|
"Destination Eden"Written By: Lisa-chan
Disclaimer: The G-boys are not mine. I only use
them for loads of fun and for putting them in compromising situations
and stuff. Rating: NC-17 Warnings: yaoi, shounen-ai, voyeurism, slight
het, blood, angst, sap, OOCness, Relena-bashing, OC, AU on Duo’s
behalf. Pairings: 1x2x1, 1x3, 2x4, hints of 2+OC, 4x3
implied Summary: AC\200. The war is over, total peace
reigns. Heero loves Duo. Duo loves Heero. Only neither one is aware
of the others feelings. Who will make them find out? Author: Lisa-chan Author’s e-mail: m.van_kerckvoorde@planetinternet.be
Author’s note: This fic is a rewritten version
of a fic I once wrote, called Nobody’s perfect. Some might recognize
it. I’ve added parts of both Duo and Heero’s past, Duo about
his life on the street, Heero about his harsh training with Doctor
J. The original story, the one in their present lives, basically stayed
the same. I’ve also added a prologue and epilogue. I have indicated
AU on Duo’s behalf, especially concerning his past. No Maxwell
church, no sister Helen, no Sweepers on his fourteen years old. He
did meet Solo. But I’m gonna stop rambling now before I give
everything away. Don’t let the het scare you away, I promise
some good boys on boys action ahead ^_~ Well, enjoy! Reviews would
be nice. Thoughts in Italics ~o~O~o~ indicates flashback Thousands of thanks to Shenlong for the beta reading
^_^ ~*~*~ Destination Eden
Chapter 15 It was still early in the morning when they left the building, the two of them. Solo still had a smile on his lips for the face Benoît had pulled when he found out he had to baby-sit the three terrors named Clady, Marco and Micky. The little rascal had almost taken a hike again without saying a word. The sullen face of the boy beside him was seriously bugging him. Putting an arm over his friend’s shoulder, he tried his best to conjure the sun back on that little face. “Are you worried?” he asked. “Why would I be worried?” Duo said curtly. “Because you look like you were about to score, but just found out you’re out of condoms.” Thereupon, Duo turned to Solo, shaking the arm off, and speared him against the wall with his eyes. “I’m *not* the king of freckles!” “Are you still angry about Clady calling you king of freckles?” Solo sighed. “They’re kids, Duo. What did you do when you were eight years old?” “You don’t want to know,” Duo smirked, thinking back at all the pranks he had got up to with his father. “Thought so.” Further conversations revolved around interesting subjects, such as how far Solo could spurt when he climaxed or how loud Benoît could be at night when he was yet again jerking off. One would start thinking he was doing it on purpose. Meanwhile, their eyes were industriously searching for any potential clients. “That one over there?” Duo asked. “He’s drunk,” Solo said disapprovingly. “And that one?” “Hm… That one has a face that just begs to be trashed.” “And… Well, I never,” Duo said surprised, blinking his eyes and looking again. “What?” Solo asked. “That’s that guy from the last time.” “The “how much-as much as possible”-guy you told me about?” “Exactly. You think I should try it again with him? Maybe I should do that,” Duo said enthusiastically. Solo seemed to have his doubts. The man would surely recognize him, and after Duo’s behavior he just might feel like teaching the poor boy a lesson. “I don’t know, Duo. Do you really think that’s such a good idea?” “Of course. Well, wish me luck.” “Wait, Duo,” Solo said, quickly grabbing his friend by his arm. “Are you sure? It can hurt, you know. You do have a condom?” Duo gave Solo a reassuring squeeze on the arm. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ll grin and bear it, really.” Before Duo was aware of it, Solo pulled him into an embrace and held him tightly. “Can I give you a piece of advice, Duo?” “Yes, of course.” “Cry. When you cry, it hurts less.” Emotion bubbled up in Duo’s heart, and he silently thanked Solo for his concern. “Thank you, Solo,” he whispered. “But you can let go of me now. It’s not like I’m going to Timbuktu and never coming back.” Eternal clown. With a tight hug, Solo let go of him and watched him walking toward the man, talking briefly. No, he wasn’t going to Timbuktu. But he would wish he was there soon enough. “Can I accompany you, sir?” he heard Duo saying. The man frowned at the fancy words he used. Yes sir, the lexicon of a whore goes further than just “shit”, “fuck” and “money”. He saw Duo following him. They went into the wrong direction: a public toilet. This whole situation went in the wrong direction. He’d better interfere. “Are you doing anything?” a voice suddenly said behind him. He slowly turned around and for a moment wished to be invisible, or to be the proverbial fly on the wall. Abracadabra! Shit, didn’t work. “What did you say, sir?” he stammered as naive as possible, hoping he