Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Open House ❯ One-Shot

Oh, Relena Darlian, my mind scolded as I raced down the halls. Why was it that I put off certain things until the last minute? I had possibly fifteen minutes to change and get back downstairs so I wouldn't be late, but my mind had fallen into daydreams before I was able to leave the chair in which I'd been reading.

It was a not so guilty pleasure of mine, that I spent my quiet moments wrapped up in romance novels. They were not grand works of literature, but they provided an escape, just as they had been meant to do. It didn't matter much to me just how the plot went, whether it was two strangers meeting and falling in love, or two people who had once been fond of each other finding one another later, the hope that those stories spawned was tangible. I'd heard that reading them gave one undue expectations towards life and love. But I knew quite well how life was not as one wished it, and fairy tale love was just that, for fairy tales. In this world there could be something big and bold, and for the lucky, so very attainable. Maybe I wasn't lucky yet, but my hopes were all wrapped up in a quiet smile and shining eyes.

Shedding my shirt I made a beeline for my closet to pick out another outfit. My plan for a quick escape was foiled as voices drifted up through my window. That voice... there was no doubt it was Heero. Creeping over to peek out the window I feasted my hungry eyes on the man I had not seen in... well, days, but to me it seemed like a long time. The ledgeless window (it wouldn't do to give a kidnapper a head start after all - or so they said), afforded me the perfect view. He was talking to the gardener of all people, having a conversation over what looked to be a miniature rose bush. Those long powerful legs were covered by black slacks today, and his arms and torso by a white dress shirt. I felt a sense of disappointment that was far sharper than vague at the lack of skin I could see. Rather abruptly it seemed he ended the conversation and tarried a moment as the gardener continued on. I started as his eyes locked on mine, my hand convulsively clutching at the curtain as I fought to stay kneeling. Had he known I had been there the whole time? What was this emotion his eyes were broadcasting? What was this feeling he was causing to throb deep in my secret thoughts?

'You're nearly naked in the window,' an internal voice whispered to me. But until he'd broken eye contact with me, I had found myself unable to move. He'd seen my shoulders at most, after all. I found myself letting go of the curtain and sitting back with a sigh. Heero was right here, at my house. I was so not making the meeting today.

***

"Heero!" My heart took a decidedly steep leap and raced off without further notice. Now I was not just reacting to the sight of him out of my window, rather, he was standing right in front of me, tall, sleek, masculine, and smelling faintly of the garden he'd just exited. On any other the scent would have seemed false. On Heero it was just perfect.

Changing as planned I'd done another marathon run downstairs, and as I had, luckily, slowed down before rounding a corner, I had run across the man who was fueling my burst of speed.

"When did you get here?" Or, my mind so helpfully supplied, why weren't you here before?

"Only a while ago," he told me, his eyes bearing into mine. I felt the distinct urge to squirm, to unbutton the top of my blouse and let out some of this heat that my traitorous body was manufacturing in response to his presence. And what a presence!

He had grown so lean, so very, very physically handsome. If I could close my eyes maybe I wouldn't react to much to his presence. But that was ridiculous. If I closed my eyes it would only give me more of an opportunity to fantasize about him... And it wasn't as if my brain wasn't doing it while my eyes were wide open and staring at him, either. One always heard about men and their tendency to undress women with their eyes, and I found myself very much in same position. Though honestly, and somewhat jealously, I had to wonder what woman would not do the same thing.

"Zechs said I should come here, take some time off. He said it'd be fine, but I wanted to speak with you first."

As if things weren't odd enough about Heero showing up here, and my reaction to it, but now my brother had entered the mix. When had Milliardo started to take interest in when or if Heero took time off?

"You didn't find that somewhat... odd?" I queried.

"Before or after he threatened to threaten me with going to Lady Une? He was determined, and I didn't have anything important planned."

"So you decided to get out of the way before the steamroller flattened you."

"For the most part."

I laughed, feeling somewhat foolish and not a little bit anticipating. "A wise man. Of course I have no problem with you staying here. You're more than welcome anytime."

And my brother knows this, I thought, peering again at Heero. He didn't look too distressed to be standing in my house, having been invited by my errant brother. I had a sneaking suspicion however, that Milliardo wasn't being out of character in his invitation, for behind every good man is a good woman. And he has a very hard time saying no to his.

***

Someone forgot to tell me in the big scheme of things that having the man you'd been half in love with for most recent chunk of your life was such a distraction. I was playing good hostess and nearly fell all over myself in my need to make sure he knew he was welcome in any part of the house. I had meant it too, until I had been heartily reminded by my brain later that my room was part of the house. The laughter I had experienced then was somewhere south of loony, as I envisioned myself adding on that fact on to my assurances.

