Teenage Dirtbag Sequel
Chapter 7
by Granate
Our communication during the week is limited to casual emails usually
centered around trip planning. Duo arranges with his employers to come to
Orlando for the interview. I don't envy him that discussion. I'm thinking I
could help him hunt for apartments during his time here, but I don't want to
scare him, so I don't say that. It seems ridiculous to worry that I might be
"coming on too strong" when we've already had sex, but I do it anyway.
I'm annoyed with myself for being so nervous about him staying with me. My
apartment is spotless after just two days of me being home alone, waiting for
him, and cleaning compulsively. It's just I've never wanted anything so much in
my entire life. I approach most everything with a take it or leave it attitude,
even college. This internship I have now I went after ferociously, but I'd have
found something else if it hadn't worked out. I'm used to getting what I want
and not being at anyone's mercy. It's different with Duo. I want him to move
here and us to be together and happy. I want him to be my partner, at work and…
well, not at work. I want him to want that too.
When I pick him up at the airport, I discover he's even more nervous than I
am. He's making that face where he grins a lot and his eyes dart around. He
didn't check any baggage, so he's waiting for me at the curb. He's wearing
shorts, a dark red tee-shirt and a pair of sunglasses. He looks damned fine, if
you ask me. He chucks his garment bag in the back and when he gets in the
passenger seat, suddenly my whole body's on edge, like every cell is aware that
he's a mere two feet away. I undo my seatbelt and reach over to hug him and say
hello. He seems relieved as he hugs back.
"Flight ok?" I ask. My arms linger around his shoulders but he sits back in
his seat and I reluctantly let him go and buckle in again.
"No complaints," he nods. "I recognized the car," he adds and grins. I catch
it out of the corner of my eye as I shift into gear and pull out into the
traffic lanes.
"Hasn't changed much in a couple of years," I say. "You could probably do
more with it than I could these days."
"Heh," he answers ruefully, "but you could make it fly in space."
I grunt. "No, I really couldn't," I tell him, "I know working at NASA sounds
really cool and impressive, but interns are pretty much the bottom of the
pecking order."
"Great," he drawls.
"Or maybe I shouldn't be telling you this," I joke. "What I really mean is,
yes, you'll be able to make fully functional space stations out of toothpicks
and rubber bands after only three weeks."
"I wonder how much the Russians would pay to know that we make our space
stations out of toothpicks and rubber bands…" he ponders.
"Won't be worth much," I say apologetically, "they discovered that secret
when they investigated the leak in Mir."
He laughs and then we fall into comfortable silence as I pull onto the
freeway. He's looking out the window at the palm trees.
"I've never been to Florida," he says suddenly without looking away from the
passing landscape. "Florida: America's wang."
I snort at his imagery. "Oh, great. And what does that make California?
America's ass?"
"Yeah!" he agrees.
"Ohio?"
"Uhhh… America's… spleen?" he replies, looking at me.
I shake my head in amusement.
"No! Appendix!" he corrects himself. "Totally unnecessary, in fact, it should
be removed."
I snicker. "Duo, I think that's the most intelligent conversation I've had
this month," I deadpan.
"Damn, I'm gonna knock 'em dead on Monday!" he exclaims gleefully and flexes
his biceps, nearly hitting me in the head.
"Someone have too many cocktails on the plane?" I ask in amusement, ducking
and trying to keep my eyes on the road.
"No… someone just flew half way across the country to see a guy he doesn't
want to disappoint, meet people who are going to think he's stupid, and
interview for a job he'll probably suck at, that's all."
I nearly slam on the brakes. Jesus. It would be a lot better for the safety
of everyone on this freeway if he could not drop bombs like that on me while I'm
driving.
I sputter a little and he frowns unhappily to himself. "Ehh, I shouldn't have
said that 'cause now you'll feel obligated to try and make me feel better."
"Duo, since when do I do anything just because it's 'required?'" I ask,
consciously attempting to relax my grip on the steering wheel.
"Uhhh…"
"And when have I ever lied to make anyone feel better?"
He snorts. "Yeah, you don't really do that kind of thing, do you?"
"No," I say firmly, "so believe me when I tell you to have confidence and not
stress about this so much."
"You'll be pulling some strings, I suppose," he says.
"Every one I can get my hands on," I promise as I look over my shoulder and
change lanes.
"Will you be at the interview?"
I blink a few times. "I don't know, it's never come up," I tell him honestly.
"I don't think so. Unless you want me to be. I can probably talk my way in if
you want me to."
