Title: Overture
By Keelywolfe (keelywolfe@aol.com)
Author's webpage: http://www.ravenswing.com/keelywolfe/
Rating: NC-17/ LEMON
Series: Being Duo Maxwell

Feedback: Yes, please!

Summary: Set during Episode 7, in which Heero does his most incredible feat yet. He says Duo's name...

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing, it's characters, settings, Gundams, etc, do not belong to me, we all know that.

WARNINGS: For language, mostly. In my mind, Duo is a foul-mouthed little brat and I'm afraid it's reflected here. Also, this one is a LEMON, so if that isn't you're thing, you might be happier elsewhere.


You know what really twists my knickers? I don't know his name. He knows mine, although you'd hardly think it considering he's used it exactly one time. See, I handed my name over to him on a platter, innocently thinking that he'd tell me his back because that's what you do, isn't it? Someone saves your ass and you tell them your name.

Apparently, no one ever read this guy the rulebook. And it just pisses me off because that's just one more point he has above me on the scoreboard. It's all right, the game isn't over yet and I still have time to catch up before we go into the final round.

At least he remembered my name. I suppose I should be grateful for small favors. Be kind of embarrassing to spend all this time and effort to chase him down, only to have him go, "Do I know you?"

So now, here we are in our 'borrowed' aircraft with him preaching all high and mighty to me.

"I don't think you understand how important this mission is," he said, sitting just as calm as can be next to me while I do all the piloting.

Oh, yeah, like I'm some kind of fucking moron who doesn't understand that killing all the OZ leaders would probably end the war. Guess he thinks where battles are concerned I'd be better off going door to door selling Gundam Scout cookies than being on the front line. Well, he'd better get used me being around because until I find out how to crack this nut sitting next to me, I'm not going anywhere.

"This is our chance to finally destroy the OZ organization," I said, figuring that if I spelled it out for him I could prove I'm not a complete moron. "Then I can go back to space," I added cheerfully.

Now, if there is one thing that you don't do as a pilot, it's use the autopilot. You just don't, not unless it's going to be a really long and really boring trip. It'd be like a professional chef using a machine to whip up a soufflé.

Nope. If you want it done right then you'd better just fly that sucker by hand. It's just one of those unspoken rules. Which is why I did not expect to find myself sprawled across Spandex Boy's lap anytime soon.

Someone apparently needs to verbalize those unspoken rules to him.

He'd flipped on the autopilot and had me out of my seat before I could even scream like the girly-man I am. Arms pinned behind me, straddling his lap and his face about an inch away from mine.

Oooookay, then. I can work with this.

"Did you want something?" I asked sweetly, as if we'd just bumped into each other on the street and he wasn't about to pull my arms out of their sockets.

"Why are you following me?" he demanded. Yeouch. Nobody make their voice cold like this guy. I'm surprised he doesn't spit ice cubes.

I managed to laugh, no way in hell I was going to tell him that this was really starting to fucking well hurt. "Following you? You've got quite the ego, don't you?" I said. I didn't actually -say- I wasn't following him, can I twist the truth or what? "Our missions are the same, you know. Why else would I be following you, anyway?"

He didn't say anything, but he didn't let me go either. All right then, he wants to play rough? I can play rough too. A little twist to keep from breaking my arms, and I melted against him, squirming a little as I pressed my crotch against his. Ah, spandex doesn't hide very much, now does it?

His eyes widened slightly, mouth dropping open just a little as he sucked in a sharp breath. Oh, yeah, not expecting that, were you, Superman? Off guard and hard as hell, this was just where I wanted him.

Not one to bypass any advantage, I kissed him, hard, slipping my tongue between his parted lips and hoped like hell he didn't decide to bite it off. He didn't. Instead, he went one step better and kissed me back, nipping at my lips with his teeth.

Violent kind of guy, ain't he? Makes my nipples hard just thinking about it.