The gym that we had built into one of the rooms was a place of solitude. I was the only one who regularly used it, and had gotten very used to that fact. It was comforting. Only when I went there several days after Heero had arrived, there was quiet music wafting out at me. Nice music, peppy music in a masculine sort of way. So Heero had take up my offer! I was grinning and feeling like a good hostess when my body... of it's very own volition!.. decided it wanted a peek to go along with the knowledge. Curiosity might not have killed the cat, but I was convinced that it had either made it blissful for the rest of its days, or scared it out of a life or two. I was hoping this was going to be the first. That hope continued until I snapped the light cover closed as I moved to poke my head around the corner, and then I promptly died.

I dared not breathe. What if he had heard me? What if he was right now walking in my direction on silent legs, ready to pop out from behind the corner and see me in my vulnerable state? What if all my what ifs came true?

"Are you all right, Relena?"

Such a silky smooth voice, I reflected. Just a hint of growl underneath, just enough rough edged masculinity to make him sound like a fully grown male in his prime. One eye that had been tightly closed opened, focusing lazily on the shaggy head within my view. Hot damn. He was gorgeous, sweaty and compelling 20 feet away, and my mind was not supplying me the means with which to describe him when the distance was provided in inches. A rivulet of a sweat had run down his cheek, bringing with it a few fine strands of hair that almost begged me to smooth them back. His lips were moist, as if he'd recently taken a drink and yet forgot to wipe his mouth. If my back pushed against the wall any harder I was going to get bruises. As it was I was going to asphyxiate myself in approximately a minute if he didn't park his fine little nose a little further back.

"Fine," I said on a puff of air, making it sound almost like a petulant retort. "I'm fine," I amended.

His eyebrow rose and I followed it with my eyes. How much pressure would it take before my fingers tore holes in the walls? If I smiled right now, it would be more like a wolf baring its fangs before making a kill than any gesture of friendship. And what a neck to sink ones teeth into. Or lips...

"You were coming to work out, weren't you? I can get out of your way."

"Uhm..." My brain stalled. "I don't want to interrupt you. There are plenty of machines!"

'You can't think around him,' I told myself. 'You're about ready to start listing down the wall, and now you dare to nearly ask him to work out with you? As in... nearly 6' of muscle straining within your radar? That skin is off limits and if you saw it any more in action you'd be tying him to the weight bench for an opportunity to feel. You'd get to touch those fine rippling abs, the pecs that an artist couldn't have designed better, the bulging biceps, and we wouldn't even begin to think about going below the waist. No wait. We would. Stop that.' My eyes rolled back in my head and I let it not so gently knock against the wall.

"Are you sure you're ok?"

'He's touching me!' my mind screamed. A more logical portion of my brain responded in kind, but pleasantly pointed out that it wasn't of an inappropriate or particularly titillating way. The former screaming part questioned the sanity of such a statement. Every touch from Heero was inappropriate because it ended too soon. If I could cuddle with him, and that brought all sorts of naughty and cozy images to mind, feeling that secure hold around me... He'd so never get away. I could grab him right now, he was touching me after all, he was within arms reach, but it was all I could do just to stay conscious, taking in those fingers stroking my cheek, much less move. 'Bite his fingers,' came the peanut gallery. 'He'll get a real thrill out of that, you take charge woman, you.' I started at the thought, locking instantly in the deep and hazy blue of his eyes. The corner of his mouth quirked as he took me in.

"It looks like you're ok. I'll leave you to your gym. Thanks for letting me use it."

I made a helpless agreeing sound and watched his shorts cling to his backside as he walked away. My own backside met the floor seconds later and the sting didn't even register. Workout? If energy burning constituted a workout I'd just used a lifetime's worth in frustration in a matter of minutes.

***

So why weren't there cameras installed in the gym, anyway? It was wrong that that would be my first thought after I had recovered my tattered sanity, and locked my libido back in its box. He was not here to play into my fantasies, he was here on vacation. The fantasy part was just a bonus. Oh it *was* insanity. Hi, my name is Relena Darlian. I've been a Heero Yuy addict for five years. I almost kicked the habit, except that he won't go away, and when he's around me, he's hardly ever clothed. Surely there was a cure for such hopelessness. The one *other* than the option provided by my brain which included a bed and handcuffs. And my house was playing into his stacked deck.

The side of the house facing the pool had been built with an excessive amount of windows. It was strange, almost although there were trees to look at behind it, it was primarily the pool that was in focus. I could hardly imagine anyone pulling up a chair and watching people swim.

I was casually wandering the house to look for Heero. I say casually because I didn't want to be like I'd be exactly surprised to see him either. "Oh, you're in my home and I ran across you, how shocking!" A cursory glance at the pool gave me all my answers.

