The doorbell goes off, a simple high and low tone. He pinches the bridge of his nose. With a soft grunt, he sits up, gets off the couch. As he shuffles barefoot towards the door, he scratches the side of his head; from unruly dark hair, past the ear to the evening scruff at his cheek. His pants are barely hanging onto his hips by the loose leather belt. He unhooks the safety chain, slams his palm down on the door handle and yanks the door open, glaring as he gives the disturbance a once-over.
The guy remains unfazed, grabs the brim of his cap with his thumb and forefinger in greeting, a pizza box balancing on his other hand. He takes quick breaths, probably from running up the stairs to the fourth floor - the elevator still hasn't been fixed. The deliveryman gives a broad grin. "Shooters Delivery Service," he says, tapping the nametag on his chest spelling out 'Duo' next to a risque logo, the only sign on his all-black outfit that's anything resembling a uniform. "Here's the pizza you ordered, uh," he adds, revealing a long braid as he quickly checks the tag on the box. "Mr. Ewie - plain ham and cheese."
"It's Yuy. Heero Yuy." The dishevelled man takes a step back as he scratches his bare stomach through his unbuttoned light blue shirt and signals the way in. "And you're late," he mutters as he closes the door behind them.
The grin vanishes in an instant. Duo checks his wristwatch, his uncertainty tainting his voice. "Oh - only by a minute. Sorry, I got held up in traffic," he excuses himself as he scouts the hallway for a table, finally putting the pizza box down on top of the dresser drawer.
"I want the refund," Heero adds.
The delivery boy turns in disbelief. "What?! The pizza's not even cold! It was only a minute! Hell, not even that!"
Heero minutely lifts his right brow. "You're not going good for your company's policy? It says so right in the ad; if the pizza isn't there in thirty minutes, you get-"
Duo sighs and cuts him off. "I know what it says. Just... give me a break ,okay? Traffic's been a bitch tonight. I've just barely scraped by, except the last run. Had to bridge for that couple. I'm still sore."
"On all fours, front and back, same time," Duo curtly explains.
Heero frowns. "You've been fucked tonight already?"
Duo rolls his eyes. "When the guarantee promises you get to screw the delivery boy if the pizza's late, what do you think happens when there's a big game on down at the stadium? I swear, we never get as many orders as we do on a game night."
He smirks at that. He'd been thinking the same thing half an hour ago.
"Anyway, I thought I lucked out when I went down on the tall guy, but it turned out the blond was packing even more. Got a little rough, but nothing like last week - there was this keg party up at the U, and-"
"I don't want to hear about it," Heero growls.
Grinning, Duo rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry. Just... enjoy your pizza, and I'll-"
Heero slams his arm out to block Duo's path. "Oh, you're not going anywhere..." He nods his head, indicating the archway to the living room. "Except maybe in there," he adds with a growing, wolfish smile.
Duo presses his lips into a line and balls his fists. "Damn it, can't you-"
He shakes his head, shoots a puff to get a wayward lock out of his line of sight. "Want me to call your boss?"
Duo grits his teeth. "Fine," he snaps. He takes the caps off and puts it on the pizza box. After kicking off his boots, he walks off to the living room.
Heero watches as the end of that long braid sways over Duo's ass, tapping his tight black pants. Not leather, Heero observes. A pity. He rubs his denim-covered crotch and follows.
"Nice place you got," Duo states after a quick look around. "Is that wide-screen TV new?"
"Strip," he commands; short, concise.
With a sigh, Duo starts to pop his shirt buttons, revealing the grey T-shirt underneath.
Heero steps up behind him, reaches around to work Duo's belt and zipper, slowly slipping a palm across the dark cotton briefs while he grinds his groin against Duo's ass. A quirk forms on his lips as he feels the delivery boy harden, fast. Then there's the slow exhale, far more appreciative than the last one. Heero slips his other hand up under Duo's T-shirt as Duo's pants fall to the floor.
Duo reaches into his left shirt pocket. He fishes out a condom wrapper and a small tube of lubricant and hands them over his shoulder. "No cap, no lube, no service. Got that?"
Heero snatches the items, then catches Duo's earlobe between his lips, leisurely letting it go. "Crystal," he says, taking a step back to let Duo finish undressing. He wrestles out of his own shirt, reaches for his belt and drops his pants.
