|
"Caught in the Crossfire "Written By: Miss Murdered Disclaimer: I don't own the GW characters –
am just borrowing to torment for my amusement Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Swearing, yaoi, violence, hints of long
past NCS Pairings: Primarily 3x2, past/presentish 1x2,
past 3x4 and 1x3 Summary: When Trowa's nephew is threatened by
the ruthless father who abandoned him, Trowa needs help in order to
fight back and protect both Catherine and the little boy. Things get
complicated when both Shinigami and the Perfect Soldier come to his
aid as the three men must discover where they stand with each other
while they work out a way to protect Trowa's family. "Caught in the Crossfire "
Collide The wound was as bad as Trowa thought, glad of the med
kit when they finally stopped driving, his hands bloody as he carefully
stitched the folds of skin back together, the light not quite bright
enough for the task in the hotel room. It would've been better to
move Heero to the bathroom, the harsher lighting perhaps giving Trowa
a better view of the wound site and to decide whether he should extract
the bullet. Instead, he was doing it in limited light as Heero had
been moved from two cars and then finally into a hotel all the while
bleeding steadily. He'd given Duo a look that suggested that he needed
a hospital but he knew Duo would veto the argument before it could
even leave his lips. Trowa had asked Heero if he wanted alcohol to numb the
pain but he'd declined. Catherine had acquired some when they'd stopped
for some limited supplies, as Trowa knew he would need it. He'd poured
it over the wound site to disinfect but Trowa was unsure if the process
would work. Heero needed a hospital with cold white antiseptic sprayed
walls and doctor's hands. Not merc's hands. Yeah, he'd learnt a rash
of skills in his childhood – learnt how to patch someone up if
not as well as a doctor, as well as he could. The stitches complete, he went to the bathroom to wash
his bloody hands and returned, looking over to where Catherine was
sitting on the opposite bed to Heero, Eli already fast asleep in it
after the trauma of the evening. "Go get some sleep, Trowa. I'll watch him,"
she said, smiling a little through her own fear and exhaustion. "It's
not like it's something I've not done before, right?" Trowa nodded to acknowledge her offer. He and Duo had
been the only ones who had not slept since Nabokov's second attack.
Catherine and Eli ended up falling asleep on the drive out of New
Port City, only waking half an hour from where they ended up stopping.
Heero lost consciousness and drifted in between sleep and wakefulness,
Duo not daring to let himself close his eyes as he had to ensure that
he was not losing Heero to blood loss or something. His makeshift
bandage had been effective, Trowa would tell him, the bleeding had
been staunched and if Duo hadn't acted like he had, Heero may have
bled out on the back seat. It wasn't cheery thought. They'd gotten two rooms yet they'd all congregated in
the one with Heero in – Duo had leaned cautiously against a wall
to give Trowa the required space to work and watched him closely but
said nothing. He had noticed him take a swig of the alcohol and he
supposed he couldn't comment. There was a strained, pinched look to
his face and Trowa could see he was still covered in Heero's blood,
his hands, his arms, even his neck. At least his clothing was black. "You should sleep too," he said to Duo whose
eyes were trained on Heero on the bed, his chest now rising and falling
in a steady pattern that indicated sleep. Duo looked up. "I think I need a shower first." Catherine had got them two rooms next door to each other,
the hotel chain furnishings exactly the same in the other room yet
reversed. Trowa turned on the light, following Duo inside and saw
a complete lack of self-consciousness as Duo removed the zipped hoodie
and threw it to the floor, his t-shirt having been sacrificed to the
bandaging of Heero's wound. He looked over his shoulder briefly before
doing as he said, heading towards the bathroom and leaving Trowa alone
to sit on one of the beds. He felt a slight shake in his hands now – not the
steady hands he'd had when he'd stitched up Heero – and he looked
at his body's traitorous reaction to the last few hours. He'd killed
more men. And they'd nearly lost Eli. Nearly lost Heero. It had been
a complete fuck up. He heard voices in his head – those of his
old merc troupe telling him he was useless to the company, unable
to pull his weight. Too young. Too anonymous. Too meaningless. The sound of the shower entered his consciousness and
his mind briefly provided the image of hot water sliding over a body
and he swallowed realising it wasn't the time for thoughts of that
nature. He should just undress and fall asleep, his body over sensitised,
adrenalin started to wear off and the inevitable crash downwards making
him feel a little sick. Duo exited the bathroom and was wearing one towel low
on his hip, Trowa's eyes drifting from where the juncture of torso
met hipbone, the slide on the right side revealing more skin due to
the way he'd tied it. He was drying his chest, his neck, his shoulders,
his braid that he'd left in and Trowa felt something within him tightening.