He was an easy swimmer, pulling himself through the water, challenging the fact he didn't belong. He wore trunks, I could tell that much. In movies he would have come up out of the water like a breaching whale, water spraying off of him like little crystals. In reality he merely came to the side of the pool and surfaced. I was consciously unconscious of the fact that I was cozied up to the glass. His hands went immediately to pull his hair back from his face, and it was oozing up between his fingers in liquid streams. All of that dark hair... those subtle sun lightened spots, the short hairs at the back of his neck, and the rest that just begged to have a fistful taken of it. My fist, that is, or his, and aside from certain concessions that was as far as I was willing to go. In a slick move had pulled himself onto the side of the pool. The trunks he wore were carried by the weight of gravity and they hugged him like a second skin. When he reached for his towel I was greeted with an almost graphic display, and one I was not disappointed in. My face was fighting between blushing, it was succeeding madly at that, and grinning up a storm. 'Don't look up here,' I requested of Heero as I alternately stroked the window frame, and clutched at it.

"Are you all right?"

I gasped, whirling around to face Peygan.

"Yes! I'm fine..." My stomach sank. "Why?"

"You were pressed up against the glass like you weren't getting enough air. Are you sure?"

"Yep!" I chirped. Chirped! Taking his arm I led him away from the windows. If there was any luck I could keep him occupied until Heero had moved away from the pool and all was normal again. Or as normal as it seemed it could be.

***

Wherever I went he seemed to be there. It didn't matter if I wanted to read -he was on the couch-, or wanted to swim -he was doing laps-, or if I wanted to work out -he was there-, and I already knew how something like that turned out. I had no set hours either, and that made it freaky. If I kept a schedule, it would mean he was stalking me, and that was almost more normal than sharing brain waves with the man. I knew he wasn't watching me, it was merely coincidence.

This began to plague me at two in the morning, leaving me pacing until I found myself hungry.

I shivered every time I passed him in the hall, and tingled like I'd just drank something warm while I watched him swim. Not that I went to watch him swim, you see, but it was a crime not to appreciate what was right in front of me... especially when no one would be the wiser. It was a case of slow torture, and I had only myself to blame... and his body. I wanted to squeak like a mouse when he looked my way, for fear that he would see the confusion he was wreaking. If he did know, he was exceptionally good at not letting on. It was hard to imagine that he would find me amusing, that he would deliberately tease me? There would be no purpose in it for him. My brother having his hand in it certainly meant that it was nothing of Heero's devising, but circumstance. Circumstances as they were, if Heero did end up staying another week I might be driven to dire straights. I had already taken to carrying a ball around in my hand... and not to relieve traditional stress either: to keep my hands off.

His lips were wrapped around a *spoon.* In my line of sight. In my kitchen. He even had a very classic "Huh?" expression running over his face before I turned and ran. For two seconds, and then I realized I was being stupid. I grabbed the nearest thing next to me and marched back.

"Forgot something," I said, hiding my sheepishness by holding up the pen in my hand. I followed his line of sight to a cup of pens that had been sitting there for as many years as I could remember, and then back to me. Will not blush, cannot, it is against the rules. Doing the only thing I could do then, I moved over to the pen cup, and stuck mine in. Better to look like an obsessive neat freak than a person too overcome by the sight of his lips..!

My bravery had not extended to knowing just what I was to do once my hands weren't occupied. Paused behind him, definitely behind him because then I didn't have to worry about where his eyes were and where mine couldn't be, rules spun out like marbles on a mirror, giving the illusion of just a few too many, if you know what I mean. These rules were fairly simple. There were things one could and could not eat while alone in the presence of a man who at any given moment was bound to drive you insane. It did not matter that I was a grown adult, that I had been eating in polite company for most of my life. There were just things that weren't done. Anything crumbly, dark, messy, or prone to stick embarrassingly to teeth was off limits. Which, if you thought about it, included just about everything. Pasta was a definite no, loose cakes, out of the question. Vanilla ice cream, certain drinks, certain crackers or chips, were among the preferred list of acceptable items. When not alone, it was less of a worry, because their attention wasn't focused solely on the acrobatics you were performing with your mouth and eating utensils so as not to look like the buffoon you felt like anyways. Tea, my mind decreed. Tea to soothe my far too overactive mind.

The tea in my cup steamed pleasantly up at me as I hovered close to it at the table. There was small talk appropriate for these types of situations, I knew it, but somehow "How was your day?" seemed vaguely inappropriate when I had been watching him swim in my own back yard. If the puffs of steam had been smoke signals, I wished they had something to tell me, because I was their avid pupil. Instead I put a smile on my face and looked up, hoping to catch his eye and spur him to say something, anything. It seemed laughable even to me, afterwards. But my eyes stuck half way at the nearly empty dish of chocolate pudding that he was currently twirling the previously offending spoon through. The pudding captured me less than his fingers on the spoon. His words were no less a prophecy that my mind could understand.

"Would you like some?"

