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"Running in Circles "Written By: Mookie
Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made. Written for fun, not profit. Pairing: 2x1 Rating: NC-17 Warning: graphic m/m sex, mild angst Notes: Written for the Moments of Rapture Doujinshi fic comp
He stood there, knee deep in the water, the waves lapping
at the back of his thighs and his bare buttocks. His figure was like a sculpted god's, lean, muscular,
and nearly hairless. His skin shimmered, the spray reflecting prisms
of light over the slightly sun-kissed tone. The curve of his spine, the slope of his shoulders,
the nape of his neck, all beckoned the observer. The pounding of the surf was soothing, but the man on
the shore felt tense, as if he needed to be somewhere else. Despite
the siren call of the figure in the water, it continued to pull at
the edges of his consciousness. He reached out his hand, curling his fingers into an
angry fist, which he slammed down ruthlessly. The alarm ceased its beeping at once. Duo Maxwell sat up in bed and rubbed his face with both
hands. Three years. It had been three years, and not one night had gone
by without his dreaming of the mysterious man in the water. It seemed wrong, somehow. * * * * * * * * * * "Morning, Duo," Hilde said cheerily, making
her way back to her desk with a steaming cup of coffee. Duo looked
at it hopefully, but she shook her head. "Your legs aren't broken," she said, pointing
in the direction of the coffeepot. He gave her the best attempt at a glare he could summon
this early in the morning and trudged over to pour himself a cup.
He reached for the creamer and then changed his mind. He was only
drinking it for the caffeine, after all. He brought his coffee back to his desk and turned on
his computer, the steam from his cup twirling around his head. Hilde couldn't resist snickering. "You look like
you're in a steam bath or a sauna." "Ha ha," Duo said, waiting impatiently for
the computer to go through all its system checks before prompting
him for a password. "Maybe one of those hot springs," she continued,
not deterred by the fact that her humor was unappreciated. Duo, who was in the middle of blowing on his coffee,
managed to avoid spilling it on himself. A quick glance at Hilde showed
that she was done tormenting him and was busy downloading information
from her handheld computer to the desktop. He'd made the mistake of telling her about the dreams
when they started to become regular occurrences. Back then, the stranger
in the water had been shrouded in mist. Over time, details started
to evolve, but never enough. They'd begun several months after the accident. When he'd woken up in the hospital, his memory gone
and his head swathed in bandages, he'd panicked. He was disoriented
and lost, and frustrated at the fact that he couldn't remember who
he wanted to contact, to let them know he was OK. That's when he realized he didn't know who he was, either.
Hilde had shown up later that day, and had clasped his
hand in both of hers, her eyes red and puffy. He'd recognized her, but couldn't place her name. When
she uttered his, he'd recognized that, as well. He'd asked what happened, and she'd gone quiet for a
moment. For some reason that had seemed suspicious to Duo. There had been an accident, she'd said. Details hadn't been provided, and he'd not asked. He'd
merely nodded, and acted as if he'd remembered. His entire life was a lie from that moment on. He could remember how to do things, but there were gaps
in his memory. He'd sometimes get up in the morning and, while puttering
in the kitchen, turn to say something, as if there were someone there
to listen. He'd go to work depressed, and Hilde would ask about
his health, and he'd say he was tired. The dance was the same, day after day. He still didn't know why he'd mentioned the dream. She'd
dropped her coffee that morning, the cup shattering. Duo thought he was on the verge of an epiphany, watching
the cup explode, shards flying everywhere. He felt like he could reach
out and touch a memory, and then it was gone, and there was nothing
left but a puddle of red liquid and jagged white pieces of ceramic.
He'd blinked a few times, and realized the coffee was
brown, not red. Hilde had asked him again if he was all right, and he'd
laughed nervously. He had no intention of telling her he'd have sworn that
was blood. * * * * * * * * * * It was that night that he saw more of the man in the
water. The same firm backside, the same lean, muscular arms, the same
powerful legs. This time the vision revealed the back of the head,
dark hair brushing the nape of the man's neck. Duo could imagine the way that hair would feel beneath
his fingers. Lush and soft came to mind. He woke with a hard-on. That disturbed him only slightly. He'd been celibate
since the accident, not trusting himself to get involved with anyone,
not having a desire to let anyone close. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was clearly
homosexual. It wasn't just the dream. He knew. The worst part is that he knew that the very reason
he was so sure of that was just beyond his reach, like trying to touch
the mist that surrounded the mystery man in his dreams. Who the hell was he? He wasn't sure if he meant the phantasm or himself.
