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"Witness Protection"Written By: Snowdragonct Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing
or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved. Rating: R Warnings: Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots),
some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he
has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded
to the “pure, chaste” version of Duo, he might be a bit
dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters
in here…hey, Quat’s a lawyer…how much lower could he
get? Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2) A/N: I’ll apologize in advance that Zechs is, well, deceased right from the start. I like him a lot, and there’ll be mention of him…but mostly in the form of discussing/investigating his murder. Sorry. Summary: When Zechs Merquise is found murdered,
detectives Heero Yuy and Wufei Chang are tasked with the unenviable
chore of keeping the only witness to the crime alive long enough to
testify against the leader of the Oz syndicate, Treize Khushrenada. "Witness Protection" Chapter Sixty Eight: The Long Way Home I headed out of Euphoria without a backward glance. I didn’t dare look back, or I might not have been able to leave. I’d thought bringing the ashes there would give me a sense of peace, or closure, or—something. But instead, I felt more lost than ever. I considered going back to the lake house, or Quatre’s log cabin—as if being in places where Duo had been at my side would somehow make me feel closer to him—like going back to try to find the pieces of my soul I’d left behind. But I knew they wouldn’t be there, and I was afraid the emptiness I’d felt on the cliffs would just grow each time I failed to find what I sought. So—where to go? I pulled over at the town line, and dug the map out of my glove compartment, trying to occupy my mind with something other than the urge to run back and try to pick the scattered ashes from the ocean to take home with me. It looked like the nearest town was at least a couple of hours away, and on the verge of pulling back out onto the road, I hesitated, and my stomach gave a rumbling growl. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and while I had snack bars and bottled water, I didn’t relish the idea of using them to hold myself over until the next opportunity for real food. The nearest decent place to eat was back the way I’d just come; and as I recalled, The Gull’s Wing had both good food, and the dark beer Duo loved so much. If I were totally honest about it, part of me hadn’t wanted to leave in the first place; part of me would always associate the town with Duo—though that brought both pain and pleasure. Thus, it was with a mixture of relief and apprehension that I turned back towards Euphoria—back towards the place I’d left half of my soul. Back to the town that mocked me with its name. Well, why not? I deserved it, didn’t I? I deserved to be laughed at by the universe, since I’d been foolish enough to think I could blithely dump Duo’s ashes into the ocean and feel relieved about it. The sun had long since set by the time I parked behind The Gull’s Wing and got out, and I felt the chill breeze off the water. So I pulled my jacket tighter, and as my fingers sank into the soft, supple leather, I thought of all the times Duo must have worn it, and I felt a tiny bit closer to him. I found, miraculously enough, another pay phone just inside the foyer of the restaurant, and I almost stopped to call Chang—but decided to wait until after I’d eaten. Since that first pang of hunger hit me out near the highway, my stomach had been protesting its emptiness quite insistently. There was no one greeting people at the door, so I made my way up to the counter, hearing rather loud music playing in the kitchen, and snippets of conversation. “…late…” “Sorry…” “…luck?” “…” “…don’t give up hope…” And then Mary backed out the door, still chattering with Pops, I guessed, until she noticed me at the counter and blinked in surprise. “Oh, sorry! Didn’t hear the little door chime.” She hastily grabbed a menu and set it in front of me, hurrying to fill a water glass and plunk it down, before grabbing a place setting and adding that. “Get you something to drink?” “Coffee.” Yes, I still wanted liquor—but it could wait until after I found a place to spend the night. I wasn’t so far gone that I’d risk