"No, I think it'll be better if you're not there," he says. "Geez, you really
have some weight to throw around there, don't you?"
"Not a bit," I grunt. "I'm just a stubborn pain in the ass. It's my most
reliable quality."
He laughs.
"Since it's your first time in America's Wang, is there anything in
particular you'd like to do?" I ask.
"See some gators!" he replies.
"Well, there's Gator Land in Kissimmee, but we're going the wrong way at the
moment," I tell him. "It would take an hour to get there and then two to get to
Cape Canaveral."
"Come on, Heero, I had a date to wrassle some gators today!" he says with a
convincing Australian accent.
"Ok then," I say easily. He needs to get his mind on something else. I turn
around at the next exit and head back towards Orlando.
He never tires of the fake accent the whole time we're there. We wander
around the gator park for a couple hours and he remarks at how they just "lay
there." He makes jokes about the term 'herpetology.' Somehow, he manages to
convince me to take silly pictures of him with his camera. I tease him for
buying souvenirs at the gift shop and he vainly searches for an "America's Wang"
refrigerator magnet.
The ride back to the Cape is quieter. I don't know about him, but I'm
replaying our afternoon. I feel so much freer to act my age and do stupid things
when he's around. I quickly dismiss the idea that this will be detrimental to
our work dynamic. In a way, it's probably good for me. It's getting late and we
decide to get something to eat as soon as we get to Cape Canaveral. He lets me
choose where we go for our late dinner and I take him to a Cajun place. We order
beer and the young waitress blushes and asks for identification. Standard
procedure, she says. We pull out our IDs and, satisfied, she leaves to get our
drinks. He grins across the table at me.
"She was checking you out," he whispers and kicks me under the table. I roll
my eyes and shake my head.
"You're imagining things," I tell him.
"Don't make me take you home early," he says, licking his lips.
I try to give no outward signs that my internal organs just liquefied. We
goofed around at the gator park earlier, but this is the first real innuendo
he's thrown at me. It brings back very clear memories of our second night
together. Thankfully, the arrival of my beer prevents me from thinking about it
for very long, which is good because I'd like to be able to stand up when it's
time to go.
He talks about what to do tomorrow, Sunday, but I don't agree to anything for
certain because I'm still trying to casually work in apartment hunting. Thus
far, I have failed miserably and I'm hoping for a suitable opening tomorrow. I
don't know why I'm being so hesitant, he's already said that if they offer him
the job he'll take it. They will and that means he'll need a place to live.
What's stopping me?
We eat and order another round of beer and then argue over who gets the bill.
After leaving a generous tip, we decide to skip the nightlife in favor of going
back to my place. Unfortunately, his relaxed demeanor dissolves in the quiet of
my apartment and he seems anxious again. I really hope it's not about tonight. I
was hoping we'd just start where we left off. It's been bothering me all
afternoon that we haven't even kissed yet. I go to where he's kicking off his
sandals and he straightens up.
"You look hot in shorts," I tell him, threading my thumbs through the empty
belt loops. I get a genuine smile before I close my eyes and kiss him. He pours
himself into his response and I feel like a fool for all my doubts. The mere
touch of his tongue to my lips brings an instant spark of arousal. He holds my
face and I wrap my arms around his back. It feels so good to hold him, but his
body is like a steel frame tonight. I pull away a little.
"I didn't mean to dodge you before, in the car at the airport," he
apologizes. The fingers of one hand stroke the back of my neck and his other
hand rests on my chest.
"I know," I say honestly and then let the subject drop. "You're so tense," I
comment.
"God, I'm not doing well at all here, am I?" he asks guiltily.
"Nervous?"
"No fooling you, huh?"
"I could…" I try to think of something I can do, "give you a massage?"
"Really?" he asks, perking up.
"I will try," I say, "I, uh, haven't done it a lot." Actually, I've only
given one back rub in my whole life. Saying I'm not a touchy-feely person would
be an understatement. He takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom. I like that
he didn't bother to ask permission or wait for me to lead the way. He doesn't
even ask where it is, although it's pretty obvious. My place is small and
utilitarian. It's got good plumbing, large windows, and is hot-wired with DSL
and that's all I really cared about moving in here. I can't say I've really
"decorated" but it's not exactly bare, either.
"God, your apartment is so clean," he says in amazement. I refrain from
telling him about my compulsive cleaning in preparation for his visit.
I enter the room behind him and see him next to my bed. My pulse quickens.