He couldn't deny that he'd thought of Duo in a sexual way on occasion,
though in the past Heero might as well have put a stamp across his
forehead suggesting that he belonged to him and he had still been
with Quatre at the stage. In the past few days, with the help he was
providing, with the whole late night conversations, thoughts may have
crossed his mind but the proximity of Heero again confused him despite
the fact he was aware that they were not together anymore. He must've
been staring or he looked out of it as he found Duo suddenly in front
of him. "Tro'? You okay?" He looked up at Duo and he felt the touch of a hand
on his arm and only that slight contact of a hand through clothing
was enough to ignite desire. The sound of gunfire was still ringing
in his ears, the sound of Eli scared and crying, the shouts of men
determined to destroy what he had to protect. It all made him act
in a way he would never have thought possible. Trowa didn't know what possessed him but he stood and
bridged that gap between them so that Duo's face was so close. Close
enough to feel breath on his own face. Close enough to move to meet
lips. They were suspended in that moment. A moment that they could
go back from – return to a world where this wasn't happening
or couldn't happen or didn't happen. The pause was Trowa's way of
asking Duo if he wanted this – do you want me to kiss you? He
wasn't going to articulate feelings. Wasn't going to say that he was
anxious, frustrated and angry. Scared even. That he needed something
and that something was in front of him. A fuck. That's all it would
be, he'd reason, a quick meaningless moment between two consenting
adults who were not only adults but friends. Sex would mean nothing. Duo didn't say anything. Instead, lips were meeting
his and Trowa realised that he'd said yes – not with his words
but with his body as Duo pushed him a little more aggressively than
he expected and he found himself sitting back on the edge of the bed
with a tongue thrusting into his mouth as another body straddled him.
His body caught on quicker than his brain as his mouth responded,
his tongue sliding to meet the other man's, tasting and prodding and
feeling. His hands had seemed to move of their own accord,
running up damp skin, feeling a wet braid, fingers touching a muscled
back, running down Duo's side. There was an automatic grinding of
hips as his body started to tighten, arouse and want to feel friction,
the towel already having partially slipped between them so that Trowa's
clothed form ended up against Duo's naked body. He barely noticed where Duo's hands were but they were
already underneath his t-shirt, one hand at his back, the other teasing
a nipple. He gasped when fingers pinched and Duo's mouth moved away
from his and he trailed a tongue down his face, his jaw and his neck. "Yeah," Trowa responded through heavy lidded
eyes. Duo's hand had just found its way to the growing bulge
in his jeans and if he was only half way there from the kiss, his
body had now fully responded on the touch of another person's fingers,
even through denim. He jolted at the touch as their mouths collided and
he felt the fingers of the other hand dig into his back, hard, the
roughness more of a turn on than he would admit. Trowa wanted it rough.
Didn't want making love and gentle and staring into each other's eyes
lovingly. That had been so Quatre. Fuck. He knew he shouldn't think about him when kissing
a very hot, hard and willing Duo Maxwell. He shouldn't think about
their fumbling, about Quatre's reticence as he was grinding his hips
into Duo's and he was running his fingers over abs, over toned pecs,
finding nipples, getting the signals of "fuck me" from another
man. For a second, Trowa thought that Duo must be psychic and realised
that he was thinking about another man as Duo pushed away from him
to stand, the towel falling to the floor entirely, the pretence of
him remaining covered gone. But then he realised what was happening. Duo was skilfully
removing his belt and undoing the buttons of his jeans and Trowa stood,
removing his nondescript clothing and letting it drop to the floor.