After being discharged from the hospital, after returning
to work with Hilde, where his desk looked vaguely familiar, he'd once
sat down at his computer, determined to find anything he could on
Duo Maxwell. He got as far as seeing an old wanted poster with his
image on it, one several years old, before he'd felt the beginnings
of a headache. His lungs burned, and he'd hit the power button on
the computer, desperate to shut off the image and the burning pain
in his chest. Hilde had tiptoed around the circumstances of the accident,
but that was Duo's fault. He'd not wanted the information force fed
to him. He'd wanted to remember on his own. He had a feeling he would not handle the information
well otherwise. Duo sighed. Maybe he was just making excuses, hiding
from the truth. He knew there was more to the story. He put a hand at the back of his neck and rubbed briskly,
ruffling the hair at his nape. It had grown back fairly quickly after
the accident. The wanted poster had shown him with much longer hair,
but he was just happy to have grown past the buzz cut stage. It had
not been a good look for him at all. * * * * * * * * * * Duo ran his hand over the bare back, his fingers making
their way to the slender hips. His thumbs dug into smooth flesh as
he got into position. With one hand, he guided his cock into his lover.
His lover. He closed his eyes. He'd waited a long time for this.
To be this man's "lover." It wasn't just sex, he realized too late. He'd been
sincere, or so he'd thought, when he'd been flippant about the whole
thing. Sliding into his partner now, feeling the welcoming
warmth of the body as it opened to him - it was as close to an epiphany
as he'd had in a very long while. Sex was good. Undeniably good. His hesitation at being
the one on the bottom hadn't gone unnoticed. He'd expected to grin
and bear it, but next thing he knew, he found himself faced with a
question he'd as soon have avoided. Do you want to make love to me, then? Duo had laughed, a nervous reaction. Sure, he'd said.
I'll fuck you. He could remember a flicker of hurt, although he couldn't
picture it in his mind. Perhaps there was a way to do both, he thought, slamming
into the inviting ass again and again, fingers digging into slender
hips, pulling them towards him as he surged forward. Fuck...me... Duo swore the words were in his mind, as there was no
voice to go with them. The words inflamed his passion, made him eager to continue
doing just that, but at the same time, caused an ache in his chest.
He'd gotten what he wanted. Sex. Be careful what you wish for. Fucking. It sounded so hot, the crude language coming in between
grunts - sounds of surprise, pain, pleasure? All of the above? Duo fucked him; fucked him for all he was worth. At the moment of climax, other words spilled forth.
It was an unfortunate response to the intensity of orgasm. Words that meant the world to Duo, even if afterwards
they'd both pretended they'd never been uttered. * * * * * * * * * * Duo woke in a cold sweat, his limp dick held loosely
in his semen-covered hand. He snatched his hand away quickly. He felt dirty, but worse than that, was the fact that
he felt more lost than he imagined he would, even without the benefit
of sight. In the shower, with the steam rising around him, he
knew. The man he'd fucked in his dream was the same man he'd
dreamed about night after night. He'd seen the scar. The sight of the healed bullet wound, for he knew that's
what it was, seemed important. He was no longer the man in Duo's dream, for it wasn't
a dream. No, not a dream at all. A memory. * * * * * * * * * * The flames were everywhere, and he could hear crying.
Death. It wasn't the first time he'd been close to death, but
this time it was different. Were they crying because they were afraid - or because
of what they'd lost? He made his way around collapsed support columns, intent
on making it out alive, with or without help. The other tenants were in good hands; professional firefighters
were there to do a job, and anything he might have done would have
been either redundant or worse, an interference. He knew that - but he still found himself attempting
to make his way further into the building, not out of it. The heat was all encompassing as he trudged down the
hallway towards the apartment. That's when all hell broke loose. He remembered little of it. There had been a bit of
a struggle; he'd not wanted to leave until he was sure. The same argument
he'd had with himself earlier was voiced by the fireman on his right
flank. All he could remember was seeing the long braid of hair,
sticking out from under the rubble. And the flames licking at it, fusing the strands together.
