Author: Elyndys
Pairing: 2x1 (sorry, can't seem to stop...)
Warnings: Lemon. PWP. Stop looking at me like that! Umm... and more cross-dressing... Can I help it if I'm a (very serious) comedian?
Disclaimer: Yeah yeah, I know, and no I can't think of an original disclaimer! I don't own these characters. 'Nuff said.
Notes: Do I write a lot of notes?! Um. If anyone reads 'em... well, this is the sequel to The Library. Unfortunately I don't think it's as good as that particular fic, and for this I have 2 excuses, er, I mean reasons. 1 - I broke off after beginning it and maybe lost a bit of momentum; but the main problem is - HEERO! Yeah, this is Heero's pov and, quite frankly, his mind just ain't as amusing as Duo's, in my opinion.
Heero: Are you gonna let her get away with that?
Duo: Weeeeell... she did compliment me...
Heero: *glare*
Duo: Okay... slapped wrist Ely!
Ow! ^_^' Maybe I just didn't try hard enough... At any rate, PLEASE let me know what you think!
Oh yeah - and this was a nightmare due to trans-Atlantic lingerie vocabulary! To me pants, vest and suspenders are all items of underwear in various degrees of naughtiness! Hopefully I avoided all doubtful and ambiguous dialogue ... And, of course, I apologise once more... just for existing... Just one more note - the title is cod-Latin, meaning From the Library to the Bedroom (give or take a few grammatical glosses). You see what I'm getting' at?! This is for everyone who took the time to reply to The Library - thanks, you all!

[Excerpt from The Library]

I grinned as he continued to smirk. "I don't know why you're smiling, baby." I ran a finger along his cheekbone. "You've been so good at keeping quiet, but you know what I'm gonna do when we get home?"

"What?"

"I'm gonna really make you scream."

Ex Libris, ad Cubiculum

I ignored him all the way home. No, not ignored - just acted normally. Pretended I didn't notice his hand creeping up my thigh; pretended he wasn't speeding criminally in his sex-crazed determination to get back to our house as soon as possible. I knew he must have had something particularly special in mind, or he would just have stopped the car anywhere and had his way with me there and then. Which I wouldn't have minded; but no, it seemed he wanted a domestic setting. I kept my face motionless and emotionless; just a little teasing. I managed to stop myself looking over to see what sort of effect I was having on him, but I could take a guess from the way he, as soon as we got into the house, only paused to give me a searing kiss before pulling me off in the direction of our bedroom. He didn't have to pull too hard, though.

I smirked a little as he pushed me back on the bed, attacking my body with his hands and my mouth with his tongue. I let him take off my clothes - but then I was puzzled when he stopped and sat back on his heels on the bed, looking down at me sprawled before him. He smiled lop-sidedly. "That looks just perfect. Now stay there, just like that, till I get back. Oh, and close your eyes. And keep them closed!"

I did so; then felt him get off the bed; then heard cupboards opening, and rustling; then finally heard the door open and shut, and sensed his presence leave the room.

That was a while ago now; I guess it must have been twenty minutes. I still have my eyes closed, wondering what he has planned this time. It doesn't take this long to melt chocolate or fetch that frozen strawberry yogurt he likes so much, and those old Oz handcuffs are in the bedside cabinet (I have wondered why he hangs onto those, but they seem to do something for him so we keep them). Therefore, I conclude it must be something that requires an unusual amount of outside preparation. I've been passing the time imagining what he might be going to do; it's been very... enjoyable, but my hands have remained firmly by my sides - I'm sure he'd be most upset if I didn't give him a chance to surprise me.

Strange, I might have expected our... encounter less than an hour earlier to have dulled his appetite a little - but I know him better than that. The more sex Duo has, the more he wants. Again - it suits me. We're as insatiable as each other. I smirk quietly to myself, thinking how fortunate we are. Well, as Duo once put it, with all that testosterone and adrenalin floating around, how could we resist? We're gorgeous. His words, not mine; I remember him saying them, though - he was lying in my arms in front of that full length mirror that's on the wardrobe door - recovering... I smirk again; funny how we got that idea at the same time. Funny how we know what each other wants. Funny, and very, very lucky.

It's as I'm contemplating my very good fortune that I hear the door open again, but I can tell he stays in the doorway.

"Hey." He calls me softly to open my eyes, so I do. And take a deep breath at what I see.