How many times have I fantasized about this since I returned from Ohio? Only
every night. Having him here, naked, wanting… He takes off his shirt and lets it
drop onto the floor but I catch his arm before he gets on the bed.
"Aren't you supposed to take off your clothes?" I ask and kiss his palm.
"Oh, uh, I," he stammers, staring at where I'm kissing his wrist now.
"House rules," I say matter-of-factly as I pull him closer and kiss his
parted lips. "Saves one of us the trouble later." I continue to kiss him and run
my hands over his skin. He hums in pleasure. I relish the fact that I caught him
a little off guard and he's being so pliant. I want to remove his shorts for
him, but then he might never get that massage, so I release him. I figure one of
us should be partially clothed, at least for a little while, so I change into a
pair of pajama bottoms and then put on some soft, wordless music while he takes
off his pants and gets on the bed.
My bed is a low, open futon. I love the futon mattress, it's not at all
bouncy and I sleep like the dead. When I turn back, he's on it with bare bottom
exposed. I steel my self-control and join him on the bed, straddling his thighs.
He needs this massage and it's wrong for me to assume he wants me to take him
just because he's lying like this. Considering how we left off last time, he
will probably want to take me this time. Really, I'm still unsure how to work
this relationship. How will we, uh, decide how to do it? I hope it will just
come naturally.
I start rubbing his shoulders. He's got his arms under a pillow supporting
his head. It's not long until he's moaning into that pillow. My hands have
traveled his back before, but never have I felt each individual muscle. I can
literally feel how tight they are. I think back to anatomy classes, trying to
remember their names, purposes, and placements.
"Shit, that's good," he groans, wincing into the pillow. "Harder."
I wonder for a second if he's torturing me on propose by talking like that
before I press my thumbs harder into his flesh. He grunts like he's in pain and
I let up a bit, but he rebukes me, "No, that was good. Keep it hard."
Something is definitely getting hard. I increase pressure again and work my
thumbs slowly down the length of his spine. He responds with a drawn out groan.
He's gotta stop doing that. Maybe I can get him to talk instead.
"Tell me what's bothering you. Get it off your chest, so to speak," I
encourage. I really can't read his mind and I'd like to know. Is it the
interview? Is it the job? Is it me?
"It's everything, Heero," he sighs. Fantastic. "I don't know. It feels so
weird to have you pulling all the strings. What if I fail?"
"You won't," I tell him. He remains unconvinced, however.
"What the hell do I know about aeronautics?" he continues and sighs again. "I
don't know. When you were in Columbus, it all made sense but now I don't know
what the fuck I'm doing. I can't believe I'm even here."
"Duo…" I don't really know what to say. I've already tried several times to
put his fears to rest, it's not like my words are getting though. What else can
I do? I frown and rub harder on his back. He looks like he's struggling with
something.
"And it's just… this, uh, job is really important to me, you know?" he looks
back at me out of the corner of his eye and I catch his meaning.
"But it… makes you nervous?" I ask, trying not to let my fear reach my voice.
"Yeah, kinda like that," he tries to explain. "It sorta took my by surprise,
but I want it. I just don't know what to expect. I'm just afraid it's outta my
league, something too good for me that I won't be able to hold on to."
"There's no reason to be scared," I say, voice coming out low and thick. I
need the affirmation as much as he does.
There's a heartbeat of silence and he swallows. "Show me," he whispers.
I inhale sharply and arousal lights like wildfire through my body. That is
the one thing I am certain I can do. Heart beating triple time, I lean down and
lay a kiss on the vertebra that shows at the base of his neck as I continue to
rub his back. His eyes close and he raises his hips slightly to push his ass
back against my quickly hardening cock. I hiss and clutch one of his buttocks in
response.
No, slow down, I tell myself. Fuck, no one has ever made me lose control of
myself the way Duo does. Hell, it's been like this since the very first time we
fooled around. I lean harder into his back and allow myself to move against him
just a little. A shudder of need passes through me as I lean down to press my
mouth to his skin and continue to knead his back. He's beautifully laid out in
front of me, mine to kiss, lick, bite, suck or just smell.
"You're doing that cat thing again," he moans. "You're… God, Heero…" He
arches into my touch, eyes closed. He presses back again and my cock throbs as
it is nestled into the cleft of his ass. I give up the back massage and
surrender to lust. We move against each other almost desperately
"Yes, Heero, yes," he groans. He bites his lip, but a broken, "Please," slips
out before he clamps down. He is ashamed of what he wants.
