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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, AU, OOC 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 Prologue
Quatre didn’t know what he had to think about the streets he had found himself in now. The air itself seemed to be darker here, though the sun shone just as brightly as the fancy streets he had roamed in before. There was something different, something… the atmosphere, he assumed. Gloomy, radiating poverty. Whistles to one side of him, envious leers at the other; a hand grabbed his and he looked into a sunny face, in spite of his obvious misery. Chestnut hair and a long braid down to the waist. The boy offered to go with him. Quatre had accepted his offer, but not to take advantage of him. What had touched him was the emaciated body and dirty clothes. But mainly the eyes... especially the eyes. They were strangely violet and shone with some kind of mischief, almost as if he was mocking Quatre and wanted to say: “Look at how we have to struggle to survive, while you’re sauntering around here in your fancy outfit. Don’t see you doing this, mister.” Duo took his hand and pulled him along in the direction of one of the little hotels where his face was all too familiar. Quatre though, promptly turned around and guided him to the luxurious hotel where he was staying. His father was trapped in a meeting anyway. Never in his life had Duo seen so much luxury all in one place. The building seemed to have come out of one of those movies he’d happened to see when he had managed to sneak into the cinema once. The street life on L2 had made him what he was: a pugnacious and energetic guy. There he had learned to never let his guard down and to take care of himself with his swift hands. There was always the threat that you could get caught while stealing an apple, that you could get offered money by the wrong person. Sometimes he wondered how he'd managed to keep himself relatively healthy. Rape and abuse were no strangers to him. No, not rape technically. Prostitution actually. Ever since he could remember, he’d refused to cut his hair, and more than once he’d had to bear the consequences of that. A lot had seen him as a girl. Not that it mattered all that much. Even now, he still refused to cut it and it had grown into a dark, golden waterfall that he wore proudly in a thick, long braid. No one would be allowed to touch his hair, not if it were up to him. He saw it as an intrusion when someone touched it without his permission. Still, on more than one occasion he'd had to allow strange hands to feel the silken texture of his hair. Sometimes under the form of loving caresses, sometimes in a rough grasp to keep him in place while he was being split in two. It was during such moments he always wished more than anything to be somewhere else, with his friends, the other street kids. They knew how he felt, after all, they had to go through the same humiliation. He found support with them, they were his family. Everyone looked after everyone else. He had to look twice, rub his eyes and look again when he saw how much money the blonde boy shoved his way. “How many times do I have to let you fuck me for that?” he exclaimed. “You don’t have to let me fuck you at all,” Quatre smiled. “You can have it.” “Just like that?” Duo asked distrustfully. There had to be more to this, no doubt about it. “Yes,” Quatre nodded with sincere eyes. “I don’t want charity.” “I insist,” Quatre urged. “Go on. Take it. It’s for you.” Everything had laws and rules, just the same as the street. One of those rules was to never blindly trust someone. “Why are you giving me all this money? That’s not how it works. When you take a whore with you, you are supposed to fuck him and pay him, not talk to him,” Duo said. “So? I've paid you haven't I?” Quatre said simplistically, shrugging his shoulders. “Yes, but for what? You take me with you, and all you do is talk. Why are you giving me all that money if you aren't going to fuck me?” Duo repeated his question. “Listen, Duo. You might look like a whore, you might act like a whore, but you don’t have the eyes of a whore. You have the eyes of a very sweet boy who’s had too few chances in life,” Quatre said. “I’ve had plenty of chances, thank you. I just let them pass. After my parents died I had family to take me in, but I'd rather live on the streets than live as a parasite. And that’s why you can keep your money,” Duo muttered. Quatre placed his hands on his hips and looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Duo, when I pay, I can do to you whatever I want, right?” he asked. Duo nodded. “Good. Then I want you to undress and take a bath. When you’re done, you can pick something out of my closet to wear.” “But…” “Right this instant!” Quatre said and pointed to the bathroom. Duo shrugged and slouched off to the bathroom. He took his bath, albeit against his will, although he had to admit it felt nice to be clean for once. After having spent enough time in the bathroom to appease Quatre, he put on a robe and entered the room again. To his surprise, he had to conclude his clothes were gone. “Where are my clothes?” he asked Quatre, who was absently staring out the window. “Threw them away.” “You threw them away?!” “Yes, I threw them away. Otherwise you never would’ve accepted clean clothes, but you would’ve just dressed yourself in those old rags again. Besides, they were torn.” Quatre smiled at him and opened his closet with a generous gesture. “Choose.” Duo cluelessly stared from Quatre to the contents of the closet, then to Quatre again. Quatre noticed his hesitation. “Duo, you’ve got two choices here,” he said. “Either you go back out on the street totally in the nude, or you pick something. What will it be?” “Why are you doing this for me?” Duo asked helplessly. “Are you doing this for my pretty eyes or are you planning on fucking me sore after this?” “Your eyes indeed, are very pretty, and no, I have no intention of fucking you sore after this. I’m already seeing someone, he’s waiting for me at home, so you don’t have to be afraid I’ll do such things.” He? He was gay? So he knew how it felt? Well, that was beyond him. How could someone voluntarily choose to feel that kind of pain? Pain? If he should believe Quatre, there was no pain at all. Well, maybe a little. Preparation was the key. Oh yeah, preparation. Duo had heard about that, although his customers rarely took the time to prepare him, and if they did, it was so-so. He had a lot to thank Quatre for. Fourteen years old he had been then. He had met professor G, who trained him for the upcoming war. In the mean time he stayed with Quatre. He had tasted luxury and wealth, the kind of generosity he had refused in his twelfth year and consequently had seen him end up on the streets. "Keep your money, I don’t want it," he had said more than once to Quatre. But Quatre kept on insisting. He had met his boyfriend too. Nice guy, although he kept himself a bit aloof. Trowa was his name. They too would fight in the war, and had their own personal trainers. Quatre was the one pulling him out of his misery, taking him with him and making sure he would never have to go through it again. He had even founded homes for the other children in Duo’s neighborhood. If he hadn’t met Quatre, he’d probably still be selling his body and eating rock hard bread. Quatre had never given him an exact reason for why had done all that. Maybe his heart had bled to see what kind of poverty reigned there. Or maybe he had felt guilt for all the injustice, or maybe he was tired of his money. No matter what the reason though, Duo was eternally grateful to him. He was happy with the life he had now. The war was over, he had a job at Preventer, had a girlfriend that idolized him and a house he lived in with said girlfriend. In brief, life was good. Yeah, life was superb. Or so he thought. To be continued…
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