|
"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 Three:
~1812~
Dominic Martinelli was twenty-one, of noble Italian birth and a Tuscan aristocrat of high standing.
Few people measured up to Dominic's superior standards yet, in his own way, he was as haughty and shallow as the common populace he deemed unfit. Alas that identical arrogance predestined his downfall.
Dominic thought himself better than the gardener's daughter when he required her virginity as payment for her family's debts. But was he better? By demanding sexual favors he lowered his station. For that unethical descent he paid the ultimate price.
Little did he realize when the intimated girl of sixteen began to pleasure him in a stable she was actually the whoring bride of the undead.
At dawn Dominic woke with a raw ache in his throat and sickening pain racking his entire body. Too weak to escape, he languished into despair.
Five nights the devil's concubine returned to his crude straw bed in the horse stall to feed. The sixth night she leached out the last of his life.
Bite after bite, Dominic was turned, robbed of sun and soul. On full moon eve the Queen of the Damned vanished leaving him alone in a terrifying world with no knowledge of how to survive.
****** Feral, voracious, Dominic wandered dark, dank alleys feeding on rats, vagabonds and zombie-eyed frequenters of opium dens. By day he shunned the light in putrid sewers.
After months of meager subsistence the filthy, emaciated mongrel staggered into a subterranean grotto claimed by vampires who sheltered the wretched fledgling.
Taught cunning tactics by well-versed elders Dominic grew stronger and much wiser. He utilized the magic metamorphosis imparted by the Dark Kiss to garnered wealth and reclaim lofty social status. Countless lovers, vampiric and human, vied to be his mate but no one ever captured his heart.
After half a century he grew weary of the superficial revelry, the meaningless affairs and gave into wanderlust. He traversed the globe. Stood on Mount Olympus to gaze at the sunset. Sailed the seas with pirates and walked the Great Wall of China.
Dominic feasted with kings and sultans. He also imbibed ale in boorish taverns with the salt of the earth. Wenches were bedded in the squalid slums of London's East End. Sinister streets of Whitechapel were roamed undaunted by the horrendous slayings of Jack the Riper.
****** ~1912~
~Tenth of April~
Southampton harbor.
To seek solace from his tempestuous existence Dominic Martinelli stowed away on the pride of the White Star Line, RMS Titanic.
Content to slumber in the cargo hold, he shunned the upper decks where affluent voyagers engaged in gossip mongering and currying favors as if they were at court with King George the 5th. Likewise there was no contact with the poor emigrant travelers consigned to dreary catacomb compartments known as steerage.
~Fifteenth of April~
Navigating a course contrary to the tide of panicked passengers fleeing certain death, Dominic kept a straightway route down Titanic's acutely inclined, water-swamped foredeck.
He refused a floatation vest, ignored the frantic scuffles between men vying for space on two remaining lifeboats. Instead, wading chest high into rapidly rising water, he climbed a submerged railing and glanced back at Captain Edward Smith gazing blankly out the wheelhouse windows.
Without pause, Dominic Martinelli dove into the icy North Atlantic Ocean.
Swimming among frosted corpses, some buoyed by vests, others floating face down, there was no fear hypothermia would freeze skin or halt heartbeats that stopped long ago.
A fortunate deckhand stared in shock as hands folded over the topside of lifeboat number six. Shock gave way to stunned disbelief when an ashen face surfaced from the black water. After being hauled aboard Dominic huddled amongst the salvaged occupants compelled by destiny to witness the worse maritime disaster of their lifetime.
Ten minutes.
Accompanied by sharp snaps of deck planking and shrill crescendos of brittle metal, the grand ship floundered then broke in two. Poseidon pulled the unsinkable Titanic beneath the wintry sea. Frothy whitecaps churned. One last ripple. Restless water smoothed over as if nothing had ever been there.
No more emergency flares sputtered orange against the ebony star-studded sky. No hisses of steam. Hundreds of screams were suddenly silent. The haunting refrains of "Nearing My God to Thee" wafting on the arctic air were hushed forever.
Two hours.
The Curard Line RMS Carpathia sailed across the very spot where Titanic had vanished. Of the 2,224 passengers and crew listed on the ship's manifest only 705 people were plucked from lifeboats.
Days later the Carpathia docked in New York City. Dominic disembarked into a chaotic scene of inconsolable families searching for loved ones who would never return. Penitent survivors sought absolution from nuns handing out blankets and hot tea.
