Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Of Allies and Enemies ❯ Chapter 1

Of Allies and Enemies

by cozzybob

 

Rating: NC-17 (adults only!)

 

Pair: 1x4x1

 

Warning: slash lemon (m/m sex), angst, sap, language, more angst. Takes place shortly after episodes 25 and 26 (dubbed the Zero Incident)--ie many blatant spoilers for the series ahead. Slightly suicidal Quatre--but don't worry, it's nothing major. Honest. *is all innocent*

 

Note: Written for my beloved Dulin for her birthday! It has eaten my soul, even for a lemony oneshot. But pooh on that, it was for my D-chan! *grins* I love you dearest D-honey, and this was written just for you! *hands her a bucket of ice water just in case* Happy birthday my French goddess! Now write more Zero Four for me! Hehehe...

 

 

 

 

 

We haven't spoken for several days. Heero is not the type to hold a grudge against another, even at times like this... but he isn't sure what to say to me. Understandable. Even when I tell him that Trowa is not dead, that I know it, he is confused, unsure what to believe. He thought he knew me, he thought he understood me, and I proved him wrong. In some ways, he might even think that I lied to him--I let him believe that I was someone else entirely, even though it wasn't true. I know he's been quiet because he is trying to see me for what I am, now. He has been trying to decide whether I am an enemy or a friend, if he should fight me again, and kill me, or if he should let me live.

 

He isn't quite sure if that emotion he feels, that utter sadness and confusion, is simply the consequence of a lost comrade or... something else entirely. He doesn't understand. He doesn't know what to think. He isn't even sure if he wants to kill me anymore, something he should have done from the start. After all, he'd told me once that his enemies are the people who stand before him and threaten his life. I stood before him and threatened him, and that shot Trowa took was meant for Heero--a shot that I, in a blind moment of rage, wanted to make Heero dead.

 

He should have killed me. He tried to, but he should have finished it. I won that fight, in some ways, because I am still alive... but I know that he should have killed me. I wanted him to do it, I wanted him to end it. I wouldn't have minded if he did it, I might even still desire it now. I don't mind dying, after all... there is very little that I have to live for anymore. I've lost things, a lot of things, things that I didn't even realize I had until I didn't have them any longer. Things that hurt, things that I never want to think about ever again.

 

I might just let him kill me, if it comes to that. I wouldn't mind it at all.

 

But I don't think he will. He doesn't have it in him to kill me. He couldn't even kill Relena or Duo. He wouldn't kill me.

 

I'm too pathetic for that.

 

I shake, and then sigh. I'm cold. I'm sure that I'm shivering, but I can't tell. I feel distant. Alone.

 

We're both out on the beach again, under Relena's refuge in Sank. We share same soil and the same starry night overhead, Heero and I. I am staring up, looking for constellations to save me, and he is staring down, at me and my prone from, as he has done since we've gotten here. He is watching me as I regret my entire existence in the whole miserable universe.

 

It's quiet except for the rolling waves of the ocean, the gulls squawking at the water's edge, and the subtle kiss of sea breeze touching my face. My cheeks are cool in the wind because my tears have made them wet, and it feels like ice on my skin. I grit my teeth, let out a mild shiver, and look away from the sky. I turn over in the sand, and curl up slightly, as if preparing to go to sleep.

 

My back is to Heero, but I do not care. I'd welcome the knife, should he stick it there. Hell, I'd thank him.

 

But I don't care about anything. I lay like a dead thing in the sand, not even breathing, just being. I am still, and the silence is frozen around me. I am cold. Very cold...

 

And suddenly, his voice startles me so much that I shake. I cough, and find myself choking as I start to breathe again.

 

His words are strange. "I thought you said that Trowa isn't dead."

 

He sounds accusatory.

 

I don't turn around, but I'm confused and I don't bother to hide it from my face. "He is," I say cautiously. My thoughts spin in circles, my heart trembling in protest. There is a slight pain of regret, but I ignore it.

 

I realize dully that Heero's voice is confused, as if he doesn't understand why I could say so when I'm the one that got Trowa into that position in the first place.

 

He sounds almost naive, when he asks, "If Trowa is alive... why are you crying?"