I nip his ear. "Don't ever be embarrassed to tell me what you want, Duo," I
whisper. "Whatever it is. I'll give you my body any way you want it." These
promises spill out of me before I can think about what I'm saying, but I know
it's true. Every word is true. It doesn't matter how we do it. I thought it
would, but it doesn't. As long as it's him and me, it just doesn't matter.
He doesn't say anything, though, just moans vociferously. My hand nearly
shakes as I pull the waist of my pants down just enough to liberate my cock
before I grind against him once more.
"Yes, Heero, nnnngg," he groans. "God, I want you…"
At that, I tear myself away to throw my pants off completely. He takes a
moment to readjust himself and then lies still, waiting as I hastily reach up
under the pillow and snatch the condom and bottle of lube I placed there. I put
the condom on first and then coat my fingers in the lube.
"You don't need to," he tells me, voice hurried and hushed. "I've been…" He
lets the sentence trail off but I know his meaning. He's been preparing for
this, for me. My cock throbs as I wipe the lube onto it.
He gasps and clutches the pillow as I enter him. I worry for a second that
it's too fast or too hard, but he encourages me with a hitching moan. His name
slips past my mindless lips as I fill him completely. Sex has always made me
feel like I'm transported somewhere else, but Duo throws me in a way I've never
experienced before. Thought is frazzled, emotions are raw, pleasure is
everything. Still, I don't forget what he wants from me. I will leave him with
absolutely no doubts.
I rest my body over his back, covering him completely, and set my mouth to
the skin of his shoulders. I stroke his hair and then brush his long braid from
his neck, exposing the skin to my teeth and tongue. He rocks under me, letting
me know he's ready for me to move now. I start a slow rhythm with my hips and
glide my hands down his arms to find his fists clenched in the pillow. He
stretches back, pulling one knee up so that I push even deeper.
As my rhythm speeds up, he begins to rise off the bed and I move with him by
pure instinct. I had not realized our fingers had become so entangled, but I
have to release his as we climb to our knees. He bucks back against me,
stretching his arms in front of him and arching his back. His actions take me by
surprise and for a moment, I'm left bewildered by the feeling, the pure force of
his lust as he moves around my cock. It feels as if he is taking me.
Oh, I don't think so. He's about to find out how badly I've been wanting this
since we were together last. I give a hard push, throwing his body forward, and
run my hands over his clenched stomach and taught thighs. He's offered this to
me and I'm going to take it, I'm going to show him. I straighten up above him
and really put some power into my hips. He grunts and pounds himself back
against me as we gain momentum. It's amazes me that out bodies know almost
immediately how to move together. There is no thought to it, only action.
I fall onto his back again as I begin to feel the fever of impending orgasm
radiate through me. I brace one hand on the bed and the other clutches almost
desperately at his stomach, his hips, and his thighs. I find his cock and wrap
my fist around it, making him jolt and buck under me. I stroke him only a couple
of times before he cries out and comes in my hand. I gasp, the feeling of him
leaving me breathless as I plummet into orgasm with him.
My mind blinks back to life a moment later and I find myself still lying on
him, squashing him to the mattress. I kiss his still shoulder before removing
myself from him and taking care of the condom. I sit on the edge of the bed for
a moment until I am sure I can walk without toppling over and then wash off in
the bathroom and bring back a towel. Duo hasn't moved a millimeter, so I gently
roll him over. The guy looks practically catatonic, but the expression on his
face is more amusing than alarming. At least he's more relaxed now. No,
completely relaxed.
"Hey, Duo," I say and shake him a little. All I get back is a happy little
moan so I just go about wiping him off where he needs it and then lying him on
dry sheets. I get up to turn off the light and it looks like he's asleep before
I even get back into bed, but after I make myself comfortable, an arm slides
over the mattress until it touches me. Then it stops and soon I hear his
breathing grow heavy, lulling me to sleep soon after.
I wake up to someone hugging my chest from behind.
"Hey, Yuy," a jovial voice says into my ear, "go make me breakfast."
I grunt and rub my eyes. Sounds like he's recovered better than I have.
"Come on," the voice purrs, "I did it for you." He bites the rim of my ear
playfully.
"Hm'k," I croak and start to get up.
"Damn, that was easy!" Duo exclaims. I look over and he's lying on his back
with his hands behind his head. I glower at him before snatching his wrist and
pulling him out of bed.