drinking and driving. She hesitated, looking at me kind of strangely, and then giving a quick, uneasy smile. “It’s still brewing—have it for you in a sec—.” She pattered off into the kitchen, and I busied myself flipping through the menu. I’d almost forgotten that the place served some pretty fancy dinners, in spite of its outward appearance, and I smiled wistfully at the names of spices Duo had used when he cooked for Chang and me. There was even a tarragon chicken meal—and I knew I’d end up ordering it. There was a quiet clunk in front of me, and I glanced up to see a frosty bottle of dark beer sitting on the counter, even as my server moved smoothly around and leaned next to me—just slightly in my personal space. “I didn’t order—.” “I know,” came an achingly familiar voice. “It’s on the house. How ‘bout after dinner, I take you from Euphoria to nirvana?” I froze, my brain going numb at the sound of a voice that had haunted my dreams as well as my nightmares. And I closed my eyes tightly, wondering why at this late juncture I’d start hearing things. I had to be going crazy—there was no other explanation. I swallowed and turned my head, opening my eyes to confirm my insanity, and immediately falling into two deep pools of indigo. I could actually feel the color drain from my face. “Took you long enough to get here,” Duo groused, apparently enjoying the shocked look on my face. “I’m glad Chang managed to reach you, though—.” His voice trailed off and he blinked a couple of times. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” I shook my head dazedly. “You—you’re dead!” He ducked his head and stuck his hands in his pockets, leaning back onto the stool next to me and looking suddenly shy and uneasy. “Uh—yeah,” he said rather softly, his cocky tone replaced with uncertainty. “That’s what they told me when I woke up in the hospital.” A fleeting smile touched just the corners of his lips. “I was pretty pissed when I found out they kept you out of the loop.” He gave a derogatory snort. “Loop? Actually, it was just him—Alexander. I don’t think he even told your boss.” “I—don’t know—,” I stammered, still trying to grasp what was happening. Had I fallen asleep behind the wheel? Because I didn’t remember arriving at a hotel or going to bed—but I had to be dreaming—. “He, uh, wouldn’t back down an’ let me contact you, either. But I made him at least promise to give you the ‘ashes.’” He gave a timid smile. “I was kinda counting on you to bring them here.” “How—how did you get here?” I blurted, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this wasn’t some bizarre dream. “Does Alexander know where you are?” He shook his head. “Look, ‘Ro—I don’t wanna talk about that right now. I just—need to know—.” “Know—?” “About us—.” He shrugged one shoulder in that adorably uncertain way of his. “I’m guessin’ from your reaction that you haven’t talked to Trowa or Wufei—you didn’t know, did you?” “Know what?” I was beginning to sound like a broken record, but considering my state of shock, I was lucky I could force any words out at all. “That I was alive.” His eyes searched mine. “You really came here just to bring the ashes, didn’t you? To—say goodbye.” “Well—yes.” Why did it feel like there was a question in his words that I was missing? He stood there for a long moment, shifting uncomfortably, and then his beautiful indigo gaze dropped to the floor, and his shoulders slumped just slightly. “I—guess I understand. I mean, if you just came to say ‘goodbye,’ I wouldn’t expect—.” He put a hand to his face, rubbing at his temple. “I know you musta gone through Hell—the funeral an’ all—.” I finally pulled myself together enough to stand up and face him, drinking in the sight, even while noticing he looked a bit pale, and like he’d lost some weight. He raised slightly too-bright eyes to me, and I’d have sworn his lips were trembling with suppressed emotion. “Look, if it’s—. If you—changed your mind. I mean, after all the shit you went through—an’ hell, I wouldn’t blame you for cuttin’ your losses an’—.” I crushed my lips to his in a desperate attempt to stop his rambling, heart-breakingly insecure monologue. And I slid my arms around his waist, pulling him into me, drinking in his taste and his smell and the feel of him warm, and alive, in my arms. His lips parted and the rest of him just sort of melted against me, as he returned the embrace. When I was desperate enough