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"Forever"Written By: ELLE and Miss Murdered Disclaimer: Despite how many fics we both post, neither of us owns Gundam Wing or have come any closer to owning it. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: gratuitous smut – m/m sexual relations
ahead! Also, cursing, of course. Pairings: 1x2x1 Summary:Two brief one shots from alternate perspectives before and after a tense mission. Additional Notes: This fic came about as Miss
Murdered joked about sending ELLE a "quickie" e-mail and
from there our smutty minds devolved over the course of several more
e-mails until ELLE convinced Miss Murdered through a series of well
maneuvered arm pulls that writing a "quickie fic" based
on the boys having a "quickie" was a great idea. Of course
the arm pulling is a lie – Miss Murdered agreed immediately and
turned this quickie around quickly. ;-P And ELLE reciprocated. (Oh
my, that sounds entirely too dirty...!) "Forever"
Post-Mission We tumbled through the locker room together, a mass of limbs and lips and lust. We're alone, preferential treatment for senior agents, everyone else is being debriefed first while we get the smaller, classier showers upstairs to ourselves. Not that I give a flying fuck about location. Duo is here. That's all that matters, that Duo is with me, and he smells of sweat and smoke and gunpowder and blood and it makes me harder than I have any right to be considering how damn close he came to death. But Duo didn't seem to care as he separated from me, slammed open his locker, grabbed for a bag I knew contained lube amongst his ridiculous number of hair care products. We'd done this way too many damn times. He knew what I wanted and I loved him for it. As I undressed I watched the way blood still glistened through the tear in shirt at his shoulder, fleshed ripped to hell, blood saturating the back of his shirt and now it stuck to his skin as it dried but it was just a flesh wound he'd said. Said nothing about the miss-timed bomb I was never supposed to have set and managed to nearly kill us with, the burn on his cheek from the barrel of a freshly fired gun, pressed there deliberately by a fuck who's cheek bone I bashed in as retaliation. His wound would be more debilitating, disfiguring. He would require plastic surgery. Duo was mine to mark. I watched as Duo dropped his pants, heard them hit the floor and he turned to me with a smirk, that cocky overconfident shit he always did like he was goddamn Superman and he couldn't die but then even Superman had kryptonite. And I guess that was me 'cause if I hadn't sprung that fucking trap Duo wouldn't have been forced to act prematurely to avoid my capture and fuck but I would've taken a bullet for him. He shouldn't have acted so recklessly. "I'm going to have us reassigned." Duo rolled his eyes and then he was pushing me back into the shower, getting tangled in the curtain, his mouth hot on mine, hot as the fucking Bolivian jungle we'd just come from. I knew he thought I was too sensitive and I knew Une thought we worked too well together as a team even despite the personal nature of our relationship because during the mission, there was nothing else. We didn't consider each other, didn't let our relationship distract us from the goal, training overriding everything else. Our success rate was phenomenal, never lost a target yet, and so everyone put up with our shit. My driving need to cement something between us before being dumped into some fuck up where I could lose him and not be able to flinch. So all the fucking before missions in closets and bathrooms, hotel rooms, transport vehicles - everyone just turned their head and ignored it. My threat was ineffectual and he knew it. I probably would've had to quit Preventer to break us up. "You know I don't trust anyone else to watch your back," he growled as he hit the water. It was cold at first, jarred us both but he moved in, clung to me, the heat between our bodies an inferno by comparison. Adrenaline still hummed through my veins or maybe I'd be able to stop this, that we could maybe talk seriously about this for once, figure out what we meant to each other because once we were home it was too easy to forget about that stress and pretend we didn't do this shit every other week. But with his dick aligned against mine, grinding against mine, resolve melted away and slid down the drain with the sweat and dirt and blood pooling at our feet. Our kisses tasted like the salt water washing into our mouths from the sweat in our hair and I backed away from him a bit to look at him, the white t-shirt tinged pink with his blood, sticking to his pecs and abs, nipples hard through nearly transparent fabric. My fingers touched his cheek gingerly, maybe