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" Black Cross "Written By: Emerald Pillow Disclaimer: I don't own GW or their boys, wish
I did. Warnings: Language; and Angst Pairings: 1+3 Summary: After losing Heero on a mission, Trowa begins a downward spiral in what's left of his life. Rating: PG 13
"Black Cross " Chapter 4 Trowa's eyes popped open and he turned his head to the left, where a clear cross shaped tube swung softly side to side. The tube was filled with a purplish colored solution and a small object that appeared to be a maggot at first sight. "Duo picked it up at a mall yesterday. Apparently it's the newest fashion for couples. The thing inside is a grain of rice with my name on it." Trowa sat up straight for a closer look. He then glanced above him, toward the top bunk, where his lover was lounging on the mattress. "Mine has your name on it. You can wear it if you want." "Are you wearing yours?" "Will my answer affect yours?" "No." Trowa cupped the necklace in his hand and pulled it free from his lover's fingers. He then kissed the offering palm before releasing it to ascend. "Good. I've been wearing mine under my shirt all day." Trowa smiled as he looked down at the cross. Perhaps the glass it was made of was the same used for magnifying, for he was able to see every letter etched onto the small grain. "It's a bit childish." "Who cares." "Is it really okay for us to do stuff like this?" The bunk above shifted and a second later, Trowa could see the beautiful face glaring at him with a stern gleam, and his heart skipped. "Do you consider yourself my partner?" "Yes." "Then what's the problem?" Trowa's response was simply placing the rawhide rope around his neck. He then pushed to his knees and leaned forward to kiss his lover's lips. When they parted, he gripped the bed frame, and in one swift motion flipped from the top bunk. He then crawled onto Trowa's bed, seizing his lips just as tenderly as before. His strong hand cuddled Trowa's neck as his tongue slipped into the Latin's mouth. Gripping the front of his shirt, Trowa laid back, pulling his boyfriend ontop. "Is this your way of marking your territory?" "There's no need for that. My 'territory' knows where it should be. If you want to live normal, you have to act normal, right?" "Oh, so this is your first step of starting your new life?" "Your accepting means that you're coming with me." His hand slid up the thin neck and lightly caressed Trowa's cheek. "Did you honestly have a doubt?" "For a split second there. . . .I was worried." "There isn't anywhere I wouldn't follow you." A smile curved his lips. It wasn't a large cheesy one, nor a forced fake, it was happiness that finally found nearly permanent frowning lips. "That makes me happy." "So what's the next step?" "Fucking you, then completing what we're here to do." ~ Presently, the muscular man's hands were glued to Trowa's waist, while his eyes were focused on Trowa's backside. He gripped Trowa's waist tighter, pulling him a little further up his manhood, before slamming the thin body even harder onto himself with every lift. Trowa didn't even have to work at these times. Griff pretty much used his body however he wished. Ever since getting with this man, Trowa felt like a living blow up doll. Trowa slowly looked up at the man leaning back in a lawn chair, preparing a blunt for him and Griff to share. Richman Hunt. Not really a supplier, but definitely a delivery man; and a great friend of Griff. Normally, money was the source of payment, but as of late, cash had been short for Griff. This lead him to begin selling Trowa's body for his addictions. Richman pushed to his feet as he flicked the lighter and a small flame licked the tip of the blunt. A second later, Trowa could smell marijuana over sweat. Richman walked over to the couple, taking a deep drag of his prize before stopping a couple of feet from the couch and extending the drugs. Griff lifted one hand from Trowa's body to accept. His other hand traced Trowa's spine as a green light for him to take over. Trowa did so without a word. In truth, Griff's size often lead him to wonder if the man was still inside him. It wouldn't be until he heard a groan and a 'oh yeah' that informed him that the task was done. Griff leaned back into the cushion, enjoying the puffs and watching as Richman unzipped the front of his pants to expose his semi aroused manhood. Trowa admitted the average sized penis, sucking it from habit rather than enjoyment. A contact high was all that Trowa was allowed until both men were relieved. It wasn't that he really wanted to share the state of ecstasy with them, it just provided a short time of not needing to control his mind. The two men passed the blunt across Trowa as they each enjoyed both their high, and their whore, while engaging in idle chit chat. It wasn't until Griff unloaded that Trowa was given completely