voodoo kiss

title:: voodoo kiss 4/?

author:: Psyence

rating:: NC-17

pairings:: 1x2, 3x4, mentions of 2x5

disclaimer:: go on, sue me. I dare you.

summary:: in which Heero is socio-phobic, Duo is annoyingly persistent, Quatre meddles, Trowa

helps, Wufei hinders and Relena gets in the way.

warnings:: yaoi, AU, strong language, lemons, humour, strange plot, major UST.


###


The next five days were delciously people-free for Heero. He spent his time working furiously,

sleeping fitfully and worrying constantly, and all because of - as Heero had started to call him

- that Idiot, capital letter included. He couldn't stop thinking about two things: the array of

kisses that he had shared with Duo (in Heero's mind three was an array) and the fact that,

suddenly, Heero cared about his sexual orientation. It seemed that his easy and simple years of

asexuality were finally coming to an end, because everytime Heero closed his eyes at night all he

could see was the image of Duo, pressed up against Trowa's car looking ever-so-slightly flushed,

with saliva-wet lips. After the first night of ignoring any surge of pleasure that was

unexpectedly running wild through his body, Heero gave in and let his mind amend the image

slightly, while pleasuring himself.

He imagined Duo in that same position only this time instead of throwing Heero another grin Duo

reached up towards his neck and pulled off the black tie he was wearing. He let the material

slide through his fingers and onto the ground, and then rested his hand on the metal belt buckle

he was wearing. Heero's mind loved this part, because he would imagine fantasy-Heero's heart

beating a little harder as he watched the leather slip through the metal buckle on Duo's

trousers. Duo would then let one hand rub against himself through his trousers. He ground against

his own hand and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the car and allowing a breathy

moan to escape from his kissed lips. The metal on the buckle jingled a little and brought Duo

back. He rubbed against himself one last time before using both hands to undo his button and fly.

Duo toed off his shoes and then the trousers slipped down his legs and off of his feet as he

stepped out of them and closer to Heero. They kissed again, except this time Duo rubbed his lower

body gently against Heero, and he could feel every inch of Duo through his underwear. Heero

pressed back, while somewhat violently shoving Duo back up against Trowa's car and holding onto

the roof with one hand while gripping Duo's hip with the other, and they would grind against each

other. Duo moaned with abandon, always coming back to kiss Heero harder. And it was usually it

this point that Heero couldn't hold on any longer, and he would come with such force that a

painful sounding and deep moan would rip right through him.

While Heero could deal with the fact that he was having fantasies about possibly the most

annoying man in the world (he just kept telling himself that it was a phase and that he would

grow out of it, even though he wasn't a teenager anymore and so the excuse was obsolete), he

could not deal with the fact that the Idiot was making him question himself. Heero kept

wondering, somewhat frantically, if /that/ was why he could never hold even a half-decent

conversation with a woman, and why his nerves had got the better of him more than once during

sex. If it was all just because he wasn't programmed to be physically attracted to women then it

wasn't his fault! There was nothing he could do about it! It was a force of nature! But then,

just when he was beginning to feel buoyed up with joy, he would remember something. Heero didn't

want to be gay. He wanted to be just like everyone else. He wanted to blend into the crowd and

keep all reasons for being pinpointed and laughed at far, far away from himself. After this

realisation he would return, once again, to a stewing annoyance for the Idiot and would resume

beating his computer keyboard by typing very, very hard, which resulted in Heero being in a

somewhat perpetual bad mood.


###


Trowa's knock was different from Quatre's. Heero knew it was the tall, silent man even before the

second knock had finished, and for once Heero wasn't scared about who was behind his door. Trowa

was the one person Heero could come close to calling a best friend. Although Quatre was friendly,

Heero could never imagine sitting down with him for a little heart to heart over a cup of English

Breakfast tea, as was Quatre's style. Trowa, on the other hand, had a calming presence. He

managed to make Heero feel at ease, and it was so easy to confide in the man that it almost felt

like he was usually doing it against his own will; as if Trowa had drugged him and was simply

pulling thoughts out of Heero's head. So, it was with a lot less trepidation than usual that

Heero opened the door.

Trowa smiled calmly at Heero as he surreptitiously peeked around Trowa's back, just to make sure

that Quatre hadn't joined him.

"He isn't here," Trowa said, stepping into Heero's small apartment. Heero relaxed and let his

guard down - or most of it anyway. His wall would always remain upright, but around Trowa he

could easily pull a few bricks down.

"He did send me though." Trowa smirked when Heero sighed and closed the door, coming to sit next

to him on the couch.

"Let me guess, he thinks I've been cooped up for too long," Heero guessed. Trowa leaned back

against the corner of the couch and surveyed Heero.

"I hate to say it, but I think he's right this time. I haven't heard anything from you since

Milliardo's birthday party." Trowa tossed his head slightly to move the hair that was constantly

in his face away from his eyes for a moment, so that he could see Heero better. Heero simply

ducked his head and looked at his knees, slowly picking bricks up as he realised that Trowa had

been sent to infiltrate him and take his secrets back to Quatre.