I goggled at him, in a perfectly under control fashion. It was more that my eyes went wide and I forgot that breathing was something you weren't supposed to forget. The word "No" was poised to tumble out of my lips in a very appropriate manner. But he was holding out the spoon so it almost reached me, and with such a very inviting look on his face. I was making the "Nnn" sound even as my mouth opened to admit the spoon. As my lips closed around it, our gazes locked, and my mind finally caught up with the fact that he wasn't just offering me a bite of pudding, he was offering me a bite of pudding on a spoon that had come not ten seconds ago from his mouth. I could taste him on it, as my tongue curled up to meet the underside of it, of that I was sure, a sharper taste than the sweet chocolate, and that added a hundred pounds of pure embarrassing pressure to my eyelids, anything to escape showing him the shock and wonder I was experiencing. Rapture at the chocolate was fine, rapture imagining I had just experienced his mouth vicariously via eating utensil was entirely another. But it didn't stop there, as my train of thought rushed up to give me "help" he had taken it back, from my mouth to his, to catch what I had missed. I shivered, and the drink became far too appealing once again. Except I didn't want to drink it, because I might forget the taste of him. But now he knew the taste of me?

He rose to take the dishes to the sink, startling me. I stood, feeling like the world's biggest fool still sitting and staring at my tea cup. But I seemed to be having some trouble looking at him as well. Instead I stood at the counter, waiting for him to finish.

"Do you have plans for tomorrow?"

"No," I answered swiftly, cursing it's timely appearance only when it wished.

"All right. I will see you in the morning then. Good night."

He had again caught me in the middle of trying to say something. I was cut short again by his face, as it was looking suddenly very large next to mine. It was a moment caught between panic and hope when I thought very suddenly that he might kiss me, and he did, on my cheek, close to my lips, but not quite. The slight moisture had left by his mouth had already begun to cool, and Heero himself already long gone from the room, by the time I could formulate a meek reply.

"Good night."

***

It was a secret plot. That was the only answer that I had been able to come up with. Why else would the man have brought so few clothes with him? Sure, he didn't parade around with it, but there was something just a little off. I don't know that I could put terms to just how different he was being. Aggressive didn't really fit. It was more that he was just so close, and I was having to deal with him in a way that I wasn't used to. Goodness knows it wasn't a bad thing. My mind had never been so active.

Approaching his door was like approaching the throne of a foreign leader. Respect, suitable fear, and oh so much anticipation. Granted the types of fear and anticipation were wildly different, but the respect was somewhat the same. My day of torture ended, and I needed time to unwind. I tried to read, and found myself pacing, lost in thought, and thinking these days were never productive in any sense of the word. Thinking led to frustration, and not the angry kind either, because I knew under my roof was 180 pounds of a man I would fight life and limb to have under me. Not that way. Ok, yes that way. But the under me thing might be off... kind of. Under, on top, beside... who was counting? It all worked for me, and those were not thoughts I was used to have at odd moments of the day. At certain times when I called them up, yes, every waking moment, no.

Compared to my body the wood beside his door felt almost warm. I should go sleep, I told myself, but I could not muster any conviction behind the thought. Chilly knuckles rapped against the wood, and I nearly held my breath waiting for the answer from within.

"Who is it?" came the muffled reply, and I was instantly afraid I had woke him up. Could I beg off as having made a mistake? I didn't really mean to knock on your door, I forgot what I wanted to ask, I suddenly realized I'm tired and I need to go to bed now...

"Do you have a lot of people knocking on your door in my house?" my voice called, amused, nearly without my consent. The door opened and I held my ground.

"Only office secretaries who slip by the defenses to make sure I do more work," he replied in the same tone. As for me I was surprised I was able to recognize tones at all. Skin tones perhaps, but tones of voice? My eyes were feasting on the tones of skin I currently stood in front of, specifically ignoring the diet I had sworn to. 'Wholesome goodness,' the little voice sang, 'better than any diet!' I thought at once I had gotten him out of bed after all... his hair was ruffled, and his boxers, oh boy, his boxers were scooted a little farther down one hip than the other. Oh. Boy. He was just a little paler there, didn't get as much sun I suppose, and it faded up with a little line into the olive gold of his abdomen. If he sucked in his stomach there would be perfect little lines, just ready to touch... and as it was there were lines running down that I just knew it would be fun to nuzzle my nose up and down in. My eyes jumped from his stomach to his face... because that was safe... right? Wrong, because I fixated on his lips and then on the barest, barest hint of beard that was beginning to show. A bit of stubble was quite sexy I decided instantly. It could be rough, ticklish, sensual... running all over my sensitive skin while I tasted his... Not what I was here for! Not in the least! I repeated that until I met his concerned eyes, and finally was conscious of the way that I clutched at my elbows.

"You're cold," he said almost accusingly, as if somehow I wasn't allowed that right.

"I just got out of the freezer," I replied meekly. "I was rearranging it."

'I just got out of the shower,' my little voice amended in a fantasy situation. "I was wanting you.'

"What did you need?" He never took his eyes away from me, never gave me an out. "Did you need me to help... rearrange the freezer?"

