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"Hotel California "Written By: t-shirt Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters are
copyright to Sunrise, Bandai, Sotsu Agency, and associated parties.
I make no money with this fic. Rating: Hard Core NC 17 Warnings: AU/Songfic(?), Lemon (duh lol), hot
cheating smex, exhibitionism, group sex, het sex, double penetration,
some blood and gore (non human), mention of R abuse/S&M *grin* Pairings: 1x4, 1x2, 3x4x5, 6x13x9xOC, RxOC, 1x2x4,
1x2, 1x2x5, 3x4x6, OCxU, 13xU, 1x2, implied 3x4, 2x5, implied 1x2x5 Summary: Based on the song "Hotel California" "Hotel California " Part 1
“There’s a town coming up,” I told him turning to say the words over my shoulder so the wind wouldn’t carry them away. “We can stop for lunch if they have a diner.” “That would be nice,” he sighed and I imagined his soft, cerulean eyes watching the barren land roll by. His arms tugged at my waist and I felt his hips shift a little closer. It was a comfortable feeling having him hold me and I smiled feeling that little spark of hope flicker in the heat. We took the bike because we thought it would be romantic and at times like that, even with the stifling heat and endless, black ribbon of highway stretching out before us I couldn’t say I regretted it. He’s a different person out here away from the chaos of his business and all the responsibilities thrust on him in the name of family duty. I smiled again hearing him sigh softly, knowing somewhere back home his subordinates were finding out just how hard he worked while they tried vainly to fill his shoes. It was odd how I came to resent the things about him that first made me respect and admire him. “You’re thinking too hard again,” he chuckled and I snorted knowing I’d been tagged. He is a sensitive soul, more prone to compassion than anyone I’d ever met and at one time I found his empathy intriguing. I’m not sure when it shifted to annoyance but in the end I guess I just didn’t like being so unwillingly exposed. It wasn’t his fault though; I understood that and was trying to come to terms with his amazing insight. “Lenzies Diner,” he read the broken down sign as we pass by with amusement in his tone. “Sounds like it’s gravy for lunch again.” “We could wait and stop somewhere up the road.” He snorted leaning away from my back an I breathed deeply as I felt the sweet wind cool the dank, wet cotton of my shirt. “I doubt there is anything else for a hundred miles,” he commented and again I got the feeling his mind was wandering the distant hills. “Then we’ll just have to have a gravy rebellion,” I teased. “My hero,” he chuckled leaning in to hold me again and I force a smile. The joke was cute at first, an endearment that seemed to make him even cuter than he is but it grew old quickly. I’ve never had the courage to tell him it annoys me, my name is not synonymous with the noun in any way but he gets a kick out of it and it really does no harm so I let it go. I don’t know if it’s really that he likes to say the phrase or the fact that I know he can feel my irritation and seems to enjoy it that bothers me the most. We found the diner easily enough but then most of these places are built right on the highway. It had been the same since we entered the Mojave Desert in Nevada and it was no different here in Southeastern California. True to form everything on the menu was dripping with gravy of some sort, even the eggs boasted a white, country style sauce that left me wondering if anyone in this part of the world even knew how the things they were eating tasted. Quatre smirked over his menu ignoring the middle aged waitress as she plopped two plastic glasses of water down in front of us and snapped her bubble gum. “You boy’s ready to order?” she smiled and I felt the discomfort that always settled in my chest when Quatre unconsciously moved away from her. “Do you have any apple pie left?” I asked going for the only thing I could find that would possibly be served without the presence of liquid lard. “Got a whole plate full,” she smiled jotting it down before turning to my reluctant partner. “How ‘bout you sweety?” “Nothing, thank you,” he said offering a wan little smile as he set the menu down. “At least try the pie,” I coaxed. Quatre is not a snob by any stretch of the imagination but he’s not used to plastic glasses or water that has the distinct twang of sulfur. I could see the Formica peeling off the bar beside our booth, the sweat stains on the walls near the ceiling and was well aware of the scent of comet and burning debris in the bottom of the stove but none of that meant the place was unsanitary, it was just old and settled in a brutal climate. I saw him start to decline again then stop; his eyes showing his resignation and I smiled to let him know I appreciated the effort when he finally nodded. “Best pie this side of Vegas,” she boasted. “You boy’s want something to drink with that?” “Do you have any milk?” I asked satisfied with the brightening light in my partner’s eyes as she confirmed they did. “Two please.” I knew the milk would come in a sealed container untouched