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"Son Of A Preacher Man "Written By: Jo Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. Have nothing.
I write for the fun of it. Rating: PG (for now) Warnings: AU, shounen-ai, slight OOC(?) Pairings: 1+2 (for now), developing to 1x2 at
the end. Summary: The boys are a little older but still
not old enough to..*cough*..yeah. I am reserving that for the "college
year". Still fixated on Heero's personality so I'm trying to
explain the why's and the how's. This is also the first time I worked
with betas. Thanks so very much to Andie, DMx04 and Ryouga for being
such wonderful betas. I never realized incorporating all the revisions
could be such a challenge! If I missed something..gomen ne! Next time
though I'll do better! I thought of a system now.yeah now. Big cyber
hugs!
Son Of A Preacher Man Chapter 7 The simple and basic act of opening your eyes in the morning, waking from sleep, coming to consciousness and finding yourself again is something we give so little thought to. Waking up is a stretch, a yawn, a lingering, and a reluctant tussle until the day you wake up with a foolish grin, knowing that you are right where you ought to be. And waking up next to Duo was, is, an uncontainable, all consuming bliss. Sunday morning after the storm flooded the tent with a fuzzy brightness, sounds of the neighborhood children riding their bikes around the block drifted in through the open window. Each crisp ring of a little chrome bell was followed by a distressed cry of the lone child left behind by the older and faster kids. Further down the block, a lawn mower coughed and sputtered before roaring earnestly into life. Somewhere in the neighborhood, bacon was frying in a pan while coffee dripped promisingly into a coffeepot. My own personal Sunday though, stuttered and stalled, held back by a thinning thread of unyielding sleep. I was waiting for smiling eyes, eyes that I stared into all of last night, to flutter open, to find me and to see me, again. I had been awake since dawn, watching the shadows fade into pools of invading light; watching Duo as he slept, oblivious to the spots of sunlight that were creeping slowly over him. He was snoring softly and smacking his full and supple lips every so often. A trail of white flaky dried up drool, escaped from the corner of his mouth and settled quite comfortably upon his cheek. My lips tingled with memories of kissing him, soft and gentle, warm and moist, breathless and intoxicating. In my mind a question was asked and without hesitation an answer came. Lucky. Duo’s hair cascaded around him like a waterfall of warm brown silk. Specks of red and gold shimmered and danced in the streaming sunlight. I dipped my fingers in his hair and gently combed through some tangles, curling and uncurling a few strands around my index finger, feeling the strength and health in them. Duo hadn’t let me near his hair since we were thirteen when I tried trimming his bangs, but instead, with a quick reckless snip of the scissors left a bald spot at the top of his forehead. He wore a cap for the rest of the school year and didn’t talk to me for two weeks. I’ve wanted to run my hands through his hair ever since, just to spite him a little. It’s ironic that all I had been able to think about lately was how his unbound hair would set my soul on fire. Half of Duo’s body had slipped out of his sleeping bag. The purple and green cocoon bunched up around his feet like a tiny monster, wiggling and ready to pounce at any time. One of Duo’s hands disappeared under his threadbare Captain America tee shirt, resting easily on the flat of his stomach. His fingers curled and twitched ever so slightly as if trying to wake up. And with each twitch of his slender fingers, his tee shirt rose up just enough to reveal his navel: oval, deep, puckered, and a teasingly small patch of skin beneath. A line of fine brown curls stretched south and dipped under the waistband of his boxers. My mouth dried just a little, and suddenly I was wearing an eagerness I could not contain. I needed to touch him, I needed to hear him laugh, and I needed a multitude of things I couldn’t even begin to express. In the summer, Duo’s affinity to the sun renders him a skin tone akin to that of warm honey. He was sunshine waiting to be released. Tempted, I ran a finger down a tanned and sun freckled arm. Relented, I planted a kiss just above the crook of his elbow, savoring a taste of that sunshine. My mind reeling in secret delight that I could do just that and not send Duo running in the opposite direction. Duo stirred reflexively, jerking his arm slightly trying to shake free of the annoyance threatening to pry him from sleep’s hands. The pleading whine that escaped him only fanned my selfish, childish impulses. I willfully planted my lips on the same spot again, making my way up, leaving a slow, wet trail until my lips met the edge of his sleeve. He woke with a protesting groan, sounding like a petulant child while rubbing traces of sleep from his face and eyes with both hands. The clingy white flakes crumbled and disappeared under his lazy assault. Recognition and realization dawned on him when his blurry eyes gained focus and settled on me. One of his hands flew up and swatted me squarely on the side of my head, reprimanding me for my childish antics. He barely managed an annoyed expression and I barely choked back a shameless laugh. He called me a jerk in a throaty scratchy morning voice, still feigning his irritation. I retaliated with a forceful tug, rolling him on top of me as I lay down, doing the one thing I’ve wanted to do all morning, holding him against me, feeling the dips and angles of his body