|
"Yestermark"Written By: Asymphototropic
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam wing. Author: Asymphototropic (attracted toward the
light, but never quite arrives there) Email: asymphototropic@aol.com Rating: NC 17 Warnings: extreme Asyness Summary: Mingling of possibilities occurs at this vortex source. Don't leave home without your Ticket firmly in your fist. Else you may never return. Pairings: 1x2 other GW characters may appear upon progression
"Yestermark " Part 2: Dear Doctor Dead He felt the lack of oxygen burn in his lungs. "Wait! I wish to employ you. Stay but a moment," Yuy desperately called after the fleeing figure. An elegant carriage, pulled by perfectly matched roans, suddenly clattered into the street, nearly running Heero over as he leaped back, then blocking his view of the escaping boy. He noticed the passengers within the coach. Light haired, tall, handsome, aristocratic young men. He thought he knew them. In some Line, he knew them, he felt mortally certain. The carriage disappeared into the distance, dragging the smokey city view with it, the scene folding, dispersing as if less substantial than crumpled tissue paper. "This meeting will come to order. Gentlemen, your attention." No. Not now. Yuy groaned. He couldn't bear to sit through a Society meeting complete with the turgidly slow progression of parliamentary procedure. Robert's Rules of Order surely would kill him, in his current state of unrest. Did he dare fast-forward his perceptions of this Line? He pressed a fingertip into his shirt front, feeling the thin pattern of his Ticket suspended there. He felt the vortex powering under his wishes, speeding slightly. "Someone feeling impatient?" Doctor Gee demanded from the podium, glaring at him from on high. Heero hastily dropped his hand to his lap and blushed guiltily at being caught in the act. "Perhaps young Mr Yuy would care to contribute to the discussion." "What is your problem?" Heero retorted in gruff tones. "The members of the Society have noted an increased instability at this Source. Events are fluxing wildly, sometimes utterly out of control. If you had been patient enough to listen, I would not need now to reiterate," Doctor Gee chastised him. "You've dragged me here to tell me what I already knew?" Heero snapped back, annoyed at being addressed as if he were a naughty school boy. "I was attempting to do something constructive about the situation when I was interrupted by this meeting. Who knows when a similar opportunity may arise again?" The old man paled, in spite of his commanding air. He must have realized the potential danger too. Gee was Jay's oldest friend and a close colleague. No one understood the scientific principals or practical dimensions of Ticketeering better than those two. "If you would give us a summary of your findings, perhaps the Membership may be of service in your undertaking," Gee indicated, coldly precise. "Doctor Jay is dead." Gee first looked alarmed and then angry. "What a silly utterance. Of course Jay is dead. Since time is nonlinear and we are all mortals, ergo we are all dead. By definition." "Well, he is not in attendance here, now, is he? And he would be if he could, wouldn't he?" Yuy sneered. "Possibly he is dead at this point upon the Line. And his death at this juncture is somehow impinging upon the Source, influencing us all. I'm not yet certain in what manner. I believe the Doctor may have attempted to communicate to me through his estate attorney. I was trying to follow his instructions, when I was rerouted to the Society meeting." Gee bowed mockingly. "Forgive us our trespasses, young sir. In what manner may the Membership serve you?" "Merely answer one question. Has anyone here-assembled ever encountered a professional mourner in their Travels?" There was a start and a slight gasp. Heero glanced in that direction. He caught two men looking at each other, rather than at Doctor Gee. Two tall, fair haired, aristocratic young men. The men from the carriage. "You," Heero spoke as he rose to confront them. But even as he stood, the white wash of electric lights gave way to the soft flickering of oil lamps. A string quartet sounded a sedate waltz. Couples in evening dress swirled over the highly polished marble dance floor. A petite servant stopped to offer Heero a sparkling glass of champagne from her salver. Dressed all in black with Victorian propriety, she had black hair, too, and alarming