for air, I shifted my face to the side, burying it in the thick chestnut hair and all but crushing him in a fierce hug. I didn’t realize I was crying until he turned his face towards mine, making a puzzled sound. And then his eyes filled with concern and remorse. “Jesus, ‘Ro—I’m sorry!” he breathed, his own eyes brimming with tears as he used his thumbs to brush the ones from my cheeks. His lips ghosted over my face, and then he pulled me into another desperate embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed against my shoulder. “I never wanted him to keep it from you—not from the very beginning—an’ I’d have called sooner, but—.” “Shhh—,” I soothed running a hand over the back of his head in a calming gesture, my own tears stilling as I tried to chase his away. And then I jerked back in surprise, not feeling a familiar braid trailing down his back. “They cut it?” I gasped in horror. He gave a watery smile, brushing tears away. “Fuck, no,” he managed in a voice still choked by emotion. “I’d have gone freakin’ ballistic over that.” He pulled it from under his tee shirt, and sort of draped it across my hands. “I work in food services, Yuy. It’s either tuck it in or wear a hair net—an’ I’m not the hair net type—.” “No, you’re not,” I managed with a shaky laugh, pulling him close again. “Fuck, I can’t believe you’re alive—.” I was still torn between laughing and crying, my emotions so tangled and twisted that I could barely draw breath, though another choked sob made its way out. “God—if I’d known how much you were hurting—I’d have gotten away sooner—called—something.” “Well what the fuck did you think?” I managed a bit accusingly. “That I’d just get over you an’ move on—? Jesus, Duo—you don’t know how deep inside me you are!” “Not as deep as I wanna be,” he purred into my ear, pressing even closer. “I missed you so much,” he whispered, a shiver running through him as I dropped my lips to his neck and kissed that spot just under his ear that always drove him crazy. “So much.” “I told you he’d show up,” came a laughing voice from the doorway to the kitchen. I flinched in surprise, somehow having forgotten that anything existed besides Duo and me, and looked up at the smiling girl. She winked broadly at me. “He’s been climbing the walls waiting for you—ever since the big shootout at the courthouse.” My gaze shifted to Duo. “She knows?” He nodded, looking a bit uncomfortable. “How ‘bout we go somewhere and talk? There’s a lot for me to explain.” “Okay—.” Just then, my stomach growled rather insistently, and Duo frowned. “You came here to eat,” he said, as if it just occurred to him. “Shit, ‘Ro—when was the last time you ate?” “Breakfast,” I admitted. “Sonofa—.” He pushed me back onto my stool, picking up the dark beer and gesturing Mary to bring over the cup of coffee she was holding in her hands. “Did he order supper yet?” he asked the girl. “Not yet.” Duo turned a questioning look on me, and I caught his wrist, pulling him in for a kiss. “All I want is you,” I told him firmly. “Yeah—well—as nice as that is, there’s the matter of what you need. And you need food.” “The tarragon chicken sounded interesting,” I mused. “Can you make it without leaving my sight?” He rolled his eyes. “I suppose if I prop the kitchen door open—.” “I’m serious,” I told him, sobering. “I don’t think—. If you aren’t where I can see you—right now—?” “I can dish up a meal,” Mary said with amusement. “I may be the world’s worst cook—but I can handle a ladle with the best of ‘em. Be right back!” She slipped into the kitchen, and Duo reached to smooth my hair, his worried gaze searching my face. “D’you know how fuckin’ sorry I am for what you went through?” “I get it,” I assured him. “And I know it wasn’t your fault. That bastard Alexander—. I knew he pulled a fast one. I fuckin’ knew it. But when the Captain showed me autopsy pictures—.” “Fucking hell,” Duo breathed in horror, pulling me close again. “I didn’t know, Heero. I swear, I had no idea how far they went—what they’d stoop to—. I’d have never let it go this long.” “Like you had a choice,” I chided, my emotions warring between elation, disbelief and anger. “That bastard from the FBI has a shitload of explaining to do.” “As if,” Duo muttered. “Fucker wouldn’t give an inch. An’ I tried threatening not to cooperate if they didn’t bring you in on it. But I didn’t wanna ‘out’ you—so I couldn’t really tell him I was head