He stands, leaning against the doorframe, one leg bent at the knee, his foot flat against the frame. The pose can't help but draw my attention to the kitten-heeled mules [1] and sheer stockings, which in turn drag my hypnotised gaze up to the delectably short skirt, then on to the fine corsetry of the bodice... He's made up too, and smartly; in fact, the whole effect is sophisticated and classy, rather than cheap and slutty. Not that that sort of look can't be effective as well, as Duo found when he decided to experiment in such a manner on a trip out one night: I only managed to last until the nearest quiet alley before that leather skirt was round his waist and the small frilly item he wore underneath was round his ankles, and his back was against the wall... But no, this time is very different. I wouldn't dare be so rash with this... vision. I smile again as he walks slowly towards me, then sits on the end of our bed. That skirt is so short I can see the stocking tops; the sight is too arousing for words, and all I can do is sort of moan helplessly. I have to touch him; I half-sit up and reach towards one lovely, smooth exposed thigh - some part of my brain registers vaguely that it must have been the shaving that took him so long earlier - but as I do so he gets up again.

He smiles down at me, still propped on my elbows, from the foot of the bed. "No, Heero, you'll have to be content with just looking for a while. Then I might let you touch later. If you're good."

I know just what he's implying. It's not that he's* not going to touch me - he is, just not as much as I'd like. And he knows how much I would love to get my hands on him in that outfit, but he's not going to let me. He intends to make this last as long as possible without seriously risking my sanity, or blood pressure. He likes to do that. He strolls round the bed, twitching his hips seductively from side to side. It tests my endurance, but I lie perfectly still, and watch him, and wait. Luckily my self-control is quite a long way above average, and Duo knows this - so he tries extra hard.

For a short while he just watches me, a look of pure, unchecked lust in his gaze: feeling his eyes on me is just making me more aroused, but I keep quiet. It also gives me an opportunity to examine his outfit in more detail. The skirt is black velvet, slightly flared, and barely covers the tops of the stockings even when he's standing. The bodice, too, is velvet, but a deep burgundy red. It's laced tight and embellished with lace panels; the colour makes him seem paler, an appearance which is also contributed to by the application of a little pale make-up on his face. His skin is paler, and dramatised by mascara'd lashes and lips the colour of the velvet bodice. Although it alters his appearance quite radically, the overall effect is not feminising - merely...androgynous. It reflects Duo perfectly, enhancing a different side of his beauty.

As I'm still assessing his gorgeous form, he kneels slowly on the bed. Everything he's doing is slow - drawing out his movements so they are all sensuously emphasised. I make myself stay still; I won't try to touch him again, as much as I want to, if it means he won't come near. He straddles me, a knee on either side of my thighs, but touching as little as possible. I clench my hands to stop myself from grabbing him.

"Very good, Heero. Let's see how long you can stay like that."

Slowly, again, he starts to touch me, very lightly, hands brushing over my chest, circling my nipples, stroking along my neck and collarbone. Just simple touches, but he's turning me to putty and I hiss in pleasure, squeezing my eyes shut. He laughs softly and ghosts his hands down over my stomach, down my sides, over my hips... then stops. Not surprising, but still exasperating; I moan in frustration and open my eyes, just in time to see his hands leave me and then move onto his own body. The sight is just as arousing as the feel of his touch; my eyes follow as he runs his hands up his thighs, then slips one hand between them, touching the exposed skin that I can see because the skirt rides up so far. He doesn't touch under the skirt - he's saving that till my brain has melted even further, no doubt - but instead slides his hands up over his hips and over the velvet bodice, slowly and sensually, like I would do it if I wanted to tease him, if I wanted to make him feel like I'm feeling now - like my body is on fire, starting at the groin and travelling upwards!

He smiles as he sees the effect this is having on me. "It doesn't feel as good as when you do it, Heero." He's slightly breathless.

I'm far more breathless as I reply: "Let me... please..."

He gives me a warning look. "Oh no, Heero. I've got other plans first." One of his hands has trailed down into his lap now; the other reaches behind him and brings round his braid, which he twirls round his fingers. I know exactly what he plans to do, and moan just at the thought. He smiles wider, as he starts to very gently brush the end of the braid over my erection. This activity has risen high on my list of favourite reasons to appreciate your boyfriend's long hair. It's so tantalisingly soft and silky... I make a guttural noise and close my eyes again briefly. When I re-open them I make another strangled sound of enjoyment: as he lightly strokes the end of his braid over me, he's now advanced his other hand underneath the skirt and is pushing that garment up so I can see what's under it.