He had a vague memory of standing outside the complex,
a blanket thrown over his shoulders, watching as the paramedics went
from one to the next, determining which were capable of being saved.
None of them were Duo. The crying became louder behind him and all around him.
Bits and pieces of conversation permeated his consciousness. Unrecognizable. Many of the bodies were charred to the point where identification
was near impossible. He needed some time to think. He walked away, not sure
when the blanket had slipped off his shoulders and fallen to the ground.
He'd been walking ever since. Heero Yuy woke up with a headache and a runny nose.
As he wiped the back of his hand over his upper lip, he noticed tears
as well. Only at night, did he cry. He was a coward, afraid of the truth. Not finding out
if Duo was actually dead was unforgivable. He'd been cold inside, watching the familiar plait transform
into something grotesque. He could still smell the hair as it burned.
Odin was wrong, he reminded himself. Dekim had been
right, and Odin Lowe knew nothing. He'd gotten himself killed, hadn't
he? Emotions were a liability, he told himself fiercely,
rubbing at the tears that were still falling. Death was inevitable. Everyone died. Life was cheap.
He shook his head, tempted to pull at his hair. He hadn't cut it since that night. It brushed his shoulders now, and he tucked it behind
his ears before rolling out of bed and making his way to the bathroom.
He brushed his teeth to remove the taste of bitterness,
despair, and self-loathing. As he did so, the hair fell forward, brushing
his cheeks. He'd managed to spit toothpaste onto one section of it.
The toothbrush clattered in the sink, and he leaned
forward, his hands on either side of the chipped basin. The words echoed in his head, and he knew them for a
convenient excuse, a cover-up for his own inability to find himself.
I've been lost since the day Duo died. His fingers gripped the edge of the sink hard enough
to cause some of the porcelain to crumble and fall to the tiled floor.
Duo died...Duo died... Heero straightened and looked himself in the eye through
the distorted reflection. It was time to stop running and face his grief. Failing
to wait around to identify Duo's corpse, if there was enough left
to make such a thing possible, wasn't going to change the fact that
he was gone. He'd been deluding himself, acting as if he'd not lost
his heart and soul that day. Duo would be disgusted with him for falling
apart like this, for pretending that if he stayed away, it would change
the fact that there was no one left to go home to. It was time to start living again. First, however, he needed to say good-bye to Duo. Which meant coming out of hiding. He hoped Hilde Schbeiker was up for a surprise visitor.
* * * * * * * * * * "L2 to Duo," Hilde said, snapping her fingers
in front of her partner's face. "You all right, Duo?" The concern was evident on her face, despite her light-hearted
tone. He waved his empty coffee cup at her, waggling his eyebrows
and smiling. When she took the mug from his hand and walked to the
coffeepot, he closed his eyes and leaned back. Shit. She was really worried if she was getting him
coffee. It hadn't been fair of him, making her keep all she
knew of his past to herself, but she'd been willing to accept his
decision to wait until his memory returned on its own. The fact that she looked so pained at times, especially
when she'd catch him looking out the window thoughtfully, made him
wonder if he was going about it the wrong way. He knew she didn't think he could see her reflection,
and he was sure he'd missed the same pensive expression on her face
on those occasions when he was lost in thought. There were habits of his that he knew made her look
away quickly. His tendency to grip his pencil at his side and press
his thumb against it when he was frustrated. The way he'd rub the
back of his head at times as if it itched. When she sat the mug on his desk, his hand stilled on
his chest, where his fingers were plucking at the fabric of his shirt
uselessly. Her sharp intake of breath snapped him out of his reverie,
and he picked up the mug and took a large swallow. Hilde made a small
sound of dismay, and the scalding liquid made his eyes water. He practically slammed his cup on the desk, his vision
swimming slightly, and looked out the window again. Hilde was distracted. He could tell by the rhythm of
her typing. She was much slower than usual. Duo glanced over his shoulder at Hilde, the way her
bangs brushed her forehead, and blinked. Her hair was the wrong color, too. He turned around quickly and looked at the window. The
clicking sound of Hilde's keyboard hadn't faltered once; in fact,
it was as steady as it had ever been. His memory was failing him. He leaned his forehead against the glass. Was this post-traumatic
amnesia? He had no trouble with remembering things. He knew his system
password, could find his apartment easily, had no trouble recalling
the names of the parts in their inventory. So why was he slowly losing his memories of the present?