 

My eyes widen a faction and I turn around, narrowing them darkly. I sit up and stare into those incredibly deep blue eyes of his, glaring, and he blinks back at me. I tremble suddenly, though not from the cold, and look away. I brush at my cheeks, the silent tears returning, and shake my head. "I'm not mourning for Trowa, Heero. I know Trowa will be fine, I can feel it. Can't you?"

 

He shakes his head, looking ever more confused.

 

Of course he can't feel it. I'm a freak, I'm the only one who ever feels anything like that.

 

I try to stop them, but the tears fall on their own, out of my control. I keep a straight face, ignoring them, and stare out at the sea and the moon resting overhead, illuminating the waves in milky white glory. I sigh heavily. My heart hurts so much, I just want to die and get it over with.

 

He shifts and tilts his head slightly. "But you're still crying," he says, and inches closer to me. He lifts a hand and I flinch away, but I still like a stone as he brings it to my face and catches a tear with the tip of his finger. He stares at it in the way a child stares at something magical. Empowered by awe.

 

He shakes slightly, and schools his face to numbness again. The tear is spread around his finger and thumb, as if wondering the feel of it.

 

"If you're not mourning... then why are you crying?"

 

The question angers me and I clench my teeth, feeling my fists curling before I can stop myself. I am very upset for just a moment, and then I automatically take a deep breath and release it out of my body, pretending as if it never existed. I was always trained to release my emotions, to let them go free. I grew up with heart problems and constant headaches, and any release of the overflow of emotions I constantly received from the space heart was a good thing. It's dangerous when you feel too much. Believe me, I know.

 

He stares at me, and I stare right back. I notice dully that I've stopped crying again and I distractedly wipe my eyes dry. I feel cold in places I'm sure I should never feel.

 

My soul is frozen.

 

"I never said I wasn't mourning, Heero."

 

"What is there to mourn if Trowa is alive?"

 

I slide away from him and hug one knee to my chest, the other curled under me. I stare at the moon while I grit my teeth out of random hatred. "You've got a lot to learn," I say.

 

He looks completely lost.

 

I hate it when he looks like that.

 

I sigh deeply and turn to him again, staring into those damned blue eyes as if cursed. I suddenly laugh a bit sourly. "Do you know what my father's last words to me were?"

 

"No." Perfectly monotonous.

 

"He said that he was running away."

 

There is silence for a while.

 

He speaks up first. "It wasn't your fault that your father died."

 

I spin to look at him. My voice is indignant. "I know that!"

 

He shakes his head. "I don't think you do," he says.

 

I become furious. What the hell would he know about it? What right did he have to speak about it, he had no idea what went on back there... no one knew, no one had a clue, hell even I wasn't sure what happened. That was something between my father and those fuckers on that miserable colony.

 

I wish I had killed them with Zero when I had the chance. I should have gotten them first... instead of killing a colony half-full of innocents that had nothing to do with it. It's not fair. I tremble in rage, my fists tightening. Thoughts encircle me, but I can say nothing, only seethe.

 

And then he asks me a question I never thought anyone would ever ask. "Do you think he was running away, Quatre?"

 

My head spins, and my vision blurs. I suddenly remember my father on that satellite, calling me an idiot, telling me to stay back as I clawed at the glass separating him from me and the rest of the damned universe, wanting to stop him, wanting him to listen to me, just this once. But he had been stubborn, and as always, he didn't listen. Not to me, not to anyone. He died a stubborn, deaf, crazy old man, and I feel that somehow it didn't even need to happen.

 

It wasn't fair. Not in the least. My father exiled me when I ran away to fight in a machine made for killing and destruction and massacre. He exiled me when I told him that it was the only way to make a difference and change the world--he exiled me when I left to do something that I believed in for myself and no one else, something that was going to make me me, and when I came back to see him again for the first time since I left that damned colony, his first words of greeting were only that I was a horrible son, and he was ashamed of me. And yet he died on that satellite, sacrificing himself for something that he believed in, and somehow, that's okay. Killing himself for something so pointless, so foolish...

 

He died telling me not to pilot a gundam ever again, and look what I did. I fucking built one and destroyed an entire colony worth of people with it. Aren't I the sweet one? He must be proud, I'm sure.