blue eyes, a charming pale face, he noted as she paused to give him a sultry look. Then she turned away to resume her duties. Yuy stared at glittering stars, swirling, forming and breaking in golden fluidity. He sipped and grimaced. The drink had aroma and taste. The first thing he had consumed for a while now, which had any substance whatever, and it just had to be alcoholic. He desperately needed something in his empty stomach, so he swallowed. He felt the ethanol swirl straight to his dizzy head. "Games to be had in the parlor, sir," the maid turned her head back to glance over one shapely shoulder. Clutching the wine flute in his hand, such that it should not be dropped, Yuy headed toward the parlor. Excited murmuring, chatting voices, laughter of guests, as the music met the fumes of wine that swirled around and in him. He leaned against the glossy hardwood doorjamb to anchor his body. The parlor entertainment was very popular with the dinner guests, it appeared. At a small teak table, beside a beaded lampshade, another black haired, blue eyed beauty, taller, more voluptuous in her proportions, sat. Before her, between her hands, rested a deck of tarot cards, and a crystal ball floating upon a jade pedestal. Gypsy fortune teller, Yuy told himself. At a convenient distance in an opposite corner of the comfortably spacious parlor stood another gypsy, a young man. One of the hosts had bound the boy with several lengths of rope. And even now the clever lad was squirming out of the constricting bonds. Escape artist, Heero noted, before he became suddenly aware of the boy's laughing facial features. Smooth cameo face, tricksy snub nose sprinkled with tiny freckles. Moonlight gleaming from purple evening eyes. Whiskey colored hair, framing the face in chaos. Disorder forming temporarily into order, the amber braid, down the supple back, tickling teasing the bound limbs. "I must speak with you. Please," Yuy began. His hoarse tones could not rise sufficiently over the noise of the guests, were swallowed thereby. He took a desperate step forward, departing the safe structural support, and felt his knees fold beneath him. He braced to feel the hard contact of the up-driving floor. But found himself whirling in a star lit black vacuum. The emptiness tore at his features, trying to suck him to fragmented bits. His eyeballs, dragging out of his sockets, with his brains to follow. Briefly, thank the gods. He was delivered, not onto the floor. Nor into the further icy vacuum. But onto a down mattress. Disordered bedding, richly sensuous to his touch. Four posted bed frame, complete with satin curtains and lofty canopy. "Go to it, sir. That's the ticket. At him, full on." Heero glanced around, at an elegant bed chamber. Gentlemen, seated at bedside, lounging in arm chairs, their evening attire rumpled into elegant disarray. Urging Yuy to further action. The two fair haired, fair featured aristocrats, leering in his direction. The one, platinum haired, regal demeanored. His fine black trousers, unbuttoned, and an impressive length of cock, drawn forth and massively erect between the young man's lingering fingers. "Come now, young sir. Those buns are toasted and buttered to perfection. Partake if you will. Or step aside, and let another enjoy the treat." The other, strawberry blonde and handsome, nuzzled the first's neck, licking luxuriously over exposed skin. "Hear, hear," he murmured into quivering flesh. Flesh. Yuy examined his own desperate grip. He had the boy in his hands, and he would not, could not let go, lest he lose sight of his target again. The boy, bound nude upon the bed. A length of whiskey braid, trailing over tensed latissimus musculature trembling under delectable moonglow skin. His wrists, encumbered with twists of rope, resting upon a sleek lumbar curve. The round to the buttocks, buttered, quite literally. An actual aroma of sweet fresh dairy butter arose from the boy's ass to tease Heero's nostrils. Yuy licked his lips. How long his own erection had throbbed there, between his corded thighs, he could not perceive. Long enough to render its engorged solidity painful. He spread the cheeks between his hands and thrust his cock into the richly slathered passage. To his great relief, he heard the kid's voice beneath him. "Please, yes," it urged him to action. The Ticket suddenly seared, sizzled, and drew him into the vortex. Yuy shrieked as he swirled into chaos. Again. ~ * ~
|