His fingertips rubbed at his scalp, massaging gently.
It felt as if the hair was being pulled, even though it wasn't long
enough to get a good fistful of. His eyes finally focused on the activity down below.
Their office building was only two stories high, so
the employees on the ground were easily recognizable, although with
them all dressed the same, in hard hats and coveralls, it was more
their gaits and mannerisms that identified them. "Hilde, did we hire a bunch of new recruits?"
"Yeah, last week, rememb-" she bit off that
last word, but not fast enough. "Right," he laughed softly, without turning
around. "The temporary staff for the mobile suit parts."
Hilde's sigh of relief was audible. The antique intercom on Hilde's desk wheezed, and she
answered it briskly. "Hilde," the voice crackled. "There's
someone here to see you." "I'll be right down," she replied. Duo laughed at her pained expression. "That's what
you get for being the nice one. All the foremen prefer having you
bring the newbies around." "It's because I can get it done in half the time,"
she shot back. "You tend to jibber-jabber the whole while."
He waggled a finger at her, and she snorted. In truth,
it was the other way around. Duo tended to be abrupt and to the point,
where Hilde preferred to give the history of the salvage yard and
the expectations of the company as it headed toward the future. "Don't forget to tell them where the bathrooms
are," he called after her. Duo turned back to the window. He'd been practically
useless all day. He wasn't sure how long he'd sat there staring out the
window, but he felt the familiar presence in the doorway. He whirled around in his chair and looked into the face
of the man in his dreams. "Heero..." The pain was blinding. Duo leaned forward, his head
in his hands, resisting the urge to scream. The waves of agony were overwhelming, and his eyes were
screwed up tight. He'd have sworn hours passed, but when he finally
sat up and looked at the figure in the doorway, expecting to see no
one there, there stood Heero. Heero looked like he'd seen a ghost, and he was leaning
against the doorjamb for support. His mouth had dropped open, and
his complexion was the worst Duo had ever seen, even after he'd fallen
from the medical building, even after using the Zero system. His hands went to his scalp, feeling a sense of panic
at the haunted look in Heero's eyes. He was relieved to find his hair
wasn't still pinned under the crumbled wall. He shivered as he saw
the ghost of a memory, the blade coming down to sever the braid from
his head, freeing him from certain death. It had been a damn close call. Heero's gaze followed Duo's fingertips, and he kept
shaking his head. "I came to say good-bye," he said hoarsely,
sounding nothing like Duo remembered. The next time Heero spoke, Duo
heard his voice crack. "Duo...I'm so sorry, Duo..." he took a deep
shuddering breath. "I should have stayed." "You left me?" Heero's eyes grew wider, and his eyebrows drew together
quizzically. Before Duo could repeat his question, Heero dropped to
his knees and started to shiver. "Zero...you were destroyed, Zero..." Heero was bent in half, mumbling to himself. Duo heard
his own name a few times, along with references to their Gundams.
He was crouched next to Heero and reached a hand tentatively
to touch the trembling shoulder. Heero's hand shot out and clenched his fingers almost
painfully. His hand slid along Duo's before he lifted his head. He pulled Duo's head to his shoulder and kept running
his fingers through the shorter strands. "Duo," he said. "Duo." He chanted it over and over, like a mantra, the words
coming between shuddering breaths. By the time Hilde returned, they were still huddled
together on the floor, rocking back and forth, and at least one of
them was crying. She felt the stinging of tears behind her own eyes,
and stood there wondering if she should leave them alone. When one of them sniffled and Duo turned to peer up
at her, she swallowed the lump in her throat and kept her voice as
calm as possible. "Get the hell out of here." Duo nodded, his eyes shining with appreciation, and
he stood slowly, helping Heero to his feet and pulling Heero's arm
behind his neck. His own arm slipped behind Heero's back and they
made their way down the hall, moving almost drunkenly. She wondered who was supporting whom. Blinking rapidly, she returned to her desk, and attempted
to concentrate on her spreadsheet. The droplets falling on her knuckles indicated her failure
to remain composed, and she covered her face with her hands and wept.
