Warning/s: Masturbation. Fun at Heero's expense ^____~
Summary: Even the Perfect Soldier has problems concentrating at work...
A/N: Papers and projects have finally let up. Though I have a few final deadlines in less than a week, so I really shouldn't have gotten inspired by Shakira :p Also, I haven't seen any 1x5 on my communities for a long time, and I decided to haul ass and do something about getting my OTP fix. That said, am pretty rusty. Bah.
Heero was going to kill Wufei. In the next few seconds, or minutes, or hours, however long it took for Heero's own hands to unclench their death grip on the desk, or however long it took for the image of Wufei clad in nothing but a bloody scarf and twisting his hips in wild abandon on the bed to erase its imprint on Heero's brain.
“Ro-chaaan, are you ready? The bus for the shuttle's going to leave in five!”
He unstapled one hand from the table and slammed it down on the intercom, other hand gracelessly fumbling for the dial to turn down the volume that he probably should have turned down two minutes ago, and Wufei, that—that saucy...shameless—! Heero ran out of suitable adjectives at that point, because Wufei was smirking at him right through the screen as though he could hear Heero's frustration boiling in his blood. And then those nimble brown fingers were provocatively plucking at the loose knot that held the scarf together, and those muscled brown legs were parting slowly and teasingly, and the low moan, audible even through the crackle of interference and the low volume, nearly made Heero break his hand on the dial right there and then.
One hand snaking under that flimsy scarf, that graceful back arching impossibly, Wufei tossing his head back on the pillow, his lips bitten and red and glistening wet even in the dim light, and he was panting and staring brazenly at Heero all this while...!
Wufei held the glare, lips twitching, before his eyelids lowered in a sultry look that had Heero wresting his hands back into his lap in a barely-conscious attempt to refrain from further damaging his desk and speakers. He accidentally touched himself in the process, and jerked before he could control the action. Wufei's smirk widened.
“Have a good trip, Heero,” his lover mouthed breathlessly, bringing slick hands up from under the scarf and then deliberately, carefully licking each finger, sucking the digits deep into that sinful mouth. Wufei's hips were thrusting forward in short, jerky movements, and the scarf wasn't hiding much at all, because Heero could see everything... Heero fought off the urge to snarl back a “Fuck you,” just as Duo's face appeared at the window to his office, suitably curious and impatient, and Heero looked up in time to feel what a heart attack had to feel like. His fist sank into the monitor with a sickening crunch and the feed fizzled, but not before he caught the soft chuckle as Wufei winked at him and waved—
“...What the hell, 'Ro?! Did you just destroy custom-made, state-of-the-art, Preventer-issue EQ again?!”
He got to his feet stiffly, realized he had a problem, and sat back down so hard that he nearly fell over. “Two minutes,” he grated out, and it didn't help that Duo started to snicker, tossing over his shoulder as he turned to leave,
“Damn, 'Ro, 'Fei's gotta be one helluva—”
“Out. Now.” Duo took the hint, and Heero wondered with irritable desperation if he would possibly have to demean himself by going to the bathroom to relieve his aching erection for the third time at work this month.
He was going to have to punish his annoying, disrespectful, perverted...sexy...masturbating...lover.
“...see...see something you like...Heero...?"
"Ahhh...unnghh...Hee...Heero...haa..." Fingernails scraping at Heero's shoulders, his back, the vicious yank of flesh under teeth. Sharp momentary pain burning. Torturous flare of pleasure and heat. He growled, snapped his hips forward, and Wufei gasped, exhaling in a harsh moan against his chest—
Heero tore himself off his chair, and stormed awkwardly to the bathroom.