 

It's not fair, what he did. He died for something that he believed in, he risked everything for that thing that made him who he was, and it was exactly what I had done when I left for the war. He left the world shaming me for it. He became a martyr for the very reason he exiled me from my own family. If there was something he had been running from, it was his own son. He didn't even tell me that he loved me. He just told me that he was running away, and then he died. It isn't fair.

 

I clench my fists and shrug very carefully. When Heero still waits for an answer, I finally say, "Yes, Heero. He was a coward. It's Winner tradition."

 

And I stand up and walk away.

 

**

 

Heero follows me back to my room. I close the door in his face. When he knocks, I don't answer, and realizing that I won't give in, he opens the door with pure gall and walks into my room as if he owns it. He marches up to me, his eyes strangely glittering. He looks... concerned, if that is possible. Worried, even.

 

I find myself snorting, and I collapse on the bed, shoving a pillow into my face. I curl up and wish he would just go away. If I ignore him, maybe...

 

"I don't understand you, Winner."

 

...not.

 

He sits himself down on my bed, and I feel the mattress give to his weight.

 

I growl at him from deep in my throat. "Fuck off," I growl, but I don't get up to push him away.

 

And he does no such thing. "How could your father be a coward if he raised someone as frightening as you?"

 

I shift, pulling the pillow away, and look at him. His face is honest, his eyes almost amused. I think, but I can't be sure, that he is smirking at me.

 

I dignify him no response.

 

He tilts his head slightly, and grunts, folding his arms across his chest. It is obvious by this point that he is not going to leave until I answer his damned question.

 

I shrug, losing all anger, and collapse onto the bed again. With a muffled voice, I whisper, "I don't know, Heero. I don't really care."

 

"You're sure?"

 

I groan. Why is Heero getting introspective on me? Why does he give a damn about what goes on inside of my head? Is this his way of slowly killing me? "Please go away," I whine.

 

But he says, "No."

 

Damn it. I should be furious. Instead, I just sigh, resigning to cruel fate.

 

His body shifts, leaning closer to me. I itch to pull away from him, but I don't, I just wait, unsure. His voice is thoughtful from above. "For a while, I thought you were my enemy. I had... feelings, ones that I didn't understand, and it made my focus unclear. It angered me a great deal when you hurt Trowa. He was a... friend. A good friend. But..." There is a long pause, and I know it is hard for Heero to word the thoughts flowing through his mind. I can almost see the furrow in his brow as he concentrates a bit too hard, trying to spit it out.

 

He continues in a subdued voice. "...But when I saw those tears, I... I felt other things. I don't understand what they mean, they make me feel funny, almost sick, and I just... Quatre, I think..."

 

I can't resist the urge to roll my eyes and I spin around to look at him. But then I take a sudden breath when I notice how young he looks, so unsure, sitting above me. Frightened of his own emotions, you could say, simply because he doesn't understand them. He shakes and then looks away, muttering, "I hate it when you cry like that, like you did on the beach, Quatre. I hate it when you call yourself a coward, it makes me angry... and I just..." He looks at me again, and I am trapped, helpless, caught within the snare of his soul. "I thought I was angry because you hurt Trowa. But I believe you when you say that he is alive... when you say that you'll find him and that it will be fine again. There is no reason to be angry for Trowa, if he'll be okay. No, I think... I think I'm angry because you keep blaming yourself. You keep hurting yourself, Quatre, and I think... I think I hate that."

 

My eyes feel blurry and they start to sting. I fight against them, that swell of salt water, and eye him a funny look. I can't believe what he is telling me. I never once expected it. Not from him, anyway.

 

I tilt my head and ask, "Why does it bother you, Heero?"

 

He stares at me, his mouth stuck open as he struggles to answer such a simple question. He doesn't know. He isn't sure.

 

I take a dangerous hunch and lean in very close, intruding on his space. He doesn't back away, and with a smile so subtle it might have not existed, I brush my lips to his forehead, kissing him there very lightly. And would you believe me, god of all gods, that he leans in toward me just the slightest bit and makes a sound so damned... innocent, like the boy he's supposed to be? I can't stop my brows from rising to the back of my skull, but he doesn't see it, too busy staring down at the open palms lying limp in his lap.

 

I pull back and sit cross-legged. I feel oddly satisfied when his hand reaches out of its own accord to rest on my knee, his eyes never looking up to watch. He says nothing, and I ask him yet again, expecting an answer this time.

