The Evil Jeans

Genre: Gundam Wing

Warning: Yaoi, if you don’t know what the word means, then you need to leave…

Pairing: Heero x Duo

Rating: M- For lots of man on man sex!

Feedback: Yes please!

Archives: If you’d like, just give me credit where it’s due.

Due to the requests I received, this is Evil Jeans part two! How it ended up being six pages longer than the original, I have no idea, but four pages of that are smut. Enjoy!

By the way, I own nothing, they belong to Bandai. If I did own these boys, I sure as hell wouldn’t be writing about them .

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Hmm, where did I leave off? Ah yes, Heero NEEDED me, and oh god did he make that clear. We spent about half an hour in that club and I could feel every minute, no, every second of it in my blood. We have just left but I can still tell where his hands have been.

Outside in the cool air, Heero stops to light a cigarette. I sigh and snatch it from him, putting it out under my boot. He smiles, if one could ever say that Heero Yuy truly smiles, but I know a smirk when I see it.

The cigarettes are like the jeans, he really only does it to irk me. It’s an old habit and an old routine. He’ll light up and I’ll put it out. I’m not completely sure he’s ever had an entire cigarette, but that’s really not the point. To this day, I think Trowa started him on the damn things, especially since the green-eyed carne smokes like a chimney. I swear that guy goes through a carton a day.

I hear a faint chuckle from the man beside me and I reach over to prod his side.

“You know I hate those things you little shit,” I say to him, but Heero only looks over at me. He’s already dropped it and moved on to something else and I can tell by the want in his beautiful eyes that the ‘something else’ is going to be promising.

“I know.”

His voice is always so calm… so level, no matter what it is that he’s saying. On occasion, I find myself wishing that I could be like him. I may put up a damn good front when I’m hurting, but it’s like he never hurts at all. Though, I know that’s not true. I’ve held him in the night when the past comes back to haunt him and I’ve seen what Heero Yuy is like when all his solid, perfectly unbreakable barriers come tumbling down. It doesn’t happen often, but I’ve seen the Perfect Soldier shatter under all the pressure that no one even thinks he notices. Heero isn’t a machine…

“So, you drag me out of the pit of sin and don’t pin me up against a wall like a butterfly? What’s up with that?” I tease.

I get the slightest shake of his head for my efforts. He slides an arm around my waist and we start walking.

I can tell that this is not going to be one of those nights where we rush through to get to the sweet part at the end. Not that I’m against that, but I’m always a fan of him pushing me to the front door because he’s so eager to screw that we’ll never make it to the bedroom. Ah, the number of objects we’ve defiled in our lovely home. If Quatre ever knew how many things we’ve had sex on, I don’t think he’d ever come over again. Or he’d show up in a medical mask and with enough cleaning supplies to sterilize a colony…

I laugh at that thought. Heero quirks an eyebrow at the sudden outburst and I quiet down to a chuckle. He doesn’t have to ask before I answer.

“It’s nothing, just had a funny thought.”

He stares off like I didn’t say anything, but I know he heard me. I feel his hand slip into my back pocket and I grin and do the same. Since he doesn’t talk enough for one person, and I talk enough for two, I fill the gap as usual.

“What would I do without you Heero Yuy?” I ask. It was really meant to be a rhetorical question, but he answers anyway. I don’t honestly think Heero grasps the concept of a rhetorical question.

“You’d be in a relationship with a normal guy, being treated the way you should be.”

Blunt and honest, could Heero be anything else?

I pinch his ass through his wonderfully soft jeans, a little irritated at his response. It was expected, but I can still be irritated with the bastard. No matter how long we’ve been together, he never thinks he’s good enough.

I make the buzzer sound from old school trivia shows. “Wrong answer, I’d be completely and utterly miserable…” I trail off, and then grin as wide as I can. “Because you are my sunshine, my only sunshine! You make me happy when skies are grey!”

He makes a visible effort to roll his eyes when I start singing. I can’t carry a tune and I take full advantage of that fact whenever I can. I spare him the remainder of the song when he gives me the glare of death. I think I’m the only person in the world who is immune to that look. I’ve seen men both taller and more muscular than Heero fall back when he’s fixed them with that stare, and I really can’t blame them. Thing is, with Heero, he can back up that look with one-hundred and seventy-five pounds of lean, well trained muscle.

When he sticks you to the floor with that glare, it’s almost like you can see every man he’s killed in his Persian blue eyes. Only, I’ve seen some of the men he’s killed in person and I even helped take down a few of them. That glare doesn’t scare me because I know he doesn’t mean it… Well, he doesn’t mean it when he shoots it towards me, but others…

I turn to face him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, admitting, “I couldn’t be with anyone else and you know it. Besides, is there anyone else in the world that could put up with my shit all the time?”

