THE INFATUATION COMPLICATION
Disclaimer: not only do I not own them, I don't want them. Too much trouble and unnecessary paperwork, to be honest. Take that, you corrupted legal corporations! HA!
Warnings: ingratiating heterosexual love (allusion to 2xH), yaoi (1x2, 1/3, mentions 2x5), usage of polemical four letter words, objectionable themes, and my usual insanity.
Fuck you, Yuy.
Yeah, that's what I should have told him. It would have been perfect, the best thing I could have possibly said. It would have ended this little arrangement once and for all; I would never have had to do this again. I wouldn't have had to keep this little secret from one of my best friends. It would have been great: fuck you, Yuy.
I don't curse that often anymore, not since the end of the war, at least, but even I would admit that it would have been appropriate, for a change. The perfect thing to say to the perfect soldier. Perfect. It's exactly what I should have said.
Should have, could have, would have... That's all different from 'did'. I guess wishful thinking doesn't quite cut it these days and it doesn't do to dwell on what I could have done- my therapist told me that, and she's a real smart lady. It's a shame, really, that I didn't think of saying it in time, but I can still imagine the look on his face if I had said it and that's almost as rewarding as seeing the real thing. He'd have been shocked, mouth hanging open for a minute or two and eyes bulging for barely a second, but he was Heero Yuy, Mister Emotion himself, and he wouldn't have let himself be surprised for very long. He would have recovered quickly and probably either have been angry with me, have tried to hit me, or would have taken my words as an invitation, but by that time I would have slammed the door in his face and bolted it shut until none of the latches were unlocked. It would act as my station of defense- until he had the sense to leave or until one of my neighbors threatened to call the cops, which would have been long enough- and then I would have smiled to myself, knowing that everything was finally okay again. The guilt would have been gone.
But it hadn't happened that way, had it? I sighed, storing my perfect reply away for future situations that I knew would pop up, and turned onto my back, making Heero move his arm out of the way for me. I hated to have to face him when we were in bed together; it made me realize just how horribly I was betraying poor Trowa. Hell, it was like the homosexual form of adultery.
Heero grunted. "What wrong with you now?" There was a more pleasant undertone to his voice now. He was always more amiable after we fucked.
"You know what's wrong. The same thing that always bothers me when you come over to do this."
"I've told you before that Trowa doesn't know where I go and doesn't have any way of finding out. You don't have to feel so guilty."
"He knows where I live, too, Heero. You aren't the only one with my address, you know. What if he decided to come by one time while you're here? He'll know then. He'll find out. It's just bad luck that he hasn't already found out about it."
"We've been doing this for almost three years with no complications. Why is it that you've suddenly become so paranoid?"
I sighed, rolling onto my other side so that he had to stare at my back. "You just don't get it, Heero. Maybe it's a human thing."
"I could prove it to you," he said, sounding amused. "And I bet I can make you stop worrying for a little while."
"How? Are you going to leave?"
"No. Something even better than that." I could feel his warm breath against my neck and smell the sweat on his skin, already old and stale from our last exercises. The mattress shifted beneath me and I felt him press against my back. Something stiff and kind of moist prodded at my backside, making me jerk away in faint surprise and a strong sense of instinctual trepidation.
"Christ, Heero! Already?" I scowled. "It's been what, ten minutes, and you're already horny again! What is up with your libido?"
He almost laughed. I could practically feel the threatening rumble of a chuckle from inside of him, ready to erupt and make him do something mundanely human- like laugh. "What do you mean? Can't you tell what's up?"
"Ha ha ha. I didn't mean that in the literal sense of the word, dummy." He moved closer to me as I spoke, prodding my backside gently. "Heero, you should go home. We really shouldn't be doing this."
"Just one more time and then I'll leave. For good."
"You always say that."
"I mean it this time," he told me insistently. I smiled vaguely.
"You always say that, too."
He snorted. "Shut your mouth and let me fuck you raw."
"Again? How many times a day do you have to have sex, anyway? You're like a fucking rabbit, God damn it! A really horny fucking rabbit!" I rolled onto my back again, frowning at him. "One more time. Then you've got to leave, understand?"
"Of course." Taking my apparent assent in stride, Heero propped himself up on his elbows and moved so that he loomed over me. I shut my eyes. I hated this part; it hurt to watch him prepare me like this and to wonder if he took so much care with Trowa- or if he cared for me less- and if he used the same methods on his boyfriend, his lover, as he did on me, his man-whore. It hurt me to think like that, and to think about what Trowa would do if he knew about this...
Heero kissed my collarbone softly. "What are you thinking about?"