Duo pulls his T-shirt over his head, the braid slipping through with an uncanny ease. Heero catches a glimpse of a necklace of some sort before the braid falls down, covering the view of the prime spot he'd just picked for a hickey. Later, he adds as a mental thought when Duo steps out of his briefs.
His own boxers stand out like a tent. Before Duo turns around, Heero quickly slips out of them, his dick proud and free.
Duo sees it, rubs his right elbow, shifts from one foot to the other. "So..."
Heero nods towards the couch. "Lean against that," he offers, pumping himself once or twice. As Duo obeys, Heero tears open the wrapper with the help of his teeth, fumbling with the condom as he walks over.
The pizza boy puts one knee into the soft cushions, leans forward and crosses his arms against the back of the couch. His braid slips off the side, exposing his back and the hickey spot.
Absentmindedly, Heero notices Duo lost the wristwatch, but kept his socks on. Shrugging off the distraction, he carefully rolls on the condom and applies some of the lube. He wipes his fingers off against Duo's crack, and the young man shivers from the cool gel. "Ready?"
Duo shoots him a sullen look, glances down at his cock, then back up. "Need to prep first."
"Thought you'd already been screwed tonight," Heero comments.
Duo's look hardens for a moment, then fades into resignation. "Whatever... Just get on with it."
"I plan to," Heero states. Even so, he smears up two fingers and shove them inside, to the sharp hiss of his victim. He waits for Duo to get used to them, waits for Duo to relax rather than clamp on, and then he moves, gently, in and out. When Duo starts to rock back against his hand, Heero slips his digits out and gets into position, takes aim, presses his dickhead to Duo's pucker, then inside. A tight fit.
"God, you're big..." Duo moans, holding steady, fingers digging into the paisley patterns of the couch, the faint shivers of his body making the cross around his neck jingle.
Heero smirks, lets go a soft grunt. "I'm not all in yet," he mutters, tightens his grip on Duo's shoulders and pushes harder, deeper, the young man in front of him so still, right until his hips finally hit Duo's ass.
Duo sucks a breath, finally remembering how to. His customer all inside, Duo tosses his head to move stray strands from his bangs out of his face. His braid shifts sides, slithers like a snake across his back, brushes its tip against Heero's abdomen before slipping off. "Fuck..." Duo hisses through his teeth.
With a chuckle, Heero leans down to whisper a quick "Roger that..." in his ear. Once upright, he pulls out, then forces his way back inside; once, twice, thrice, each time slapping his balls to Duo's rear. Hard. Fast. Merciless.
Panting, Duo reaches down to jerk himself off.
Heero notices, grabs Duo's wrist, calling his attention while not cutting the pace, just the aim. "Planning to come before the customer? Where's your manners?"
"Sor-ry," Duo mutters over two hits.
Vicious thrusts mark two more syllables. "...What's, that?"
"Sor-ry, sir," Duo pushes out with uneven breaths, glad to feel the customer's hands at his hips again, targeting himself just right, hammering any number of points into him; inside him.
Without slowing down, Heero starts, "I watched you... from the window... earlier... you were parked.. at the sidewalk.. for the last... five... minutes," his words broken down by his movements.
Duo bites his lower lip, rocks back against Heero's dick.
"You like getting fucked, don't you?"
He doesn't answer.
"Nobody signs up with delivery for Shooters, unless they're either really down on their luck, or nympho. What are you, pizza boy?" Duo still does not answer, but Heero feels his body tense up. Not one for being ignored, Heero reaches down under and grabs Duo's shaft and balls tight. Really tight.
"What... are... you?" Heero repeats, marking each word with a rough, drilling thrust.
"...more," Duo moans, "Deeper."
With a smirk, Heero lets go. "That's what I thought," he adds smugly before happily doing as he's been asked.
Duo arches his back, draws out a groan, clamps onto Heero's cock each time Heero rubs the tip against his prostate, taking some satisfaction in hearing his customer's uneven breathing, those soft sounds from the depths of Heero's throat, the feel of Heero's fingers raking his back and sides, and above all Heero's intermittent kisses to the top of his spine, his neck, his shoulders, varying the angle of penetration each time.
"Getting close..." Heero mutters. "But you want to taste my dick, don't you?"
Without looking back, Duo makes a hesitant nod.
"You want me to come on your face, don't you?"
Again, more embarrassed than ashamed, he nods, allowing for a quick glance over his shoulder.