gave an incompetent enough impression that the guy would leave him in peace. “Are you doing anything?” the man repeated. Euh… making sure my friend doesn’t get raped and doesn’t sustain the trauma of his life, does that count as a good reason? “Well, as a matter of fact…” “Of course your not doing anything,” the man smirked, grabbing Solo’s hand and roughly pulling him with him. “What would you be doing?” Competence or incompetence, it was of little importance so it seemed. He was as horny as hell and would’ve done it with anybody. And the cars raged past. And the people chattered. And they didn’t pay attention to what happened. ~*~*~*~ The alarm of his clock-radio screeched through the blissful dream he was having and tore it to shreds before he could even remember what it was about. He only knew it had been blissful. So apparently he had been able to sleep at least a little bit after all. His sheets were a mess and sticky from cum and sweat. His boxers. Jeezes, wet as well. So that’s what his dream was about. He felt simply miserable, and last night could’ve easily been called the worst night of his life… for now. He drowsily got upright and sat on the edge of his bed. A moan rolled out of his throat and he ran a lazy hand over his face. His bedroom was one big blur and he felt like his head would topple right off. Yawning sumptuously, he stretched every muscle in his aching body and flopped back down in the tangle of soiled sheets. As his head fell to the side his eyes caught sight of a picture of his love standing on his bedside table. Sloppy as it might’ve been, it was the one thing left he was allowed to worship and adore right now, and with that picture burned in his mind, he closed his eyes and dozed off again. The darkness in his sleep little by little brightened up, and as he looked around, he was surrounded by downy clouds. Everything was as still as a mouse. The only thing he could hear was his breathing. The white mass he was sitting on was softer than the softest bed, and although it was constantly moving and undulating, and looked like you would fall right through it any moment, it was surprisingly very solid. “Ah, Heero. You’re awake at last,” he suddenly heard behind him. It had been a voice he knew better than any other. Duo, my love! He was entirely naked and on his back he had gigantic angel-wings. The look in his eyes was tender and he was smiling down at Heero. “Duo?” Heero said with a shivering voice, stumbling to his feet. “Still looking as good as ever, I see,” Duo said, his eyes approvingly roving over Heero’s body. The Japanese looked down and only now noticed that he wasn’t wearing any clothes as well. He too had snow-white wings on his back. “Duo? Are we in heaven?” “Yes, we are. Don’t you remember? You killed me, skinned me alive, but don’t worry,” he quickly added as he saw the sudden look of terror and realization in Heero’s eyes. “I don’t blame you. You were under the influence of Doctor J’s wrath. He could never cope with the fact that he had failed to make a Perfect Soldier out of you, so he terrorized you and me, refusing flatly to admit that he was wrong.” “But… If I am here too, then… I’m dead as well?” Heero asked uncertainly. “Yes. After you had buried me, and when the drug Doctor J had used on you had lost its power, you couldn’t live with yourself any longer. You were of the opinion that life had become a burden and death a blessing, so first you shot Doctor J for what he had made you do and then you killed yourself.” “So Doctor J is here as well?” Heero shouted in panic. “No,” Duo smiled. “That one went straight to hell.” He slowly walked over to where Heero was standing, the look in his eyes slightly changing. “That one won’t bother us anymore. Heero, do you realize that from this moment on, we are together forever?” It seemed to Heero that Duo had changed. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but in a way he was more… considerate, more mature, and finally behaved like someone of his age should. He hadn’t even used that ridiculous nickname yet. “So, what do you say?” Duo said, yanking the boy against him. “Wanna fuck?” Or maybe not. “Do I ever,” Heero smirked. In the kiss he gave him lay concealed all his restrained love and it tingled on his lips and tongue, a weird kind of tingling he could feel over his entire body. Duo sat on his knees and pressed kisses around Heero's lower belly and his groin to entice his still limp member to become upright and discover what true heaven is made of. The warren and mess Heero’s life was seemed so simple when he got to be with him; when Duo licked him and sucked him with all his tender loveliness, like he was doing now, making him cry out in ecstasy. The sensations forced him to lean on Duo’s shoulder by lack of any other kind of support and to spread his legs to maintain balance, but it didn’t take long before he had to