 

"Why does it bother you when I hate myself, Heero?"

 

He shrugs very slightly. "You're better than that," he says, his voice gruff.

 

I am intrigued. "Why am I better? What is it about me that's better?"

 

I want him to say it. I know it, I can feel it, I'm the empath, remember? But I want him to say it. I want him to get it out all on his own.

 

I want him to understand what he feels, and then admit it.

 

But he says nothing for a very long time. He stares at me, as if counting all the lines of my face, the exhaustion in my eyes, the hatred of dark memories in my mouth. He frowns when he answers, "Everything."

 

And then I frown with him. "Everything?"

 

He nods and then shrugs again. "Everything," he says.

 

"Heero you do..." I swallow suddenly, my throat utterly dry. I notice how his skin gleams like some otherworldly creature in the light of the moon floating through my bedroom window. His eyes are shining as he stares back at me, and I struggle to finish what I started.

 

"Heero...do you... like me?"

 

"Like?" He asks the word as if unsure as to what it means.

 

I nod.

 

He frowns. "I don't know," he says, perfectly honest. "I've never liked anyone before."

 

"It's a little odd to like the man that almost killed your best friend, don't you think, Heero?"

 

He shrugs yet again. He doesn't care. Of course he wouldn't, what should he care about would-be murderers and the ever present possibility of death, even if it just so happens to be his best friend? Avenge and move on, that is his entire world.

 

He doesn't care. I feel elated for some reason, and then sigh raggedly. "You shouldn't like me, Heero," I distress, my voice raw. "I always hurt the people that I like. I don't mean to do it, but it happens, and I--"

 

He leans in suddenly, pushing me back down on the bed with a bounce. There is a low rumbling growl, and he straddles either side of me, putting his lips to my mouth. For the time in my entire life, I am kissed by another boy in that way. And then I kiss him back.

 

I love it.

 

I wrap my arms around his body, and he pulls into me, clumsily digging his tongue into my mouth like a horny virgin at his last hours on Earth. He makes a soft sound, almost a whimper, not quite a whine, and dumps his body all over me, pushing his thigh between my legs, his unquestionable manhood pressing against my hip. He clutches my face, tipping my head back, and plunders like a diver into the very depths of my soul.

 

I have my fingers in his hair, tightened into fists, as I pull him down and drank from him. It is a clumsy, passionate kiss, but fucking god, he tastes so good. I wince when our teeth clash, and we both pull back in the barest seconds before going at it again, trying to eat each other alive. When we finally separate, choking like a pair of fish stuck out of water, our lips are swollen glossy red and there is slobber all over our faces. I smile stupidly and wipe it away with the back of my hand, laughing under my breath. I sit up and cross my legs, sliding out from under him. He leans back and watches me, smirking as he breathes through his nostrils. His smirk is so irresistible that I pounces on him again and chew his lips, dragging my tongue along them before diving back inside of his mouth. He relaxes under me and plunders back into my own mouth, and we fight our war all over again.

 

His hand slides under my shirt. I slide my own under his at the same time. His hand gropes blindly, feeling his way in the dark to a single dusky nipple, and finding it, he pinches cruelly. I jerk back, startled, and then smile a dark smile that Heero Yuy himself gives a moment of fear for. My hand under his shirt drags all the way to the neck hole, and I bend my arm, yanking awkward to roll the shirt up and off his body in one swift movement. I waste no time in feasting on his erect little nipples, dragging a tongue across the left one before swallowing the right one and biting down on it gently. Heero cranes his neck so far back I thought for a moment it would snap off, and he makes that soft little whimper again, slightly louder, his back arching. His fingers aren't idle, still wandering around under my shirt, teasing me relentlessly while they explore, and when I bite down, his thumbs press down on both of mine simultaneously, and I have to bit him again out of circumstance. By the time we get through that part of the story, I am extremely hard, and his nipples are swollen and wet and so sensitive that when I hardly breathe over them, he starts breathing funny.

 

I lick and suck my way down his abdomen, and his hands trail up to my hair, fingering the blonde locks that always fall into my eyes no matter what I do with it. I look up at him, his eyes glazed over in a strange kind of euphoria, and I know here and now that I will do anything he wants, be that mass murder or a simple slice of heaven, should he ask of it. I can't resist my smile when I bend back down and drag my tongue along the waistband of those nothing-left-to-the-imagination spandex shorts, and he groans low in his throat.

