Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Beautiful Dawn ❯ Chapter 16 ( Chapter 16 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Thanks everyone once again for reviewing . I took longer than expected with this chapter, but i am hoping to have the next one out by the end of the week. Hope you enjoy!




Standard disclaimers apply: I don't own Gundam Wing or its bishounen, nor am I making any monetary profit from this fic whatsoever.



Pairings: 6x1, 13+5 ( possible 13x5 later), 3+4
General Warnings: AU ( the pilots are 18, Zechs and Treize are 23) yaoi, angst, sap, lemon
Archive: http://angelfire.com/gundam/asanctuary
Rating: NC 17


Warnings for this chapter: sap, a little angst.


Feedback: craved ^_^







Beautiful Dawn 16/?
by: Michalyn










The silence following was deafening. Complete, in its utter stillness. For long moments, the world fell still, its focus narrowed to the two figures sprawled on the grass.

The only perceptible movement was the nervous flittering of wind-disturbed leaves - and the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of Heero's jaw. Somewhere in the distance a bird's cheerful, swelling trill abruptly dwindled to a low, mournful warble and Zechs' own hopes plummeted with the last wistful note.

Heero was not going to answer him. More importantly, did not trust him enough to reveal the secrets of his past - and his heart. Part of Zechs cursed himself for demanding so much, so soon of the somber brunette, while another part of him - the part that had yearned for Heero from the first day they had met; that part which had held Heero close, had comforted him - had tasted of his passion - despaired that he was a fool, longing for something impossible - even as he recognized that he was falling hopelessly and completely in love with everything that was Heero Yuy.

At first he'd tried to convince himself that it was mere attraction. But it had been a lie. A feeble attempt at denying the intensity of what he felt for the small, slender figure in his arms. If there was one thing that life had taught Milliardo Peacecraft, it was that life was too precious and too short to be wasted in denial.

And self- denial was the worst kind of deception - a fantasy that only led to more blindness and even more pain. He had learned that lesson the hard way in those terrible months after his parents' death when he had tried to deny everything: their deaths, his own grief - and those around him who were trying so hard to help him at a time when he was his own worst enemy.

Then one day all the walls he had built up simply * crumbled *. Treize had been at his desk, catching up on homework assignments when he'd stumbled blindly into his room. He remembered his friend rising worriedly from his papers one moment and the next - he was clutching at Treize's shirt, sobbing bitterly into the rumpled material.

No, denial was not for him. If there was risk and pain in facing the truth, then - so be it. And he knew now what he had known that day in the library:

Heero aroused in him emotions that went far beyond lust. Even as his hunger for the shorter man was so intense that just the remembrance of those soft, husky little sounds the brunette made in his passion was enough to inflame Zechs' senses. Even now, there was nothing he desired more, than to lower that sleek form into the grass and to ravish his small lover tenderly and thoroughly until the delicious flush of arousal returned to the smooth, warm skin and Heero was writhing and crying out sweetly beneath his caresses.

And yet, that very passion was fueled by something infinitely deeper and more intense.

He wanted to make love to Heero - with Heero, until they both lacked the breath to rise again. But he also wanted to savor the little things with him. Sweet things like eating breakfast together on mornings, silly things like romping with each other like children, mundane, often tedious things like doing the laundry, or shopping together - or even fighting together, when they would know that all the harsh words would all be erased later in each other's arms.

Looking at Heero's still form, regret, and a searing pain twisted in the blonde's chest. He feared that it was all a dream. He had wagered and lost. Had been hoping that after last night - and especially, in the wake of their meal this afternoon, when Heero lay in almost-contentment in his arms, had been convinced that they had been laying down the first few, but crucial foundations of trust between them.

Zechs frowned, recalling his persistence and the brunette's reticence, his reluctance and frequent hostility at every turn. Perhaps he had simply been fooling himself all this time. Perhaps his certainty that Heero felt something for him - that he had glimpsed yearning in those deep blue eyes had all been a fantasy on his part. That Heero aroused in him a passion he had never felt before was inescapable, but he was beginning to fear that he had become so lost in the slender beauty's passion and in his own ardor that he had failed to see the obvious.

They burned together, yes, but he was utterly alone in his love.