by the tainted water or comet. It was a small effort on my part but I saw the gratitude in his eyes and it bolstered the hope that maybe somehow we’d manage to pull our failing relationship back together again. I suppose he’s right on some things. I am an arrogant fool especially when it comes to something I believe in. I’m trying very hard to give him some leeway and listen more to what he has to say. It’s not that I think he’s wrong but he’s never been as forceful as I am and it leaves us unbalanced. I’ve told him so many times, if he disagrees simply tell me, prove that I’m wrong and I’ll be happy to reevaluate but I’m afraid I have a bit of a temper and he never makes it past my getting pissed off before he gives in just to keep from having to argue anymore. But controlling him is not only not what I want it’s not something he’s going to tolerate. I have my work cut out for me on that one but if he needs me to be more flexible in order for us to stay together then I’m willing to try. I watched him eat with the same fascination I had felt the first time I took him to dinner. His manners are impeccable and it captivates me how delicately he sliced a bit of apple, the slow manner in which he impaled it on the spine of his fork drawing my attention to his mouth as supple lips that I happen to know are soft and tempting parted and gently accepted the morsel. He smiled knowing full well he’d made it difficult for me to sit still and I blushed accordingly and chuckled with him. He does not lack in sex appeal and I have found him to be an enticing lover over the months that we have been together. This is another area I tend to be ‘overbearing’ and ‘demanding’ but he seems to enjoy my aggressive tendencies. We’re fairly well matched in the fact that driving him to the brink of hysteria is something I find most fulfilling. I suppose it’s a bit unbalanced but neither of us appear to have a problem with it, at least he’s never complained. “Well, I’d ask if you wanted desert but you’ve already had it, ain’tcha?” our waitress chortled making my lover roll his eyes amusedly. “How far is the next town west of here?” I asked dropping twice the amount of the bill on her tray. Her expression was one of purest delight as she snapped up the money and grinned. “There ain’t nothing till Billsburg and that’s a good two hundred miles. Why d’you wanna go out there anyway? You should back track to the interstate and jog south, taking the ‘road less traveled’ around here’ll just get ya cooked.” Walking back outside was like stepping into a heated pool. The diner hadn’t been that much cooler than the beach back home but the mid afternoon sun had turned the desert into a searing hot-box of sweltering heat. “Tell me why we brought the bike again?” he sighed snatching his gloves from my hand. I paused and waited for it and he sighed and offered me a little apologetic smile after a moment before we sat our asses on the hundred and twenty degree, black leather seat and headed west. I tried to shake my irritation and just enjoy the presence of his arms around me but being snipped at about something that had originally been his idea left me feeling ill at ease. I suppose he gets the habit from constantly having to reprimand subordinates at work but I’m not an office flunky and I don’t take kindly to being snapped at. I can see he’s trying to correct his behavior though so I try to brush it away and not be such a hard ass about a little pissing in the wind. It hadn’t actually been aimed at me in reality so I shouldn’t react so badly but when it happens I have trouble shaking the feeling I’ve been accused of something unjustly. “Hiiro?” “Hn?” “Let’s stop so I can get some water out of the saddle bag.” I bit down on the sour comment before it could escape my lips. We’d only been on the road an hour but I reminded myself there wasn’t anywhere we needed to be so a little pit stop wasn’t going to do any harm. There was nothing out there but scrubs and the odd cactus, something called a Joshua tree now and then and the low mountains in the distance but the hills we could see were nothing but scotched rock and barren stone. I pulled next to a small cactus with the hope that it might offer some small amount of shade and slipped off the bike to stretch my legs while he dug in the saddle bag. There was a certain beauty to this place. I have never visited the desert before and the open land sprawling out before me left me with the feeling that the scene hadn’t changed for thousands of years. My sunglasses provided enough protection from the glare to catch the movement of small animals in the low shrubbery, lizards of some sort I decided and marveled at their uncanny adaptability to survive in such a hostile place. It felt like my clothes were being baked onto my body and I wondered if my boots would actually melt if I had to walk the black road for very long. “It’s so desolate,” Quatre commented sounding odd as he stepped up to my side. “No wonder they call it Death Valley.” “There’s life,” I smiled nodding toward the shrubs. He peered but apparently didn’t see anything before turning his gaze back