Heero's Sock Drawer
by D.C. Logan
I held the large plastic object in my hand considerately. Wow, the things you found when rummaging through your fellow pilot's belongings. I'd been looking for another book to, uh, borrow, and hadn't expected to come across this. Uh huh, not in a million years.
"Huh, wonder how long Heero's been into this?"
I wrapped my hand around the circumference to estimate the, um, displacement. Wow. I gave one end an experimental twist - and jumped in surprise when the thing started to buzz and vibrate wildly in my hand. Well. Now. This was interesting. I shut it off before I drew undue attention to myself, and gave it a closer look.
Curious, I sniffed the plastic and touched its smooth surface with the tip of my finger; and, satisfied for the moment, held the prize in one hand and pawed through the rest of the clothes. "Hmm. Any other goodies in here?"
I shifted contents to view the bottom of the drawer. Sure enough, a stack of comics was hidden in the back of the drawer under neatly stacked clothing. The covers were brightly colored and the characters weren't wearing much. "Ah, Heero. You've been up to some _very_ interesting activities in your spare time." I set the vibrator aside and flipped though one of the books. Oh my. VERY interesting. I hadn't known that that position was physically possible.
The face on the cartoon figure displayed either primitive pleasure or extreme agony. Perhaps both. I shifted the orientation of the book in my hand to see if it made more sense from an alternate angle - but it didn't help much. I paused in my exploration to consider. Well. I _had_ broken in to borrow a book from Heero's collection. I pulled one at random from the stack and returned the rest of the items to the drawer with a thief's attention to minute detail. And, carefully secreting my prize, moved quietly back to the privacy of my room for a closer look at my new acquisition.
It felt forbidden and erotic, and it made me hard as hell. It also felt a bit dirty and a lot sinful to be spying on Heero this way; but that wasn't detracting from the incredible rush I was getting just watching him. Lord he was gorgeous - all that toned muscle and definition. I'd been camped out in Heero's closet most of the afternoon, and I'd been very patient and stone quiet. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of doing this before. Heh, any visual payoff I received would be well worth the suffering my muscles had endured from remaining motionless for hours - and today's entertainment was just starting...
Heero was lying on his bed - completely relaxed. He had his school shirt unbuttoned and open to his sides and was still wearing his shorts. And, most importantly, he was in full view of the louvered panel on the closet door. I had adjusted the angle just enough to improve my view from the pile of laundry I'd arranged for my comfort. This was unbelievable, absolutely unbelievable.
My fellow pilot had raided his drawer and was idly thumbing his way through the stack of comics, pausing on some of the pages for long moments. I would have given vital parts of my anatomy (okay, not those) to see what he was so fixated on. His breathing tensed, and his skin grew a soft sheen as he became excited. (Okay, yeah, he wasn't the only one. I had to keep looking away from him to moderate my breathing. Discovery would be a _very_ bad thing right now. Hell, if he found me out, I wanted to at least see more action first.) I turned my attention to his face, watching his eyes dilate slightly, his features alternate between soft and focused as he directed his attention to and from his reading material. Guess I wasn't alone in trying to prolong and regulate the experience. I stifled a smirk at the thought - soundless maybe, but Heero was that good. But he was also occupied at the moment. I stole a quick glance back at the bed and sat riveted. Oh yeah, very occupied.
He'd pulled down his shorts. Damn, how in hell had I missed that?! Too busy alternating the view I had of his face with the insides of my eyelids I guess. Sometime during the long moments I'd spent watching his expression change, he'd become excited. He had a tremendous erection sticking straight into the air and starting to curve rigidly against the plane of his torso. Oh man. This was fucking incredible. Assuming he was alone, Heero began to touch and stroke his length. My pants grew tighter as I watched his hand slide up and down his shaft, slow then fast, then slow again. He set the comic to the side and closed his eyes, imagining, I guess, whatever image it was that turned him on - the one he'd saved for last. His action became more urgent, his strokes faster; and then, with the control of a samurai, he stopped, right on the brink. Sonofabitch. *How* had he managed that? I was dying a thousand tiny deaths just watching him and he looked almost relaxed. What the hell?
He released himself, breathed deeply, and placed both of his hands, palms down, on the mattress alongside his body. His eyes closed and his erection danced on its own, untouched except by cooler air. It was mesmerizing... I had to look away for a moment and brace my hands on either side of the closet door, fighting to maintain control - of my breathing, of my heartbeat, of the unbelievable urge to break from my hiding place and give Heero a very helping hand. I didn't think it would be appreciated under the circumstances however. Ah hell, just breathe Duo - in and out, in and out (oh fuck), yeah it's not so hard (oh man, even my thoughts were against me!). I would have smacked my forehead against the wall to stop the ideas that were racing through my mind (and none of those thoughts had a rating less than R) - but that would have given my position away. I stifled the rising urge with both hands, choked it down, straddled the situation and took control. Oh hell... yeah... today just wasn't my day for reasonable thoughts - oh, but what a view....
