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"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 17 Trowa stood pressed against the wall in a most interesting position and Quatre’s hands were… Well, where were they? Stumbling and angry voices in the adjoining office. “Quatre? Did you hear that?” he said startled. “I heard nothing,” Quatre said, the reply muffled against Trowa’s chest. “Did you lock the door?” “Who cares?” “Heero, they’ve locked the door!” “You really think that’s gonna stop me?!” A gunshot rang through the office and that door swung open, an infuriated Heero bursting through it. “Heero, do you mind…?” Quatre yelped, embarrassed about both his and Trowa’s nakedness. “Quatre Raberba Winner! Don’t say I didn’t warn you! Stop that right now, or else…!” “Or else what?” the blonde asked defiantly, holding Trowa in a possessive grip. “Or else I’m gonna do Trowa right in front of your eyes. There, on the desk.” “You wouldn’t…” he growled, narrowing his eyes. “I have spent an entire week with no company other than my own two hands! Hell, I would even do Relena!” “I don’t believe you,” Quatre smirked, his fingers slowly sneaking down Trowa’s stomach and his aquamarine eyes never leaving Heero’s cobalt ones. “Don’t dare me, Quatre,” Heero warned him. “And you’re going to pay for that bookend.” “Oh come on, you roll in money! Trowa, get your ass on that desk!” “Trowa’s going nowhere.” Still smiling his evil little smile, Quatre’s fingers slid around Trowa’s hard member and gave a sudden jerk, making the brunette moan in surprise. “That’s it,” Heero growled. “No one toys with the Perfect Soldier like that.” He snatched Quatre by his arm and flung him into Duo’s arms, who was quite amused himself. “Hey, what…?!” Quatre yelled, in vain struggling to get out of Duo’s grip. He could only watch how Heero pushed Trowa against the desk, face down. Heero’s spandex and boxers went down, and then he wrenched Trowa’s one arm on his back and pinned his other wrist against the desk. He threw a sideways glance to the squirming little one, captured in Duo’s strong arms. “Hope you enjoy the show,” he sniggered. Before Quatre could even wonder what “show” he was talking about, he saw Heero prying Trowa’s legs open with his knee and pushing his manhood inside of the wriggling body, making him, to Quatre’s utter dismay, scream out in pleasure. “Oh! Ooh Heero! THERE! Oh yeah! That’s - IT!!” he cried. “He enjoys it. He actually enjoys it,” Quatre whispered incredulously. “Sure he enjoys it,” Duo said with a lust filled voice. “This is Heero we’re talking about. Who wouldn’t enjoy a fuck with Heero? The movement of his hips is unique. Smooth, yet powerful.” “But it’s *my* boyfriend,” Quatre said, giving another jerk to get free. “Don’t make such a fuss,” Duo barked. “You should just relax and enjoy the view. Don’t be so possessive and jealous. You think I’m jealous? Well, I’m not, because I know it’s only a game. Just look…” “Look…” Quatre whispered, finally relaxing, just like Duo had ordered him to do. And so he looked, observed, almost learned from Heero how he thrust into Trowa with a steady, fluent rhythm. “See that boyfriend of yours,” Duo whispered in the angelic boy’s ear. “So helpless, so vulnerable. See him squeezing his eyes shut, see him gritting his teeth, clenching his fists. And those screams, filled with pleasure, so ecstatic. Hear that? He’s coming.” All that time, his hand had been lingering over the naked frail body, and at length took hold of the hard member between the pale, milky thighs, eliciting a slight moan from his victim. “Why don’t you help him a bit, Quat? Call out his name,” he said softly, slowly pumping the pulsing cock in his hand, a little harder when Quatre didn’t at once do as he was told to, feeling a mass of satin-soft hair in the crook of his neck. “Call out for him, Quat. Call out his name. Come on, do it.” “Oh… T-Trowa…” he stammered. Noticing that Trowa didn’t look to the side just yet, Duo gave a firm squeeze to little one’s cock. “Louder, Quatre,” he ordered. “Ah! TROWA!” he hollered, startled by the sudden sensation down there. On that, Trowa finally cracked his eyes open and looked. As excited as he already was, his release broke completely over him at the erotic sight of his lover being jerked off by one of his best friends. So carried away by their occupation, they hadn’t heard the yell of a certain girlish voice. A yell that ought to warn them. “Heero? Duo? Where the hell are you?!” Heidi shrieked. “What the…?” “Doctor J’s back!” Heero hissed, pulling his spandex back up and leaving an amazed and worn out Trowa behind on the desk. Something clattered to the ground. In the confusion, no one saw what it was. Duo followed him, dropping Quatre on the ground in mid arousal, but still turned back. “Quatre, don’t say anything about this to Doctor J, and you too, Trowa. He mustn’t know Heero has been out of his office,” he said, helping the boy upright in the process. “Alright, Quatre?” “Yes, we promise,” he panted. “I’m sorry I couldn’t finish this, little one. I would’ve loved it. But I have to…” “Duo! Lock my door, dammit! You have the key! Hurry up!” Heero’s holler sounded through the corridor. “Coming!” Duo shouted. He dashed out of the office, and still throwing a hasty, anxious glance down the corridor and locked the door, hoping he hadn’t left anything inside. His boxers or something. In his haste to get back to his office, he dropped the key, and as he kneeled down to pick it up, he heard behind him the footsteps and voice of that feared Doctor J. Execution! Have mercy! “Well well, who we have here. If it isn’t Duo Maxwell,” Doctor J sneered, folding his arms haughtily over his chest. “What are you doing here?” Determined not to show any anxiety or rouse any kind of suspicion in the old man, his face broke into a forced grin. The key he quickly slid into his sleeve. “Hello, J,” he replied carefree, turning around and beaming at him. “I had to bring something to Quatre and Trowa. You know, the report of the latest mission.” “But… this is Heero’s office.” “Well yeah, I dropped something. You know how clumsy I can be sometimes.” “Right…” Doctor J said slowly, shuffling past Duo at the pace of a snail. “Well… Okay then. And call me “Doctor” J, young man. “Doctor” J. Much more polite.” Duo watched him go. Say “Doctor” J, young man. Much politer. Take a hike, man. His grin remained chiseled on his face until the old man had finally disappeared into his office, only then did he dared to heave a sigh of relief. “Now I know how Heero feels sometimes,” he said. ~o~O~o~