toward the horizon. I wondered what he was thinking about sometimes. I don’t have his skill for reading others feelings so I’m lost to the wanderings of my own mind when he steps outside himself like that, the only recourse to me was to pull him close and kiss him softly but his lips were reluctant and his body less than enthused so I let go fairly quickly. “It’s too hot to stand around,” he commented heading for the bike. I sighed wishing that just once he would wait a millisecond longer and I’d get the chance to suggest our next move. I am not oblivious to the fact that he’s usually one step ahead of me, another attribute of his empathetic skills, and this in turn is probably most of the reason why I’m so hard headed about it when I feel I’m being challenged. I know it’s an asshole way to react but male pride is something not even we men can fully comprehend. I just know I need to have a certain amount of control and sometimes it feels like Quatre’s somehow steeling that away from me. “Hiiro?” he called impatiently and when I turned he was sitting in my seat getting ready to kick start my bike. Ok, our bike but I’m usually the on that drives. He used to like it that way but somehow he seems to have gotten the impression that he should be more assertive. I miss the old days when he was happy to let me take care of things and all I had to do was favor him with a smile to make him sigh. “I’ll drive.” “Just get on,” he sighed impatiently. “Move back.” It was hot, I was tired and not at all in the mood for one of his ego trips. “Hiiro.” “It isn’t a contest.” “Then why don’t you just get on?” he snapped brushing the sweat out of his eyes. “Because the only reason you’re doing this is to prove you’re equality.” “Fine!” I cringed when the bike hit the ground. He might have paid for it but I’m the one that maintained it, saw that it was serviced, polished the tank till it glowed. I couldn’t stop myself from going to pick it up instead of following him down the road as he stomped off but it wasn’t like he was going anywhere and the bike certainly didn’t do anything to deserve his abuse. He stopped about a hundred yards away more probably due to the stifling heat than any desire to remain close to me and sat for a rock hanging his head. The bike had a scratch in the tank that pissed me off more than it should have but I managed to put it aside and remind myself he was more important than the machine. When I finally fired it up and rolled up beside him his anger had bled away but the absence in his eyes was harder to cope with as he climbed on behind me and tried to avoid touching me more than was necessary. There had been a time when all he seemed to want in the world was to be by my side but something had changed. Sometimes I am certain beyond the shadow of a doubt it was because of me, because of my callous manner and stubborn attitude but the reality is it takes two to make a relationship work and neither of us have made the best decisions when it came to the welfare of our partnership. It took several hours and over a gallon of water from the saddle bag before he finally cooled off enough to wrap his arms around me again. I wanted to turn and look at him in that moment, to see the golden rays of the setting sun in his beautiful eyes but my fear that the effort would rob him of whatever peace he had managed to attain kept me from doing it. I care for Quatre, I have since the moment we met but sometimes I wonder if he wouldn’t be happier with someone else. Someone who could understand his needs and give him the flexibility his life requires but then I feel that pain in my chest and know I’m just not ready to give him up. Not yet, not until I know he’s given up on me. “Where are we?” he asked as the last rays of the sun softly winked out on the horizon. “I’m not sure,” I chuckled checking the odometer. My brow creased as I read the numbers and did the math but that couldn’t be right. “What is it?” he persisted doing that ‘feeling’ thing that irritates me sometimes. “Looks like we need to get the bike serviced,” I sighed not feeling all that badly when he pulled away from my back. “Either the odometer is broken or we’re six hundred miles from where we should be.” He was quiet for a time before sighing and leaning into me again. “Sorry.” I wanted to tell him it was ok but in all honesty it wasn’t. What he had done had been childish and uncalled for so I simply held my tongue and tried to let it go. “What’s that?” he asked peering into the distance. “Maybe it’s a town,” I reasoned though by my calculation we couldn’t have been anywhere near Billsburg yet. Whatever it was it was certainly situated in the proverbial middle of nowhere. The silence slowly became uncomfortable and I began to wonder if there was something wrong when he shifted closer and shivered. “Are you cold?” “Mm,” he confirmed making me worry after him. He’s not one to tolerate chilly temperatures but
the sun had only just set and it was still remarkably warm. I hoped
he wasn’t catching a cold or something but then the light up
ahead drew my attention as it flickered in the distance.
~ * ~ tbc... |