Heero held that position for a count of thirty or more, and then began anew. He reached down and smeared his fingers over the head and then slipped them down to encircle his girth once more. He started pulling his hand up towards his chest with rhythmic strokes, his fingers spread and stroking steadily up and down the full length of his cock. He pumped himself right to the edge of orgasm once again. And stopped. He moved his arms to his sides once more, but his fingers remained clenched this time. Hmmm, so even a samurai has his limits of endurance... The energy and tension were viable, tangible things in the space of the room. Heero was working up to this slowly, but it was an exquisite exercise in control and release. And it was an incredible turn on to witness; I couldn't look away this time. I couldn't breathe either, but that was beyond the limits of my concern at the moment. Who needed oxygen when I had this to sustain me? Oh lord, he was touching himself again. Hell.
He started stroking, pulling against himself slowly, and then building up to a speed that was amazing to watch. He had obviously hit the limit of what he could stand, and his hand was moving frantically. I wish I had that kind of control or skill - obviously he'd been practicing this for a while. Hell, he can practice on me anytime!
_That_ thought started a groan from deep in my gut that I fought to control - and almost didn't succeed. A whisper of sound escaped. But Heero was in no condition to acknowledge it. His breathing was rapid, heavy, and had a breathy overtone that caused the small hairs at the back of my neck to rise in response. Okay, other things had already passed the 'rising' stage - but I'd take care of that later. Right now my focus was on Heero.
The man was amazing, tremendously excited, and reaching his peak. Then his back arched, his buttocks clenched and raised off the bed; his toes curled - gripping the covers. His hand was a blur, he gave a soft gasp, and then slowed to a steady, easy rhythm as he milked himself into his palm, and spread his warmth over his torso. He continued to stroke himself for a long while after; and then quieted; and relaxed while his breathing slowed to normal. He lay there with his eyes closed for long minutes while I held my breath and tried to quiet my pounding heart. Surely he could hear me - though I remained still and motionless. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat and feel it in my palms - sweaty against the doorframe where they remained braced. If Heero found me here, I was as good as dead. I'd never answer the call for my next assignment. They'd never find my corpse - it would be buried too deep and hidden _far_ too well. Deathscythe might miss me...but that was a forlorn hope at best. But was this worth the risk? Hell yeah.
Heero's eyes opened and he shifted on his bed. Quicksilver mutable with the passing of his orgasm - whatever had left his mind to allow him his moment of pleasure was back in control and as efficient as ever. He arched his back, reaching down to hike up his shorts and wiped his hands against the side of his chest as he gathered the edges of his shirt together - carefully matching button to hole to cover the evidence of his pleasure. He levered himself from the bed and walked to the bureau - talking time to secret his books before snagging a towel from a stack of clean laundry - and leaving the room to head for the communal residence hall shower at the end of the hall.
I'd made it. With a click of a latch, he was gone.
What a relief, well, not yet... There was no way I could walk out of his room and across the hall in the state I was in. The mere thought of controlling myself in a similar heroic fashion was _way_ the hell out of the question. As soon as the room was empty and quiet, I reached down and released my clothes (why I hadn't thought to do this before Heero entered the room was beyond me - but I'm not as adept at keeping my vocalizations down to soft whispers) and stroked myself madly to completion. Picturing Heero's expression behind my closed eyes, seeing again his body, tensed and rigid with orgasm, I spilled all over my hands - intense and forceful. Oh _god_ that felt wonderful. Definitely I'd be doing this on a regular basis - well, as long as I could manage to keep even with Heero's moves. (And don't think that that didn't start another wave of desire from leaping though my privates...) I grabbed one of Heero's shirts from the nearby hamper and wiped myself carefully while my adrenaline rush eased, and my heart rate returned - not to normal - but closer than it had been for the past ten minutes.
Oh hell yeah I'd be doing this again... and again... and again. I peered though the louvers with the appalled thought that Heero might have reentered the room while I was, uh, occupied; but the room was clear. Grabbing the shirt I'd defiled, and a book off Heero's desk as a viable excuse for being in his room if I was caught, I crept across the hall and back into my dorm room. Home. Safe. I stripped off my clothes and hurriedly dropped onto my narrow bed, the demon already starting to rise as I replayed the past ten minutes in my mind. Oh hell. This was too wonderful to pass up on. And no, I'm not going to tell you how many times I came that afternoon. Let's just say that I was as sore as I was when I first discovered that particular diversion all those years ago, hmmm?
I've been looking through the pictures in his comic book often, trying to figure out which images he holds in his mind as he comes. And although it's been weeks now, I still find myself crushing Heero's much-abused shirt to my face as I remember that day in the closet. It has become my most erotic memory. I _will_ replace it with something more... someday... I hope.
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