over heels in love with you.” I smiled—the first one that came easily in weeks—and cupped his cheek in my hand. “I love you too, Angel.” He stilled, his eyes searching my face. “How—?” “Long story—but I have it on good authority you hate that nickname,” I teased. He shrugged slightly. “Not when you say it,” he admitted. Mary interrupted us yet again, with a plate of food that smelled so good my stomach rumbled impatiently. “Here ya go,” she said brightly, setting it down on the placemat. “It” was a steaming plate of Duo’s delicious tarragon chicken casserole, garnished with a sprig of parsley and a hot buttered roll on the side. I started to reach for the biscuit, just to offer my stomach something plain to start with, but I hesitated, recalling her last horrid batch. “I made ‘em,” Duo whispered reassuringly in my ear. I took a big bite then, savoring the taste, while unable to keep my eyes off Duo, savoring the view. He sat on the stool next to me while I ate, sipping at the dark beer he’d taken away when he found out how empty my stomach was, and looking alternately pleased and uneasy. “Would you relax?” I finally blurted, pausing between bites. He winced a little at the sharpness of my voice. “Sorry—. ‘S just—I—I don’t blame you if you’re mad. I should’ve called sooner, I guess.” “I’m not mad,” I said quickly. Then I quietly added, “Why didn’t you?” It came out more accusing than I’d intended. “I was—scared. Fuckin’ FBI guys Alexander stuck me with tried t’kill me, an’ I thought they’d have Trowa’s phone tapped—didn’t even know your number.” “Jesus, Duo—try a freakin’ phone book—,” I muttered, already starting to mop up the last of the sauce on my plate with the final piece of biscuit. He gave a nervous chuckle. “Didn’t think of that—but even if I had, I’d have been afraid to call—just in case. I was afraid to trust anyone.” “Who tried to kill you?” I asked, suddenly twigging to what he’d said about the FBI guys. “One of the babysitters Alexander set me up with.” “Fuck!” I hissed. “When—?” I shook my head. “Later. I—I have to sort this all out. I’m still—I’m not sure I believe this is real.” He smiled wanly. “Me neither. Been dyin’ for you to get here—afraid you might not.” He’d finished his beer and set it down, rubbing a hand up and down the opposite forearm. “I’d go up to the cliffs every night around sunset, figuring that’s when you’d show—if you were ever gonna.” “Sunset?” “Yeah—like when we walked back up to the cottages that day.” I shook my head. “I was there in the afternoon. Today.” “I missed you?” he asked incredulously. “Shit, Yuy. It’s a good thing you were hungry.” “You have no idea,” I said, sparing him the tale of how close I came to leaving town. “I—I just assumed you’d talk to Wufei long before you got here. He was gonna call your cell.” “My cell phone broke.” “Oh.” He gave a wry snort. “Explains a lot.” “So when did you talk to Chang?” “After I heard about Khushrenada. I figured once he was dead, no one would care enough t’send someone to kill me. So I called Trowa, an’ after I finally convinced him it was me—that I was really alive—he put me in touch with Wuffers.” God—he’d been alone all this time—with no one to trust—not even Trowa to talk to until just a few days ago. How had he managed? And when did he escape his captors—and how? What about the knife wound? I caught his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “Can we go somewhere to talk? Privately?” He nodded, still looking a little apprehensive. “Hey, Mary—?” “Yeah, yeah,” she called from the kitchen doorway, where she’d been casually leaning and trying not to be obvious about listening in. “I already called Pops and he said he’d pull himself away from his game of gin rummy and come man the kitchen tonight.” “Tell him I owe him,” Duo smirked. “I’ll do no such thing,” she retorted. “The ol’ fart needs to stay in practice! Besides, he thrives on being useful. He doesn’t know it yet, but retirement’s going to drive him batty inside of six months.” “We won’t let it,” Duo assured her, standing up and tugging at my hand. I was busy mulling over his statement—which seemed to indicate his intention to stay in Euphoria awhile—while he grabbed a long leather coat from behind the counter, slipping it on over his braid, and then settling a baseball cap over his distinctive hair. It looked like he still knew how to downplay his appearance when the occasion called for it.
