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"Cheeky "Written By: Asymphototropic
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam wing. Author: Asymphototropic (attracted toward the
light, but never quite arrives there) Email: asymphototropic@aol.com Rating: NC 17 Warnings: imaginary yaoi...as opposed to the real
thing? Summary: In response to the November assignment at GW Safehouse, to write a fic about thankfulness, I figured I'd give Heero something for which he could feel truly grateful Pairings: 1x2
"Cheeky " "No point both of us going." "I can think of several reasons." "Such as?" Maxwell wearily stripped off his grimy fatigues. The two partners nearly had been pounded to pulp on this assignment, having ended in a brawl of combatants with fists flying. No lives had been lost, and they had succeeded in arresting some serious trouble makers, all of which rated as 'a very good thing' in Yuy's book. Still, between the mob fight, and ultimately, exposure to the latest formula Preventers tear gas, Heero almost wished he had been one of the felons taken into custody. Read him his rights, hose him down, throw him into a small cell with a tiny cot, let him pass out, and throw away the key. Thank you very much. Instead, they were going to an executive meeting. Maxwell, because his presence had been demanded. Yuy, because he wasn't about to leave his partner to do the scut work alone. The elegant gentlemen commanding Agent Maxwell's attendance at their damned conference would have been thoroughly offended to hear that Yuy tossed their work into the mental trash barrel labeled "scut". Deal with it, Heero snapped at them in his mind's eye. Maxwell chuckled. "Yuy. Dunno why we bothered to fight. We should have just aimed that glare of yours at the ruffians. Incinerated them on the spot." "Har," Yuy retorted. He liked that reply, having borrowed it from Maxwell's lingo. It was simple, expressed what he felt eloquently with minimum effort. And it was atypical, so it threw others off balance, hearing it out of his mouth. "Dunno whether to wash this laundry or burn it." "Yar," Yuy agreed. "Thirty second shower. Well, maybe sixty," Duo sniffed at his own pits, wrinkling his small snub nose in a wry expression of jolly disgust. Yuy was already washed and dressed in his perfectly presented Preventers' uniform by the time Maxwell had braided his soggy hair. "Gack. Think I can still smell that chemical crap on me." "You're okay," Yuy assured him firmly. He was aware of his partner's sensitivity on the subject of personal smell. It was a vulnerability left over from Duo's childhood hardships. As such, Heero took the whole matter very seriously. "Hn," Maxwell borrowed from Yuy's monosyllabic reply list. "Damn. I'm fresh out of clean boxers." "Just go commando." "Nothing doing. Une will fire my ass for uniform code violations." "And how, exactly, is the woman supposed to find out the status of your underpants?" "Xray vision." Duo grinned. Heero snickered. Then he made a major strategic error. He watched as the L2 Kid wriggled his butt into a pair of glossy black briefs. After that event, Yuy found his concentration shot to hell from the mouth of a large bore canon. They had called for transport, neither having the energy reserves left to drive. They sat next to each other in the back passenger seat, reviewing the report Maxwell had submitted to the committee. The security recommendations for building the new assembly hall were all necessary and reasonable, in Yuy's opinion. What was there to discuss here? His mind drifted, floated, settled upon the topic of glossy black briefs. In his mind's eye, he watched again. Duo's nude form, pale flesh slightly damp, glistening over lean, muscular contours. The scant curves of Duo's butt, with his feathered braid terminus teasing, swayingly there, over taut, silky dark fabric. Heero lowered the briefs slowly and surely away, exposing the delectable area where the cheeks met the thighs. That sensitive crease. He contemplated running his finger tips lightly over the cunning anatomic fold, imagined the skin shuddering reflexively from his caressing touch. Then, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, licking over that sweet place. "Ya going zero on me, buddy?" "Ready for some downtime, is all." "I heard that." Downtime, going down on Duo. Tongue licking teasingly
over succulent flesh. His partner, squirming. Heero would firm his
grasp, holding the lean hips insistently still. "Damn, where's it coming from?" "Your knuckles are bleeding." "Shit. Got some on my trousers there." Duo wrapped his left hand in his clean pocket handkerchief. "Its not too noticeable." As soon as they arrived at headquarters, they ran past Sally Po's office, on the fly. "It needs a hot antiseptic soak." "Later." "Human teeth are nasty, contaminated weapons." "I'm late as it is." Grumbling, she'd poured something stinging over the lacerations, dried them, wrapped them in clean gauze. "Do I look presentable?" "Adonis in uniform." "Har." Now they were attendant at the conference, listening to the interminable drone of the honorable gentlemen, who all wanted to save money in their building budget by cutting corners on major security items. Patiently, again, Maxwell explained how they would spend more and more money, every time the building was used, employing stopgap safety measures, rather than building them properly into the structure. And risking human lives to boot. Commander Une was there, scowling banefully at Yuy. As if silently urging him to rise up and shoot the idiots. That'd fix them, once and for all. Hn. Maxwell had turned to point to the projection screen, emphasizing the long-term fiscal estimates, urging the irrefutable logic onto the whining, mealy mouthed bureaucratic bastards. Yuy could just detect through Duo's trousers the shadow and highlight indicating the contoured edge of those briefs, creeping over the scant curves of the Kid's ass cheeks, trespassing uncomfortably into his crack. Right about now Duo would be