“I don’t know Duo. Sometimes I wonder how I can put up with it,” he shoots back, in a perfectly serious voice. A monotone joke that only I could catch.

“It’s because you love me!” I cry in an over-exaggerated display. Sometimes I have to wonder if anyone ever calls me a drama queen… besides Wufei.

Heero doesn’t say anything about my comment and neither do I. Instead, he opens the passenger door of his sports car so I can get in. I slip onto the cushy bucket seat (which we’ve had sex on, by the way) and stick Heero’s keys in the engine as he walks around the car.

He checks his pockets when he gets in, but notices that I’d relieved him of his key ring. I pick his pockets too often for him to bother saying anything about it. Since I’d really rather hold my lover’s hand while he drives then play ‘follow the leader’ in my car, I figure the pile of steel will be alright in the club’s parking lot until I get up the energy to come get it tomorrow.

He pulls out onto the main road and pushes the car into high gear. We take a few turns and, like clockwork, I slide my hand in his. We always drive like this, no matter who’s at the wheel.

“So, is this going to be a candles and silk sheets kind of evening, Mr. Yuy?” I whisper in his ear and give his hand a squeeze. I know the gesture affects him by the way the car accelerates around ten miles an hour. We’re probably going about seventy on the rinky-dink back road Heero likes to take home. This road has the potholes from Hell itself, but I never could talk him into taking the freeway instead… not that he ever hits a single hole.

He pulls my hand up to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. I shut up at the sweet gesture. Whenever I’m beginning to wonder if he’s capable of love, he always does something like that… Something so adorable and sincere that it leaves me speechless.

We spend the rest of the drive home in silence. It’s not a bad silence, like the kind that you get at a family dinner with your date’s un-approving parents, but more of a silence that comes when you’re so comfortable that you don’t have anything to say. Not that I can speak about the family dinner with any experience, because neither Heero nor I have the luxury of family… I guess that’s why we were soldiers instead of children.

I hop out of the car when he stops it in our driveway and move energetically to the other side. When I leap at him, he catches me without question. One of the reasons I love the man with all my heart and soul, I never have to wonder if he’ll let me fall.

“Carry me inside! I’m too tired to walk!”

He tilts up my head with his thumb and index finger, kissing me fiercely. I can’t help but melt and, hell, do I melt. If I didn’t know that it wasn’t physically possible, I’d say I was a pool of goo with a braid on the cement of our driveway.

I let him take control of the kiss, opening my mouth to the invasion of his tongue. I swear he’s counting the cusps of my teeth with that probing muscle so I bite down on it. I don’t do it hard enough to draw blood, just enough to make him grunt in pain and scrape his teeth over my lips.

When he pulls away, I grin at him and mention, “We’re still standing in the driveway…”

There’s a brief moment when I think maybe he actually forgot that little detail, then it doesn’t matter and he’s carrying me towards the house. I didn’t actual intend for him to carry me inside, so I squirm so he’ll put me down. Only, he doesn’t put me down.

I furrow my brow and complain about it, “Hey, I can walk. Let me go, Heero.”

“No,” he says firmly and tightens his grip around my chest.

I guess I really can’t argue, since I really don’t WANT to get away from him and our neighbors really don’t talk to us anyway.

When I was younger, I probably would have thrown a fit about ‘being held like a princess’, but it’s one of the easiest ways to carry a human being without hurting them. Not to mention the fact that everybody I care about already knows I’m gay. So I let him carry me inside like a princess… or a bride, whichever image makes the most sense. It gives me free reign to give him a huge hickey while we walk anyway.

He falters at the door, but just so slightly. I wouldn’t have noticed, except the way he handled the keys. The key to the front door slipped out of his fingers and he had to fish it off the ring a second time. It was a tiny gesture, one that didn’t mean anything to a single human being outside of our dysfunctional little family, but it says something to me. Heero’s actions are very concise and very sure and losing his grip on the key meant that he was little too eager to get inside.

I know what you’re thinking. The man has two armfuls of me, so how the hell does he balance things well enough to get out the keys in the first place? This magical Heero Yuy talent is the very reason that I can tell you that he’s too eager to get inside. Heero just has this way with everything, so dropping something or tripping or anything of the sort can speak volumes of his mental state.

Then again, you’d have to spend excessive amounts of time in his presence to know the things I know.

We get inside and he drops his keys on the floor, only this time, it wasn’t a slip of the hand. He sets me on my feet and toes off the yellow sneakers he still wears to this day. Maybe I was wrong; maybe we are going to have one of our normal sessions.

Knowing EXACTLY where this is going, I press my hips to his and kiss him again. This time, neither of us pulls away. He grabs my ass and pulls my feet back off the ground, and I comply by wrapping my legs around his waist.