He led me out of the restaurant, across the deck, and up a flight of stairs to the upper story of a neighboring building. “Where are we going?” “My place.” “You have a ‘place’?” I asked in surprise, suddenly beset by a million questions. “I’m renting the upstairs of this house—from Mary an’ Pops.” “Does Agent Alexander have any idea where you are?” He turned around and smiled cheekily at me. “Naw—when I slipped away from his watchdogs a couple of weeks ago I didn’t leave a forwarding address. In fact, I left ‘em tied up in the tool shed” “Tied up?” He nodded earnestly. “With duct tape,” he added proudly. “Y’see after Webster tried to kill me, I wasn’t sure about his buddy, so I hadda leave ‘em both.” “Jesus.” Was that before or after I’d given Alexander the list? “I talked to Alexander once after that. He called the cell phone I appropriated from his crooked agents. Tried to tell me he found out about Webster just that day; he also tried to talk me into comin’ back in. As if—!” He opened the door and ushered me into a tiny kitchenette. “Bathroom’s to the right, living room straight ahead and the bedroom’s, well, the living room—when you fold out the couch. Ain’t much—but it’s home.” I shot him a wary look at his use of the word, again wondering how long he planned to stay here. “Anyhow,” he prattled on, slipping out of his coat and hat and tossing them over the back of a chair. “I played tag with a couple of guys Alexander sent to try to retrieve me—lost ‘em for good just a couple of days before the jury came in.” “A couple of days—.” Was that the call Alexander got in the hallway after I’d talked to Khushrenada? And before it came in, when he started to bring up Duo’s name, was he thinking of telling me he was still alive? “Shit!” I blurted, realizing I might have found out a week earlier that Duo had survived. “What?” I shook my head, catching his hand and giving it a hard squeeze. “Nothing—just—I’m glad you’re alive.” He gave a chuckle. “So am I. It means I’ll get to feel you pound me into the mattress again.” If the words hadn’t made the blood rush straight to my groin, his husky tone would have. “Jesus, Duo! Don’t say things like that unless you mean ‘em.” “But I do!” I pulled on his hand to drag him close enough so I could slide an arm around him, feeling how thin he was under the loose tee shirt. “I know you want to—but it hasn’t been that long since your surgery. Are you up to that kind of—activity?” He cuddled up next to me, his warmth a welcome feeling. “I dunno—but I’m sure game to try it.” I glanced around the tiny apartment, realizing how sparsely-furnished it was—the couch, an armchair, and a couple of lamps and a coffee table were about it. I gestured back to the nearly empty kitchen. “What have you been eating? How did you pay for this place?” He sighed, pulling away and leaning back against the door frame. “Can’t we screw first an’ talk later?” I shook my head, smiling at the pout on his lips. “My curiosity needs satisfaction.” I went over and sat on the edge of the table, bracing my arms on either side of me and gazing expectantly at him. “Goddamned detective,” he muttered. “Have it your way.” He folded his arms across his chest. “After Alexander shuffled me off to Larry and Moe, I waited until I was pretty much healed up and starting to regain my strength. I knew Alexander was gonna have them haul my ass out of state as soon as the case was wrapped up, and I planned to take off before the verdict came in. ‘Course, when I caught on to the fact that one of my babysitters was a friend of Sims, and trying to get me alone, I had to move sooner.” “What did you use for money?” I asked warily, hoping he hadn’t had the balls to steal from FBI agents—even crooked ones. “Feds can’t play poker for shit,” he said with a laugh. “After I fleeced ‘em at five card stud, they stopped letting me play with ‘em. So when Webster made his move, and I left him and his pal duct-taped together in the shed, I had some traveling money in hand. I took the cell phone, figuring that as soon as Alexander called it, he’d know something was wrong at the safe house if no one answered. So I answered—an’ told him his agents were dirty and his organization sucked. Then I tossed it in a dumpster and hitched a ride with a trucker to get here. I went to The Gull’s Wing for a meal, and Mary and Pops recognized me from our last visit, and all the shit on the news about that bitch Une at the courthouse.” His eyes flashed with anger. “I’d really like a shot at her, ‘Ro. Don’t suppose that could be arranged, hm?” I shook my head. “She’s still in the mental ward of a federal prison. And if they’ve told