“’The loneliness of the accused!’” Duo read. “’That was one more factor in the success of the unjust interrogation! The entire apparatus threw its full weight on one lonely and inhibited will. From the moment of his arrest and throughout the entire shock period of the interrogation the prisoner was, ideally, to be kept entirely alone. In his cell, in the corridor, on the stairs, in the offices, he was not supposed to encounter others like himself, in order to avoid the risk of his gleaning a bit of sympathy, advice, support from someone’s smile or glance. The Organs did everything to blot out for him his future and… and…’” He turned the book to face Zechs, his finger pointing out the word in question.
“’Distort’,” Zechs supplied, and rubbed his thumb up the arch of Duo’s foot over the wool stocking.
“’And distort his present: to lead him to believe that his friends and family had all been arrested and that material proof of his guilt had been found. It was their habit to exaggerate their power to destroy him and those he loved as well as their authority to pardon, which the Organs didn’t even have. They pretended that there was some connection between the sincerity of a prisoner’s ‘repentance’ and a reduction in his sentence or an easing of the camp regimen, when no such connection ever existed.’” He paused. “Police do that,” he said. “Preventers do.”
“A fine line,” Zechs agreed. “Intent may be the only thing that separates the evil from the good.”
“That’s not the point, though, is it?” Duo replied. “The point is that anyone who would do this to another human being is evil. Categorically evil. There’s the interrogators and the interrogated. Baddies and goodies.”
“What do you think?” Zechs asked.
Duo dropped his eyes back to the pages. He couldn’t answer that right away, and Zechs didn’t press him to. After nearly a month and a half he was fluent enough to read entire pages at a time, but they had never precisely discussed any of the reading. The most personal they’d managed to be was when Duo occasionally risked propping his feet in Zechs’ lap. It probably wasn’t as unconscious as he wished it would look, but he liked Zechs rubbing his feet.
“’We said that ‘ideally he was to be kept alone,’” he continued. He sipped from his mug of tea, steam curling over his cheek, and set the cup aside. “’However, in the overcrowded prisons of 1937, and, for that matter, of 1945 as well, this ideal of solitary confinement for a newly arrested defendant could not be attained. Almost from his first hours, the prisoner was in fact in a terribly overcrowded common cell. But there were virtues to this arrangement, too, which more than made up for its flaws. The overcrowding of the cells not only took the place of the tightly confined solitary ‘box’ but also assumed the character of a first-class torture in itself… one that was particularly useful because it continued for whole days and weeks—with no effort on the part of the interrogators. The prisoners tortured the prisoners! If the latrine bucket replaced all other types of toilet or if, on the other hand, there was no latrine bucket for use between trips to an outside toilet, as was the case in several Siberian prisons; and if four people ate from one bowl, sitting on each other’s knees; and if someone was hauled out for interrogation, and then someone else was pushed in beaten, sleepless, and broken; and if the appearance of such broken men was more persuasive than any threats on the part of the interrogators; and if, by then, death and any camp whatever seemed easier to a prisoner who had been left unsummoned for months than his tormented current situation—perhaps this really did replace the theoretically ideal isolation in solitary.’”
He scratched his head through his headband—the neon pink one Heero had given him as a going-away—then slipped it off to run his fingers through his hair. Zechs rubbed the ball of his left foot, warming it with his hands. The ship was always too cold.
“OZ always kept us together,” he said. “On the Moon Base. Wufei and Heero were already there, when I went there. I think maybe you were out of OZ by then. I don’t know.”
“I was.” Zechs kept his eyes on Duo’s foot as he stretched Duo’s arch with his thumbs. “Howard and the Sweepers told me about the three Gundam Pilots being held on the Lunar Base. They even contemplated a rescue, but we hadn’t the manpower to attempt something so risky on a place so well defended.”
“A fancy way of saying of the Treize faction arrived before you did.” Duo offered a little grin. “I’ve known Howard since I was a kid. No way you kept that man out of Space when one of his boys was there. Three—no way in hell.”