I pulled away, sliding off his lap and I think he actually -growled- at me.

"I'm not going anywhere," I assured him, kicking off my boots before climbing back on. He grabbed me again the second I was close enough and held on this time. Heck, somebody is hard up for it, aren't they?

He kissed me again, all wet and sloppy, and damn I could get to like that. Who knew that someone who seemed so restrained any time I talked to him would go off like a firecracker at practically the mention of the word sex? He was getting pretty damn impatient for it too, hands scrabbling over me as he tried to figure out how to open my clothes. The last time I'd only been wearing a tank top and shorts, so it hadn't been an issue.

Apparently, he still wasn't horny enough to ask for my help but he also seemed to be about ready to just say 'fuck it' and rip my clothes off, which would leave me to pilot my Gundam bare-ass naked and even I'm not that kinky.

Tearing my mouth away from his, I managed to gasp, "It's a jumpsuit." When that didn't seem to penetrate his thick skull, I batted his hands out of the way before he could do any real damage. "Here, like this." No wonder he wears spandex.

Whatever coolness points he lost for not being able to unbutton a damn shirt were immediately reinstated for the speed in which he managed to strip my clothes off. Which left me naked and shivering a little in the cockpit of a stolen aircraft.

I started laughing. I couldn't help it. This situation was definitely at the top of my weirdo-meter and the look on his face sure as hell didn't help. I only laughed harder, and I probably would have fallen on the floor if we hadn't been scrunched together in a tiny co-pilot seat that damn well didn't recline. Somebody should write to Khushrenada and complain.

That thought made me laugh even more, and I might have just kept it up for a while if -someone- hadn't gotten a good double handful of my hair and yanked. Hard.

I yelped, and again found myself nose to nose with Spandex boy. Sheesh, he really has a way with people. I'm surprised they haven't drafted him to be a fucking telemarketer with his people skills.

"We're not in your bed," he stated calmly and I blinked. Boy, got a good grasp of the obvious, doesn't he?

"Um, you're right," I said slowly. Hey, never can be too careful. Put him in the wrong situation and I bet this guy would snap like a soda cracker. "We're not in a bed at all."

"Then this time, we do it my way."

I blinked again. This wasn't part of the script. And then I promptly forgot any thought of a script, first draft or even cliff notes because he fastened his mouth on my neck, one arm around my waist and the other hand moving down south of the border to see what he could find in my lap.

I think I squeaked, which I admit with great shame but hell, you have someone like him wrap a hand around your very eager hard-on and see how verbal you get.

Either he had taken some excellent notes that one time we were together, or he was just a really quick learner because in about two minutes I was ready to just give it up. The guy has a way with a hand job, I'll tell you that right now. Gentle at first, and then harder as he goes, rubbing his thumb over the tip and I just about came right then.

But I could also feel his erection poking me in the butt through those ridiculous shorts of his, and I hate to let such a lovely thing go to waste.

With great regret, I pushed his hand away and he gave me the greatest look, that sweet little confused expression that makes him look about twelve, and makes me feel like some kind of fucking child molester. But the cock I was freeing from his shorts didn't belong to any child, and the expression was lost pretty quickly, melting into one of a typical lusty teenager.

I pulled one hand free and spat into it, much to his consternation apparently because he gave me a look that was a little repulsed, but a lot horny. Horny must've won and I gave him the best seductive smile that I know how.

"You're a soldier, you know how to make due with the materials at hand," I purred, and he nodded, eyes wide as I smoothed the spit over his erection. Pretty poor lube, but -I'm- not a virgin, and I've used worse.

Squirming around, I got into the best position I could, considering our tight quarters, until he was pressed right against my tight little opening.

He seemed to have short-circuited something along the way; his hands were shaking where they rested on my hips and he was almost gasping for breath. "Duo," he breathed, eyes wide. "You...can't...oh!"