The kiss turns hot, fast and I can feel my body reacting. The best way I can think to describe this would be if someone took a buster rifle and fired it down my spinal column. That heat curls up in the core of my being and stays there.

We break apart for air, and for Heero to have to room to strip my shirt over my head, and then go at it again. He takes full advantage of my half-naked body and pinches one of my nipples. It sends a shiver through me. I slip my hand down between us, beneath Heero’s glorious blue-jeans and his cotton briefs, to grab hold of something I’ve wanted to play with all night.

Heero lets out a non-descript grunt that could mean anything from, ‘I’m aroused’ to ‘It’s too fucking early for sex’. In this case, I’d say his reaction fell under the former of the two.

He drops me on our bed (when did we get into the bedroom?), and shimmies my ridiculously tight leather pants off. I see the tiniest expression of surprise, or maybe approval, when he realizes that I’m not wearing underwear.

A girl would understand the reasoning behind this. Tight pants and underwear only causes one thing, underwear lines. Am I right? And, to be quite frank with you, I am NOT a thong kind of guy. It may remove those pesky lines on your ass cheeks, but I would rather go commando.

He meets my eyes as he moves down my body, getting in position to do something really, REALLY evil with his tongue. I can’t stop the gasp that escapes as Heero takes all of me into his mouth. I am not a big guy, by any means, every porn star on the racket probably has a bigger dick than me, but I’m not small either. I’d say my lover has deep-throating down to a science.

I grab a fistful of Heero’s unruly hair, but let him have the reigns. When I let him have full control, he gives better blow jobs. After so many years together, he knows all the spots that make me scream and exactly how to touch them. I have the same intimate information about him, but he always seems better at utilizing his knowledge.

He scrapes his teeth over me gently and my back arches off the bed. The groan I make seems absurdly loud, but I can feel him smiling as he works. I’m almost tempted to see if anyone else in the world gives head like he does, but I don’t want to be responsible for causing the apocalypse with Heero’s jealous rage.

Wave after wave of pleasure sweeps up my body and I’m drowning in a sea of it. One of these days, the man is going to drive me insane. I can sense the edge so strongly that I can almost see it. Once you jump off that edge, that boundary, you float in a nothingness of black, orgasmic euphoria, but I don’t want to be there just yet.

I try to give him some kind of verbal warning, say his name, something, but all that I can force through my mouth are quiet mewls of bliss. Heero starts humming some nameless little tune, working his throat around me in purely devilish ways. It pushes me so I’m teetering on the brink, so close that I’m breathing the scent of the waiting fireworks.

In desperation, I give one sharp tug to his hair and he halts his ministrations. Slowly, Heero releases my painfully hard cock and, when the cold air hits it, I wish I’d just let him finish.

Still poised between my legs and wearing FAR too much clothing, Heero asks me, “Do you want something Duo?”

Fucking tease.

He doesn’t move for the drawer we keep the lube in, or for the zipper on his clubbing shirt, or for ANYTHING! He just sits there and looks at me with his bright blue eyes. I know what he’s waiting for, and sometimes I like keep him waiting. I don’t mind saying it, because I know it’s true, but if I hold out long enough I can get him to the point that he’s shaking from holding back.

I don’t think I have the patience for that today.

“Will you just fuck me already, you bastard,” I groan.

Not bothering with the zipper, Heero pulls his sleeveless shirt over his head. “Is that what you want?” He murmurs in a husky voice and runs a lazy hand up and down my stomach.

I give in, but I make a show out of it. I settle back in the pillows and hood my eyes so I’m looking at him through my lashes (I call them killer bedroom eyes), parting my lips slowly before I speak. “I want you to love me.” I make sure every word drips with the need I feel and I get the reaction I want in a heartbeat.

Heero covers my body with his and devours my lips. We quickly become a tangled mass of limbs that could only be successfully sorted out by complex surgery… or by us. I roll over onto my lover and run my fingertips down his sinfully soft blue jeans before I undo them.

I suck his tongue out of his mouth and break away from him, sitting back on his hips.

“I hate these jeans.”

The corner of his lip turns up in a smirk and he comments, “I thought you liked them.”

I smirk back and reply, “Yeah, but when you wear them, I can only think about taking them off of you.”

“That’s why I wear them.”

“Don’t push it Evil Knievel, you may not be as hot as you think,” I snap playfully and reach up to twist one of his dusty nipples.

He grunts (I’m still going to peg this one as an aroused grunt but I really wish he’d start using other noises) and opens the drawer on the beside table while I pull the jeans down his tone legs. I toss the evil jeans to the floor and strip off his tighty-whiteys in the same move. I love the view my position gives me once he’s naked. I know every centimeter of his beautifully muscled body, but I can’t help but stare when I get him into his birthday suit.