"Okay," Heero says with a smirk, delivers a few more rapid thrusts, then pulls out. "On your knees. Hurry."
The pizza boy does as he's told, slipping off the couch and down to the floor, facing Heero's crotch.
Heero grabs Duo's chin, quickly rolls off the condom. He tosses it aside and pumps his cock right over Duo's face, fast, his knuckles almost grazing skin.
Duo closes his eyes, his hands shift to steady Heero's hips, then slip down and around, one to shove a digit into Heero's ass, the other to nudge Heero's tight sac.
That is enough; with a short, sharp cry, Heero comes, the initial gush across Duo's right eye and brow. Swiftly, he pumps, painting his load over Duo's forehead, eyes, nose, lips. A dribble slips down Duo's chin as he opens his mouth in invitation. Heero shoves his dick inside, letting the man suck him dry. He ruffles his fingers in Duo's hair, his smile a genuine one, his legs like rubber, going jelly. "Good boy..." he mutters, totally spent, before crashing his ass down at the couch, stretching his arms out along its back. He arches his neck and looks up into the ceiling, coming down, breathing easier, feeling alive.
Duo slowly gets to his feet, wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, then licks it clean, along with anything his tongue can reach.
Heero finally pays Duo some attention, especially the hard-on jutting between his legs. "Come here," Heero motions with a hand wave.
Hesitantly, Duo approaches. When close enough, Heero grabs him, pulls him in, Duo's knees hitting the edge of the couch.
He cups Duo's ass, coaxes him up, forces Duo to straddle him, Duo's cock coming closer.
Duo finally catches on, scoots further in as Heero slips down to better position himself. Duo pushes his hips forward.
Heero catches Duo's dick with his lips, guides it into his mouth. He shifts his hand to shove two digits into Duo's ass as he starts bobbing his head, well aware this shouldn't take long.
True enough; with a guttural sound, Duo grabs a fistful of dark hair, pushes deep down Heero's throat, and shoots his load, leaving his customer with the task of eating his fill.
He does, until Duo is nearly limp in his mouth, his legs about to give out. Heero kisses Duo's belly, then helps him crash down at the free side of the couch, smirking as the man sprawls out on his half, legs wide, one ankle above the paisley-patterned back. An inviting position, but he's not quite up for the task.
Not for another few minutes, at the very least.
Heero lingers for a moment, then walks off to the bathroom. He takes a leak, grabs a towel and slinks back.
"So..." Duo says, tilting his head in Heero's direction. "One satisfied customer?"
"Very," Heero answers, still smirking.
"Am I gonna get a tip?" Duo asks with a grin.
Heero lets go a short huff. "I just gave you a blow-job."
Disbelief manifests itself. "Oh, come on - I-"
A hard glare shuts Duo up. "What's the company motto again?"
Duo rolls his eyes, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The customer is always right..."
Again, the wolfish smirk. "Good. Looks like they taught you some discipline," Heero states as he tosses the towel in Duo's face.
Duo wipes off most of the come, sweat and grime from his face, chest and groin. Some has already started to crust. "Damn, I need a shower..."
"So do I," Heero acknowledges. "Want to share one?"
Duo glances towards the hallway where the pizza box still balances precariously on their dresser. "Pizza's cold now."
"I'll order another."
"Only if you play fetch this time, buster - definitely your turn to be the errand boy," Duo declares as he stumbles onto his feet, shuffling towards the bathroom of their small, shared apartment. "God, my ass is sore - why did you have to fuck me so hard?"
"Other than because you like it?" Heero snorts, folds his arms across his chest. "Why do you think?"
"What, that little threesome bull?"
Heero gives a sharp nod, steps closer. "You know I don't like mixing our friends into our fantasy games - much less the whole campus football team."
Duo gives a wide grin. "Possessive, aren't we, Mister Yuy, sir..."
With a lopsided smile, Heero grabs a hold of Duo's braid, not allowing escape. "Want me to show you just how much?" he asks before giving the answer in the form of a fierce kiss to Duo's lips, glad to meet the good sort of resistance. His lips are almost numb before they break apart, slowly.
Duo delivers another peck to Heero's nose, then reaches around for his hair tie, allowing his braid to unravel at will. He glances over at the pizza box once more, taking one step towards the bathroom. "We're never gonna get a chance to eat tonight, are we?"
"Guess I'll settle for snacks," Heero mutters as he embraces his lover from behind, clamping his mouth down at Duo's earlobe.