I shrugged; I could hear him searching for the tube of lube we'd dropped somewhere before, after we'd used it last. "The usual. About how horny you always are."
"Mm." He wasn't listening to my words anymore, just the tone of my voice. I could have been scolding him and cursing him or insulting his bedroom tangos until I was blue in the face, but as long as the level of my voice stayed even and in it's normal range he would have never noticed the difference. "That's nice."
"Yeah. Are you going to tell me when you're actually ready to fuck so I know when to open my eyes or am I going to have to keep them shut the entire time? Should I find a blindfold or something? Handcuffs? Whips?"
"Mm." He kissed my cheek and I grimaced. I really needed a quick shave. Oh well, no time for it right now. His hand started to trace down my stomach, playing with the nub of my nipples as he went. I used to watch him do that to me, back when I didn't feel so damned guilty, and I would be fascinated by how responsive he could make me be when he did this, but now... Well, that had been two years ago, when I didn't really care if I lived or died or if Trowa found out about my little adventures with Heero. Back when Heero would only come by once a month or so and I didn't have many major moral issues to deal with. I'd been suffering from what my therapist called "post-war depression" and figured that anything I could do to relieve some stress would benefit me- even if it was having fuck sessions with Heero every once in awhile. Now, though...
Over the past two years I had somewhat recovered from whatever had been bugging me back then and now I hated to watch him do much of anything while he and I were alone in this room together. He was just as good a fuck as ever, that hadn't changed, and I still enjoyed his friendship when the two of us weren't doing anything like this or were hanging around with the other guys, who we still met up with on occasion. But the guilt was constantly nagging at the back of my mind and I could hardly stand to hang around with poor, oblivious Trowa for longer then I had to, almost afraid that I would let something slip.
I winced as I felt Heero force one generously lubed finger into me, then two. It didn't hurt; Heero had stuck bigger things than that up my ass- but it did surprise me. He seemed to have gotten his timing down pat- the moment I let my mind wander or stopped paying the slightest attention to what he was doing to me externally, he would bang me around a little to get my attention back. He was a little bit like a toddler that way- a really big, perverse, and sexually knowledgeable toddler, but still...
I looked down at him where he crouched between my legs, propping myself up on my elbows, and let him explore me with his fingers for awhile while he lubed himself up with his free hand. He seemed to be concentrating earnestly on not letting himself come too soon, which would spoil this entire taboo for the both of us, and didn't really care that I was watching him- something I didn't normally do while we fucked.
When he was finally ready, he poised himself carefully over me, hands spread against the mattress so that his long fingers came close to brushing against my ears, and let me reach down to grab my legs and hold them up and out of the way. That would make this easier on both of us and it kept me from feeling entirely useless and unnecessary. It gave me something do besides writhe and moan and beg for him to go faster or harder or to work it more, anyway. And an added bonus was that it kept me from grabbing him or scratching him- things Trowa probably would have noticed before too long. The guy might be oblivious, but he's not blind- or stupid, for that matter. And Heero was a good fuck- it was all I could do sometimes not to grab him and demand more of him. By doing what I did, at least, holding myself in an easily accessible position, neither of us had to worry about any physical evidence betraying us.
Christ, sometimes I wished that Trowa would find out what we were doing behind his back! It would have saved me a lot of guilt, for one thing, and I would have had a lot more time on my hands. I wouldn't have been getting so much exercise, sure, but every pretty cloud has a gray lining. Or something along those lines, anyway. Good things always have a drawback or two.
If Trowa ever asked me if I knew where Heero went on his little excursions, I knew that I wouldn't be able to tell him the truth. I'm not a liar, really, even if I am a hell of a lot of other things, like a killer and a whore- of sorts- and a little blasphemous, but there's no doubt in my mind that I am not a liar. And yet... If Trowa asked me, I would conveniently forget everything, I knew. My therapist used to call that suppression or repression or something, blaming it all on a guy named Freud (who she occasionally compared to me because we were both somewhat obsessed with sex), and it was a thing I still used a lot when things went bad or got hectic.
I hated this.
Heero forced his way inside of me, pushing roughly against me, and I cried out. He never gave me any warning before he fucked the brains out of me, which pleased and vexed me by turn, and I was never prepared for his erratic and unpredictable thrusts. It was all really sudden; one second everything felt kind of wet and a little slippery from the lube he'd sloppily covered the two of us with, and the next moment I was full to my bursting point- full of him. When he did that to me I felt as though every bit of me had been stuffed full of whatever raw power or energy ran through him and controlled him- it was a nice feeling. It was odd, though; Heero never really seemed like a very satisfying or amiable person. He didn't have the right charisma for it, I guess. Unless you really got to know him or let him fuck you raw once or twice (or vice-versa; I doubt that it would make a major difference) you would never think that he was anything but a cold-hearted, insensitive bastard. That's what I'd thought when I first met him.