Coerce by curiosity, Dominic sought out a priest with kind, sad eyes. Despite the devastating grief besieging the docks, Father Maxwell displayed a peaceful countenance as he offered prayers of condolence.
By divine discernment the benevolent man-of-the-cloth sensed Dominic's altered state. "I cannot allow you to feed here." he declared firmly.
"There are many vile sinners who warrant retribution." Dominic stated with dispassion borne of dealing daily with evil. "I shan't bother you or these anguished souls." was vowed as he turned to leave.
Father Maxwell called above the mournful confusion of misery and despair. "By whose sanction do you punish transgressors?"
Dominic pivoted in place and proclaimed. "The God of Death."
"Then I shall pray for you." the righteous priest promised.
At that fateful moment Dominic Martinelli put on the mantle of a new identity. "Duo" to denote his duality of life and death. The surname "Maxwell" in tribute to Father Maxwell for his sincere but misguided faith that he could petition the Devil out of Hell.
****** ~2016~
Years merged. Past fused with the present to come around full circle.
Although still haunted by poignant memories of family disownment, his forced exile among caves and crypts and nightmares of Titanic, Duo Maxwell settled in the modern city of New Orleans.
Since arriving a fortnight ago he'd hoped, during his nightly prowls, to encounter an individual with extraordinary aptitude and breeding.
Night after night he attended posh parities, hobnobbed with the elite of high society, yet there was not one female or male worthy of his time and attention.
Even after two centuries these piteous creatures called humans offered irrefutable proof that the inherently haughty nature of man hadn't evolved over the preceding decades.
****** Duo's optimism of finding a suitable mate was waning into despondency.
On Autumn Equinox Eve he attended the Crescent City Film Festival. Leaving the Contemporary Arts Center in a chauffeured limousine, a probable companion was discovered standing on the corner of St. Joseph Street.
Duo immediately knew this leather-clad male was the only person compatible in physical fortitude, intelligences and strength of spirit. He became inescapably entranced.
For two nights, with stealthy stalking, Duo observed the young man's sexual prowess in his games of enticement so effortlessly accomplished. He was amazed by how effortlessly the charming male altered his body language and modified his mindset to fit the fantasy of a perfect lover.
Alas Duo's chosen mate didn't move in privileged circles of wealth and power. The sexual purveyor's daily existence was raw; his money earned by wanton fornication so Duo utilized a proven strategy of seduction to lure the object of his fascination.
On that September night, when daylight and darkness were equal, he donned his "lost boy" guise and set his trap at the Chartres Street bus stop.
******* Heero Yuy's apartment:
"Stay." Duo whispered tightening the unexpected grip to emphasis his wish not to be alone.
Realizing the implications Heero hesitated.
Normally a person would be reluctant to crawl into bed with a man he'd met just two hours before, yet bedding strangers was what Heero Yuy did for a living.
Why should this be different?
He knew Duo couldn't pay. Bringing him home was done without proposition. In fact he'd promised not touch the handsome young man.
Better judgment nagged his mind. Instincts insisted, as appealing as sex might be, he shouldn't cross the line.
Heero decided to decline the offer. After all, Duo was not well—as reasonable an excuse as any other. "I don't think it's a good idea."
"Please." came the impassioned plea that completely eroded Heero's sensibilities.
Compelled to comply by desire more persuasive than mere carnal lust, Heero whispered, "All right."
Alluring eyes bewitching thoroughly, Duo pulled back the duvet and slid over to make room for his submissive lover to join him.
Stroking Heero's cheek, he purred. "Everything will be all right."
The breathy words seeped into Heero's mind in a muddled mingling of sounds. Each disjointed syllable ricocheted inside his head until all rational thoughts were vanquished.
Subconscious shadows veiled his perspicacity.
Without warning his senses came undone.
He couldn't think. Couldn't utter any objections.
Most disconcerting of all, bound in place by Duo's touch, he couldn't move.
Tactile sensations ran hot and cold at the same time. Fingertips burned his skin then froze the aroused nerve endings to incapacitate him further.
Fire and ice.
Pleasure and pain.
The situation should have easily been manipulated. Responses should have been automatic. Heero Yuy had always been able to detach emotions from the concept of love. He was an expert skilled in the art of illusion who could make anyone believe they were the center of his universe, at least for as long as it took to get the job done.
Dates were told what they wanted to hear, transported to the brink then pushed over the edge without thinking or feeling. Fast release with no strings attached was his expertise and Heero was damn good at it.