too soft, where the flesh had blistered in a long straight line and my lips met the mar, tongue kissing it with feather-light licks as if I could smooth it away and unmark his face. "Ain't your damn fault," Duo muttered as if he could guess every thought in my head - and maybe he could. His hands were on my hips, digging in, dragging me back towards him and I used his hands to ground me. I buried my skin against his, pressed myself so tightly against him that water couldn't pass between us. I could feel his heart pounding in his chest and the warmth of the blood flushing his body as we moved in tandem against one another. I lapped at his neck, felt him shiver as my teeth grazed his collarbone and his name escaped my mouth with a moan that sounded thin and needy even to me. His hands gripped my ass, dug in and he kissed me, biting on my lips, sucking on my tongue, and then he pushed me back into the wall. I let him. I needed to feel him, needed to erase all the dark thoughts in my head of every time he'd almost died because of me. But he wasn't dead, he was here, now, and very much alive and I groaned as his slickened fingers stretched me. I couldn't help the way my body responded, thrusting down against them, wanting to feel more, wanting to feel his torso locked up against my back, his hot, lithe frame over mine, holding me, embracing me - and I knew he knew it. When he entered me he thrust in quick and hard and I tensed against the pain while it flooded through me but then it also reminded me he was there and I appreciated it. He took a moment, paused. Voice rumbling in my ear, deep with lust, telling me how fucking good I felt as his arms encircled me - strong, scarred hands stroking down my torso, mouth seeming all over my back at once. I braced myself against the tile as he began to move. He was a good few inches taller than me now and I knew this position wasn't easy for him so I tilted my hips, trying to give him better access. His thrusts were short and powerful, each one pushing me forward until my cheek met with the wall, and then my shoulders, and my fingers curled against wet tile uselessly. I bit down on my lower lip, panted moans slipping between my teeth, and I closed my eyes. His teeth met my neck and he sucked so hard I knew it'd bruise but I didn't care. I'd finger it later, when the nightmares came, and remind myself - he's here with me. He made it. His hand met my dick and I tried not to cry out. I reached down, threaded my fingers through his so I might hold his hand even as he jerked me off. The smack of our skin reverberated through the stall and my heart thudded in my chest and everything felt so hot. His shirt was sticking to me and his dick was rubbing me raw and I felt helpless beneath him, helpless against the fury that was Duo Maxwell. "Come on, baby," he whispered in my ear, his breath washing over me, causing me to tremble and I moaned in response, feeling my dick swell in our hands. "Wanna feel you come." As the word fell from his lips I fell over the edge, cum washing away with water, light sparking behind my eyes as his thrusts became unsteady... but his dick kept hitting me there and my body shook. I released his hand and reached behind me, grabbed his braid, twisted my fingers through the base of it to keep him close, hold him near me. Then I felt his body tense, heard him gasp in a deep breath and his fingers constricted on my hips, pulling me up impossibly close. His whole weight sagged against me and we slid to the floor in a heap, water holding in our warmth. We kissed lazily, hands stroking skin in reaffirming gestures, binding us together again. "I could sleep for a week," he murmured and his hand reached for mine, lacing our fingers. I laid my forehead against his and just breathed, let my aching body unwind under the hot water. I knew debrief waited for us - that we had to wash his hair, peel him out of that shirt, submit to the medical exam we'd bypassed, the couple of hours with our "superior" officers and psychologists, the walk-through of all our mistakes and the analysis of how to avoid them in the future - all the shit I hated before we could go home and fall into bed and return to some level of normalcy for a few days. Maybe. Because was it really normal when then the only way you could ever appreciate it was to come this close to losing everything every other week? Maybe he knew what I was thinking again because he palmed my bangs out of my eyes. I blinked the water out of them, met his gaze, watched the way the water ran rivulets across his face. "Me n' you?" he said then, barely loud enough to be heard over the falling water, bringing our hands up to kiss the back of mine. "Forever."
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