I bite my lip and whimper with barely-suppressed excitement as I see the satiny, lacy, brief article that constitutes what is undoubtedly an expensive piece of lingerie. He's still teasing me with his braid, and at the same time now he's slowly rubbing his own erection through the silky underwear. The sight is wicked and sinful and wonderful and amazingly erotic all at once; even more so, as he looks directly into my eyes and runs his tongue invitingly over his wine-dark lips [2]. I can't stop myself now, I have to kiss those lips - I reach up and put my hand at the back of his neck; he doesn't resist, so I pull him down till we're mouth to mouth. I don't think he can resist any longer than I can, so he's not complaining now, as I take the opportunity to lick around and inside his mouth before our lips actually meet. He kisses me hungrily, and I reciprocate gratefully, glad for some real contact, and glad he seems to need it as much as I do now. He tastes of lipstick and powder: the novelty sends a thrill of excitement up my spine.

After a few breathtaking kisses though, his lips leave mine again, leaving me craving more - but then I feel those lips travel down my neck, over my shoulders, and onto my chest, kissing all the most sensitive places that he brought to life with his hands a few minutes ago. He very gently sucks and licks at each of my nipples, thoroughly wetting one then playing with it with a finger as he moves onto the other. My vocalisation of my excitement increases as he continues: I feel him smile and he lifts his head and murmurs, "I guess all that keeping quiet earlier means you have to make up for it now, hmm?"

I'm unable to respond using words, and settle for an inadequate "Nnnnn," which accurately conveys my feelings: I agree with him. He laughs quietly and abandons my chest in favour of licking his way down my stomach relatively quickly - I almost think he's taken pity on me, until he stops just before he reaches my aching arousal, and raises himself off me just enough to slip a hand between my thighs. As I spread them eagerly (to his amusement), he repositions himself in a catlike crouch between my legs, and softly starts to lick right at the top of them. I writhe and sob out my desire as I feel him get nearer... then further away again... until finally he stops altogether.

"Wha...?" I gasp, opening my eyes. Obviously that is what he was waiting for: locking gazes with me, he slowly and deliberately takes me into his mouth as I look, helpless to take my eyes from the sight. I know he wants me to watch, so I prop myself on my elbows to see better. It's unbelievably erotic, seeing his painted mouth pleasuring me... I pant and whimper, feeling him slowly stroke me with lips and tongue... He takes his time, letting me lose my mind at every sensation washing through all my nerves, making me feel every little thing, drawing it out... He's never been gentler; even when I feel his teeth lightly touch me, it's still so gentle I can hardly breathe with the tension building in my body.

I'm unable to stop myself crying out in pleasure as I feel his fingers creep up and stroke over the deliciously sensitive skin between my thighs. He continues doing this as he continues to bring me higher and higher with his mouth, and my cries get a little louder with each move he makes.

After several star-seeing minutes of this treatment, he stops and I collapse back onto the bed, whining. Still, if he's stopped in order to move onto even more pleasurable activities, I might be able to cope. He sits back on his heels, massaging himself through the skirt to relieve some of the tension. I smirk a little, inwardly, as I realise how much it's getting to him as well.

"God, Heero," he whispers, "if you keep on like this I'm gonna come before you do." He smiles as he reaches down into his bodice for something. His fingers retrieve a familiar-looking tube and he squeezes some of the contents out onto his fingers as he leans down to me again. I desperately want another kiss, but he's not going to give me one; instead, I mewl frustratedly as he leans down, almost close enough to touch our lips together, but keeping his moving.

"I was going to try to keep you waiting longer, but I might've known you'd make it impossible for me." I arch my back and cry out inarticulately as I feel him press a finger inside me. He carries on talking quietly as he strokes me. "You're just irresistible Heero. You're sexy when you're being quiet, you're sexy when you're being noisy... You're just a wet dream come to life, all the time." He inserts another finger, and I cling to him, trying in vain to achieve some sort of friction, but he's being very firm. I can tell from his slightly ragged breathing, though, that his resolve is not quite as solid as it was; my body's not quite had a chance to fully recover from our earlier escapade, and I know that feeling that excites Duo just as much as the other, different feeling when he hasn't made love to me for a while.

"Oh god, what are you doing to me?" I hear him whisper breathlessly. I manage to smirk, despite the considerable distraction.

"It's... more a question... of what you're going to do to me," I reply, more breathless than him.

"I was just getting to that." He removes his fingers and I can only lie there, panting and bereft. "Sorry darlin'," he whispers as he rubs his hand along my inner thigh, "you might be a bit sore later."

"I... don't care!" I realise vaguely that I might regret it later, but right now I just want him to do something! It'll be worth a little pain.