 

I palm him, feeling the rock solid heat there, and he rubs against me instinctively, trying to find release. His hands itched down to join me, but I slap them away and smile at him as sweetly as I can manage.

 

He whimpers again, and I have to breathe through my teeth in order to not maul him like an animal and eat him from the inside out.

 

"We're all a bunch of poster boys for the psyche ward, Heero... we're messed up, and there's no denying it." I huff sourly, amused in a dark sort of way, and continue to tease him through his thin shorts, scratching lightly. His arms grope at his sides, moving up and down, clawing at the sheets, grabbing at his hair, doing anything to obey my silent command not to touch himself. It is an endearing thought that he'd obey me so easily, but in some ways, Heero is like that.

 

I know that if I push him enough, he'll lose all control to hell and pin me down on the bed, switching dominance to fuck me raw, but that is all in the excitement of it. Heero is dangerous and disturbingly fragile at the same exact time, and if you don't know what you were doing, you could get yourself killed trying to love him.

 

I bend down, chew at his left nipple for a few seconds just to hear that soft little sound he makes, and then lick apologetically. I sit up, messaging that nipple with my left hand while my right is still between his legs, driving him absolutely insane. Sweat pours down his body, and he writhes, breathing hard.

 

He says nothing.

 

I smile again. I cannot tell you if it is sweet or deadly, I just know that Heero can't look away when I do it.

 

"...But we've both got what the other needs, don't we Heero? I need someone to tell me the truth," I say. "I need someone to release me of the guilt and self-loathing that has ruled my entire life, so that I can be free. I need someone to love, and someone that will love me in return." His hand reaches for my face, and he sits up to kiss me. It's gentle and soothing, and he pulls away, satisfied, before landing back down on the bed with a thump. I smile down at him, a bit brighter, and continue to palm his groin. "You're an honest man, Heero, and you'll tell me what I need to hear, even if I don't want to listen. But you don't always know how to say it... you need someone to teach you. Would you like me to teach you, Heero? Do you want to know what that feeling is, the one that makes your stomach hurt? Do you trust me? I'll show you if you trust me..."

 

The hand between his legs trails up and fingers curl under the waistband, resting there. The hand at his nipple stops, ghosting downward to join its partner. Heero freezes for just a second, before he swallows hard and says in a rough voice, "Yes," and nothing else.

 

I grin and nuzzle my face between his legs. His eyes shut tight, and he breathes through his teeth. Without looking up, I whisper an order.

 

"Think nothing, Heero. Just feel."

 

I pull his shorts down with his underwear, and his sex springs free with a sigh of relief. I palms my own erection for a few seconds, driven mad with desire, and then close in on the head with the tip of my tongue. I put my mouth around it, and Heero cries out, and when I suck in hard, drawing the sweet essence from his body, he gargles a strange string a words I can hardly understand, but think to be the most beautiful sound in the entire universe. I release him and then drag my tongue along the vein underneath, pausing just under the head where all the endings bundle together. He groans again, choking on something that sounds mysteriously like a plea, and I feel his hands returning to my hair, pushing me down, trying to get me to do something, anything to release the ache in his groin. I shove his hands away, slapping them again, but he just comes back, trying to force me with his inhuman strength.

 

He stops when I bite the inside of his thigh. Hard.

 

I kiss my way down the underside of his sex when he finally relaxes again, spreading his legs as wide as I can get them while I attack the skin between his cock and balls. With this, he looks about ready to climax, so I pull the sacred orbs down with gentle fingers, forcing them to stay put. Heero whimpers, breathing very hard, and when I look up to check on him, there are tears on the very edges of his eyes. He is staring at the ceiling, biting his lip, his hands fisted into the sheets as he tries very hard not to reach down and shove me out the way so he can finish it for himself. It is such an erotic sight that I almost lose control, and I have to swallow my need, putting Heero first, remembering my promise to show him what he wants to understand.

 

A voice suddenly tells me that this is only another way to forget about what I did and all the regrets that I carry after my father's death. I immediately shove the bitterness away and then tell that voice, an echo of my own, that it isn't true. Once Heero understands, he can give me what I need. But I have to give him what he needs, first. He has to understand.