give in to the watery feeling in his knees. They couldn’t hold out anymore, and Duo caught him in his arms as he sank through them, smiling gently upon his heaving figure. “Come koibito, let’s make love,” he said silently, softly stroking his hair. It surprised Heero that he had actually used the words “make love”. He was gently being pushed on his back by Duo, and he spread his legs so he could come in. One way or another, it didn’t hurt at all when he pushed inside, in spite of the fact that they hadn’t used any lubricant or that Duo hadn’t prepared him. What he *did* feel, was a flush shooting through him when Duo hit the little spot he had saved for him only, making him throw his head back and claw his nails into the feathers of his wings. His body shook violently under Duo’s heavy thrusts, still he screamed out for more, his legs tightly wrapped around Duo’s hips and his heels pressing against his buttocks. Every push brought him closer to his release, and his climax could wash over him any moment now. All of a sudden, he could feel something hitting his jaw with the force of a train at full speed. When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer with Duo, but back in his bed, with a fuming Doctor J bowed over him, on his face all the shades of red he could possibly think of. He started praying. “Do-Doctor J,” Heero choked. For a split second he lay paralyzed in confusion, but then he came to the horrible realization that it had only been a dream, and moreover, that he should be beyond frightened at the state his cruel master had found him in. “Heero Yuy, you should be ashamed of yourself,” the old man hissed. “I raise a Perfect Soldier and what do I find? An obsessed pervert, wriggling and screaming, lying in his own sperm! Now, get up this very instant!” He jerked him upright and practically threw him out of his bedroom to the bathroom. “I give you ten minutes. Oh, and make sure to get rid of *that*,” he said with a disgusted voice, pointing at the hard-on in his boxers. “I’m afraid ten minutes won’t do then,” Heero said softly, barely daring to say a word. A low growl, and fingers clawed in the scruff of his neck. “Are you mocking me, Yuy?” Doctor J growled. “No, I’m serious,” he whimpered, tears filling his eyes, due more to fear than to pain. Doctor J considered for a moment, still clutching Heero’s skin like the grip of a lobster, then finally let go and spoke again. “Twenty minutes, not a second longer.” He opened the door for him and roughly pushed him inside, almost careening him over the edge of the bathtub. His clothes came flying in behind him and the door closed with a slam. Heero stumbled back to the door. Leaning and moaning, he locked it. “Well, that could’ve been a lot worse, I guess,” he sighed, but the exact moment he uttered those words, he knew that Duo had been right. This wasn’t a life, but there was preciously little he could do about that, for with every wrong movement he made or word he said, he risked ending up on the rack again. He set the tears that since long wanted to run over his cheeks free, and he whispered some consoling words to himself. “You can handle it, you’re stronger than that. Let the old fool rattle about, don’t let him twist your mind.” But recollecting what had happened in the past eight hours made him see that he was fooling himself. If he thought himself to be so strong, then why had he been crying, fantasizing and masturbating all night long? Truth be told, if he wanted to get through this month somewhat alive, then he had to display the best skills of a comedian he could muster and lay the mask of Perfect Soldier he had worn for all those years ever thicker on his face. “Ah, there you are. Very good, very good,” Doctor J said approvingly, like praising his pet. He took Heero’s chin in his hand and checked his eyes for any sign of tears. No longer puffed up, no longer red. The fresh shower had washed it all away. “Let’s go,” he said, satisfied. Heero followed him, but almost bumped into him as he suddenly stopped. “Oh, that’s right. Here’s your mail,” he said, taking a pile of envelopes off the table. He threw a quick glance at them, took one off with his right hand and gave him the others. “Here you are, Heero.” “Thank you, but… What is that other one? Why won’t you give that one to me?” Heero asked with a curious glance to his right hand. “That one’s not important. I will keep it,” Doctor J said, hastily shoving the letter in one of his pockets. The handwriting on it had caught Heero’s eye. “Hey, that’s Duo’s handwriting! Give me that letter, I wanna read it!” “No!” Doctor J snapped. “Now, get in the car!” Reminding himself that he should try to play Perfect Soldier again, he obeyed him, forcing his expression to be as cold as possible. When they sat in the car, Doctor J gave Heero his laptop back. “I made a few readjustments to it,” he said. Heero took