I never knew something so ordinary could sound so sexy, but when coming from Heero it probably should not have been a surprise. He all but oozed sexuality all over the room. I knew when he left this would forever be "Heero's Room" and it got my imagination working overtime when I still knew I didn't need it to be. I smiled brightly, another weak defense against the heavy artillery he was putting out, but the least I could do was be normal...ish.

"I wondered if you'd be interested in a game of pool?" 'Perhaps games in the pool would be more appropriate?' my personal demon giggled. There was not a part of me that did not wish I could excise that little demon into a place where I could easily step on it. Games in the pool would require us to be in pool clothes, and as I had first hand experience, his swimming trunks were smaller and tighter than what he was wearing now. That would leave me in a bathing suit, evil demon suggesting bikini, and that was also quite familiar. I could only too well imagine myself sliding against his water slickened skin, preferably only in my own water slickened skin, and... well, let's say everything went south from there.

"Sure," he replied. He paused like he wanted to ask me why I was asking him this now, but then walked back into the room without shutting the door. My eyes narrowed, and I think I thought if I could see less I'd look less. That failed miserably, and it added to my uncertainty as I stood. Should I leave and wait for him, or stay? He puttered for a few moments before snagging a pair of jeans. At that point I gave in, leaning against the door frame and forcibly averting my eyes. I discovered there were too many mirrors in the house, and that at least two on one side of the room were reflecting the Heero who was putting on his pants. He didn't seem bothered by my presence... so much of me wasn't bothered by it either. I only wished I were wearing sunglasses so I could ogle unnoticed. What was that about a diet for my eyes? This was incurable gluttony.

"I don't play pool all that often," he said, startling me into looking at him. His sturdy nimble fingers were just buttoning the button of his jeans, then pulling up the zipper. I took little imagination to see myself running my hands down that stomach and undoing them for him. It had all ended in a matter of seconds, but it had seemed like a small eternity.

"It's ok," I replied, smiling still. "I don't either."

"That'll be good then," he said while tugging a t-shirt over his head. It was gray, not form fitting but tight enough that the contours of his chest were... accented. My mind whimpered foul. In fact it whimpered all the way down the stairs to the game room. Surely no one was expected to make conversation like this.

His fingers ran lightly over the deep bluish red of the table top, and I had to stop myself from admiring his fingers. Of course I was too late, but the intent was there.

"I don't think I've ever played on a red pool table," he said, looking up at me suddenly.

"I didn't actually choose the color," I explained, not a little bit caught off guard. "It's burgundy."

"Burgundy, red, green... The game's the same. I think I'll enjoy playing with you."

Oh. Oh... "Oh?" Good job, good normal voice, nothing to be read in there.

"You're good at everything. It should be a challenge. I like challenges."

A smile crossed my face independent of my struggling mind. "So do I."

*

It was amusement rather than disbelief that colored my views as Heero sank the last two balls in the corner pocket, leaving the cue and eight balls all alone.

"You don't play often, but you have great talent," I complimented him. I could have made it sound incredulous, and some would have taken it that way anyway, but my belief in him was genuine. If he announced he could fly I would stand back and watch him soar. He acknowledged my own game but I could just shrug.

"It's fun," I said with a smile.

He smiled back marginally. "It was fun. Thank you for inviting me."

"Thank you for coming," I replied. "It's not fun by yourself."

"Things rarely are," he said, watching me closely as I pulled myself onto the corner of the table. It was perhaps not the most ladylike of poses, since my thighs were hanging on either side, but it was comfortable. One might read meaning into his words, even innuendo, but I didn't exactly have time to examine it.

"You have chalk on your face," he informed me, reaching up with a chalk stained thumb to rub my cheek.

"Is that going to take it off?" I asked, all at once so very aware of him again. I was almost amazed that for a little bit I had let my mind wander away from that aspect of his presence. Sure I enjoyed him being here, and it wasn't like I forgot he was gorgeous and in the same room with me, but this all consuming, mind stealing stupor that I was cursed with lately had come full force. I could only sit as he rubbed his thumb over my cheek, and he stared at me, stared at where his skin met mine. I can only imagine he was smearing more chalk into my skin, but who was I to complain? I had been lost in his presence for the past few days with this contact driving me towards this cliff I was trying to avoid, and right now I was just disinclined to protest my internal compulsions. The pressure intensified slightly as I eased my way closer to him, my eyes fixed on his face. He looked serious, he almost always look serious. I could not analyze his motivation, only mine. I wanted him to touch me, and I wanted him to touch me in places other than my face. If it was not obvious in my shaking breathing, I imagine it must have been clear as day in my eyes. I felt like I was broadcasting it, screaming it. A chill ran though me, making me shudder under his fingers as my thoughts and the sensations created something that was all too real. My clothes felt all too close for my body, and he was just that much too far away.