"You forgot that I don't know how to make anything," I smirk as I find his
pants and throw them at him. I brush my teeth and wash up and then let him use
the bathroom. All I have in the kitchen is cereal or bagels so I put them out
for him to choose. I hear my front door open and then Duo appears with my
newspaper.
"Aw, corn flakes and raisin bran?" he asks with disappointment and lets the
paper thump onto the table.
"I don't like sugar in the morning," I say simply. He screws up his face and
puts a bagel in the toaster.
We sit down and he digs through the newspaper. "I was thinking," he says
without looking up, "that I should do a little, uh, apartment hunting. You don't
have to come or anything. If you've got something to do I totally understand."
"No, I'll help you," I say perhaps too eagerly.
He looks up at me a little sheepishly. "I hope that's not, uh, presumptuous,"
he says. "I feel like I'll jinx it or something."
"I think it's a good idea. Find a few that you like and we'll make some
calls."
We finish breakfast and I get a shower before we hit the streets. It's a
beautiful day so we walk through neighborhoods near mine and look for renting
signs. He calls and makes appointments to see several places. When we've had
enough, we get in my car and drive to the Space Center. I live only 4 miles
away, but rush hour traffic will make the drive seem a lot longer on work days.
We take the tourist's tour of the John F. Kennedy Space Center and I show him
the place he was instructed to wait for the escort tomorrow morning. I would
bring him with me to work, but we both agreed that that would look
unprofessional. I probably won't see him tomorrow until I get home.
When we finally get out of there, it's long past dinnertime and we're both
starving. He chooses a Thai place and then we stop by a liquor store on the way
home for a six-pack of beer since I'm out.
"Ok, this is really embarrassing but I need some advice," he says, joining me
in the kitchen as I uncap two bottles. Intrigued, I stop what I'm doing and look
at him. He rolls his eyes. "I don't know what to wear tomorrow. I've never had a
formal interview."
"Suit and tie," I say as I hand him a beer. "I noticed you brought a garment
bag."
"Yeah, can I show you what I brought?"
I don't know why he thinks I know so much about how to dress appropriately. I
just grin at him. "You can model for me," I say as I make myself comfortable on
the couch with my beer.
He makes a disgusted noise. "Sure, make this more embarrassing," he says. I
just shoo him in the direction of the bedroom and wait. There is silence and
then a yelp and swearing from the other room.
"I forgot dress shoes!" he groans.
"Mine are in the closet," I call back. He comes out in a sport coat and
jeans.
"Nice try," I say and point to the bedroom. He grumbles and goes back. When
he comes out again, he has changed into the pants that go with the grey coat.
"I have another tie," he says.
"Do you have another shirt? One that's not white?" I ask. He shakes his head.
"Go put on one of my blue ones," I say, "they should fit you well enough. And a
belt, one of the black ones."
When he comes back, he's wearing the dark blue shirt and the other tie.
"Third time's a charm," I say appreciatively. It's a good combination.
"I won't have to dress like this every day, will I?" he asks.
"No, it's pretty casual. You can get away with a tee-shirt and jeans every
once in a while, but a nicer shirt and slacks is the norm. Not even business
casual."
"Listen to you, Yuy," he snickers.
"Hey," I say haughtily, "I do what I have to do to get what I want."
"Am I done now?" he asks.
"Turn around," I instruct.
He rolls his eyes at me again and spins around slowly.
"Looks good," I say, completely unobjectively.
"Good," he says and turns in the direction of the bedroom. I follow and he
looks over his shoulder suspiciously. "Show's over, Yuy," he informs me.
"Hardly," I smirk back.
I sit on the bed as he takes off his clothes. First he removes the jacket,
hangs it, and buttons it. Then he unties the tie and hangs it on the shirt
hanger. The pants are hung to preserve the crease and then the shirt joins the
tie. Finally he is in just his shorts and socks. I've said it before, but it
needs to be said again. Duo is really hot. He's lean, toned, and perfectly
proportioned. The socks are gone before he gets on the bed with me and stretches
out.
"You sure it's ok that I wear your clothes?" he asks.
"Well, I owe you a tee-shirt, according to some sources," I answer, turning
to face him on the bed.
He chuckles. "We keep rehashing the same memories," he says.
"Mm hm," I nod, thinking more about getting his boxers off then what he's
saying.
"Maybe we need to make some new ones," he says almost guardedly. I pull my
eyes from his underwear to his face. He's looking at me with dark blue eyes, his
expression one of waiting, like he's holding his breath or said something he
wasn't sure about. I kiss him in way that makes it clear that, in my mind, we've
already started.
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