by Sameshima Shuzumi
1555 wc ~ NC-17 ~ 3x2

I may be a lowly street corner smut dealer, but Darkflame owns the turf. She has worked tirelessly to update tons of winkage all summer, and very soon, hopefully, she will be all caught up. So to honor one of our finest hentai goddesses, here’s a little giftbasket I like to call "Tightpants"...

c. October 2000
ed. April 2003



"I was just thinking-"


"Shut up! Anyway, if we’re gonna work together on this mission, we should get to know our liabilities and assets."


"Hentai. I mean it. What happens if one of your warheads gets activated, while it’s still in the bay?"

Silence. At last, Trowa showed him how to open the doors externally. They set codes so that only Deathscythe could activate them.

"What about your gatling gun? I know you ditch it when you’re out of ammo-"

Heavyarms’s pilot glared. "Why are we looking at all of my weaknesses?"

Duo took one look at Trowa, muscular shoulders showing through his turtleneck as he crossed his arms. "We’ll get to my weaknesses next." He leaped up onto the Gundam’s shoulder before Trowa could reply. "So how does this thing come off?"

Twenty minutes of Trowa bending over the inner workings of his machine, and Duo was finished coding everything into his cockpit. Leaning out of Deathscythe’s hatch, Duo yelled in Trowa’s direction.

"One more thing, Trowa!"

A moment. "What?"

"What do you keep in those pants?"

Silence. Not just a Trowa-silence, but real silence.

"I mean, c’mon man, it’s driving me bonkers! I can’t concentrate! It’s worse than Heero’s spandex. That doesn’t hide a thing. Damn it, I’m Shinigami’s pilot, I’m no stranger to slipping large objects into small spaces, but that is just-"

A silhouetted figure dropped in front of him. With an eeep, Duo scrambled back and fell into his chair.

Trowa, dark green eyes unreadable, keyed the hatch closed. Duo found himself face-to-crotch with said pants. Talk about enclosed spaces. Quickly he evaluated the situation.

"That’s fuckin’ impossible, Trowa."

Behind Trowa, the monitors glowed with the bright, empty hangar, effectively keeping his face in shadow. Duo kept his body as small as possible. It was one thing to react to Heero’s hair-trigger temper, but he had no idea if Trowa was furious or amused. Or horny, for that matter. So he sat there as Trowa’s shape and scent loomed over him.

Then Trowa caught a hand already inching towards his hips and placed it against his ass. Well, that answered one question. Biting his lip, Duo traced the heated denim. Now he understood why the material had to be so damned thick. Trowa’s muscular back and legs were straining to escape. Among other things.

"Hand me down?" Duo said. He was breathing fast.

Trowa nodded.

Fascinated, Duo ran his hands along the lithe legs, the tight ass, all through the worn denim. The little rivets were hot to the touch. Duo shook his head. The tiny part of him that wasn’t turned on to the point of hysteria still didn’t get it. It looked... painful. He himself wore some comfortable duds and there wasn’t a mission when he didn’t come back a little saddle-sore.

"Tro-- doesn’t that hurt?"

There was a drawn-out sigh. It almost sounded melodramatic, except this was Trowa. "Maxwell. Do you ever shut up?"

Duo grinned his widest Shinigami grin. "Nope."

Trowa edged even closer. Duo shivered, watching the tall form above him stretching to touch the ceiling of the cramped cockpit. Instinctively his wandering hand cupped the bulging crotch. Trowa’s hips twitched in response, but his breathing seemed even.

"Interesting," said Trowa. His deep, velvet voice reverberated through the walls, and it seemed, Duo’s chest. "Because they call me the Silencer..."

Duo moaned. He felt rather than heard Trowa’s hands settle on the chairback next to his head. The braided boy yanked the turtleneck out of the obscenely snug pants, nuzzling Trowa till he thought he’d pop out. His own pants were feeling a couple of sizes too small.

Trowa was pleasingly breathless. "I assure you... it is physically possible... just find out for yourself..."

With a little snarl, Duo bit and tongued the fly till he had the zipper between his teeth. Trowa groaned as he was freed. For a teasing moment, Duo inspected the prize in front of him. Average, really-- otherwise he’d have real trouble getting into the pants at all. But as Duo licked and sucked its length, he realized Trowa could get really hard, really fast. And the end result was... impressive.

Duo savored the sharp taste, tracing the slowly throbbing veins, flicking the slit, nipping delicately at his balls. He took advantage of Trowa’s squirming to slip the pants all the way off. It was quite the job to peel it off the flexing butt, much less keep his concentration as Trowa stretched one leg and then the other to shake off each pant leg.