His fingers traces a line down my nose, and he smirked, apparently amused by what he saw. I was staring at him nearly slack jawed, my eyes still cursedly wide. I'd think he was magic for the control he exercised over me, but his magic was inherent. A nuclear bomb could have exploded and my eyes would not have strayed, I certainly did not notice when his legs situated themselves between my thighs. As it was it took several seconds to react to the reality that a tongue was very gently tracing the inside of my lower lip. Heero's tongue. Heero's face that close to mine. I did what any other intelligent female would have done in my position, and put protest last on the list.

The tongue is supposed to be the strongest muscle in the body. The way he was pussyfooting around you would have thought he was avoiding a sprain. We were having none of that. Sweetness and light had its place, but after all this time of torturing my body it was something a little stronger that I needed. And let me tell you that it didn't take long to win him over to my way of thinking.

He was voracious, demanding just as much as the order I had issued and then some. My own self would ban me from remembering what he tasted like; it was so vague to me, like a dream. But I could pick out his lips out of thousands, and recognize the touch of his tongue from all others. So many writers had described it as a mating of the mouths. I don't think I had truly understood until now.

The bright lights above sent shadows over his eyes. Standing in front of me as he was it was difficult to trace the path of his eyes but as my breath came back to me in shallow pants I felt something different that what I imagined it would be like if he were actually touching me. It was a tingling, anticipation, like the night air buzzing in wait for the coming day. I drew a breath as his eyes came back to my face, biting my lip in anticipation. It did not keep all the air in me from rushing out as if he'd hit me when his eyes settled on mine.

Was he waiting for something? Or more importantly... was he going to kiss me again? After another beat of time, or as time was currently passing for me, he bowed his head slightly and seemed to smile.

"Thank you for the game."

The game? And...? Unfortunately he was gone before my brain wrapped around the question I was about to demand of him. Yes, he had left. A planned retreat? Going after him was not an option, even if tackling him was very appealing.

Frustration, thy name be war. And who knew that he of all people would be good at it? I should have. I was abstract art of my own, I discovered once I finally moved... with a blue cheekbone, and wide blue stripe making its way down my nose. Not including the rubbings on my backside. I missed a lot of things in my life... but how had I missed that?

***

Running, to me, had always been a self affirming action. There was no better way to feel alive than to feel the steady rhythm of your feet hitting the ground, your muscles moving and stretching like they were well oiled, and the stead, or often insistent, beating of your heart. To me there were two extreme classes of runners: those who got several paces and wished for a wheel chair and oxygen, and those that ran nearly effortlessly, tirelessly, as if they had been born to run as much as everyone else had been born to breathe. I fell a good deal short of the halfway point, choosing to call myself a wishful, sedentary afficionado. Too much over a mile on a given day was pushing my limit. I wished I could run all day with the feelings I got with the first few hundred yards. Limits when around Heero meant little. I probably could have suffered through two miles in his presence. Maybe even three.. If he was carrying me! And I'd be lying if I didn't include that this was therapy.

The trouble with being around a man who had spent some significant amounts of time protecting you was that he, or at least Heero, found it very difficult to extract himself from the process. I found it very uncomfortable to run in front of people, feeling like I was running to fast, or too slow, or that someone was staring at me from behind and that I looked extraordinarily goofy. That didn't prevent me from wanting to run behind him though... I had no such reservations about staring at his body. But he apparently problems with me running behind him, both out of habit for his safety, and mine. So there were no available pretty fantasies when I was stuck taking turns figuring out whose shoulder was going first.

He wouldn't give me my fantasy, so I was forced to create my own. I concluded that the mind, attending to both running in a straight line, and somewhat naughty thoughts, was both loopy and under attentive. Inadvertently I created a lovely but logistically incorrect view of Heero running. Pretty, yes, but as it inspired "Chariots of Fire" to go marching through my head, it was the giggle swallowing that supplanted breathing... end of Fantasy One.

Number two began much like the other, only a side view this time. And then there was Fantasy Me, looking very svelte I must say, holding out my arms until he caught me up and swung me around, and then I relived the night of the game... the crush of his arms, the firm intrusion of his lips... The consequence of such was that in my delighted distraction he had slowed, and I had not. There were only so many ways to look quizzically back at someone, and I am here to tell you I have mastered them all.

"We should walk the rest of the way to cool off," he suggested.

I nodded dumbly, and waited for him to catch up so I could fall into step with him. Walking left far too much time for thought. By the time we had reached the house I had nearly used up all of my anti-fidgeting powers. And then he bent over right in front of me to take off his shoes. Literally bent over, and... Who was I to blame for any acts of insanity? The first shoe of his to hit the floor I grabbed, and started running, stopping momentarily to send him a "Catch me if you can!" smile. He caught me before I got out of the room.

He had a hold on my wrist, pinning it against the wall as he trapped me there.

"What are you doing?"

His eyes slid down as my shoulders pressed more firmly against the wall, and pushing my chest a little further out.

"Just having some fun."