Zechs smiled. “Howard has a stubborn streak.”
“Had,” Duo said, and hesitated. “Sorry. I guess you didn’t know. He passed, four months ago.”
He didn’t expect the way Zechs went frozen between breaths. "When?" he said hoarsely, like he hadn’t heard right.
“Yeah. Well, he was a drunk, you know? Liver went.” Duo dropped his eyes to the book. “Threw himself a party. Never woke up.”
“Shit.” Zechs’ fingers curled around his foot. “No-one told me.”
Like that explained something. Duo said, “Sorry. I didn’t know you knew him much.” He’d handled the arrangements; if Howard had had anyone, Duo had never known about it, and he hadn’t known about Zechs either, being friends with the old man.
“He was a good friend,” Zechs said softly, regretfully. His fingers slowly started massaging again.
“Best.” He licked his lips. It still felt hollow, sometimes, moments thinking about Howard. Duo had never had a father and he’d never particularly felt the lack, but he knew he’d been lucky in the men who had been in his life. He glanced up, and said, “Ever feel like everyone you know is an orphan?” Heero, and Trowa too, and Quatre, he’d lost his father, and Relena Peacecraft for that matter, and Zechs himself--
Zechs was unsettled. Trying to hide it, but Duo saw. He would have sat up, but he didn’t want to make it worse, and he had enough sense not to move when there was a wild animal on the couch with him, as it were.
“He never said he was sick,” Zechs said finally.
"He was old. He'd lived the life he wanted to live. When he heard cancer, he just..." Duo shrugged slightly. "He said he was ready, and it was okay."
"Cancer." Zechs was hitting the moment of betrayal. Duo remembered that moment intimately. "I wish I'd known. I'd have made more time to see him.” He let go so suddenly Duo was left blinking. “Excuse me,” he said, and pushed down on the cushions to stand.
“Hey,” Duo said, startled.
Zechs stopped. “Yes?” he asked, his eyes on the opposite wall.
“Don’t go running off,” he said, aiming his tone a little gentler. “Don’t go running off.”
“I—need a moment.”
“Take it here.” Duo spotted his bandana, and grabbed it up. He held it over his eyes. “I won’t even look. Promise.”
He felt him not moving. He waited for it.
Zechs said, “That’s not necessary,” somewhere over his head.
Duo lowered the headband. Zechs was standing over him, looking down. Duo reached out and brushed his knuckles over the back of Zechs’ hand.
Zechs laced their fingers together. “Thank you,” he said simply.
And—shit. That was actually—rather intimate. Duo felt his face heating, and pulled until Zechs let him go. Zechs put his hand in his pocket.
“Right,” Duo said.
“I’ve got paperwork,” Zechs answered.
“I’ve got a dick. You don’t see me doing it all the time.”
“Do you need me to bleed publicly, Duo?”
“Am I public?” Duo retorted. He slumped as low as he could into the sofa and buried his nose in the book. “What-ev.”
“Thanks for your sensitivity,” Zechs said, somewhat sarcastically.
Jerk. Duo tried very hard to read, but he couldn’t focus on the words. “He was my friend too. First, actually.”
“You’ve had four months to process his death,” Zechs said coolly. “I’ve had four minutes. But I’m sorry for your loss.” This time, he did leave.
“Damn it,” Duo muttered.
He had nearly an hour to himself after that, with Zechs hiding in his room with some kind of classical music playing loud enough to blot out any attempt he might have made at apologising-- assuming he wanted to-- not that he did. He puttered around the ship for a bit feeling useless and irritable, but there was simply nothing to do but stare. He ventured as far as the airlock to the cockpit, but even for the sake of privacy he didn’t want to suit up and transfer through. It would be freezing in there, for one, and Duo had never liked a quick transition from a ship’s artificial gravity into weightlessness. With a sigh, he abandoned the idea, and went back to the mess. He squirmed on the couch until he found a comfortable angle on his stomach, chin propped on one of the thin cushions, with the book open in front of him. The fun had rather gone out of it, but Duo didn’t much like silence, either.
