Doing Vegas
by Merith
Easing out of bed hadn't been too difficult, sliding into his jeans noiselessly he'd almost perfected. The soft rasp of cloth over hair and skin made him cringe. A the slight rustle of sheets behind him, he cast a quick glance back at the bed. He still slept, sheet riding between his legs, pillow hugged to his chest. Duo breathed a sigh of relief. Scooping up his shoes, he nearly tiptoed from the room and into the hall.
He dropped his shoes to the floor and shoved his feet in, not bothering to tie the laces. With one last look at the door he'd just exited, he gave it a fond pat and strolled off towards the elevators.
The car was empty when he first stepped on, but two floors later, a small group of blue-hairs joined him. He offered a quick friendly smile and received polite, if distant nods in return. It was then he realized his hair was more than a little messy. His braid no longer resembled its usual plait, and catching a whiff of his own scent, he couldn't help the sudden rush of blood. He looked and smelled like he'd just come from what he'd just come from.
At the lobby level, he made a little detour and did a fast wash. Re-braiding his hair helped, but he knew he still had that just fucked look. He frowned once more in the mirror and slicked back what he could with wetted palms. It couldn't be helped, and at the moment, urgent needs forced him from his room and a proper clean-up.
It'd been his idea, his coaxing with promises of sexual fantasies. And though he far from regretted the get-away, he had wanted to do more than stay in their room for four days. The mini retreat nearly half over, his lover's insatiable appetite had kept him from eating more than a bite or two from the room service cart before he'd wanted more. Now that the man seemed to be sleeping the rest of the dead, he'd taken the chance to slip out and grab a real meal.
His stomach growled loudly as he entered the restaurant. The hotel they stayed offered a twenty-four hour buffet and he planned to take advantage of it. Two plates loaded, he found a quiet corner and ate with a single-minded action reminiscent of the one still asleep. Another trip to the buffet, he slid a couple pieces of fruit into his pocket, added a variety of sliced, cubed and peeled fruit to a new plate and called the waitress over for another cup of coffee.
An hour had passed before he felt the emptiness gone and lassitude pounced on him, coating his every pore. Pushing back from the table, he tried to remember how many trips he'd made, how many plates he'd dirtied to feed his voracious appetite. He gave it up; his mind slowing losing the war to stupor.
A casual stroll through the lower casino, he paused to watch and catalogue the players. It amused him to see most fit into three arenas of thought. Those who came purely for the fun and energy to be gleaned from others. They had an agenda and once that scheduled event had been filled or the money for it gone, they moved on. Those who came to win, and once winning, continued to win. Money held no appeal - win or lose, they took it in stride. Pitting wits against man and the odds was what they sought. And then there were those who came in desperation, a predatory look, and suspicious attitude. They crouched over slot machines, feeding quarters, dollars and even dimes with manic frenzy. They clutched cards, pushing luck, chance and skill.
It was with little reluctance Duo made his way to the elevator and back to his floor. The lethargy he'd fought after the latest round of sexual escapades, coupled with an immense meal were taking their toll. He only hoped he'd be able to steal more than a couple hours of sleep before the next bout began. Though catching a glimpse of a couple almost hidden from view gave him an idea... if he could convince his lover public indecency was only unlawful if caught.
The knob twisted under his hand and the door opened before he quite grasped what happened. Heero reached out, snagged his shirt and pulled him inside. Thrust up against the wall, the love of his life, the lust in his blood proved just how awake he was, and the lassitude began making a hasty retreat. Kiss for kiss, nip for nip, he returned with vigor and an awaking need. He'd lost his shirt somewhere on the path to the bed, and Heero's skin on his heated the banked coals.
Flat on his back on the bed, his lover's tongue lathing a path from neck to nipple to temple, he drew up his legs, parting them. Vaguely he was aware one shoe still clung to his foot, but the thrust and grind of pelvis to pelvis, the moans, and sweat-slicked skin beneath his palms drove all the most basic of thoughts from his head.
The sudden stillness, followed by a grunt had him opening his eyes. Heero had drawn back, holding himself up on one arm while looking down his body, his hand palming his jeans. A surprised look, he asked, "Is that a banana in your pocket?"
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