Come to think of it, there were times when I still thought he wasn't much more than a cold-hearted, insensitive bastard...
Heero grunted as he moved against me and the intruder that lay inside of me shifted forwards and back as he lifted and pushed and did who knew what else. Knowing that it could really irritate him (and make me feel that much more powerful), I didn't move at all, except to get a better grip on my legs. After about fifteen or twenty seconds of my not moving, I began to feel something build up inside of me. It was maddening to feel him move and to know that a little bit of a response from me would send him further into me and harder and that we'd both be in a state of ecstasy, and it was hard to remember that there was a reason for it at all. But I wouldn't do anything until he complained. I'd promised myself that beforehand, while I was making tea that morning (so sue me, Quatre got me hooked on the stuff), that I would piss him off at least once the next time he came by. I hadn't known then, of course, though I probably could have guessed it, that he would come by that same day. Usually I was the one who did the begging and the pleading- this was his turn.
The maddening movements continued, dragging the seconds along with it, and the only way I could keep myself from going along with it was by wondering if Trowa ever did anything like that to him. Heero stopped suddenly, just as I decided that he probably didn't, and frowned at me. I looked up at him and feigned wide-eyed innocence, but he caught sight of the troubled amusement in my eyes and feigned a scowl right back.
"Why are you being so difficult today?" he asked. I shrugged.
"Why are you so horny today?"
He snorted, his scowl lifting slightly. "Forget that I asked. Just work with me a little bit here, all right?"
"What's the magic word?"
He frowned, arching an eyebrow. I had him stumped there. "The magic word?"
"Yeah. Say it and I'll be a good boy."
Heero considered this for a long moment. "Is it 'I'll give you a dollar'?"
I smiled. "That's more than one word, dummy."
"Oh. Right." His fingers traced their way up and down my ribs, feather light and tickling me. I had to hold back a shudder as I wondered if he did that to Trowa, too, and if Trowa reacted the same way that I did to it. I shot a glance downward, ashamed that my libido was almost as bad as Heero's was. Then I wondered how long Trowa could make Heero beg for more satisfying sex, both amusing and torturing myself with that thought while I waited for Heero to come up with a magic word or two.
"Are you paying attention?" he asked finally.
"What?" I focused my attention back on Heero. "Sorry, I guess I zoned out. What did you say?"
"A lot of magic words. "Fuck with me. Please. Now. Things like that."
"Oh." I smiled vaguely, repositioning myself to make this a little easier to work with, for the both of us. "Sure. Why not?"
The half-hour which followed was a noisy one. I must have screamed his name at least a dozen times and he yelled something resembling my name once or twice. He almost said 'Trowa' once, but he caught himself in time, before even the first syllable was complete. He was improving- it usually happened that Trowa was mentioned at least twice during our sexual administrations. We were both a mess, too, and tired. We were sweaty and disgusting, with splotches of white stuff drying on our naked bodies. Traces of Heero's spent semen ran down the inside of my leg and the backs of my thighs were scratched up. There were clots of dried blood trapped beneath my fingernails.
Heero rolled out of my bed around four-thirty, about fifteen minutes after we'd finished, and took a shower in my bathroom. I lay still on the bed for a long while, listening to the water splash and drip, thinking about a lot of stupid things. Things like Heero and Trowa, mostly.
I couldn't remember why I'd ever let Heero come over to my place or how he'd ended up in my bed, but I knew damn well that it shouldn't have continued past that first time. Who had been the one to suggest it, anyway? It might have been me- I'd been infatuated with the boy for ages and knew that I was jealous of Trowa, even though I can't remember ever admitting my bisexuality to anyone (including myself) before then. It was possible that I'd been the one to initiate it. It might have been Heero, too. He'd had even more problems than I did, especially back then. Hell, it could have been Lucrezia Noin. She'd been hanging around a lot three years ago and had seemed to be trying to play matchmaker with a bunch of already attached men and one single guy (me). Hell, who cared who had been the person to suggest it- it didn't matter anymore and it consisted of more dwelling on the past, which my therapist said was a no-no.