longing to squirm, to adjust the placement of that teasing article of clothing. Heero would like to assist with that effort. Again in his glowing imagination, he drew the elastic edge down over the cheeks, leaving the briefs to restrain the restless thigh muscles. Spreading those delicious butt curves wide. Extending his tongue, licking along the hot crevice, finding the puckered target, insinuating inward. Insistently penetrating until his lips met resistance. Sucking, savoring. Then his hand would find his own trousers' fastening. He would withdraw his rock hard cock. "Agent Yuy." "Yes?" "I asked for your opinion on the matter." He glared at the tiresome old codger. "Agent Maxwell's recommendations should be followed to the letter. Of course. Anything else would be idiotic." "Well! That seems quite emphatic. And intractable." "Hn." Une looked like she was strangling on a stifled guffaw. Maxwell's lips quirked with amusement. Yuy turned the Kid around to fling him down, bend him over the harsh oak edge of the conference table. Drag down the uniform trousers. Then lingeringly lower those scant satin briefs, exposing the sweet flesh of his ass cheeks. Sneering at the sounds of outrage from the geezers. Heero, whipping out his erect cock, fingering it though it required no further firming. He was going to ravish the L2 Kid in front of them all. Plunge into that tight, hot hole until his balls smacked against the muscular curves. Likely, Une at least would appreciate the show. "Well that went well," her voice breached his fantasy. "Fools. What a waste of time." "Can you stand another visit to Po?" Maxwell muttered wearily. "If the doctor is expecting you, you will report to her at once," Une commanded. "Yes'm," in resigned tones. Yuy had heard before, Une calling Maxwell "cheeky". At the time, Heero had felt uncertain about the connotations, had actually looked up the word in the dictionary. Irreverent rudeness, especially in the young. Certainly, Maxwell held no reverence for anyone. Except perhaps for Shinigami. They should have brought the L2 Kid to the conference, dressed all in black, and in assassin mode. Scare the shit out of the old geezers. But Yuy never could hear the word "cheeky" without thinking of Maxwell's sweet ass. Now clad in that clinging black satin fabric. He watched Sally Po fussing over Maxwell. The Kid with his hand steeping in the steaming basin. His pale cheeks, flushed rosy. His other cheeks, shifting in the chair to relieve the wedgey, where the briefs had twisted slightly, tugging at his testicles. Heero bent Duo over the examining table, tickling at the dark elastic fabric before insinuating his fingers in there. Allowing the briefs to snap back with a crisp, biting sound. Smack. His strong hands, massaging the muscular cheeks. Then slowly exposing them to view. The pale flesh with the flush of excitement lingering over the balls. He rolled them between his finger tips, squeezing until the Kid moaned. "You wanna grab supper in the cafeteria?" "Chinese takeout. Delivered to the door," Yuy retorted emphatically. "Okay by me. I'm gonna sleep twenty-four hours, straight through." After I feed you. And then devour you, Heero promised himself wickedly. He placed the Kid on hands and knees on the gurney. Lowered the black briefs slithering down along the thighs. Groped until he found the tube of lube in the drawer. Doctors always had plenty of lube. How convenient. He stood on the stepstool, so his cock reached Duo's upraised ass. He lavished the cool jelly upon his burning hot cock. Then slipped the swollen head into that tight hole. Maxwell gasped and squirmed at the feeling of intrusion. Yuy steadied him, caressing over the seductive curves of those cheeks. He was pushing relentlessly inward. "Unbutton your shirt." Po intruded upon his delectable dream state. "Hmm?" "You've both been inhaling caustic fumes. I want to listen to your chest," Po waved the stethoscope in Yuy's direction. He unfastened his shirt. Maxwell's look lingered upon his fingers, active in the disrobing process, then appreciatively over the planes of his pectorals. Yuy offered the Kid the slightest smirk. Maxwell grinned back. Cheeky. "Now you," Po told the Kid. After wielding her stethoscope, she concluded her examination. "Report to me immediately with any symptoms of respiratory distress." "Sure thing. Thanks doc." Yuy changed his plans. On the way home, they stopped to pick up Chinese takeout. Heero wanted no interruptions by delivery men later. No interruptions whatsoever. He and Maxwell sat next to each other on a small bench, waiting while the food was prepared. Heero eyed his partner from fuzzy head to wriggling toes. Then grabbed him up, tossed him onto one of the wobbly formica tabletops. Dragged down his uniform trousers, exposing those black briefs. Lowered them seductively down. Tore open a cellophane envelope of sweet and sour duck sauce. Drizzled the sticky stuff luxuriantly over the ass cheeks, then began licking at the trickling goop. "Number 47." His illusion shattered. "Ours," Maxwell nodded cheerfully to the counter staff, dumping his received change into the "tips" jar. Yuy grabbed the sack of food, and Duo's arm, tugging him hastily out the exit. The trip home was lengthy hell. Never before had Heero felt such intense gratitude as when he finally entered the privacy of their Spartan bachelors' quarters. He slammed the door shut behind him, double locked and bolted it. Then he disconnected the phone. "Po put us on sick leave. While we recover from tear gas inhalation," he stated succinctly. "Thas' nice," Duo muttered sleepily. He dropped into an armchair and his eyes drifted shut. Heero placed the bag of Chinese takeout emphatically into the refrigerator. "Maxwell," he growled. "Yuy?" The Kid opened one eye inquisitively, and grinned at his partner. "For the foreseeable future. Your ass cheeks are mine." Moments later, a scandalously scant scrap of glossy black fabric went flying. ~ * ~
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