Well, what do you know? Twice in one day he'd managed to say my name. I'll make a human out of him yet, you'll see. I gave him a sweet smile and kissed the tip of his nose.

"Now, which one of us has done this once and which one has done it...er...more than once?" I said, shifting so the tip of his cock rubbed against my ass just so, and his hands tightened on my hips. There'll be bruises tomorrow, I'd bet money on that. "Unless you've made some major lifestyle changes recently, I've got more experience in this one, soldier boy."

He started to say something but it melted into a groan as I pushed down, gritting my teeth as it did damn well hurt. Lousy lube and no preparation do not make for painless sex, just in case you were wondering. But fuck, I wanted this, wanted it bad and even if there had been a gallon of Astroglide in the cargo area, I wouldn't have stopped now to go get it.

True superhero that he was, this guy just held perfectly still and let me do all the work. For about ten seconds. The moment I felt my ass brush against his thighs, his hips gained a life of their own and he just fucked me for all he was worth. However, by this point, Khushrenda and an entire fleet of OZ soldiers could have waltz on into the cockpit wearing ballet slippers and tutus, and I wouldn't have fucking cared.

So I just held on and enjoyed the ride, and let me tell you, it was the ride of my life. I don't know why I was surprised, who could fuck better than Superman?

Don't know how long it last, but by the end we were both slippery with sweat, and when he came, he just about crushed me into the control panel. I'm going to have some really interesting bruises from that, I'll tell you. At the time, however, I was too busy coming myself to give a flying fuck, and when we finally collapsed back into the chair, we were both a sticky, sweaty mess.

I doubt he cared either. And I was this close to coming again when he swiped a finger across my stomach and tasted it, for all the world just as calm as he could be. He tasted my semen. He tasted -me-. Talk about lust inducing.

Who the hell is this guy?

Just then the autopilot beeped, which scared the shit out of me, and broke the mood just a bit. We were about fifteen minutes outside of our destination.

Since there wasn't anything to be done for the mess, these planes don't have a shower in them, another thing to include in my letter to OZ, I shimmied back into my clothes as I was, and I must've done it a little too well because soldier boy gave me a look that stated clearly that he wouldn't mind a second helping, ma.

And they call me a slut.

Seat belt. Seat belts are good, and I hastily buckled myself into mine. He looked vaguely disappointed but he flicked off the autopilot and took the controls himself.

I busied myself tidying up my hair, can't fight OZ looking like a well-fucked floozy. Even better, I looked like a well-fucked floozy priest. Bet not many guys wearing this outfit walk around with that expression on their face.

The silence was just about killing me when I finally broke it. "Are you ever going to tell me your name?"


Big shocker, there. "Well, then I'll have to think of my own name for you," I decided. I slid down into my seat, tilting my head back to moan, "Ooooh, it's the Spandex Ranger!" I writhed beneath the confines of my seat belt, rubbing my hands down my thighs as I thrust my hips upward against an invisible lover. "Oh, oh yes! Take me, Spandex Ranger...oh...ohhhhh!" I shuddered theatrically, reaching my 'climax' and cast a sly glance at my silent audience.

He wasn't even looking at me, the bastard, and I wanted so badly to ask him if the reason he frowned so hard was to keep himself from smiling.


"Ahhhh," I sighed, sagging into the seat and wiping imaginary sweat from my forehead. "Who was that masked man?"

He was still steadfastly ignoring me and I sighed again, for real this time, and decided to devote my talents to someone who paid better attention. Me and my plans for breaking through to Mr. No-Name-Who-Fucks-Well.

What had I gotten today? No name yet, and he'd fucked -me- silly this time. Huh. No points this round.

But that was all right, we were still in the first phase of Operation Spandex-Boy. There was still time before the final battle.

Looking out the window, I ignored my wonderfully conversational companion, quietly humming the 'William Tell Overture' under my breath.



Heero Yuy.

His name is Heero. Heero. Shit, I should have known.

Why me?