When I slipped out of his grip and under his arm I ran like I was possessed. I knew this house backwards and forwards, so I had a slight advantage over him... but not much. If I hadn't taken him by surprise I had no doubt he would have caught me again before I left the room, dirty tricks not withstanding. I could call the sounds he made behind me lumbering, but we were making a racket that would have drawn anyone in the house to us if there had been anyone at home. Spying the game room I skidded inside, not really hoping he wouldn't see me go in... I wasn't that delusional. Sure enough he entered like he was king of the world. Very slowly, very nonchalant, knowing I had nowhere else to run. He had taken off his other shoe, I saw immediately, and that must have been why I had made it as far as I did.

He bent over as if all the chase had fled from him, eyeing me from under his hair as he rested his hands on his legs and panted lightly.

"You..." Breath. "Wuss." I tossed aside the shoe so I could sit and bask in the air conditioning. "Can't... can't even take a little run."

"The mile we did... that was just a walk in the park?"

"A very pretty one," I confirmed, my heart beginning to see that resting was good.

He waved off that comment with a grunt, and except for the fact he was sweating he looked as if he'd just been rested. The faker. My curiosity was piqued as he stripped off his socks and stood like he was in heaven. The carpet, I figured, must be about 20 degrees cooler than the insides of my shoes. I followed in his, well, footsteps and sighed in bliss.

"You are the most brilliant man on the face of the earth."

"That's not saying much," he informed me as he pulled himself up onto one of the short sides of the pool table. "You left out the colonies."

"The most brilliant man in the universe," I amended, taking time away from my luxuriating to eye the way the light glinted off his damp shoulders.

That was short lived as he leaned backwards, an air vent was directly over the table, and he kept leaning back until he was totally stretched out, hands hanging over the sides of the table. The lucky bastard. Why didn't I think of that?

"You're going to get the felt wet," I said, boosting myself off my chair.

"S'ok."

"Oh?"

"I'll have it recovered. This is fit for kings."

"Well, majesty, your throne looks pretty comfortable right now."

"Mmm."

"I thought the object was to cool down," he said, huffing slightly as I settled on his stomach.

"It is... It's nice and cool up here."

He let his head fall back to the table but I knew he was watching me. I knew it as sure as I knew that being close to him was heating me in up ways that had little to do with the temperature on the outside. A part of me was still hesitant about actually *trying* to be appealing to him, rather than just being natural. Or as natural as possible. I think the final barrier to holding back was broken the day I invited him to play pool with me. I wanted to feel that body next to mine again. I wanted to hear that voice say my name again like he had.

How one could look quite so content as he did lying there I would never know. A trickle of sweat caught my attention at it traveled down his cheek, and I reached out to wipe it away . I could not define a moment as I sat on top of him that I knew that now was the time... this thing building up between us was going to find the plateau it had been looking for. My body was willing, my mind was dense.

I glided a finger down his sternum. "You're lucky."

His eyes made forays at my tank top. "I wouldn't mind."

Would it be for his benefit or mine if I took off? I was selfish, I wanted him to want me, and he was being lewd... a trait that on him at this moment I found particularly appealing. And so I did, wasting little time, lingering only when necessary. It left me sitting in front of him in only a sport's bra, which if it did anything for me, it was not made to enhance any attributes. No wonder, just support.

He seemed to come out of his stupor then, catching a strap with one long finger and tugging me down to him. It was all too easy to let my lips tell him what with words I could not. His fingers had an easier time peeling the spandex off of me than I would have. The only thing that could have made me remove my mouth from his was his insistence in taking the garment off completely. Pinch me, I'm dreaming. This was Heero inches from my face, his cheekbone resting against the knuckles of the hand that had just tossed away one of my few remaining scraps of clothing. Heero whose mouth I had a hard time not returning to immediately, deeply pink where my teeth had scored him. His hair was dark mahogany against the deep red of the table, and his eyes dark as he looked up at me almost from beneath his lashes. A playful look, a look full of a promise that my mind and body were finally in agreement in answering. I don't know what we were looking for in each other's eyes, only that it was tremulous against the need. I dropped to kiss the skin beneath his collar bone, licking a short line, and nuzzling him, taking in the smell of his skin. His hands ran along my sides to cup my breasts, coaxing me back to his mouth.

This time it was a little more Heero in control, even from his position. I felt a chill race down my body, even with the warmth of his hands, or then again likely because of them. He was insistent, but not technically demanding. Somehow in all of my confusion he knew exactly what I was looking for, and he was giving it to me. All those times we had met accidentally in the house: when he had offered me his spoon, kissed my cheek, and kissed me senseless on this pool table before... Maybe he didn't plan them, but he had read me better than anyone else had. It made me wonder then... how long had he known the depth of my feelings? I was then slave to his will, he was ahead of me in the game. The only thing about that was that there was always room to catch up, or play along. He had me a willing captive even as he slid my shorts off of my hips to puddle at my knees. He gave no warning as he slipped two fingers inside me, leaving me gasping, gaping down at him with greed as he petted me with his long fingers. I made a sound of protest as he pushed me back, freeing himself from the confines of his clothing, and laying back, waiting for me. It gratified me that he was panting, aroused, wanting. Because I was all of that and more.

