|
"Shadow Mist"Written By: Karen The Huntress Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or its
characters Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Language, angst, lemon Pairings: 2x1, 1x2 Summary: Heero gets a little more than he bargained
for when he takes home a stranger. "Shadow Mist" Part One:
Seeking shelter from chilly mist whipping around the French Quarter, a lone figure ducked into the dusky camouflage of an alley sandwiched between Blue Heron Tavern and La Femme Nue Adult Movie House.
Mid-twenties, dressed in black leather trousers so snug they were "painted" on firm buttocks, a slate gray shirt and silver studded black leather jacket, the slender man blended flawlessly with the darkness.
Heero Yuy fished out his last Marlboro. Crumpled pack joined faded handbills from Beautiful Pleasures Escort Service. Wine and beer bottles, cigarette butts and used condoms also littered the isolated area.
Disposable lighter's flickering flame illuminated high cheekbones, glinted off twin silver hoops adorning the smoker's left earlobe. A crimson pinpoint danced in the murky gloom. A deep draw intensified the smothering glow. Wisps of pale smoke wafted from flared nostrils.
Movement refocused Heero's attention to an orange tabby cat hunting rats among the discarded trash. Momentary reprieve sparing its prey, amber eyes regarded the human loitering against a rough brick wall reeking of urine.
From previous experience Heero advised the feral feline. "You should find a warm place to sleep tonight."
The scruffy cat yowled. In a disdainful version of "flipping the bird" the cat hoisted its tail then slunk like ink through rice paper into the weed tangled fringes.
"Fuck you." was muttered as the depleted cigarette butt was flicked away. Tiny embers skittered across dusty gravel and vanished without a trace.
****** Cooler temperatures and the late hour reduced the volume of pedestrian traffic which, in turn, restricted Heero's business of whoring. An equal opportunity server, female or male, it didn't matter as long as they had money to pay.
Resigned to the reality no more revenue would be forthcoming, Heero emerged from his self-imposed seclusion into a nearly empty sidewalk Air brakes on a bus hissed. Sirens wailed in the distant. The heartbeat of New Orleans, jazz droned from countless venues.
Strutting to the rhythmic beat Cherry and Lee Ann, whose professions were also selling sex, paused in their dance of seduction for a lustful head to toe inspection of their male counterpart.
"Hey sugar." Cherry purred. "Give ya a blowjob. Half price."
Both "ladies of the night" were equally eager to please but the purveyor of sensual fantasies wasn't in the mood. Besides feigned lovemaking would only grant temporary release and do nothing to ease his loneliness.
"Not tonight." Heero declined.
The promiscuous pair were visibly disappointed. "It'll be full price next time." Lee Ann retorted with a scowl.
****** Setting off towards home the off duty prostitute slipped a hand into his right jacket pocket. Fingers curled around a six-inch butterfly switchblade.
Senses on high alert Heero dared to traverse turf claimed by Satin's Slaves. The gang of hooligans had no aversions to killing rival drug dealers or pimps or hustlers invading their territory. Rape was also a specific dissuasive retribution for whores.
Jackson Square was devoid of freelance artists, tarot card readers, diverse musicians and quirky street performers who entertained throngs of tourists in the false security of daylight.
Heero lingered briefly to cast an upwards gaze at a bronze statue of General Andrew Jackson, the square's namesake, astride a rearing horse. Further along St. Louis Cathedral faced the Mississippi River, its murky water shrouded in blanched fog.
Elbows braced on knees, head bent low studying his boots, sidewalk or, perhaps, nothing in particular, the man appeared harmless. However outward appearances were unreliable in judging intensions.
Since a stanch policy of minding his own business had served him well, Heero prepared to walk by without a second glance. Oddly a subtle mental petition urged him to slow his pace.
Upon closer scrutiny there was stark evidence the solitary man was out of his element. The degree of unguarded exposure in his body language, that perceived vulnerability, would surely invite unsolicited attention from the wrong people.
Reconsidering his decision to move on without notice, Heero stopped at a secure distance. It had been a long night. He was tired. A perfect combination to cloud his sixth sense for danger. Also the midnight bewitching hour conjured influential magic to sway the most prudent rationality.
A glance at his watch. Green digital numbers stated12:15 a.m. Voice raised above river water lapping against an adjacent concrete levee, Heero inquired, "Waiting for the bus?"
At the unexpected question the man's head snapped up. Wide eyes, blue tinged with violet, beheld Heero.
"What?" the man asked with visible tension as if he was just now aware of the stranger's presence.
"If you're waiting for the bus the last one ran fifteen minutes ago."
"The bus?" Confusion played across the man's pale face. "Ain't waitin' for the bus."
Again some peculiar subliminal influence prodded Heero to move closer. In a streetlamp's improved illumination he was shocked by how thin the young man was. Dark circles underscored those extraordinary eyes. Denim jacket was too flimsy to keep damp cold at bay.
Concerned for the man's safety and fragile health the streetwalker warned, "It's not safe to sit out here alone." "I'll be okay." Yet a gut deep shudder betrayed the lie.
*Can't leave him here.* that pesky voice of reason declared.
"Dammit! I'm not a babysitter for strays." Heero argued under his breath.
Equally persistent inner counsel confirmed the seriousness of the situation. *He won't survive the night.*
Aware of how bitchy his conscience could be, Heero admitted defeat. Trusting street smart instincts he sat down on the bench.
The braided youth scooted over to create maximum separation from the unfamiliar intruder without falling on his stonewashed jeans encased ass.
Heero pleaded his case. "You can't stay here. You're cold and I'm betting it's been awhile since you've eaten. My apartment is a few blocks away. If you stay the night I swear not to mess with you."
A negative nod.
Heero never begged anyone for anything. This time he made an exception. "Please."
The seemingly sincere offer of sanctuary, enforced by unfriendly elements, inhospitable streets and an empty belly, ultimately persuaded the shivering man.
"Okay."
Assaulted by cold wind the man stood unsteadily.
Excellent reflexes in force, Heero caught the soon-to-be guest around his waist and shored him up.
The man stiffened at the contact.
"I won't hurt you." the prostitute promised. "My name is Heero."
Those alluring eyes fixed Heero's gaze. For a moment he forgot to breathe.
"Duo." was sighed as the remainder of his strength gave out.
~ * ~ |
