Warnings: 2+3; strong R for language and sexual inuendo
Disclaimer: I have no legal right, only stock in perversion
It had all started with a simple
Duo had been practicing his favorite sport, channel surfing, when he heard
the muffled sounds of a woman's screeching voice reach him from another
room. Now on any other occasion, he might have simply yelled, 'turn that
down!,' or, feeling particularly cheerful, might have ran into the next
room to dance or sing along with whomever was enjoying the oddly upbeat
But, it was Sunday. The sky was clear, the birds were singing, most of
his roommates were gone, and he hadn't killed anyone in the last 48 hours.
Today, he decided as he irritably clicked off the power of the television,
today he would be pissed.
Decision made, fueled by the now undeniably annoying voice (and just why
the fuck *was* one of his fellow assassins listening to a female crooning
about how 'girls just wanna have fun'?), he skulked down the hallway,
eyes squinty and forehead creased with obvious displeasure, toward the
source of the noise: the rumpus room.
The music was even louder here. He could feel it in his feet, in the doorknob,
and when he flung the door open, the boy inside was deaf to its crash
against the wall. Duo's awareness however, particularly that of his happily
lazy, Sunday afternoon libido, increased exponentially.
In time with the music that thrummed against the walls, Duo's groin pulsed,
and in the midst of the room, a body bounced along.
Trowa, back -no . . . ass to Duo, was bending at the waist, stretching
his arms to touch the ground this way and that. His bottom, his calves,
his thighs, were covered by a clingy, soft material, pale blue and tautly
hugging his every curve and angle. At his ankles, were thick and flimsy
warmers, blue and white and ribbed, and Duo noticed that a contraption
of similar material, only tight and braided this time, served as a sweat
band and peeked deliciously from beneath strawberry hair. His shirt was
a simple white tank top and his arms were bare but for sweat.
But the best part, the final fucking straw, was the delicious view between
the boy's legs. Each time he would bend that pale material would stretch
tight across a tighter ass, and the ample spread of his legs would allow
an observer a first hand look at the sweetest mound of cock and balls
this side of L5 (excepting, of course, one very specific blond prince/soldier/lover-of-all-things-good-and-general-like
. . . but I digress).
Duo watched in rapt admiration, feeling his anger, and a good bit of every
other substance in his body, flow in one direction, making for an uncomfortable,
albeit delicious, tightness in his groin. He knew he was fully hard (teenage
hormones--gotta love 'em), and longed to unzip his trousers and pull the
hot flesh out right then and there, teasing, squeezing, stroking himself
to release. Yet at the same time, he knew that now that he'd seen that
perfect ass, nothing short of that would do.
"Oh! Hi Duo." A voice ripped him suddenly from his view, or.
. . . almost. Below the apex of those lanky legs that seemed to climb
forever, (obviously they too longed to be as close to that ass as he did),
was Trowa's face, a bit red from exertion, and beautifully comical in
it's upside-down gaze.
"I was just working out a bit. The music wasn't bothering you was
it?" He asked innocently, continuing to bounce and looking at Duo
upon every descent between his legs with that same upturned emerald regard.
Duo closed his mouth, and swallow hard, but not as hard as-- "No."
The word was very clipped and dry sounding and almost inaudible.
"Oh." The shape of the word on those lips gave Duo naughty thoughts
and, impossibly, his pants grew tighter.
"I've just been away--" bounce, " --from the circus--"
bounce, "--so long that I've--" bounce "--been feeling
quite--" bounce, "--stiff."
"Unnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn . . . ." Duo moaned. He was no longer
in control of his body. His cock had declared mutiny and was hoisting
it's rebel flag . . . directly in Trowa's direction.
"I can really--" Trowa continued with another bounce, "--feel
it too," bounce, "right in here." As he said so he stopped
bouncing momentarily and from his vantage point between his legs, framed
by his upturned ass, stroked the insides of his thighs. He looked at Duo,
and cocked his head comically.
"Heh . . . yeah . . . ummmmm . . ." Duo lied. He was seconds
away from coming in his jeans. Trowa had no idea what he was doing to
him! He thought about the fact that his erection must be blatantly obvious,
but that thought came a second too late, as startled green eyes regarded
his crotch and then his flushed face.
"Duo!" It wasn't a shout exactly, but for Trowa it might as
well have been have been a shriek.
For Duo, it was the end.
Trowa finally stood from his bent position. The song had ended and the
house was quiet. He walked to the now prone form lying on the floor of
the hallway, only a little concerned for his fallen comrade. He poked
him with a bulky white sneaker to make sure he was still alive.
Indeed, there was a small moaning sound, though Duo didn't open his eyes,
and Trowa decided that was good enough.
A door slammed shut in another part of the house.
"Trowa, Duo, we're back! Where are you?" It was Quatre and the
others. They probably had dinner!
Trowa looked again at the still body on the floor, shrugged and turned
to meet his friends and roommates, replying to Quatre's call as he went.
And on the floor, a certain unconscious face, developed a sated, if not
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