But, now, transfixed by odd violet eyes darken to ebony in the limited light, Heero was well beyond comprehending that the tide had turned.
Even so a question struggled through the curtain of desire shrouding his mind. *Where in the hell did Duo find this sudden strength?*
Two hours ago Duo could hardly walk now he commanded every part of Heero's being with absolute authority. It didn't make sense but then nothing had since his first glimpse of the perplexing young man.
Even more curious Duo maintained his effortless domination without a single kiss. There had been no meeting of lips or tangling of tongues. It was as though he was deliberately avoiding the kiss that might breach the enchantment or divulge the source of his sorcery.
Heero's arms rose automatically to let his shirt slip over his head. Likewise, hips were raised. Leather trousers and underwear slithered away to present his distended erection for Duo's scrutiny.
Again those sultry fingertips caressed Heero's bare chest, traced over his stomach leaving fiery tracks in their wake. Over and over Duo's hands roamed threatening to ignite smoldering embers into a full blown blaze.
To intensify the assault of sensations, Duo's mouth joined the skillfully employed agents of touch. Moist lips suckled taut nipples. A darting tongue lapped at sweat-dampened flesh tasting the secreted salt and the sensual essence of his enslaved lover.
By some crafty trick Duo had sled his clothing. Now his nude genitals rubbed impatiently against Heero's engorged penis.
Realizing he was helpless to halt the ravishing onslaught Heero demanded. "What are you doing to me?"
Duo leaned closer. "What you want me to do." was declared with a guttural growl as a fingers tunneled around his paramour's sensitive manhood. A series of strokes glided from base to tip. A thumb rubbed over the dewy slit.
"You were destined to be with me from the beginning." Duo proclaimed increasing the stroking to a fever pitch.
Heero writhed under the focused assault. Hands clawed up fistfuls of damp sheets. "I don't---understand---from the---beginning---" he stammered.
The fractured wonderings ended when Duo's mouth engulfed the swollen shaft to coerce a climactic conclusion.
Trembling from need Heero resisted the strong and painful urge to come, yet an inexplicable craving prodded him toward the corporal release of both seed and soul.
Duo sucked harder.
"Oh God." Heero cried in choked gasps when orgasmic shudders tore through his body.
Duo let the throbbing member slither from his mouth. Hand grabbed hold again. A sinister smile. Duo snarled like a wolf ready to pounce. "God has nothing to do with this. Yield and I will free you from your misery."
Powerless to refuse Heero gritted his teeth and surrendered the tattered remnants of his willpower.
A mournful whimper trembled through Heero's throat, his last pitiful plea before the spillway unleash its fury. The gut-wrenching convulsion hit hard. Milky seed surged over Duo's hand. Forceful gushes continued to spew, to propel him into a downward spiral culminating in a fusion of ecstasy and madness.
Heero went limp. Residual aftershocks pulsed. Breathing came in shallow puffs and not an inch of his flushed skin was dry.
Content to share the afterglow Duo released his conquest's softening member. With a satisfied sigh his head rested on Heero's damp chest.
Strangely Duo wasn't winded at all. His creamy skin displayed no rosy blush produced by the strenuous activity nor was his manhood in need of release.
By deliberate degrees, Duo inched up to capture his lover's slightly parted lips. Finally, with the satisfaction of a hungry predator feasting on prey, he delivered a searing kiss.
All Heero could do was moan. Too feeble to react, Duo's hand cupped under his chin and bared his neck.
A hot tongue flicked over twin silver earrings. Lips slithered down Heero's throat. "I have waited so long la mia bella amante." Duo murmured softly in stark contrast to his former aggressive behavior.
Duo's mouth closed over the smooth skin. Strong suction raised a swollen welt. He was rewarded with low groan from his totally compliant quarry.
"Always meant to be mine." Duo hissed huskily and, with that claiming pronouncement, the bedroom was enveloped in dank mist.
Through the murky vapors billowing in ominous clouds, Heero glimpsed black wings, webbed flesh rather than feathers, unfurl from Duo's back. An equally brief instant, the wings disappeared.
Was Heero witnessing some eerie transmogrification or had his senses plunged into the abyss of insanity?
"Mine." Duo repeated as extended canine incisors punctured the sweet flesh.
Heero jerked. In a panicked state of utter disbelief his entire body bowed off the bed.
Duo tightened the bite to discharge the bloody gift then drank slowly. There was no need to hurry for Heero was held in perfect submission under his spell.
~ * ~ |