 

With that, I take one ball into my mouth, cherishing it slowly, thoroughly, and then the other. Heero is hyperventilating, and if he isn't Heero-who-set-his-own-leg-and-freaked-out-Duo-so-much-that-I-never-heard-th e-end-of it-Yuy, I might be worried. Instead, I simply smile and put my hands around the backs of his knees, pushing up to expose one hell of a perfect piece of ass. I continue licking, giving special attention to his sac, which I pull and play with gleefully, making Heero growl. Then I move beyond that, ever slowly, trailing my away at the base of the crack of his ass, teasing relentlessly. When Heero whimpers again, softly, I drag my tongue up the line between the globes, and nip at the base of his spine. I kiss one half, and the other, before going directly for his tight little hole and eating it alive.

 

Heero cries out, knees jerking as I hold them back, and I stick my tongue in, pushing relentlessly until it finally inches just the barest breath inside. There is a long low moan from the body ensnared by my mouth, and I pull back, lowering his hips again as I go back to his cock. He is so hard, he looks purple, and I have to lick the tip just to tease him a little bit more.

 

He chokes, tears finally falling down his face, and begs, "Please."

 

I don't want him to beg. He should never need to beg me anything.

 

I swallow him and he screams. He spills into my mouth and I drink eagerly from him, savoring the taste because it is so different from what I'd ever tasted before. It seems like honey, almost... not quite, not really... it has an edge to it, sharp, and the texture is wrong, but it reminds me of honey, and I love every last drop of it. When he finishes, he collapses, panting harshly, bangs clinging to his forehead in sweat. His skin is like molten lava and I run my fingers over it, absorbing the heat, sucking it in through my fingertips. His eyes are closed, and I kiss his lashes, tracing down his jaw to plunder softly into his mouth. He kisses back lazily, still dazed, a small, shy smile dressed across his face that I have never once seen him wear before, but seems so incredibly apart of him, I cannot become surprised by it. I kiss the edges of his mouth, and lay down beside him. He wraps arms around me, his sweat-soaked forehead resting on my shoulder as he pants like a dog in July.

 

"That was good," he says. "Did you ever do that before?"

 

I shake my head and smile stupidly. "No," I say. "I haven't."

 

He raises an eyebrow, dazed, and barks out the rough edges of a laugh. He grunts. "Figures."

 

I just shrug and grab his ass, pressing my still-very-much-alive need into his naked thigh. He laughs again, this time in earnest, and I have to smile because it is the first time I have ever heard Heero Yuy laugh so... cheerfully, before.

 

He pushes me down again and sits up over me, putting hands on either side of my head. I stare up at him with a smirk across my face, and he just smirks right back at me, with a plan of his own. Looking downward, I notice that has he definitely recovered, and is working his way to being tremendously so. I am impressed.

 

"Your turn," he says gruffly. He presses fingers against my arousal still locked in the confines of my pants, and I throw my head back and groan. He laps at my neck, biting down and sucking, leaving marks, before muttering, "It's not fair that you can wear all these clothes, Quatre..." He bites down on my earlobe and I shudder. "You'll need to be naked to be honest to me..."

 

He proceeds to undress me.

 

One by one the buttons of my shirt slid through their buttonholes, easing fabric apart to expose more and more of my chest. Heero's mouth follows his fingers wherever they go... down down down, until finally both nipples are exposed and he eats them alive.

 

I make funny sounds. I can't say what they are, but I know that I make them, and I know that when I do it, Heero's mouth becomes ever-more passionate on top of me. There is a swelling deep in my chest that aches, and my groin is so hard it hurts. Pleasure thrums, delicious pain fettering me to Heero's attention, and my eyes slip closed as I just let myself enjoy it, becoming a being of feeling and nothing else.

 

One hand slips between my legs again and teases me. I make more sounds, and I choke, trying to breathe as the oxygen seems to have slipped out of my brain entirely. I feel burning sweat running down the back of my neck, down my face, down my belly, into the shallow crevices of my skin. Once the shirt is completely unbuttoned and fallen to either side of me, his free hand trails in that sweat, feeling it, making designs in it, torturing me with the slow cruelty of sensation. And then suddenly, his mouth is gone from my nipple and up against my ear, where he asks, "No lube?"