When Zechs finally did emerge from his protective cocoon, his fringe was damp and he smelled like soap. Duo checked curiously for red eyes, but immediately felt rude—prurient-- for doing so.
"I apologise." Zechs had his mask—his figurative mask, anyway—cemented back in place. Cool, and controlled, and Duo was obscurely relieved to see it. "He was your friend long before I knew him,” he went on. “And you couldn't have been expected to know I'd care."
“Thanks," Duo answered after a moment. "That's maybe more generous than I could be about it. I'd be pissed, if I were in your shoes."
"What would be the point? I hardly think Howard would be honoured by that."
Duo bit his lips together against a retort. He hated how Zechs always turned things back to personal honour and personal shame. That wasn’t Duo’s code, and it hadn’t been Howard’s either. What people like them understood was debt and loyalty, and which one you owed to which person was what defined you, not some mediaeval idea of how noble it made you.
If Zechs noticed the need for his restraint, he didn’t say anything about it. Instead he put the kettle under the sink faucet and began to fill it. "Would you like another cup?" he asked.
“Thanks.” Duo closed the book decisively and sat up. "So, I have a question. I've been keeping it stored for an awkward moment." He offered a little smile.
And Zechs, miracle of miracles, returned it, if faintly. He placed a canister of tea before Duo, one of the loose leaves. Duo lifted it to his nose to smell; it was the ginger peach blend. "Should I be afraid?" Zechs murmured.
That was one side of coy. Duo didn’t know if Howard would be honoured by a little roll and romp, but he figured Howard would understand, at least.
He occupied his eyes and hands with filling the infuser with the leaves, searching the canister for extra bits of candied peach peel. "That first time, with the alphabet,” he said. “You wrote me some phrases, remember?"
“Ti takAya valnUyashaya. Ti takAya Iskrennaya. Ti takAya ocharovAtel’naya.” Duo watched Zechs’ expression go from caution to confusion. He poured steaming water into two mugs and took the infuser from Duo so delicately their hands didn’t touch. Zechs didn’t let it steep quite as long as Duo preferred, but he added just the right amount of honey, dipping a spoon in with the bowl-side down and letting it drip for ten seconds. Duo pressed his lips together to hide a smile when Zechs faced him with the cup.
"I know we've both got long hair and all,” he said, “but I think we've seen enough of each other by now for you to realise. I don't have girl parts."
Zechs didn’t meet his eyes as he fixed the second mug of plain black tea. "No, you don't.” He sat at the table, opposite side from Duo, in the chair. “It took you half the time it took me to realise...” He sipped carefully. “Or maybe you're just more brave. I never confronted Treize about it when he tested me like this."
"Kind of a low trick, with a non-speaker." Duo took his own sip. The tea was sweet and just slightly peppery. "I thought it was just Russian for 'hand over your pussy.'"
That tiny tinge of pink appeared in streaks down Zechs’ neck. “After a fashion. I did have that—relationship—with Treize, but there’s a history to it as well. His mother was Russian. Those were the first words his father ever spoke to her."
“Love at first sight?” Duo guessed.
“The match was made by their parents. The Khushrenadas were wealthy, but they were bourgeoisie. Yulya Palivoda was a duke’s daughter.”
Duo shook his head. “Haven’t you people ever heard of democracy?” he said.
“Never a popular idea in some circles,” Zechs answered, deadpan.
“Obviously.” Duo blew on his tea to cool it, and put it down. "So did you want me to hand over my pussy?"
"Yes." Zechs met his eyes for that one as he sipped his tea. “I wanted you."
“Past tense," Duo pointed out.
"I want you still."