her Khushrenada’s dead, I imagine that’s where she’ll stay permanently.” “Bitch.” I smiled reluctantly, and quickly turned the conversation back to pleasanter topics. “So—you’re a chef now?” “In training.” “As if you need that!” “Well, Pops wants me to learn the house specials—so a couple of days a week, he’s going to work with me until I’ve got ‘em all figured out.” He gestured around the apartment. “He an’ Mary own this building. They live downstairs, an’ gave me a break on the rent—until I can find something more permanent.” “So—you want to stay here?” He shrugged. “It’s as good a place as any.” “Yes, but now that Khushrenada’s dead, there’s no reason you can’t go back to the city—if that’s what you want.” He gave me a sort of wide-eyed look, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him before. “I—don’t know.” “You seem to like it here,” I said carefully—trying to gauge his reaction. He nodded. “I do. You know how much I like the ocean. An’ you and I talked about, well, what we’d do after the trial—where we might go. We talked about a place like this.” “That was when you were going to have to stay in hiding while Khushrenada was in prison,” I pointed out. “But with him dead, your options are wide open. You can go anywhere you want to.” He looked shyly at me from under his bangs, shifting uneasily. “Mostly I just want to be wherever you are—and having you sit way over there as if you’re afraid to touch me is playin’ havoc with my nerves, y’know.” I was on my feet in an instant and pulling him into my arms. “Shit—I’m sorry. I’m just—in shock—afraid I’ll hurt you—or that this isn’t real—.” I felt a shiver run down my spine at the thought that maybe I was delusional and none of this was happening. “I’ve—I had dreams—nightmares—.” He kissed me deeply and thoroughly, before pulling back just far enough to look into my eyes. “I’m not dead.” “Not dead,” I echoed, savoring the words. “Not dead,” he mumbled into my mouth, delving in again and twining our tongues together. “Alive,” he breathed against my lips, rocking his hips into mine. “Ah—alive!” I gasped, grabbing his belt loops and holding him tightly against me. “If this is a dream—I never want to wake up.” “Me neither,” he agreed, his arms tightening their hold around my waist. “So—c’n we skip the informational briefing an’ get down to screwing?” “Fuck, yes!” I backed him up to the couch, and he fumbled to fling the cushions aside and try to pull out the folding bed. When it resisted his frantic tug, I used my brute strength to yank it open, and then unceremoniously shove him down onto it. “Why the fuck did you fold that thing up?” I hissed against his neck. “Waste of time—.” “Didn’t know—.” His hands were all over me by then, pulling the jacket down off my shoulders as he rocked his hips impatiently against mine. “Hey—that’s my jacket—.” “You just now noticed?” I scoffed, throwing it aside, and then sliding his tee shirt up to slip it off him. As I did, I suddenly caught sight of the scar on his midsection—the livid reminder of how close he’d come to dying. It looked fresh and pink—stark against his pale skin. “Oh, God—.” “Shhh—‘s okay, love. It’s okay.” I dropped my face to his chest, fighting back fresh sobs as I relived the moment I’d seen him fall. Hands slid up through my hair, lifting my head so I was looking into tear-filled indigo eyes. “I’m fine, ‘Ro. I’m fine. I’m here and I love you so goddamned much—. I’d rather die than ever hurt you like that again.” “Don’t ever talk about dying!” I said harshly. “Don’t even think it! I can’t—. I can’t ever go through that again. Next time I won’t live without you—I won’t!” “You won’t have to,” he promised. “I won’t ask that of you—okay? As long as you don’t ask it of me—.” Was that what I really wanted—his permission to die if I lost him? And to give my permission for him to do the same if the situation were reversed? I glared up through my tears. “You listen to me, Duo Maxwell. If something happens to me, I expect you to fuckin’ live! You hear me?” “Yeah—right back atcha,” he whispered, his soft smile offering a very gentle rebuke. “Deal.” I leaned up to kiss the smile away, acknowledging how much each of us wanted the other to live. And then I let my lips become reacquainted with—other parts of him. I kissed and nibbled my way down his neck, before wrapping my lips around one dusky nipple and sliding my tongue in a teasing circle. “Oh fuck!” he gasped, arching up from the bed. “Missed you so much!” I’d have said I missed him, too, but my mouth was full. So were my hands, already working at his zipper and then sliding around the back of his waistband and dipping inside