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Warning: this story contains yaoi slash.
Please turn back if you are offended by gay and/or explicit sex.


When I awoke, it was to unfamiliar surroundings and a feeling of numbing pain  emanating from my head. I put my hand to my head and it came away covered in soot. I remembered the events of the past days and groaned at my stupidity.

Suddenly, the door to my little room opened, and Hiro came in with a large basin of water, a bar of soap, and some towels. He looked. . . well, like he always looked--like he was above all of us mortals and he was debasing himself just to be in our presence. I wondered why he was doing all this for me--is it compassion, or could it be something more?

I shake my head of these silly thoughts as he approaches the bed. "Hiro, geez, I feel like such an idiot for what happened. I know that you probably think I'm an idiot, so what's up with the Florence Nightingale routine? Why didn't you just dump me in some emergency room and take off? And where the hell are we anyway?"

Hiro shakes his head, looking more than a little annoyed: "Even when you're hurt, that motor-mouth of yours just won't stop making noises. Just shut up and let me give you a bath."

"A WHAT?!"

"A bath, stupid. Unless you want to stay covered in soot until you're strong enough to get up and go to the tub. So sit up." He didn't even wait for an answer. He just propped me up so I sat with my legs over the side of the bed, and started to undo my braid. "There's so godamn much of this stuff. How the 
hell can you stand it?"

"I think it's one of my best assets. Chicks dig it." Hiro gives my hair an extra hard yank to shut me up. So I did.

As he begins to wash my hair, I don't feel like joking around any more. I begin to see another side to Hiro. His hands knead my scalp so well-- his touch strong, yet gentle. Hiro is like a sword tempered in steel, sharp enough to kill, and yet when covered by its sheath, harmless and breathtaking--so beautiful, yet so deadly. I sigh at the way his touch makes me feel. . . had I ever been made to feel this way before?

As if sensing my sudden arousal, Hiro stops his massage; he had lifted the hair away from my neck; I can feel his warm breath against my nape. The electricity in the air is so alive you could almost see it. I open my mouth; my lips are tingling, so I lick them. I suck my tongue as images ran through my head of Hiro and I in a thousand tableaus. Finally, I could no longer stand it. "Touch me," I whispered, "please. Don't you feel it?"

With his fingertips he draws abstract patterns on my neck; he traces the delicate shell of my earlobe with his fingers, and then his tongue. His wet fingertips find their way to my mouth. I suck them with a great intensity; I lick his nails, wishing it were more . . .

I feel his lips against my pulse; their fullness excite me . . . I wait for the wetness of his tongue, and I am rewarded. He takes my earlobe into his mouth, 
and bites it gently. He laughs huskily as I moan. He pulls his fingers from my mouth and I mourn their loss. My mouth suddenly feels empty, so I run my tongue 
against the roof of my mouth, as a consolation, imagining. . . 

With a sudden yank of my hair, he turns my head around. My face is inches from his: I smell his sweet breath as I lick his lips. I take his full bottom lip 
into my mouth and I suck it. I hear him gasp like a child and I feel him thrust his tongue into my mouth, taking, plundering, in keeping with his forceful 

It seems like an eternity before he pulls me down to the bed, his eyes searching mine questioningly. I laugh with delight as I help him remove his shirt, and his pants. He lowers himself gently to meet me, hands on either side of me, and he whispers my name, in wonder, in amazement: "Duo . . . ."

I take his hands and put them to my nipples, which ache with arousal, which ache for his touch. He toys with them roughly, he pulls them to hear me cry out, then he chuckles huskily. I have never seen this playful side of Hiro; I have always been the playful one--why of all times does his sense of humor have to emerge now, when I am driven with need? Suddenly, I feel his hot mouth on my left nipple; he continues to toy with the right one. I sigh with pleasure at the sensations he causes inside me. I run my fingers through his hair and I make little noises of joyful abandon.

Hiro begins to tire of his game so he makes a wet trail with his tongue down my chest . . . to my abdomen. . . past my navel . . . down to my painful arousal. 
His breath stirs my shaft--I hold my stomach muscles rigid in anticipation. He looks at me with a teasing grin and I watch as his tongue laps at the tip of my 
penis, cat-like. I gasp and rear up in surprise, feeling the dizziness in my head, not caring, wanting to feel more of his electric tongue upon my rigid arousal. Hiro holds it gently, with one hand, scrutinizing it.

I can't wait any more. I whisper meaningless words of desire and pleas and reckless abandon. "Ahhh. . . Hiro . . . you feel so . . . " 

He laughs softly, and he begins to gently caress my shaft in slow, sweet strokes. I lay back down, close my eyes and I bite my lip to keep from coming.

I feel the bed shift with sudden movement. I open my eyes to see that Hiro has reversed positions; his shaft is above me, shuddering, waiting for my touch. 
Below, I feel Hiro take the head of my penis into his mouth; I feel his teeth graze my foreskin and I moan with pleasure. I stab my tongue into the hole at 
the tip of his shaft I feel his cries of enjoyment against my penis; I take as much of him as I can into my mouth. His hips thrust down, pushing the head of 
his penis against the back of my throat. I gag, but I take it all in, wanting more, wanting as much of him as I can have. I put my arms around his hips and 
pull him down further. He takes my scrotum into his hands and massages my balls. I feel myself about to faint with the ecstasy that I am experiencing. I can't 
hold it back any longer; I feel him tense above me and I know that he is about to come. I release myself, I feel my semen spurt into his mouth. His seed spills into my mouth, salty and filled with his essence. Together, we find our release.

We lay there for long moments; I enjoy Hiro's weight upon me, so I give a sigh of regret as he moves off and lays beside me. I move to face him; we lie with 
our arms around each other. I feel a love between us in this moment, not a romantic love, but a companionate love. Here in this room, we who share a common mission against insurmountable odds can find solace in each other's arms, and forget all the anger and hatred that lies in the world outside our own small private sanctuary.


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