With nothing between them, with who knows how many eyes watching them, Duo impales himself on Trowa's dick.
Duo rides him, managing to make very feminine, high, needy noises, and the visceral disconnect between the sounds Duo's making and knowing it's Duo Maxwell he's fucking, means that in a shockingly short time, he's grabbing Duo's hips, driving up into him, the sounds of their bodies slapping together somehow loud in the strip club's noise.
With a choked off cry, Duo comes, his body tightening around Trowa, and that's all he needs to fall over the edge, coming deep inside Duo.
He needs to catch his breath, but more than he needs that, he needs to kiss Duo. Duo opens to him without hesitation, and all Trowa wants to do is bend him over and fuck him again.
Ten years post-war, and things are good. Heero and Duo are together, and so are Trowa and Quatre, and they should all be happy, right? But not all needs are being met, and an assignment gone slightly off the rails opens up doors that neither Duo nor Trowa should have opened.
My notes: This is not a happy fic, but it's hot as hell. Trowa and Duo are dysfunctional, but Heero and Quatre don't have what it takes to make them function.