"I kind of think you're the one who's not making the moves." He wished he’d stopped his own mouth for that, because there was no point. They’d already hashed this out and got no-where with it.
"I needed to care less about your motives."
Past tense again. Duo noticed. He burned his fingers on the mug holding it too tight, but it gave him something else to concentrate on. "I never intend for things to get important."
"It's not always avoidable." Zechs reached across the table. He slid his thumb across the back of Duo's hand. "They don't have to be if you prefer."
How was that for coming to terms? With a vengeance. Duo made an effort to look at the man straight-on. "You're the unknown in that equation,” he said.
"I can be any way you prefer. I've spent my life performing to expectations."
"Kind of sad." The thumb went back and forth over his knuckles. "You and Heero really are twins. Fraternal twins, obviously."
"I'd like to think that's a compliment."
Duo rolled his eyes. "Sure. Anal retention is always flattering."
Zechs shrugged. He moved his hand away, then stood and leant over the table. He kissed Duo, simple as that, and said, "I want us to have sex."
"You're so weird." That leap of logic surprised the hell out of him. “Dry spell got you down, huh?"
"I'm… tired of fighting it." Zechs quirked his lips. "And my wrists are tired."
He had to laugh. He stood, too. Zechs met him halfway, and he pressed their lips together, slightly open. He flicked the tip of his tongue over Zechs’ teeth in a tease. He got his answer when Zechs curled his hand around the back of Duo's neck and held him there. He opened his mouth and his tongue came dancing back, chasing Duo’s.
"Take down your hair," Zechs murmured, nuzzling his nose to Duo’s temple.
"No." Duo held the knot of his bandana when Zechs tried to slip it away.
"Care to explain why not?"
"Ah. Well." Zechs joined him on the couch and sat. If he was distressed by Duo’s refusal, he didn’t show it. But he took Duo’s plait in hand, pulling it over his shoulder. He stroked it slowly.
"All that hair never got in your way?" Duo asked him curiously.
"You make all your army chicks wear it up."
That got him a sly little smile. "Yes."
Duo plumped the cushion behind him and slumped into it. He propped one foot on the back of the couch. Zechs’ eyes went to his crotch. Duo let it linger there for a minute, then slowly he slid his foot down. His ankle bumped Zechs’ thigh, and then he dropped it into his lap. He curved the arch over Zechs’ package and pressed lightly.
"Not too subtle, Duo." Zechs’ eyelashes fluttered, a flash of white in the light overhead. "Continue."
Duo grinned. He rubbed slowly, digging his sole into Zechs’s balls, a soft bulk under his cotton trousers, then spreading his toes wide over the harder ridge of his prick. Zechs closed his eyes on a sharp indrawn breath. He covered Duo’s foot with his hand. Then he reached for Duo’s arm and pulled. Duo came willingly, straddling Zechs’s lap and setting his back to the edge of the table. He let Zechs pull off his bandana this time. He shook his head until the long pieces grown out from his fringe fell loose. Zechs fingered his skull back from his temples to his neck, and held him still for a deep kiss. Duo did a thorough job trying to lick the inside of his mouth top to bottom.
“I’ve never been so happy for Velcro,” Zechs murmured against his lips, breaking open the fastenings over his chest. Duo climbed off him and lay back on the couch. Zechs followed after him, plucking open his suit inch by inch, trailing his lips after and leaving a slow tingling burn everywhere he touched. When he reached the end of the line, he covered Duo’s groin with his palm and squeezed.
Duo smiled up at the ceiling. “Touch me with it."
Zechs laughed. "Who's vanilla now, Duo?" But he did. He freed himself from his trousers and knelt over Duo. He pressed their cocks together.
God. Hot as a poker. Duo licked his lips. "All over."
"Like this?" Zechs dragged the head up Duo's body, from tummy to chin, walking up the couch on his knees and leaving a line of cooling precome. Duo guided the head into his mouth as it came near. Zechs gripped the armrest with a shaky exhale. “God, Duo.”