molding seamlessly against mine. Duo’s body heat seeped through the thin fabric of his well-worn tee shirt like a pulsing river and on his shoulder a gaping hole in the tee shirt cracked a toothless smile, spilling more of that smooth brown skin. Duo wiggled into a comfortable position, burying his face in the crook of my shoulder. Hair fell and draped over my neck and chest like a veil, silky and cool to the touch. His hand slid along my arm until he found my sweaty hand. Slender fingers closed silently around mine like a warm glove over cold digits; his thumb began brushing slow tender strokes over the mound of my palm. I shivered helplessly, breaking out in goose bumps. The ceiling of the tent twisted strangely out of focus, and Sunday faded into a low hum in the background. I was descending into a fog. Duo mumbled something that sounded vaguely like ‘fried rice’ against my neck. His breath hot and tingly on my skin, his thumb didn’t slow or stop. The pulsating beat from inside my chest responded with a series of quick thumps, and I muttered groggily after him. Fried rice would be fine for lunch or dinner or whatever time of day it was. To my surprise, Duo chuckled and pushed himself up quickly. Straddling me at the waist and leaning forward. He loomed over me, palms flat on either side of my head, trapping me and holding me to his gaze. There was a hint of amusement in his eyes and a delicious curl to his lips. I looked up at him, dazed and amazed. He looked like the boy I grew up with, the boy who knows everything about me, and yet he seemed different somehow. There was a startling newness embedded within comfortable familiarity. My best friend tilted his head and continued to peer down at me from under his bangs. The hint of amusement in his eyes vaporized, replaced by a hypnotic softness, his visage a muted play of unreadable emotions like an obscured silent movie. I wondered if he had looked down and saw what I saw looking up. My hands twitched and squeezed reassuringly out of their own volition and realized they were resting on his hips. Startled out of his stupor, he grinned and lowered himself, closing the gap between us until the tip of his nose met mine, his expressive eyes boring into the depth of me, rattling any lingering reservation I have and casting them into the burn of his light. My mind faded into a blissful blank, willingly let him lead me away from the old and into the new. Excitement and trepidation seized my chest with a breath stealing tightness. I watched out of my glazed over eyes, boundaries collapsing and limits pushing back. It felt, good. More than good. Duo’s eyes closed slowly into half lids. The small nub began drawing gentle but deliberate circles around the tip of my nose, searching and exploring. His lips came dangerously close to my muted ones, and instantly my lips parted eagerly in anticipation, hungry and wanting a taste of him. Except the kiss never came. Tiny circles grew into a sweet, slow gliding caress along the bridge of my nose and long, soft drawn out strokes across my cheek. The tip of his nose never breaking contact, his eyelashes fluttered and brushed over my face like feather-light caresses. I was only too aware of his breath rolling over my already flushed skin in heated puffs. It was as though he was still searching and exploring, breathing in my scent, breathing in me. The ceaseless pounding inside my chest escalated into a furiously deafening beat. My mouth hung open to soundless gasps, fearful that if I breathed hard, he would stop and somehow disappear. Jagged images from my dreams and fantasies clicked on like a TV set with bad snowy reception but it was enough to make me flounder in the blinding fog trying to find my bearings. This… This was different from last night. Last night we had curled up with each other relieved and contented, falling into a dreamless sleep. This makes me want more of him, an intimacy I was afraid to ask for. The morning was suddenly too bright for my eyes when Duo finally dipped to the side and reached my ear. His breathing sounded like echoes of soft sighs. My eyes blurred and my hands clutched tightly, they had somehow moved under his shirt, holding him at his waist. From within the fog came a low murmur of my name and an out of place rumbling. Noises I couldn’t quite recognized filtered in like a bad radio transmission. My mind instinctively began pulling back from the blinding whiteness. The top of the tent came into view when I heard the jingling of keys in the lock and the front door creaked open on its hinges. A sharp gasp cut through the sudden stillness and the fog retracted furiously and vanished without a trace. My back and scalp prickly with regained awareness. Duo’s face was suspended over mine, stilled with shock and flushed to the roots. His eyes glancing nervously at the tent entrance we’d left unzipped and uncovered last night. A paralyzing panic rose slowly from the pit of my stomach. And in the next chaotic second, a soul shattering clanging noise broke out from the kitchen signifying Flippi’s annoyance with her late breakfast. A woman’s voice called out my name, and I reacted reflexively. I sat up in a flash without thinking, throwing Duo off, and sending him tumbling into the tent wall with his outstretched arms waving futilely in the air and desperately trying to regain his balance. The tent shook violently upon collision; a spook snapped from its sockets, and suddenly Duo and I were flailing helplessly in a sea of blue and gray synthetic fabric as the tent collapsed on us. My mother’s laughing was the only thing we heard as we attempted to crawl out from under the suffocating fabric. At least she was amused.
Chapter 8 |