Duo's hand paused at the waistband of his boxer briefs and there was
a brief moment when he thought Duo was backing out of this. It would
make sense. Heero was next door. Shot. Wounded. And here they were
about to screw around. Though Heero and Duo were long since over –
fucked over by the mission in Rio that neither spoke about –
there was still this undeniable connection between them that Trowa
knew was beyond his comprehension. But then he figured why he'd stalled. "I really didn't think you'd be into capes and
tights, Tro'." This should have been embarrassing but right now when
Duo's hand was over his hard dick through the material he really didn't
care. For some reason, he'd bought some superhero themed boxer shorts,
comic book print ones that he'd thought no one would ever see. His
clothing was always so boring, blandly coloured and he watched far
too many cartoons and read far too many comic books with Eli that
for some reason he'd bought them. Trowa just hadn't expected to be
wearing them when he was about to have sex. "Maybe I have a hero complex?" Duo laughed and then fingers were in the waistband,
pulling them downwards, material stretching over his cock and then
they fell down his legs, pooling on the floor, leaving them both entirely
naked. For a second he felt unsure again, naked in front of another
man for the first time in awhile. He did not live a life of celibacy
but due to the nature of his constant travelling, he could have random
sexual encounters but nothing that required any thought afterwards.
Duo was different, despite the fact it was "just sex," and
Trowa found himself saying something. "I'm not Heero. It's not about him," he said
and he saw the frown flit across Duo's face. "I know," Duo replied. "I'm not Quatre
– you're fuckin' me not a shadow of something else." He nodded imperceptible. He knew that – he knew
it was Duo – not Quatre, who was always so damn restrained –
who to him, Trowa was his gay experimentation phase and nothing else.
He didn't know why he'd had to say it – that he wanted Duo to
be with him. Not thinking about someone else. He reached out again and wondered if his words had broken
the mood as Duo wasn't touching him at all. "Condom? Slick?" "Wallet," Trowa answered. "Lotion in
bathroom?" Duo nodded and went to retrieve whatever the hell a
cheap chain hotel on the edge of the Sanc Kingdom provided and Trowa
grabbed his jeans, finding the brown bi-fold wallet and a condom before
moving aside the cheap cover on one of the double beds and watching
cautiously as Duo returned, the fire of their initial kiss waning
and the feeling that it all could be a mistake surfacing. His uncertainty was quashed as Duo gave him the lotion
as the only acknowledgement of how they were going to do this and
kissed him again, less frantically but they still fumbled their way
onto cheap white bed covers, Trowa falling onto his back with Duo's
body aligned over him. It didn't surprise Trowa that now that Duo
was naked that he was covered in scars just as he was but there was
something reassuring in that. He was covered, still self-conscious
about some of the old ones, the burns and belt marks that never had
seemed to fade on his back – he forgot about them but knew they
were there at moments like this. He traced his fingers over Duo's back, feeling the ridges
of old wounds that had cut deep into his skin before his fingers made
their way further downwards. Duo made a small noise in the back of
his throat into their kiss as one lubed finger entered him slowly.
Trowa was being gentle as he could be but he could feel the muscles
protesting at the invasion and then the moments of slight relaxation,
the opportunity to add another finger. They stopped kissing and stared
at each other as his fingers made slick movements in and out, both
breathing heavily and sweat staining both of their bodies. Duo shuddered
above him as he applied another finger but they held eye contact.
He moved them in and out, creating a rhythm and then decided enough.