He licked the salty taste away and kissed the head, then slid lower on the couch between Zechs’ legs. He licked Zechs’ balls and sucked gently, then pulled them into his mouth, too. Zechs groaned and gripped his head.
"Think you can stay standing over me?" Duo whispered.
Zechs moved to brace himself even while sounding uncertain. "For how long?"
As long as it took, and Duo didn’t intend that it would take all that long. He squirmed until he had the right angle, propped up on an elbow in a way that didn’t strain his neck too much, and pulled Zechs’ bobbing cock down into his mouth again. Zechs supported him with a broad palm, holding his head up, and Duo sucked hard.
Fingers on his scalp, down his cheek. Duo stroked Zechs’ thighs, dragging his fingertips through pale hair on tight gluts. He pulled his buttocks apart and rubbed his pointer finger against Zechs’ asshole. Zechs jerked forward into his face.
“Let me touch you,” Zechs moaned.
He pinched him on the ass for that. Zechs jerked again, and Duo lifted his head the last few inches to swallow. The head hit the back of his throat and Duo opened around it, long practice making it smooth even in this position. The warm ballsac slapped his chin, the legs on either side of him began to tremble.
"If you expect me to be passive, you're just being stupid." The hand on his hair made a fist, then released. "What is it you want me to do? Or not do?”
Duo let his cock spring out of his mouth for a moment. "Stand still,” he suggested, licking his lips to wet them and reaching for Little Darcy again.
"Fuck you,” Zechs cursed hoarsely. “This isn't... right."
Duo dropped his head to the seat. "What do you do when you touch yourself?"
"When you wank off. What do you do?"
"You're not expecting me to show you—“
"Why not?" Duo said. He had a blurry impression of the top half of Zechs’ body up there somewhere, but the view he had of the lower half seemed a lot more important. He aimed up for the dark little nub between Zechs’ cheeks again, hidden in golden body hair, but not from the touch of his finger. He made a fist around the base of Zechs’ dick. “Little Darcy,” he said, just to hear it aloud.
"Fuck off." Zechs knocked his hand away. It was the tone that penetrated Duo’s determination to ignore any problems, this time, and with a sigh he admitted they were probably jinxed out of sex forever. "Why does it always have to be a game with you?" Zechs demanded.
He rolled his eyes. "Vanilla."
"Maybe your one-note brand of sex just lost its appeal."
That was moderately nasty, and it sounded a lot more like the Zechs Merquise he remembered than the one who blushed through calling him ‘exciting’ and ‘sincere’.
"Guess I'm not the only camel carrying the baggage," he said. He ducked his head between Zechs’ thighs and sat up on the other side.
Zechs turned to face him. Duo waved his hands. “We’re done,” he clarified. “You might as well sit down.”
He had the grace to look embarrassed. He eased down on the couch, tucking himself discreetly away as he did. “I apologise,” he said stiffly. "I don't…”
“It’s cool,” Duo said. “No explanation necessary.”
“I believe it is.” Zechs sighed then, and looked away. “I don’t have a long history of healthy sexual relationships. I've been trying to change that."
That did not particularly surprise Duo. He said, "Well, I have got. And it's really a lot easier if you tell me beforehand what's off limits."
"I don't like games." Duo raised his eyebrows, and Zechs acknowledged the redundancy of it. "And I don't want to be... the salt you rub in your wounds."
Another leap that left him behind. Duo looked him askance. "What are you on about? What's that mean?"
"Just as it sounds."
"Uh, well, it sounded a little crazy."
"Yes, doesn't it?” The look Zechs gave him told him it was supposed to be significant, anyway. “Maybe you should consider that."
"You know I've got no idea what you're talking about, right?"
"You pick people you think will hurt you.” Zechs wasn’t normally a fidgeter, but he was twitching now, toying with the handle of one of the mugs on the table, hiding behind his hair. “I don't know why. Maybe because you don't think you'll have to risk giving something real."