 

I shake my head, eyes deserted, because that is all I can do. His other hand joins the first between my legs, and together they undo my pants where slips it down with my underwear. I breathe a sigh of relief when the ache between my legs is finally free, but then I suck the air back in again when Heero's hands grab at it, funneling it, stroking up and down very slowly.

 

I bite my lip, seething, and whine at him. "Please, Heero, do something..."

 

I have been hard for far too long, and I want relief. But Heero just smirks against my ear, licking along the underside of my jaw, and says, "There are a lot of ways we could end this..." He presses his naked groin, fully hard, against my leg, humping shallowly. He nibbles on my earlobe, continuing his thoughts while I grope for sanity. "...or we could never end it all..." My eyes widen and I shake my head, little voiceless 'nos' echoing my lips, over and over. Heero kisses them, laughing under his breath. "...or I could simply ask you 'bottom or top' and we could fuck like history..." I grin. I try to tell him that I want bottom, but Heero bites my lower lip, his fingers teasing the head of my groin, and I groan loudly instead. "...but that isn't what you need, and that isn't what I want... not yet..."

 

He flips over, crawling down my body, his mouth pleasuring random patches of skin along the way. When he stops, his head is just inches before my wet, red, aching erection, and I am staring up at his own standing proudly before my face with a hunger I never thought I'd have in my entire life. Heero speaks not a word as he engulfs me. I say something like "godallah" before swallowing down his own, loving every minute of it.

 

It is the oddest, most erotic sensation. Sweet, forever loving sex washes it's way through my body, stimulated and teased and sucked and loved by Heero's mouth, while I do the same for him, returning what he gives me as tenfold as I could possibly make it. Before I know what we are doing, we end up competing against one another, teasing and torturing as best we can while the other holds back so he could tease just a little bit more. He darts me a look that says, "I bet you'll come before me," and his mouth hums around me, vibrating my very soul. I scream around his, and then toy with his sac, until we are both so completely crazed with desire that neither is thinking very clearly at all.

 

I couldn't tell you who came first or what we did to make each other come, but we came and we did it hard, so much that I black out for a few seconds, the overflow of pain, pleasure and emotion drowning me in a tidal wave. I feel Heero's breath panting very clearly against my sensitive organ, and groaning, I pull away, flopping onto my back to stare at the ceiling. I can feel a smile on my lips, but I don't really care to notice it, just sitting there, basking in the glow, lost in a moment where my father, a dead colony and Trowa's fate cannot bring me down.

 

But then eventually, it does return. It returns hard, slamming me like a boulder, and I roll over, burying my face into the pillow. I am not crying--I fight against it like nothing else, but I come very close, and the pain in my heart strokes fires I don't want to feel. My chest hurts, my soul throbs, my heart beats painfully. I breathe shallowly, seeing only my father on that satellite bathed in a sea of red, white and orange, flames engulfing him. I smell only the gunshot powder that killed Iria as she dies for me back in that shuttle, and I hear only Trowa's deafening silence over the coms, so quiet, and I feel only the sudden death of thousands of innocent people, hatred burning through my veins as they all vanish, every single one of them, under the heat of Zero's buster rifle.

 

And then I feel arms wrap around me, a body covering my own, a chaste kiss of lips in my hair. I spin, clinging unto him, and ride the anguish as best that I can. It hurts so much that I want to die, still wanted to die, but his voice is a salve to my wounds, and I can't help but to appreciate him for it.

 

"I wasn't sure where to go," he says softly, suddenly, his voice almost nonexistent. "I thought the colonies were my allies. But they're my enemies now. And yours too." Arms tighten when I shake uncontrollably, my breath hitching. "But I remember now. I'd just forgotten. My enemies are those who stand before me and try to kill me. My allies..." He pauses, nuzzling my hair with his cheek. "My allies are those who stand behind me, and try to save me."

 

I look up to him, and I find that his eyes are sparkling strangely. I smile then, shaken, and brush a hand down his cheek, staring up at him.

 

He whispers, "Will you save me, Quatre?"

 

I put my head back down on his shoulder and closed my eyes. Our legs entwine, our souls become one, if just for a small instant. I keep smiling.

 

"Only if you save me," I answer. And I mean it.

 

--Fini