You have to love a woman who says more stupid things than you do. It's like an unwritten law. Hell, the other day she'd asked me one of the stupidest questions I'd ever heard- she asked if I loved Heero. I wasn't able to do much besides laugh when she asked that, but really, what else was there to do? I was fucking the boy, wasn't I? She'd smiled and laughed and then made me look at some splotches of ink, just for fun, since neither of us really believed in the stuff.
Actually, I realized with a start, that stupid question had a point. Did I love Heero? No, not really, not like she meant. I'd been infatuated with him for a while, back when I'd first gotten to really know him, but now he was just my best friend. Okay, so a best friend that I happened to fuck with. Same difference, really. I loved him like best friends love each other, but I wasn't at all romantically attached to him. There was the sex, yes, but that didn't really mean too much, when you got right down to it.
Did he love me? She'd never asked me that question, but I bet she would have if I hadn't laughed at the original one. That answer took a little bit more thought. I doubted it, kind of- it was hard for me to believe that Heero could love much of anything. He wasn't that kind of guy. I was his best friend- he'd told me that himself on numerous occasions- and sometimes, though not often, we could tell what the other was thinking or complete the other's sentence for them. That's the kind of thing that best friends do, though. It didn't mean anything. Heero didn't love me anymore than I loved him, I was certain, and that was a good thing. We could both live with that.
So what about Trowa? I mused over this briefly. Trowa was another of my best friends- I wasn't quite so attached to him as I was to Heero, but that was understandable enough. The two of us, Trowa and I, could connect in ways that Heero and I never had been able to. Trowa was like the brother I had never had and Heero was the best friend I'd always wanted. The two of them... Well, they meant a lot to me. I probably wouldn't lay down my life for them if the situation came up, but they really did mean the world to me.
But if that really was the case, why was I attempting to drive them apart? That's what I was trying to do by fucking Heero, right? But what was the point, when you got right down to it? Even if they broke up I wouldn't start getting all mushy and romantic with either one of them. I loved them like family and I was so glad that they'd ended up together after the war that it made me sick sometimes. So why try and drag Heero out of Trowa's arms? Why let him help me deceive his lover, the boy I practically considered my brother? It didn't make any sense. Was I jealous of what they had? I'd never really been in love with anyone before, not like that, and I'd never experienced that sort of love. I was well acquainted with desire and infatuation- those were two very good friends of mine- but never really loved anyone. Before Heero and I had started fucking together, I'd been with other people, sure. Hilde, once, and there was one drunken night when I might have been with Wufei, if I remember right (that memory is hazy- not only had I been really drunk and giddy but Wufei had been nowhere to be found the next day- so who knows?), but Heero had been the first person in my bed for more than a one-night stand. I'd never really loved anyone in the same way that Trowa and Heero loved each other.
Oh hell, this wasn't entirely my fault anyway. Heero was the one cheating on Trowa, after all, not me (although I was definitely helping him out on that account), and this was partially his problem too. I had to stop beating myself up over this. New question. Why would Heero cheat on Trowa? Well, I had a thought for that one- maybe he was afraid. I know, it's kind of weird to think of the perfect soldier being frightened of anything, but it really does make sense, when you think about it. He'd never been really close with anyone before Trowa came along and he never knew what it was like to even get to know good old teenage desire, either. It made sense, but who knows? I could be wrong. I usually am, and it's not like I'm a grade-A psychologist, either.
Heero came out of the bathroom fully clothed, rubbing his hair with a towel. It was an hour long drive from my place to his, so his short hair would have plenty of time to dry anyway, but I had always insisted that he use a towel for his hair even before the end of the war and he'd gotten into the habit of doing it. He, in turn, had convinced me to buy the same brands of shampoo and soap that he had over at his place. Those little things made us feel more comfortable with everything, and that mattered the world to me.
He looked over at me as he pulled on his shoes- he never bothered to tie or untie the laces. "It's time for me to go."
"Yeah." I didn't even bother getting up. He knew where the door was by now. "I don't want you to come back anymore, Heero."
He gave me a small smile. "You always say that."
"I know. But I mean it this time."
"You always say that, too." He came over and placed a chaste kiss on my forehead, an unusually affectionate gesture for him. "Bye, Duo. I'll see you next time."
"Whatever." I watched him as he left the room, shutting the bedroom door behind him. I didn't move until I heard the front door shut and click as the lock snapped on, and only then did I drag myself out of the bed to take a shower.
He'd left me some hot water this time, thank God, and the warmth felt good as it washed away the traces of my sins and it mingled with the sweat and the tears that trickled down my cheeks, running in rivers down my naked skin. Immersed in the hot spray, I sighed.
Fuck you, Yuy. Why can't you understand that infatuation isn't supposed to hurt so damn much?