it without saying a word, placing it on his lap. Even though he tried not to let his mind wander off while he was gazing through the window at the houses rushing past them, a dreamy smile crept over his lips. He thought of all the things he and Duo could do if Doctor J wasn't standing in their way. They could do it in the garden, fuck against the sink, screw on the couch, hump in the car, bang against the bathroom door, have sex in the entrance hall, French kiss in the elevator, jerk off on the window sill, cover each other with honey and then lick each other clean on the kitchen table, have a lay in the bathtub, do a little bondage in the living room, a sixty-nine in the office, a quickie in the shower, fuck on the stairs, or just make love in their bed. There would be no end to it. A sudden tick against his head startled him. “Stop thinking about him,” the old man snarled. “I’m sorry,” Heero said softly, rubbing the spot J had hit. From there his hand strayed further to his jaw. “Did you really have to punch me that hard?” he asked. “I said I would pick you up at half past six, you weren’t ready,” Doctor J said curtly. Heero glanced at him. Oh, give me a break, will ya. “I’m not used to getting up so early anymore. I no longer live with you. Normally I get up at half past seven,” he said, squinting at him. “Besides, I’m sure that’s not the only reason.” “Your point is?” Doctor J asked after a little pause. “That dream I was having must have something to do with it, am I right?” “You still have more senses left than I thought you had.” “Doctor J, I will try to stop caring about Duo, I will try to control my feelings again. But I can’t control my dreams, that’s something no one can do. He will stay in my subconscious forever. Now, I can understand that you punish me for disobeying you, but it’s highly unfair to punish me for dreaming about him, don’t you think?” Doctor J didn’t even take the time to consider his words. “Heero, you know I’d never kill you, you’re too good a soldier for that,” he growled. “But if I ever catch you in the state I found you in just now, then it will be a close call.” Well, a no it wasn’t. He just had to make sure Doctor J wouldn’t see it. “I want to apologize, Doctor J,” he said. “Apologize?” “Yes. I’m aware that Duo is a bad influence on me. But I won’t disobey you any more. Please forgive me.” While he said those words, he kept his face cold and hard, but in reality his heart was bleeding. In his head he wanted to jump at Doctor J and strangle him, no, see him suffering on that rack that Heero knew more intimately than he would have liked. Drug him, so he would see visions of his own death, or kill him like he had seen himself killing Duo. The very existence of that man irritated him. He wanted him dead, he didn’t deserve any better. As he looked to the side however, he still sat there, living, a satisfied grin on his face because his little pupil behaved so well. His fingers were aching to get a hold on that conceited neck of his, but for now, all he could do was wait and hope that his little plan would work. ~o~O~o~ Duo watched as the man lay back on the bed and unzipped his pants. A swift gesture with the head to the empty spot between his legs reminded him he wasn’t here to watch. He sat on the bed between the open legs of the man and carefully slid his hand through the zipper. When his fingers had found what they were looking for, they pulled the hard flesh through the gap of his briefs. He bowed his head, but instantly had to clasp his hand in front of his mouth. It had been a few weeks now since he'd done this dirty job. He’d gotten used to the gagging and the lack of breath. That wasn’t what stopped him. It stunk, the stench made his stomach turn. Wash yourself. Ever heard of that? “Well, are you still gonna do something? I didn’t pay you to watch,” the man grunted. Duo forced his hand away from his mouth and tried not to use his sense of smell. The stench was truly horrible. Did he have to touch that with his mouth? “Come on now, kid. I don’t have all day!” the man snapped impatiently. He flatly refused. It didn’t even enter his mind to take that filthy thing in his mouth. To somewhat satisfy the man, he pushed his shirt up, kissing his lower belly and let his hand do the task his mouth refused. The man pushed Duo’s head back down though, Duo promptly squeezing his lips together again. He averted his face and fingered the little notes in his pocket the man had given him. “I’m sorry, sir,” he dead panned, standing up and handing the man his money. “I’ll give you your money back.” The man looked at him with dismayed eyes and open mouth, too frozen in his anger to take the money. Duo let the money go and let it whirl down on the bed, turning around and walking to the door. He knew he wouldn’t reach that door, that the man wouldn’t just let this pass. What he had expected were biting