to grab his ass and knead the firm flesh. “Ah! More—,” he panted, pressing up against me with his hips. “Too many clothes!” I paused only long enough to rip off my own shirt and jeans, before divesting him of his, and then pressing our bodies back together, and fixing my lips on his other nipple. The distracting sensation of his hard shaft in direct contact with mine, shifting and sliding as he rocked his hips, was almost enough to make me rush the journey I was taking down his body. Almost. But I slid further down, so I was propped up on my hands and keeping a slight gap between us, my own throbbing erection against the mattress instead of him, and I dropped my face to his chest, running my tongue lightly over the scar down his belly. “Oh—!” The surprise in his voice turned to wonder, as I demonstrated how sensitive scar tissue can be—careful to just trace it with the lightest possible touch. And then I kissed it gently, looking up to see his eyes shining with tears again. “T’ think, I’d have never gotten to feel this again—,” he breathed through a tight throat. “I want to live forever, ‘Ro—just to feel you touch me. You make me want that—.” “You’ve got it—you’ve got me—for however long you live. If it’s forever, then that’s how long I’ll be here.” I dropped a hand to his entrance, tracing light fingers over it and making him shiver deliciously, only to realize I hadn’t thought to bring anything like lube with me. Why would I? I’d thought he was dead. “Fuck—there’s no—.” “Y’check the inside pocket of my Reapers jacket?” he gasped, wriggling his hips to press himself closer to my fingers. “Used to keep some there—.” I hung over the side of the sofabed for a moment, one hand poking through the discarded clothes until I found a small tube tucked away right where he said it would be. “And you called me a boy scout,” I chided, coating my fingers and slipping the first one in, reaching unerringly for that spot I knew would make him yelp with pleasure and arc up off the bed. He didn’t disappoint. Hell, he couldn’t disappoint. He could’ve laid there totally relaxed and limp, and I wouldn’t have been disappointed by him. I’d just have been grateful as hell he was alive and breathing. While my fingers teased and stretched, drawing groans and hisses of sheer delight, I continued to trace lazy circles on his stomach with my tongue, until my chin bumped the moist tip of his straining erection, and I couldn’t resist leaning down and taking it into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip and then sucking hard and taking it in deep. “Holy fucking Hell!” he blurted, coming so suddenly I don’t think he was even prepared for it. But I was. I’d been dreaming of tasting him again for so long, that as I swallowed I could only wonder if I’d died and gone to Heaven and was just now figuring it out. “’Ro—!” he wailed peevishly, as I let his softening length slip from between my lips. “Y’weren’t supposed to do that—I wanted it to last—!” “It will,” I promised, sliding my fingers out, and wiping the slick moisture from them onto my shaft, before climbing back up so that the head of my erection was pressed against his opening. “Didn’t you say something about being fucked through a mattress?” I patted the surface next to his flushed and beautiful face. “We’ve barely made a dent in it.” “Oh—ooooohhh!” he gasped as I pressed myself into him, feeling the heat and tightness close around me like a vice. “Fuck—,” I hissed, closing my eyes and just feeling him. “You are so alive—so warm—so tight—.” “So hot for you,” he groaned, already starting to recover and harden again. He must have been desperate for this. And the idea of a desperate Duo Maxwell just about made me explode right then and there. I could feel his pulse inside him—and my pulse—as if our hearts were beating in synch. Then he wrapped his legs up around me, wiggling his hips teasingly, and drawing an involuntary moan from my lips. “You can move, y’know.” “Oh, I know,” I said, opening my eyes and gazing lovingly at his face. “I damn well can. But I kind of like making you beg.” His indigo eyes went wide, and his mouth dropped open, which gave me the perfect opportunity to kiss him deeply, stroking with my tongue, even as I sank my cock deeper into him. I swallowed his gasp, but then pulled back just enough so he could suck in a breath and whisper “Please—.” “What was that?” “God, please,” he moaned, his voice ragged and his cock once again hard and dripping. “Jesus—I don’t care what y’do—anything. Anything you want—. You drive me fuckin’ crazy. Just fuck me already!” I never could say “no” to him... So I pulled out and thrust