As much as it was interesting to see Duo's reactions to fucking him
with his fingers he wanted to be inside him. Trowa moved and caught Duo by surprised, rolling them
over quickly so that their positions were reversed and now he was
on top. He kissed him hard, his fingers searching for the condom he'd
discarded on the bed and for a few moments having to move away to
complete the process of ripping open the foil and sliding it on. Duo's
hand seemed to offer to help but he didn't want help. He worried that
those skilled fingers could bring him off too early and he wanted
to be inside that hot body underneath him when he came. He drew up Duo's legs, resting them on his arms and
positioned himself before slowly sliding in – small, gradual
movements as heat enveloped him. They maintained eye contact as he
did and there was something happening between them. This wasn't just
sex. Not just stress relief. Yeah, there was an element of adrenalin,
of it being about need but this meant something. It wasn't the proclaimed
nothing experience. Trowa pushed all the way in and leaned forward onto
his arms to kiss the man underneath him, Duo responding enthusiastically,
and then he started to move. They tried to take it slow, conscious of the fact that
they were in a cheap chain hotel and that the bed collided with the
wall making a noise as it did. That Catherine and Eli were in the
room next door. That Heero was. They panted, they grunted, they moaned
but as quietly as they could. Trowa had always imagined Duo to be
loud in bed – he'd heard him on Peacemillion demanding "harder,"
heard it on the other side of the walls when he and Quatre were still
together but it was one part of his fantasy that was not going to
happen. Oh shit. He realised, briefly, that this – fucking Duo
– had been a long held fantasy. And then he didn't think much
anymore. Trowa thrust deeply and he realised he must have hit
that particular bundle of nerves as Duo's hand was in his mouth and
his head had gone to one side. If he was a cheesy guy, he would've
made some comment about whether he'd liked that but talking during
sex freaked him out so instead he leant down to meet Duo's lips again,
taking the moans and pants of the other man in his mouth and keeping
this as quiet as they could. His lips bent down to Duo's ear, impressed by the flexibility
of the other man with his legs now slung over his shoulders and bent
double. Duo's weight was on his shoulders and Trowa knew he was close.
Something about that position, something about the man underneath
him opening himself up and something about it being Duo underneath
him was bringing Trowa to climax steadily but suddenly. "Touch yourself," he whispered. He'd said it quietly and wasn't sure what had made him
do it. He wasn't the most articulate of people in normal situations
but during sex, well, he didn't articulate at all with words. That
was the point with sex. He'd hated Quatre for talking during the act.
He'd liked his experiences with Heero as there was a completely unspoken
understanding that they would not make any reference to what they
were doing even while they were doing it. But with Duo… He moved his position again, drawing back a little and
moving one of Duo's legs from his shoulder, letting it stay at his
waist. Duo understood, wrapping both legs around his waist tight and
one hand ran down his body slowly to touch, to pump, to wrap his hard
dick in a fist and blue eyes met green as he watched him even as he
slammed hard into that tight, hot body. The bed moved with their final
fast, hard movements and Trowa tried everything not to shout out something
as he came. The bed frame seemed to creak as he thrust a few more
times into Duo before he felt him cum, hot and sticky between their
bodies and managed to say a quiet "fuck" rather than anything
louder. They stilled, bodies sated and sweaty and listened for a second.
There was a vague look of guilt on Duo's face but no noises could
be heard from the other side of the wall. "Wow… intense," Duo said. Trowa nodded and moved off the other man, removing the
condom and tying it off. He didn't know what to say. Was he meant
to say thank you for the sex? This casual sex thing was not something
he was well versed in – yes, there was the odd one night stand
with someone he'd met in scuzzy bar, but there was also an element
of just leaving after the main event. But this was Duo. He wanted
to reach out but that was an act of a lover, not someone who you were
having "just sex" with. It was confusing. He watched as Duo moved, went to the bathroom for a
few moments before he came back in boxer shorts, sitting down on the
other bed, creating distance. "Tro'…" Duo began but he just sighed,
seemingly unsure of what to say. "That was… kinda nice." Trowa arched his brow. "Nice?" "Yeah. Nice." They stared at each other across the small distance
of the two beds until Trowa got up, padded over to the bathroom to
shower and left the awkward after-sex conversation at just that. He
took his time in the shower, washing away sweat and gunshot residue,
cum, and the whole shitty day. When he returned to the room, Duo had
turned off the light and was asleep or doing a pretty convincing imitation. He returned to the bed that only fifteen minutes earlier
they'd fucked in, turned to look the other way and took a deep calming
breath. And he'd thought his only problem was Nabokov. He really shouldn't
have fucked Duo Maxwell.
|