remarks, possible violence. What he got was rape. He prayed. "God, help me," his mind said. Oh, what did he say? God didn’t exist, no matter what his father had told him. Aw! Torn again. Blood running along his thigh, thick as his tears. No, God didn’t exist. It was truly unbelievable. Micky had been outside for barely five minutes and there he was with a bleeding knee again. “Marco started it. He threw sand at me,” the little boy sniffled. “And then I said I would tell you an then he called me childish. I’m not childish, am I, Solo? Am I childish? Ow! That hurt!” “No, you’re not childish, Micky,” Solo sighed, cleansing the wound. Just when he had started desperate attempts to wash the bloodstain out of the pants, he heard Marco’s voice at the other side of the door. “Solo, can you open the door for me?!” he called. “Can’t you do it yourself? I’m kinda busy here!” “No! And hurry up!” Wondering what in the seven names of hell could be so urgent, he jumped up and hurried to the door. When he opened it he could swear his jaw hit the floor. There stood Duo, as far he *could* stand, on either side of him Clady and Marco, trying to support him the best way they could. “Duo, what happened to you?” Solo asked breathlessly, taking the boy from the little fellows and carrying him to one of the mattresses. “He beat me,” Duo coughed. “Why?” Solo yelled from the bathroom, collecting a bowl of water and the cleanest washcloth and towel he could find. “Because I didn’t do what he wanted me to do.” Solo came back with the bowl, washcloth and towel and kneeled down next to Duo. “You didn’t do what he wanted you to do?” he asked, taking the boy’s clothes off to gauge the seriousness of the situation. It could have been worse. Duo moaned when the moist washcloth was softly rubbed over the scratches on his head. “No. I thought it was dirty. I mean, I’ve done it before, but he stunk so terribly, Solo,” Duo explained. “I gave him his money back and turned around.” “You stupid boy,” Solo sighed, shaking his head. “You must never give them their money back. That’s rejecting them, never do that. Yell, cry, scream, wish them to hell, but never reject them, Duo boy. Do you realize what kind of an offense it is to a well off business man to be rejected by a mere whore?” “I understand,” Duo nodded. “And don’t call me boy.” “Girl.” “Solo!” Duo wailed, playfully swatting his arm with his hand. Solo was delighted to see the boy could smile again. Done with the cleansing of Duo's wounds, he lay the washcloth over the rim of the bowl and wiped his hands off. It had been more blood than scratches, and the fact that he had arrived as a shivering mess probably was more due to fear than pain. “Are you alright now?” he asked. “Yes,” Duo said. “Good. I’m going to get some ointment.” Solo stood up with the bowl in his hands and went back in the direction of the bathroom, but stopped as he heard Duo’s voice again. “No.” “What?” Turning around he saw Duo spreading his legs. His eyes widened as he saw the blood on is inner thighs. In the wink of an eye he sat back next to him with bowl and washcloth. “Duo, you should’ve said something earlier. Clady, do you want to get the ointment for me?” he said, gesturing to Duo to turn around. The three little rascals had watched with childlike curiosity and interest how Solo had taken care of Duo. When Clady heard his name, he jumped up and trotted to the bathroom. Moments later he returned with the tube of ointment and lay it down next to Solo, since the teen was too busy wiping the blood away. “You have to be more careful, Duo. This is the second time I've had to do this. You’re gonna get sick,” he said. “Like I’m doing it on purpose,” Duo retorted. “It’s not written all over their faces that they never wash themselves or that they’ll take me to a public toilet.” “I know, but if you would shut that big mouth of yours every now and then, it would help you a lot.” “Do we have to do that too, Solo, when we grow up?” Micky asked in a little voice. Solo felt a pang of pain shoot through his heart like a fighter jet. Would they grow up to be a whore as well? “I hope not, little one,” he sighed. “I hope not.” The ointment was applied in silence, and satisfied about his arts as a nurse, Solo helped Duo back into his clothes. “Where’s Benoît?” “Do you need to ask? That kid is truly unbelievable. Everyday he’s on the road, and every day he comes back with money. How he does it, I haven’t got a clue.” Duo smiled. “Oh, which reminds me,” he said suddenly, his hand diving inside his pocket. “He left it on the bed, so I took it with me.” Solo looked at the money in Duo’s hand, looked at the notes with an almost jealous look, because they were only paper and didn’t know how easy things were for them. No pain, no rape. No possible disease for barely… How much was it? Fifteen dollars. “Oh Duo,” he sighed, smiling. To be continued…
|
