across his cheeks and chest.

Not wanting to wait another moment, I took him down my throat with more forthrightness than I'd ever imagined myself showing. I practically moaned at the taste of him as he bucked against me and my fingers dug into his hips to keep him still. He was hard in my mouth and I felt the vein tracing the underside of his cock pulsing against my tongue.

"Duo," he whispered with a deep groan, eyes squeezed shut. I pulled him from me with a squelching noise and delighted in the trail of pre-come that chased my lips and stuck to my chin.

"Look at me," I murmured against the reddened head of his penis, my left hand running gentle fingers along the shaft. He moaned and did as I said.

I took him in again, then out and in once more. A pulsating rhythm, a powerful suction. I gripped him with my tongue and lips and sucked the love from the tip of his erection. His hands were clutching tight to the comforter, knuckles white and shaking. He kept his eyes on me, breathing hard and making small sounds of desire from the back of his throat.

"S-stop," he whispered. Cleared his throat, tried again, "Duo, stop."

I pulled away, my tongue hovering over the slit of his cock enticingly. He dragged his eyes to mine.

"I want to come inside you."

Unable to find an appropriate answer to such a bold statement, I released him and sat back, sliding to the head of the bed and beginning to unbutton my pants. Heero watched me through heavy lidded eyes, trying to even out his breathing and push back from the edge of completion I'd pushed him to. After I'd removed my pants and boxers (and tossed them in the direction of the door), I spread my legs and grasped my burgeoning arousal.

Heero crawled into the space I'd made for him and licked the trail of soft, light hair that led to my crotch. He nibbled playfully at my hip, took a bite from my nipple and completely swallowed my lips and tongue. My moan echoed in his exhale as I thrust my hips upward, desire meeting desire.

"We need..." I started.

"Lubricant," Heero finished. He reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a tube of god knows what and coated his manhood thoroughly.

"Are you ready?"

What a question. I was three years past ready. I wanted to Heero to fill me up until nothing would satisfy me other than his love, his cock.

"Passed go, now collect two-hundred, dammit!"

Heero chuckled low and sensuous before sliding into body, into my heart. Nothing had invaded me that felt as good. I wanted to scream with the friction and roar for speed but I would wait to adjust. I didn't think I'd ever shown as much patience as I did then. I reached my hand up behind his head, grabbed him and brought him down to my lips hard. We kissed as Heero began to thrust.

"Have you ever...?"

"Never never have I ever," I whispered, blushing a bit and kissing him again so he wouldn't see.

"Me neither."

Wasn't that sick? Two men in their early twenties who'd never had sex. That's pretty disgusting in itself but considering that he we had spent our adolescence fighting a war instead of chasing tail, I guess it was to be expected. Or so we kept telling ourselves.

But death was a very imminent possibility for me, with my legs over Heero's shoulders and his erection pumping in and out of me as if I was the hottest damn thing he'd ever felt. I was going to die. I had faced death enough times to recognize the signs and I was pretty sure you could die from overheating. Your blood literally boils and your brain turns to mush or something equally as gory. That's what I felt. Sweat was rolling from my body, slicking our chest and hanging from the tips of Heero's hair, threatening to drop onto my forehead and nose. There were so many bodily fluids mixing between us that I wouldn't have noticed anyway.

And then it happened. It was this insane piece of absolute light that made the walls of my anus clench tight around Heero's erection, my knees shake and my stomach do these crazy flip-flopping motions. It wasn't death. It was an explosion of something else. Just as it had started to fade, Heero hit it again and I screamed loud enough to raise Kushrenada from the pits of Hell. It wasn't very long before I was cussing and squirting semen between us. Heero's face contorted into this absolute definition of intense concentration before filling me up with his warm, sticky seed. I wasn't sure if he intended to come inside me all along or if he'd even realized he had, but I didn't care. After he pulled out and collapsed next to me I reached between my legs and gathered a fingertip full of the fluid dribbling from my ass and ran it over Heero's lips.

He pulled a face and batted my hand away.

"You're unsanitary," he told me.

"If you were concerned about sanitation we should have used a condom."

"What?" Heero rolled on top of me and buried his face in my neck. "I think we got on fine without one. I wanted to feel you, not rubber."

"Good reason," I told him before kissing his nose as he scrunched it up. "I love you, Heero Yuy."

His breathing was relaxed and evening out but we were still sticky and I was getting kind of cold. "I love you." He murmured into my collarbone and I didn't even care about cleaning up.

Duo gets to fall asleep with Heero.

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END

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