Heero shifts his weight and I fall back to the mattress. I hear the faint click of the lube cap right before he presses two cold fingers knuckle-deep into my body. A gasp slips from my open mouth. He could have warned me… or at least waited for the lube to warm up a little.

The first time Heero and I had sex was about three weeks after the war had ended. For lack of a better idea, he had moved in with me and we’d been sharing my sad excuse of an apartment for days.

When he walked in the door that afternoon, he was livid. I think he’d had a fight with Relena about her constant stalking. Heero was complaining in a deadly, monotone voice about what she’d done and I, being me, was fantasizing about what his lips would taste like. So, when he got in my face to ask me if I was listening, I planted one on him. After that, things tumbled into chaos and we got out of our clothes so frantically that I’m still missing one of my socks.

There really was a point to this tangent (even if I did stray a little off topic), but it has to do with lube. That first time, we were in such a hurry that we forgot to use lube and it actually hurt pretty bad. I wouldn’t stop bleeding after our frenzied session and the man hasn’t forgotten the stuff since.

Despite it all, I wouldn’t take back the way things happened.

Now, we know the routine like we know how to breathe. Sometimes we toss something new in just for kicks, but Heero and I screw each other like we were born doing it. Neither of us could ever be happy with someone else.

I wrap my legs around his waist and he slips a third finger in with the others. He works them in and out slowly, finding the rhythm that our bodies keep as a second heartbeat. A single digit curves to touch my sweet spot and the sparks go off behind my eyes. The sensation races up my spine to curve my back, and escape as a scream.

It eventually passes, but it leaves me panting on the sheets until he does it again.

With his free hand, Heero sets my hair loose from its oppressive braid, spreading it into russet waves beneath us. I’ve always loved my hair, but I’m pretty sure that Heero loves it more. He puts his face into it and gathers a handful to smell. It almost looks like he’s gone to some other place and a genuine smile passes over his features as he runs my hair through his hand.

I whisper his name and he comes back to me, sliding his fingers out of my body. I mourn the loss, but my legs tremble in anticipation of what’s to come next.

Heero uses the extra lube, from preparing me, on his impressive erection and positions himself. I lace my fingers in his as he gets ready, meeting his eyes as we become one. He gets that look, the one where his eyes close and his lips part, so I kiss him fiercely. When he’s buried to the hilt, I suck his bottom lip between my teeth and bite.

“Fast and hard,” I pant out, and he obliges.

He starts up the pace we both love, slamming into me hard enough to push my body up the bed. The headboard hits the wall with every thrust, making the dent we’ve established even worse. In just seconds, I can’t make a single intelligent sound and am reduced to half spoken pleas for more and wails of ecstasy.

He repositions himself, once, so his strokes hit my prostate and I rake my nails down his back as the firework show continues. I could die, right here and right now, and never regret a thing. There might be a heaven, but it would never be as good as this. So, if all those bible-thumpers think I’m going to hell, then I could care less if they end up being right. I’d rather have Heero Yuy than any halo and wings.

The release I’ve been holding back for what seems like an hour coils in my abdomen. The muscles in Heero’s neck are taut and I can tell that he’s keeping his at bay as well. It won’t be long.

When I think I can’t stand it any longer, Heero reaches between us and pumps my erection in time with his thrusts. It’s the only stimulation I need and I tumble over the edge of my orgasm. I scream my lover’s name as he attempts to draw my pleasure out as long as possible.

The bright white that has flooded my vision seeps back to wherever it came from. It isn’t until I notice the warm feeling in my guts that I realize Heero came when I did. We curl up together, not caring that we’re sticky and probably reek. I’m floating in the black sea of euphoria, drifting towards sleep, when I hear him say something.

His words cause a hiccup in all of my body functions: heartbeat, breathing, thinking…

I wake up enough to look at him and ask, “What?”

He doesn’t falter when he repeats himself, “Love you.”

In all my life, no one has ever said these words to me. When I echo them back to him, they come out cracked and warbled, “I… I love you too.”

Heero Yuy, the killing machine who is a man, reduced me to a sniveling mess with two simple words. I’d always told myself that we didn’t need to say them to each other, that we knew that there was love involved in what we did and how we acted, but actually hearing them I realized how much I needed to hear them spoken.

I gather myself together with a croaked laugh and bury my face in his shoulder. It takes a second before I can form words again, “I love you too you big lug… but I want you to know, if you ever wear those damn pants in public again, I’m going to set them on fire. I can’t guarantee that I’ll make sure you’re out of them first.”

He chuckles and tightens his grip on me, bringing me as close as he can without our atoms merging… Though, I really don’t think I’d mind if they did.

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Owari

Well, this ended up being a lot fluffier then I intended, but I thought the sex turned out well.