forward, and just when he relaxed into it, obviously expecting me to be slow and careful, I did it again, only faster and harder. And even as he opened his mouth to let out a pleasure-filled oath, I did it again—picking up speed and force with each thrust. He wanted me to fuck him through the mattress? I damn well intended to oblige him. You’d think I’d have lost it faster than I did, having dreamed of making love to him again—of feeling him beneath me and around me and inside my soul—but I was too busy savoring all of it to focus on reaching completion. I literally wanted to stay there forever, thrusting myself into his willing heat. With each sliding pull, the friction and fire built up to a feverish pitch. And with each driving thrust, I felt like I was plunging into an inferno. His cries increased in volume and pitch, becoming one long wail of pleasure so intense it was overwhelming. And yet I kept pounding into him, striving for more—pushing him closer and closer to another climax—pushing myself—until he let out a scream that almost sounded like pain. But when I looked down to see the expression on his face, his eyes wide—dark with lust and love and passion—shining with tears of ecstasy as he came for the second time, his hot seed exploding between our stomachs—there was no pain in them—only joy. Joy that was echoed in my own desperate cry as I, too finally fell over the edge, thrusting deep and feeling myself pour into him in wave after wave, his own euphoric spasms milking every drop from me. I couldn’t even speak afterwards; it was a miracle I could breathe. I wondered if I had been, as I gasped for air, my chest heaving with the effort. Duo was lying with his eyes closed, tears leaking from the corners. And I felt a sudden jolt of fear. “Did I hurt you?” I managed hoarsely, reaching a trembling hand to his scarred midsection. He opened his eyes, smiling and giving me a chiding look. “Fuck no,” he gasped, apparently still trying to recover as well. “Just—totally blew me away—.” I didn’t want to pull away from him, but I needed to collapse onto the mattress, so I sort of rolled us onto our sides, so we could disentangle ourselves without moving apart. “I love you, Duo,” I said gravely, reaching to brush aside a strand of the chestnut hair that was plastered to his sweaty forehead. And he put his hands on either side of my face, leaning in to place a very gentle, chaste kiss on my lips. “Love you, too, ‘Ro—ever since I first laid eyes on you.” His indigo eyes sparkled with mirth. “That mean you still wanna marry me?” “Just try an’ stop me,” I teased, yawning as I felt the creeping lethargy that comes after intense sex. He chuckled, snuggling up under my neck, throwing an arm across my chest, and promptly falling asleep. And then I did, too.
I woke in a cold sweat, staring up at a dark ceiling, and I wanted to scream in frustration. A dream? It was all a dream. Euphoria. Duo. All of it. I closed my eyes tightly, willing myself back to sleep—back to the comfort of a dream where Duo was still alive. “’Ro? Wassa matter, baby?” Warm fingers brushed the hair from my damp forehead, and the body beside me shifted closer, legs twining around mine. “You okay, love?” My eyes shot open again. “I wasn’t dreaming?” Warm indigo eyes smiled down at me, and Duo leaned in to press a soft kiss to my lips. “No, baby. I’m real. An’ so are you.” “Oh, God—.” I had him pulled against me in a heartbeat, showering kisses on his face, his lips, his eyes—anywhere I could reach. “Don’t ever leave me!” I managed desperately between kisses. “Never. I swear t’God. Never,” he murmured back. “I’m so sorry love—.” “Don’t be—not your fault,” I assured him. “Still—seeing you like this—I feel like it is.” “No. I know you didn’t have a choice,” I said, gradually regaining control. “I just—I’m still having trouble believing—that you’re alive, that you’re here.” I stroked my hand down his arm, snaking it around his waist, reveling in the feel of his skin, and his realness. And although I’d exhausted myself making love to him the previous night, my body was telling me it hadn’t had enough yet. “I’m sure the nightmares will stop—once my mind adjusts to—this.” I said that last bit pulling him closer so he could feel the effect his nearness was having on me. “Ohhh,” he groaned softly, closing his eyes and smiling blissfully. “If it soothes away the bad dreams, lover, you go right ahead and ‘adjust’ anything you want to.” “You don’t need any adjustment at all,” I assured him. “You are perfect just the way you are—angel or demon, it doesn’t much matter to me—you’re mine.” “Forever,” he agreed readily. “Forever.”
tbc... |