to Richman. Richman turned Trowa onto his knees, leaving him to face the back of the couch, and the painted glass, as he plunged inside. The only good thing about Richman was the fact that Trowa received a little pleasure from Rich's size and experience. They continued smoking and talking, but Trowa stared blankly forward, allowing their voices to muffle and disappear. He closed his eyes and focused on the member inside him, while slowly drifting into a flashback of a previous session that ended with an organism. The trance was broken as something caught Trowa's attention. His eyes quickly opened, and peered through a port hole left through the paint. He wasn't sure how long he had been in his trance, but figured at least ten minutes, since Griff had reclaimed his backside. What caught his attention was someone standing in front of the house. A well built man that somehow felt familiar; but was concealed by too much darkness of the settling night, was standing next to a red motorcycle. Trowa squinted against the shadows, trying to see the person's face more clearly. The stature was identical; height and weight were exactly the same. Was he hallucinating? After all, the two men sharing him were still passing the stub of their joint. Could it have been a contact high? No, that was stupid, they were smoking marijuana. Suddenly, the shadowy man lifted his hand and a flicker of light leapt from a lighter to light a cigarette, and give enough light for Trowa to see. Trowa's heart skipped a beat as it always had at beholding his features. "Heero?" He whispered so lowly that he didn't even realize he had said it. Pushing Griff from him, Trowa snatched his jeans from the floor and ran for the kitchen. He quickly managed to slip on his pants just as he tore from the house. The fence was cleared in record time, and he ran to the front of the house, hoping against hope that it wasn't a hallucination. Breathing heavily, and finally feeling the pain of his actions, his eyes beheld the empty street. No one was out front; however, the motorcycle remained parked on the street. It was just an illusion; no different from his flashbacks and dreams. He fell to his knees, eyes burning, and hugging himself with one hand while clutching his necklace with the other. "Heero." He choked and stared at the cracking cement, wishing he could sink into one. "What the hell are you doing?!?" Trowa blocked out Griff's voice. He didn't want to go through it. Maybe ignoring him would anger him enough that he would end Trowa's existence. It couldn't have been an illusion. It was too perfect, too real. Trowa slowly lifted his gaze toward the corner. There were a couple of hookers, waiting for someone to drive by and they could flash for attention. The three girls were nearly a inch different in height. One was blonde with medium breast; one was a red head with obvious implants; the third had black hair with a perfect size for her stature. Trowa recognized two of the three. The blonde was an American by the name of Shelby, probably the most popular of the hookers on 42nd Street. The black hair girl was the most popular, and one of the first people Trowa had come to recognize on a daily basis; though they never exchanged words, only glances. Wanting to reassure himself, he pushed to his feet and started walking toward the girls, ignoring Griff's words. "Hey." The girls turned from the street to view Trowa. Their eyes moved in unison along Trowa's body and Shelby actually smiled, as if knowing she was going to enjoy this job more than usual. "What can I do for you sugar?" She spoke more quickly than her friends as a way of stating that Trowa was going to be hers. It was a silent agreement as the others reluctantly returned their attention to the street. "Butt fuck, blow job, or a little of everything? I can also-" "Did you notice a guy by that motorcycle?" The woman's forehead crunched in confusion. At that point, a car pulled to a stop in front of the two remaining girls. Though she spoke with the man, the dark haired woman half listened to her friend's conversation. "What?" "I'm sure you couldn't have missed him." Shelby opened her mouth to speak, but Griff interrupted. "What the fuck are you doing?!?" "Did you see him?" Trowa asked again, trying to ignore Griff. "Ignore him. He's trippin." Griff stated and glared at the prostitute. "Honey, you look like you're the one trippin. Your eyes are all blood shot and you look fucked up. I think I'd believe him over you. What are you lookin for honey?" "I already told you." "He doesn't have any money." Griff intervened, and this caught Shelby's attention. "Is that true?" Trowa rubbed his burning eyes and shook his head. "I'm not asking you to suck my dick. I just want to know if you saw-" "I don't do anything for free sugar. Not even cough
up information."
Chapter
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