“Excuse me?” he demanded. He pulled his suit closed and made sure it fastened.
"You asked. Was I supposed to lie?"
"I didn't know you were going to be weird," Duo said gruffly.
"Then you don't know me at all."
He managed to crack a smile for that, but he still felt off his game. “Walked into that one.”
Zechs traced the inside of his own wrist with a finger. "With Treize I grew very comfortable with surrender,” he said. He met Duo’s eyes finally. “He'd insist and I... I'd submit. Eventually, I will with you, too. If neither of us thinks very hard about it, we'll manage."
Duo exhaled. "It's just meant to be a game," he said softly, apologetically.
"It's not your fault."
"Guess he kind of did a number on you."
"I let him."
Duo forced a smile. "That was stupid, then," he said, not really meaning it.
Zechs returned it though. "I'm not a smart man."
"You speak Russian. Can't be all bad."
A laugh, finally. Duo pressed a palm to Zechs’ cheek, and kissed him. Then his jaw. Then his pulse, and then back behind it to his ear. He tongued the edge of the cartilage through stray hairs and whispered, "I don't think you're going to hurt me. I do hope you're going to fuck me, though."
Zechs brought Duo’s head around to look him in the eye again. His pupils were dilated, and there was no mistaking the expression there. "I want you," he said.
“Easy as pie,” Duo promised. He licked Zechs’ lips quickly, then made his own path through the stubble on Zechs’ neck to his collar. “But I’m not doing it on the table again. The table is bad juju.”
Zechs was fast, too, though, and suddenly Duo was off the couch and dangling in the air with no clear idea how he’d got there. "Works for me," Zechs said smugly, and carried him out of the galley into Duo’s room. It was only a few steps, so Duo chose to laugh it off. Zechs kicked his door open and laid him out on the bed like he was draping out something precious that shouldn’t wrinkle.
"I'm not a child,” Duo said, amused. “You can't just haul me around all the time."
"I'm not sure you can stop me," Zechs retorted. He pulled his shirt off over his head and discarded it to the floor.
Good. If they could both make jokes, maybe they’d weathered all the karmic retribution after all. Zechs was wasting no time getting naked again, and Duo followed his lead. He got a foot stuck in the leg of his suit, though, and Zechs, golden tan all over down to the dangling line of his not inconsiderable assets, bent over him to help him out of it, then used the handhold on his calf to spread Duo’s legs wide open. He knelt in front of the bed and pulled Duo across the mattress until his ass was hanging over the edge, and went down on him without so much as a by-your-leave, clearly determined to have his own way this time. Duo didn’t tempt fate by objecting, though. Zechs had a firm, sure touch, and a busy tongue. He closed his eyes and enjoyed it.
It didn’t take long for the world behind his eyelids to narrow focus. Every breath seemed to burn. His legs were restless and everything more than an inch away from Zechs’ mouth felt numb. He fumbled somewhere south of reality for one of Zechs’ hands, not the one rolling his balls, and clutched it, brought it up to his stomach for a lingering caress.
There was a short pause while Zechs wet a finger. “In Space, no-one can hear you scream.”
“Sorry,” Duo said. His hand came away with sweat when he wiped his forehead. “I forget.”
“Me, too,” Zechs forgave him.
“Never had a lot of privacy really.” The finger went in. God.
“Soldiers never do.” Zechs lapped him up again and sucked so hard Duo cried out, private or not, his finger pounding up relentlessly. “Stop,” Duo begged, clutching fistfuls of his duvet, but Zechs wouldn’t. Duo lost his breath and for a moment, everything went a little dark.
He floated down slowly, unwilling to rush himself. He could feel Zechs’ head on his belly, in no hurry either, his finger still inside of Duo’s body but unmoving, just a little comforting presence. Guilt edged in first, reminding him that Zechs was on his knees on titanium and it had to be uncomfortable. He made a lazy effort to crawl backward on his bed, and Zechs followed him up, settling heavily on his side, the only way they both fit. He did his best not to crowd Duo, letting him come down in his own time. He traced Duo’s trail of hairs over his stomach to just above his groin, but only that.