Duo sank back in his chair. He easily took the whole length as Trowa began to thrust into his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction. A lesser man might have come by now, but Trowa was holding out beautifully. Though the tall pilot was sweating and shaking above Duo, the only sound in the cockpit were the clipped gasps as he thrust. Duo worked him till he was hard as gundanium, nipping a bit more when it was clear Trowa enjoyed it.

Duo was brought back to reality when Trowa’s hand buried in his hair, pulling him back. They stared at each other in the half-dark, panting. Duo licked his lips. Trowa bent down and kissed him, deft fingers loosening Duo’s shirt and pants. Duo had barely the coordination to strip, with Trowa’s engorged member bobbing in front of him.

As Trowa took off the turtleneck, Duo tried to get a lick in. Trowa deftly jerked away before Duo could reach him. Duo made a little ‘ah’ of understanding.

"Tie me up?"

Trowa’s eyes widened just a fraction. Then he stuck a couple of fingers in Duo’s mouth. "Safe word?"

Duo sucked the salty fingers. Trowa flipped up his pants with his feet, then one-handed tied Duo’s arms above him with one pant-leg.

"Heero." It was the first thing to pop into his head. Duo paused. Maybe he’d insulted Trowa--

Trowa snorted. "How about a safer safe word?"

Duo tested the bonds. It was unlikely the Wing pilot would hear them in here, but he shouldn’t underestimate Heero. "Uh..." He watched Trowa’s moistened fingers descend out of his field of vision. "Colonel Une."

Trowa jabbed in a finger. Duo squealed at the intrusion. "You really know how to kill a mood, don’t you?"

Duo was about to apologize when the rest of the pants were stuffed in his mouth. He moaned as he recognized the warm, rich taste of Trowa’s crotch. Trowa draped one leg over his shoulder, stretching him with another finger, then another. Duo bit down, tossing his head from side to side.

"Open your eyes."

Duo’s violet eyes fluttered open, sweat dripping down the side of his face with the action. Trowa stared down at him as he pushed into his body.

Duo screamed into the denim. His eyes flickered wildly with the effort to stay open, his fists banging against the back of the chair as he tried to bury Trowa deeper into himself. Trowa moved in and out with ease. He moaned loudly whenever Duo tightened around him, but otherwise kept the pace unrelentingly slow. Duo squirmed and groaned, pinned down by Trowa’s strong body.

It was too much for the braided boy. Desperately Duo tried to communicate ‘Faster! Harder!’ with his eyes.

Suddenly Trowa surged forward, lifting Duo off the seat. Duo screamed in pain and ecstasy. His arms tensed against the knots, keeping his body elevated as Trowa pounded into him. Trowa changed his angle, the glazed look in his green eyes indicating that he was finally losing control. Duo felt himself rubbing against Trowa’s hard abs. He was grateful for the jeans as he clamped down hard-- otherwise his lips would be a bloody mess.

Shinigami’s cockpit blurred into a swirl of colors. The friction on his penis, Trowa’s unerring aim deep inside him, the constricting jeans locking his arms together-- Duo almost choked on the denim as he came with a hoarse shout. Trowa began to shiver, keening softly as he poured himself into Duo.

Duo came to with a lapful of Trowa Barton. The taller boy had somehow managed to nestle them both into Deathscythe’s small control chair. Duo’s arms were free, and wrapped around Trowa’s shoulders... and his magnificent biceps. He was bemused to see Trowa back in the tight pants. That must have taken some acrobatics. But then, this was Trowa...

Who was instantly alert when he sensed Duo awake. They kissed each other deeply.

"Been a long time since I’ve passed out afterwards."


"So... I’ve checked all your equipment. You wanna check mine?"

Trowa leaned over and keyed up a side monitor. All of Deathscythe’s stats popped up. Duo scowled when he spotted a few notes in the margin about assets and liabilities.

"One more thing."


"Why do you wear them?"

Sharing one last open-mouthed kiss, Trowa keyed the hatch open. He slung his turtleneck over his shoulder, flipped off the edge, and landed easily. Bare-chested he sauntered away, the material following every curve of muscle. In the bright light Duo could see just how sweaty the Heavyarms pilot was.

Duo realized he was hardening again when Trowa answered. Velvet words floated across the hangar.

"Because it keeps you guessing."

In the sex-drenched cockpit Duo cursed, and put his clothes back on.


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