* * * * * * * * * * Duo fought with his keys, refusing to remove his arm
from Heero's waist to free them from his pocket. He shook them to
find the correct key, then jammed it in the lock impatiently. Once inside, he kicked the door closed behind them and
led Heero to the couch, where they both collapsed. Both of Heero's
arms came around him and he buried his face against Duo's neck. It was an almost painful embrace, but one that Duo welcomed.
He had questions, the first being the part where Heero
left him, but then the head lifted off his shoulder and Heero slid
his hands up Duo's back, to his neck, then held his face in both hands.
Heero's eyes were searching, and then he slammed his
lips against Duo's. It wasn't the right time, part of him argued. The other part promptly told him to shut up and he thrust
his tongue into Heero's mouth, burying his fingers in Heero's hair.
All the forgotten memories warred in his head, but first
and foremost was the first time he'd seen Heero, bathing in the stream
after they'd hit one of the Oz installations, followed by their first
time. Duo's hands pulled at Heero's clothes, and he devoured
Heero's mouth with a mixture of pain, anger, and pent-up desire. Heero awkwardly pulled his arm free of one sleeve. Duo's
lips roamed the exposed chest, and his mouth closed over one nipple,
biting it. Heero squirmed under him, wrestling with the rest of his
shirt. When it was hanging from his wrist, he threw his arm overhead
and let it dangle, allowing Duo's mouth and hands to explore his body
until it fell to the floor in a silent heap. The pants were next to go, and Heero was pinned under
Duo, naked and exposed, while Duo remained fully clothed. "You left me," Duo said, biting Heero's earlobe
softly. "I might have remembered sooner if you'd stayed."
Heero groaned, then opened his mouth to say something.
Duo cut off his words with his lips against Heero's. Duo's fingers tightened in the shoulder length hair,
and he pulled it until Heero's lips were forcefully removed from his
own. "You owe me, Yuy," he said gruffly. Heero nodded. The lust in his eyes was at war with regret,
overlaid with a good portion of disbelief. Duo glanced around quickly, hoping to find a suitable
lubricant, and found it in the free sample of hand lotion that had
arrived in the mail. He unfastened his pants, poured the thick creamy
moisturizer into his palm, and reached between Heero's legs. It was cool to the touch, but warmed quickly as his
finger penetrated Heero. He leaned forward and flicked his tongue
over the tip of Heero's erection, then took the entire length in his
mouth. Heero bucked his hips once, then forced himself to stay
still as Duo's tongue teased him. A second finger was added, and then
Duo's mouth slid off, a slight scraping of teeth indicating his progress.
Duo fumbled with the lotion bottle again. It fell on
its side on the coffee table, some of it dripping onto the worn surface.
He pulled himself free of his pants and stroked himself. Watching with heavy lidded eyes, Heero licked his lips.
"Fuck me." Duo shook his head and lifted Heero's legs in the air.
He entered Heero more roughly than he'd intended, but Heero didn't
show any indication of discomfort. In fact, his eyes were pleading for more. "No, Heero," Duo said, drawing back slightly
before slamming his hips forward again. His hand encircled Heero's
arousal and he slid it up and down. "No," he repeated. His hips undulated, and
he jerked Heero off in time with each thrust. He could not keep his eyes open, and his hand fell away
from Heero's member before he grabbed him and lifted his ass entirely
off the couch. Heero's ankles locked behind him and Duo's hands slid
up Heero's back, cradling the other man as his hips moved of their
own accord. Their lips met, and Duo felt something shatter inside,
his body joined with Heero's from lips to groin. He thought he'd lost Heero forever. They were both casualties of the fire, but Heero had
proven several times that, if one was strong enough, he could survive
insurmountable odds and a host of injuries. Some would take longer to heal than others, and he wasn't
sure he was ready to forgive Heero just yet. However, he had no plans of losing Heero a second time.
He threw his head back and came, feeling a sense of
triumph and vitality. Of life. He placed a kiss on Heero's sweaty brow. "This doesn't let you off the hook," he said.
"You'd better plan on spending your whole life making this up
to me." Heero's eyes shone brightly, and he nodded. "I do." No, Duo wasn't going to lose him a second time. Not Heero. Heero, the asshole who had left him for dead. He closed his eyes and let himself collapse onto Heero.
The tension in Duo's body wasn't gone, but was lessened. Heero, the man he loved. The End |