"Not bad," Duo said finally.
Zechs glanced up at him. "Not in your league, I'm afraid," he teased.
Duo grinned. "I’ve had the whole Preventers corps to practice on.”
Zechs lost a little of his smugness. "I'm in no position to judge you for that."
"Why not? You wouldn't be the only one." Duo rolled to face him, and cupped Zechs between the very long legs carefully held to keep pressure away. He was hard and probably tender, and Duo gave absolutely no quarter as he stroked. "But I do not want to talk about other men right now,” he said. “I'd much rather take care of this."
Zechs thrust into his palm as his face flushed. "I won't object to that."
"Excellent notion." He threw a thigh over Zechs as he reached over him to the bedside table. The lotion was still in the drawer from whenever ridiculous amount of time ago they’d first done this, and Duo praised his own optimism as he seized the little bottle.
Zechs snatched it out of his hand as quick as any pickpocket. "Let me?"
“Sure, studly,” Duo allowed. He fell back to his pillow and propped his head on his arms. Zechs spread his legs again, nipping his thighs as he pushed them apart. He fumbled just a little getting the cap off the lotion, and it was cold when his fingers, two of them this time, went curving into him again, but Duo held his tongue and kept his smile firmly in place. It got better quickly. Zechs lay over him for leisurely kisses, biting lightly at his lips and his jaw, and, maddeningly independent, his fingers scissored and twisted, his thumb rubbing Duo’s ballsac, his knee nudging Duo’s legs wider every time he forgot to hold them wide. When a wet hand encircled his cock and spread lotion from base to tip, Duo swallowed dryly and said, “God, I’m so ready I could squeal.”
Zechs kissed him a final time. “Ready,” he agreed.
Duo grabbed his pillow and rolled with it, folding it in half under his stomach to prop himself up. Zechs slid into place behind him, lotion-damp hands massaging lightly down his back and then his buttocks, rubbing circles over his hole. Duo closed his eyes when he felt something larger replace the fingertips and slowly press him open.
Then it was in. There was a little wave of pain, familiar and half-erotic. He pressed his face into his arm as Zechs slid deeper and deeper; it felt like his whole body was no larger than just big enough for what was filling him. And just before it got to be too much it halted. Zechs traced his plait and kissed the tattoo on his shoulder blade.
Slow, at first. Momentum built, then, until the first stinging slap of Zechs’ hips to his ass, and he gasped as it touched off a spark inside him. Duo breathed into his sheets. “Hold my shoulders,” he whispered.
He wasn’t sure Zechs had heard him. Maybe he just hesitated. There was some shifting, silken sounds on the duvet and the thing in him nudging deeper for a moment, and then thick, hard fingers on his shoulders. Without his sight, Zechs felt so much larger than him, a giant leaning over him like that, so close and radiating heat. Duo covered one of the hands with his own.
A hard thrust, using his shoulders as leverage. It forced a grunt out of him, and he saw light behind his eyes. “Yes,” he hissed. Zechs sawed back and forth over that spot, perfect almost every time, and then like a switch had been thrown he started pounding in and out, rocking them across the bed until Duo threw out an arm to brace against the wall. “Yes. God.”
“Duo.” Zechs groaned in his ear. "I can't hold it much longer. Let me... " One of his hands went searching between Duo and the mattress. Duo got a knee under him, and Zechs caught his cock in a rough fist. Every snap of his hips sent him skidding on the duvet, dragging his cockhead over the fabric, and he let himself moan with abandon at that. Teeth in his shoulder, and Zechs came like a freight train, splashing him with wetness inside. Duo felt himself twitch like a puppet on strings and panted through it as he climaxed a second time.