Duo’s spot was in the shadow, and he actually had to wear pants and a sweater. Showing off with his body to make himself noticed was no longer necessary. Throughout the years, he had become more than familiar in the milieu. And if that wasn’t enough, it sufficed to swing his trade mark; that being his braid. Finally they had collected enough money to rent their own apartment, and although Solo was old enough now to work and had found a part time job, it still wasn’t enough to pay all the bills. They tried to save on as much as possible. No heating, unless it was really necessary, no leaving any lights on and only once a week a bath with all the frills, albeit in pairs. It was this way that Clady and Marco in particular had grown *very* close to each other. Before he knew it Duo sat there grinning about the way they had found out, a few months back. It had been around noon when Duo finally staggered out of his bed, and with his eyes still half shut he stumbled to the bathroom to brush his teeth. From the kitchen he could hear Solo and Benoît bickering about what he assumed was lunch, somewhere between it a meddling Micky. What was best? Sandwiches with plumb jam or cherry jam? Cherry jam, of course. Who else other than Benoît could chase plumb jam down his throat? With his mind somewhere between the bedroom and the kitchen, he pushed the bathroom door open, and jumped back with a shriek. “Clady and Marco! Clady and Marco!” he trumpeted, all sleep thrown out of his head. The three boys sprinted from the kitchen and around the corner to the bathroom where they saw Duo pointing in the direction of the bathtub. Kinda funny actually to watch him producing more hand gestures than words and as such was trying to make himself understood. Sticking their heads inside, all of them had their own way of reacting. “Marco! Clady! You’re barely thirteen years old!” Solo roared. “Yes, yes, I saw it coming,” Benoît smirked. “And… and what about me?” Micky yammered. Marco was sitting in Clady’s lap, Clady’s hand in Marco’s lap. What it was doing there was hard to tell amidst all the bubbles, but Marco’s face and the noises he made spoke volumes. “Solo, we can explain!” Clady said startled when he’d finally figured out they had been caught. “The soap had fallen into the water, and I wanted to look for it, but suddenly I felt…” “Okay, please stop talking! I get it,” Solo said quickly. “I don’t want you to do that again. For years I have been trying to protect you from that kind of stuff, made sure you didn’t have to go on the streets, and now you two go and make a whorehouse of this place!” “Solo, please. You’re exaggerating,” Duo tried to soothe him. Intimidated by Solo’s scolding, the two little rascals agreed with him and wisely kept to themselves, they had no intention at all of turning their apartment into a whorehouse or whatever, but just loved each other. “We’ll never do it again, Solo,” Marco said sheepishly. At least, not in the bathtub. Smiling, Duo shook his head. Solo had found it a disgrace, but in the end had to resign himself to it. Benoît had found it self-evident, Micky had been secretly jealous and Duo had given the two a push in the right direction by shoving their beds together and driving Solo to near despair. Only to snuggle of course. He sat against the wall and for the umpteenth time wondered why that freaking organ-grinder always had to go and stand under their window. Through a window of the third floor of a building he saw a woman looking at him. Her face was long and formed a pale spot against the darker background. What would she be thinking right now? Duo wondered. Would she recognize him? Would she know he had been standing here for months on end, looking for customers. She probably did. His braid made him unique in the neighborhood. He had built up a reputation that was, among the whores, like nothing on earth. His bouts had become legendary and his name was, not notorious, coz he never gave them his name, and if he did it was a fake one and every time another one, but he was more than known as the boy with the long hair. Sometimes he tried that, to imagine himself in others. What did those big, rich bullies think about while they’re pounding away? Fun, hurting little kids? Didn’t they hear them screaming? Didn’t they hear them begging for it to stop? Like they cared anyway. They had paid, they could do whatever they wanted, as long as they didn’t kill the young fry. They didn’t see them as people, only as object to cool their sexual needs down, could lose their frustrations to. An outlet for stress and annoyances of daily life and the things they couldn’t get at home. God, he was so grateful they had always managed to keep the little ones away from that. In what kind of black hole in his head had his thoughts swerved off to? Give him a moment and he would start crying. It had turned into a game for him. Play leapfrog with the others to remain just a step ahead of them. Peek to the left, glance to the right. Oh! There you have one. Rolling in money, judging by his appearance. The little rascal that on more than one occasion had beaten him to it jumped up. Oh, forget it, little punk! That one’s mine! They raced each other to the youth, and yes! Duo was the first one holding his hand. “Can I help you, sir?” he asked with a mellifluous voice, laughing at the little guy with his eyes. The eyes of the young man looked slightly startled from his hand to the one holding it, and then proceeded to the owner of the hand. “Good afternoon, young man,” he said. “Maybe you can help me indeed. I’ve lost my way.” “Did you lose your way?” Duo asked, praising himself for his catch. Good afternoon, young man. Fancy words. “But then I’m sure I can find it for you.” “Thank you. By the way, my name is Quatre. Quatre Raberba Winner.” To be continued…
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