"Okay," he breathes, and gets to his feet so he's standing over me on the bed. From my prone position I have quite a good view up his skirt, and this causes me to moan and grasp tightly at the sheets to keep from touching him or myself. I'm leaving it all up to him, just like he wanted me to; after all, he is doing a very good job.

Slowly he reaches up under his skirt - my breath catches in my throat - and he makes a very erotic little show of taking off that as-arousing-off-as-on underwear, pulling up the skirt to reveal the area he's just uncovered. I slip further out of control and towards incoherency, biting my lip to keep myself in check.

"Look, Heero," he gestures vaguely towards his delicious exposed flesh - as if I wasn't intently focussed on it already! He half-giggles, but goes on in a throaty, sexy whisper as he gets back down on his knees. "I'm wet for you Heero -" I react in pleasure at his words, making increasingly frequent little whimpering sounds in my throat; a little sexy narrative always turns us both on immensely, and this is no exception. We were unable to take advantage of it earlier, so he's eager to use it now, and it seems to have a concentrated effect on me too. He applies a little more lube to himself quickly, groaning softly; I realise he's had hardly any direct stimulation, but I sense that doesn't really matter. He pauses for just a moment, finishing the sentence he began: " - just like a real girl would be."

Then... heat and pressure and fulfilment all flood through me; in contrast to his smooth, slow-motion foreplay, he thrusts into me roughly, and I cry out. The change in pace is a wonderful gratification: the waiting and teasing was causing a delicious aching inside me, and this variation strikes right at that ache and transforms it into brilliant colours and deep sensation. I bring my arms up and hang on desperately to him, as he continues the monologue that accompanies his movement. "Is that why you like me to dress up like this, Heero? 'Cos you wish I was a real girl?"

I can't speak, I can only shake my head. I know this is just part of his little plan, but I reassure him anyway. We've been through this together; there's something almost dangerously erotic about being fucked by him dressed like this, and it worried him a little, until we worked it out: I think - no, I know - I only find it so intense because... it's him . I find myself inextricably drawn to him constantly, so when he shows me another facet of himself, physical or otherwise, I can't help but be just as fascinated. He understands me; it excites him too, because he loves to toy with me - and that's just what he's doing now. "Would you like that? If this - " he thrusts deeper into me to emphasise, and I cry out, louder than before, " - wasn't real?" I shake my head again, eyes closed but imagining the look on his face. Just a hint of dark teasing in his eyes...

"That's good, Heero. I'm glad you're not wishing I was someone else," he's getting more breathless, "because no-one else is ever going to get a chance to do the things I do with you, ever, understand, Heero?" I nod, eyes still closed, he's panting now as much as I am, I can tell he's as close as me... His possessive words set light to something inside me and I'm pleading wordlessly and I open my eyes and look into his just in time to see him whisper fiercely "You're mine, Heero Yuy!" and I scream...

I really scream as he thrusts deeply into my body and strikes my sweet spot, hard; scream as I feel my body tense, and warmth explode through me; scream as I see and feel sparks tingling everywhere through me...

Scream, then instantly hear my name spill from his lips with a few ecstatic blasphemies, and feel his body shudder as he follows my example...

Then we're slowly coming down, trembling, and he holds me close, whispering in my ear words that I can't quite make out for a moment. I hear my name, and respond instinctively, the only thing I can think at the moment.

"Duo... I love you." I'm still trying to catch my breath.

He pulls away slightly to smile at me. "That good, huh?"

I stare at him, and he smiles wider.

"I was asking if you enjoyed that. I take it you did, hmm?" He kisses me gently, and I nod. "I didn't hurt you?"

I shake my head. "Not yet."

He laughs a little. "Well, I'm always willing to let you get your own back. But like I said before, this was only... a demonstration."

"Demonstration?"

"Yes. Of my plans for next time."

I smirk, and so does he. I remember what he means: his public sex fetish, like all his other fetishes, suits me perfectly. Just like mine suit him.

"Well," I pretend to think for a minute, even though I know perfectly well what he's implying, "don't we have that dinner engagement next week?"

"At that very expensive and exclusive restaurant?"

"With those very important dignitaries?"

Our gazes meet and we both snicker. Then he looks down at himself, and shakes his head.

"That's two outfits in one day! I'd better get them dry-cleaned... especially this one."

I feel a tingle run up my spine as I remember what he's referring to, and look forward to what he promises. Then I look where he's looking, and snicker again. "I think you better had."

End

[1] Of course Hee-chan knows what they're called, he picked them ^_~
[2] My Homer-reference for the day. Banshi'll know what I'm talking about!

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