"This isn't your typical use of a gaming table, is it?" I teased, watching his eyes roll back in his head slightly as I touched him lightly.

My body remembered, imagined, intimately, the pleasure and pain... things I wanted now only to share with him. I let my knees widen on either side of him, leaning forward to watch him, even as I took him in my hand and guided myself onto him. It was instinctual almost, the angling of hips to allow for easy passage. It was all fine, until he was fully inside and I could feel a tingling spreading from where he pressed inside me, radiating to make my body throb, and throwing me totally off balance, so all I could do is sit, mouth open in a gasp of feelings. I could not even pay attention to him, it was so consuming. I stared blankly down at where we were joined, knowing that this was the center of pleasure, this was what made my body want. I tried to close my muscles around him, and felt so very inadequate... it was as if inside I was liquid, unable to grasp him, to make him feel. But I could feel. I knew what my body craved, and I knew that he would not complain. His hips were trying so desperately to move, to go deeper, to feel, and that was the ultimate feeling of control. But I was no Sadist, and I moved to help him... which caused him to move even deeper than before, making us both pause and take notice.

It was all I could do to take the time to remember what it felt like as he slid back inside. There was no time to remember after that... Lust was running hot, and neither of us seemed reluctant to answer. It was all I could do to brace myself, stroking him with my body, loving, bathing, caressing his flesh with everything I had. I wanted to feel more, angle, thrust, movement, constricting around him almost without my knowledge. And he was meeting me, giving me all that I desired, and leaving me wanting more. His hands found me, brushing my breasts, finding my hips, seeing it seemed the part of me begging him for an act so inadequately described by words. There was no lack, but then... He touched me, his hand awkwardly pressed to me, but his thumb finding exactly where I needed to be touched. My body convulsed, tightening around him momentarily as I fought to keep in contact with him. It was no longer me in control, it was him. He dictated the speed of our joining, the depth of his thrusts, all based on how lightly, how quickly, he rubbed his maddening thumb against me. Just when I thought he could do no more to control me, he began to race, with me as his subject. I could do no more than croon at him, my body tightening at his command. Suddenly every thrust pushed harder where I needed to feel, every caress was a brush stroke to a painting already rich and full. He could barely move inside of me, I had drawn so tight, I was a mindless vessel for his movement... when he suddenly stopped. My body bucked, moving on him harder than before, my hips moving desperately to try and regain that contact, it had been so close...

"Please, Heero..." I cried, my head thrown back in desperation. "Please... Oh... don't *stop*!"

It took only several strokes this time to bring me back to where he had me before, and beyond. "Heero," I nearly sobbed in relief as the feelings finally washed over me. I had been held prisoner by my own body, and now I was set free. And, deep inside me, so was he.

***

I had guided myself down onto his chest, laying against him as I gathered myself. He was quiet, just breathing, and occasionally running a hand up and down my back in intervals. It was very difficult to not reposition myself, but moving was the last thing I wanted to do, not when flush against him. He breathed deeply, letting it out slowly, and clearing his throat.

"I thought we were supposed to cool down."

I snickered lightly. Finding the will to move, I pushed myself up so I could look at him. He reached up and ran a handful of my now loose hair through his fingers.

"Are you ok?" I would be concerned of course. "It's kind of hard."

"Good for the posture." He smiled lightly.

Perspectives were odd things. A problem looked at objectively could be worked out, a problem looked at with emotion could be trouble, I should know that. Looking at Heero before today had been fun, maybe not always good for my peace of mind, but between that and my affection, how could ogling not be pleasing? It was nice to see that although my objective view to his personal puzzle was shattered, he was no less appealing. All those stray and errant thoughts that had plagued me suddenly were a congo line of assurance that he would be never less to me. I mean, really! Who could resist those shoulders?

"Do your scars hurt?" I asked, almost off hand.

"No. Why?"

I shook my head, the little demons who had been responsible for the question deserting me when I needed them most.

"I guess I just wondered if you wished you didn't have them."

He appeared contemplative, his brows furrowing before he looked back at me. "I wish they hadn't been necessary, but I don't wish that I didn't have them. If I wished that, I would have to wish to forget you, too."

My heart warmed at his implication.

I welcomed him when he sat up, letting my arms slip around his neck and feeling all too secure as he cradled my back.

"Would you rather go somewhere more comfortable?" he asked.

"Mm... sounds good." The moment of truth. I was not a coward, I could do it. Little demons and peanut gallery lectured, and the team came out ahead. My heart was never in doubt. "You know, don't you, that this house is always open to you?"

"Yeah, I know. When can I schedule my next vacation?"

I smiled, resting my head on his shoulder and feeling more than a little pleased. "I'm always up for another game of pool."