He sighed, reluctantly releasing Heero, as resignation, sorrow and a deep, wistful longing ached within him.

"I'm sorry Heero," he said softly. "I should not have--"

"He is not my Father."

Zechs was so shocked by the quiet statement that for a moment, he thought that he had imagined the softly spoken words.

"Pardon?" he croaked.

Heero looked over his shoulder at the tall blonde, before his serious gaze focused on some invisible point in the distance. A soft wind stirred the dark, silky strands away from his forehead, making him appear resolute, yet vulnerable at the same time. He glanced once more at Zechs before his eyes grew distant again, as if seeing something a long way off.

"I said he is not my father."






~~~~~






Heero found that if he remained as he was: not facing Zechs, but with the blonde's vital presence at his back and his strong arms wrapped securely around him that he could relate that which he had never spoken to anyone of. That he felt the desire to at all, was something he could not account for. His past and the events thereof, occupied little, if any space in his conscious thoughts and only resurfaced at night as the phantom nightmares which exposed his acute weakness and his inability to ever achieve the control that J required of him.

Previously, his attempts at analyzing this repeated failure had always resulted in the simple conclusion that, despite his best efforts, those measures, which, he was employing to suppress the hindering emotion, were not maximally effective, and that new measures must be sought and implemented. It was a task that he had undertaken several times, but with little perceivable success.

The dreams persisted.

And so, because they only interfered with his sleep and impacted little on his daily efficiency, he had accepted their appearance as a negligible variable.

That is, until he had encountered Zechs Marquise.

The elegant blonde, appeared to be able to bring out all the emotions he had spent a lifetime suppressing - and some which he never before encountered. Proving time and time again that he had achieved nothing. Anger, embarrassment, and frustration - he had felt more of these emotions in the short period he had come to know Zechs than he had in years.

And of course, there were those other…feelings… the desire - and that strange, unnamable yearning that was beating in his chest even now.

When he was around the blonde, reason and control unaccountably fled. He could not understand the cause of it and more disturbingly had been unable to discover any means of restoring the breach. Initially he had thought that seeking out Zechs' company would be the answer. After all, how better to discover and eliminate one's weaknesses than by facing them? But then even that had spiraled alarmingly out of his control and he had found himself in the older man's bed and lost in a desire he had no defenses against.

So he had retreated yet again to avoidance. Heero frowned, recalling their encounter earlier in the day. He had been prepared - had steeled himself against any eventuality - and all it had taken was a few tenderly spoken words and an intimate caress and he was once again off balance and defenseless, trembling helplessly in the blonde's arms.

Why was it so difficult? He had never before faced such extensive failure - even in the beginning when he had found himself alone and in the care of a cold stranger. It should have been simple to ignore the tall aristocrat and especially the feelings Zechs aroused that Heero had spent a lifetime harnessing and neutralizing.

What was more, Heero found that with each passing moment his resolve to not succumb to those emotions was weakening. He even discovered that he was coming to actually enjoy Milliardo's company. He was drawn to the man in ways that were beyond his ability to understand. And now, he found himself on the verge of sharing his past with the large blonde.

And he didn't know why.

He was only aware of strange emotion and a need to reveal to Zechs a part of himself, which he had let no one else into.

A long time ago, when he was cold, and hunger was a constant ache in his belly, he had known happiness in the softness of his mother's arms. They had not survived on warm food and clean water then, but their love for each other. And Heero remembered those times when he was crying, frightened and almost delirious for want of nourishment, how she had always comforted him. And afterwards, when the hunger had been made bearable by the few scrapings she had been able to give him by foregoing her own satisfaction, how with a child's chagrin he had bemoaned his weakness - his inability to protect her. He remembered her kissing him and telling him to never be ashamed of himself or his feelings. And as they lay down to sleep she had whispered something, which he had not understood. She had told him that if he listened carefully to his emotions that he would never go wrong.

Heero glanced down at the corded power of Zechs' arms wrapped around him and his lips pursed thoughtfully. Perhaps it would not be such a terrible weakness to talk to this man now.

Slowly, with his eyes still fixed on some distant point on the horizon, Heero began to reveal the past that he had kept shielded within himself for so long.