"I've been working," Heero half-lied. He stood up quickly and went through to the kitchen,

mumbling something about tea along the way. He thought he heard Trowa chuckle as he entered the

kitchen and felt his face flush slightly. He knew that Trowa at least would remember how he had

run away from Relena, and even though Quatre had been utterly sloshed that night, he knew that

Quatre had the most advanced gossip network this side of the moon. Heero wondered briefly who it

had been that had passed it on to him, but then hurriedly pushed the thought away, deciding that

it would be best if he pretended it had never even happened. In Heero's world, avoidance was the

best policy.

"I'll have a coffee, please," Trowa called from the couch. Heero grunted and grabbed the correct

jar, spooning a sloppy amount into a clean mug and putting the kettle on. He leant against the

counter and scowled, reprimanding himself for answering the door to Trowa. He would not give away

any information about his current state of mind. Quatre had used a lot of underhand techniques to

get things out of Heero before, but never something as bad as sending in his own boyfriend to do

his dirty work. Heero knew that he was probably over-judging the situation, that Trowa probably

wasn't going to dig anything out of him in shovelfuls, and that he could probably trust the other

man to keep his secrets - he had for that long anyway - but he was feeling emotionally unstable

as it was, what with being stressed enough already. So Heero simply surrendered to his warped

sense of rationality and began to worry about what Trowa could take back to Quatre.

Telling Trowa about Duo was a big no-no, because Quatre would jump to all sorts of conclusions if

he knew that Heero had /kissed/ another man - he'd instantly assume Heero was gay and start

setting up dates with men instead, and Quatre knew some ugly men. Talking about Relena was off

limits too, since Quatre would want to think that Heero was talking about her because he was

deeply in love with her. In fact, Heero decided, it was best to stick to mundane and useless

small-talk topics, like the weather, or the shop.

Heero started when the kettle pinged to let him know that it had boiled. He poured water into the

mug and set it back on its stand, before bracing himself and going back into the living room.

"Thank you," Trowa said quietly as Heero handed him the mug. He instantly set it down on the

coffee table and leant back against the couch, surveying Heero, who looked directly at the TV

screen and ignored Trowa. After only about ten seconds of silence Heero cracked.

"So - er - how's the shop? Is the sign fixed yet?" Heero latched onto the topic like it was a

lifeline and desperately tried to pull himself up with it. He was convinced Trowa knew that he

wanted to hide information, but he was terrified that he would start to relax and tell Trowa

things. It was like he was under interrogation - but Heero would not crack. But it would be

difficult; Trowa was just as good as Heero at playing it hard, and the smile that was playing on

Trowa's lips was enough to let Heero know that he had already been rumbled but, as always, he

simply pretended he hadn't noticed it.

"The shop's fine. There's a man coming on Thursday to repair the sign," Trowa answered, before

letting the thick silence fall around them again.

"I've got two new clients, so I've been working a lot lately," Heero said redundantly. It sounded

like an excuse even to his ears, even though it was almost the truth - he did have two new

clients, but he had been overworking to keep his mind off of Duo.

"Mm." Trowa raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, and Heero perspired a little.

"Yeah, they're paying me well though." Heero couldn't have cared less about the money to be

honest.

"That's good." Trowa gave Heero a sideways glance as he reached forward to pick up his mug. "Is

this one of the ones Dorothy gave you for Christmas?" he asked as he lifted it.

"Yes, it's the only one left," Heero answered, metaphorically sitting on the edge of his seat as

he waited for Trowa to attack.

"Mm, the ones he gave to Quatre and I are on their last legs. Quatre wanted to get him some of

the same ones to give to him for his birthday, just so that he could see how flimsy they are for

himself." Trowa chuckled a little at his boyfriend's snipey wit.

"Oh?" Heero pretended to be interested.

"He eventually decided to spend a lot more money on a table lamp though, not that Wufei needed

one." Trowa sipped his coffee quietly. Heero felt the stress bubbling up inside of himself. Why

hadn't Trowa even mentioned the birthday party or Relena? What was he playing at? Why was he just

talking about rubbish?! Even though it was what Heero actually wanted - to talk about rubbish -

he had expected Trowa to at least have mentioned it by now!

"It's good, thank you," Trowa said. "I do miss this coffee, Quatre only buys that weak stuff,

because he likes his coffee to taste like water." Trowa chuckled again and shook his head a

little. Heero felt as if he was going to explode. "He really astounds me sometimes, you know, the

other day he came home from the supermarket with ten boxes of angel-hair pasta." Heero gripped

the edge of the couch and willed himself to calm down. "When I asked him how we were supposed to

eat all of it he just said 'But it was a good deal'." Heero pressed his lips together until they

were almost white to stop himself from saying anything. "He really can't resist a good deal, he's

even-"

"Alright I kissed him!" Heero suddenly shouted, and then squeezed his eyes shut when he realised

what he'd done - he had given in so easily!

"I - what?" Trowa looked genuinely confused. His eyebrows knitted together as he searched Heero's

face. "Well I wasn't expecting that," he said matter-of-factly. Heero groaned and stood up,

walking heavy-footed into the kitchen. After a moment's thought he closed the door behind

himself. Trowa watched him go, turning in his seat when Heero got to the kitchen. Heero paced and

rubbed his face; he pressed his fingers against his eyelids and took a deep breath. His emotions

were all over the place. One half of him wanted to be happy, because now he could talk to Trowa

about his predicament, while the other half wanted to beat itself to a pulp for spilling the

beans, even if Trowa had no idea what he was talking about.