Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Renouncing Rituals ❯ Chapter 3
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: KentraShinataku02 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Hentai / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.23.2003 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.3K | Visits: 430 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Hentai / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.23.2003 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.3K | Visits: 430 | Status: Completed
Title: Renouncing Rituals
Author: Kentra Shinataku
Anime: Gundam Wing
Pairings: 2x5x2
Archive: http://www.deathandpassion.vze.com
Category: Romance/Drama
Rating: R/NC-17
Spoilers: None.
Warning: AU, prostitution, language, angst-ish, past NCS, citrus,
probably some `Fei-torture (or mentions of it…)
Disclaimer: I don't own Duo or `Fei. Get it? Got it? Great, now we
can get along. I will be owning the OC's, but hey, they're not a
huge part in this story, they're just there for the plot. ::shrug::
Feedback: You betcha, positive and negative are both encouraged and longed for and all that jazz.
Summary: Duo's lonely lifestyle seems to only bring him pain, not
the love he's longing for. When he encounters a dancer in a night
club, will he be rewarded with true love, or just more pain?
**********
Renouncing Rituals: Part Three
The shady, bleak sand hid his feet and hands beneath it’s dusty outer layer, the moon illuminating a pathway over the steady black rolling water and highlighting his own facial features. His hair fell halfway braided, the lower strands drifting in the wind, ending up splayed behind him on the sand. The sounds of the waves gave him a tranquil mind, though he wasn’t usually one for sappy ideas like that. He frequented coastal locations, though, when he chose ‘homes’ because of the ocean, despite the heat, which he was none too fond of.
But no matter what spell the dark waves laid over him, tonight his mind was woven too deeply in the enchantment that called himself Wufei. He still couldn’t believe somebody could live that way. He chewed on a dull fingernail that had been chewed down far too many times and made a face of disgust at the metallic taste of chipping black nail polish. He definitely had to quit putting things like that in his mouth.
He scolded himself for being so drawn with the man. He had only just met him and though their conversation had extended for some time, it wasn’t grounds for a relationship. He didn’t know him. Besides, he tried to persuade himself, he was just a dancer. He couldn’t fall in love with him. But his mind counteracted that thought almost immediately. Wufei may have been shy and reserved, but it was unfair to call him incapable of love. Actually, Duo was surprised when the young man revealed wit and intelligence.
Which made him even more curious about his situation. A man like him could easily have a college education and a steady job, but instead he was desperate for every dime he could fit in his leather pocket and engaged in derogatory work. Duo would have loved to ask, but every mention of the job and Wufei shied away from him. The last thing he wanted to do was push on a first encounter.
First encounter? What was he thinking? There wouldn’t _be_ a second encounter. The man’s life was none of his business. He didn’t know him, it didn’t matter. He had to get him out of his mind. It wasn’t right to think so much about someone, no matter if that someone had elegantly arched obsidian eyes and a golden-tanned body that moved with more fluidity than water. He had fallen for meaningless physical seduction before, and though that boy, as they had been at the time at only 18, became his first and only serious lover, the relationship had only lead to horrible pain on his behalf. He definitely tried to avoid such pain when humanly possible, which, thus far, was working pretty damn well if he did say so himself.
Though, there happened to be a tiny hitch in that seemingly perfect plan: loneliness. And the fear nagging the back of his mind that fixing that little problem was going to cost him all the money he had accumulated in his sizeable bank account. Not that he was lacking in that department by any stretch of the imagination; he could probably buy out the shabby hotel in which he had taken up current residence if he really wanted, but he was planning on moving around until he could find a loving partner in his solitude. However, by keeping every possible candidate for the role close enough to fuck but too far to bond, he had a sinking feeling he’d be ‘homeless’ in his own way for a long time to come.
And as important as this issue was, his slightly lacking attention span was once again spinning his thoughts into fantasies of heated copper skin against his own and a wild, fearless glaze highlighting passionate eyes slanted in a charcoal hue.
A shiver raced just beneath the surface of his skin and he realized it wasn’t just from the images poisoning his mind, as lovely a poison as it could be, but the breeze streaming in over the water had taken a definite turn toward chill and was growing in strength, which also meant annoying sand burn on the inches of his exposed skin. He figured that he should possibly check the weather channel once in a while so that he could be as smart as the other beach goers and stay indoors when a storm was blowing in. Besides, as he glanced at the bulge between his legs, he heard a hot shower and his friendly hand calling his name.
+
Humidity is really a bitch, he decided defiantly, running a brush through his hair again and again. Two hours ago he had emerged from the steamy bathroom sated and graced the lonely hotel room with his nude presence, and his hair, though always time consuming, hadn’t even begun to dry.
Some crappy romance movie was on the television, and since he didn’t feel like wasting his money on pay-per-view or killing his time on anything productive, he endured the unrealistic, sappy crap that polluted the screen. It was so stupid, he knew, but just watching it was prodding the painful ache just behind the hole in his empty heart. He wanted that love so badly, something more than just a one night stand, something based on a truly intellectual level.
After a while, the pain numbed like it always did, and he was tired, tired of the loneliness, tired of the scars of the past, tired of thinking. He eventually drifted to sleep leaning over the back of the chair, his legs entwined around the wood.
+
An annoying beep startled him from his uncomfortable position so much that he nearly fell out of the chair. The first thing that sprang to his mind was that his hair was still wet, but the half that was dry had turned into a monster of living frizz. Well, his _very_ first thought was something along the lines of ‘What the _hell_ is that sound?!’, but it didn’t take long to realize that it was his watch alarm. Which shouldn’t be a surprise, of course, because he had to go to his lame ass job at Bojangles [1] today. He really didn’t need the extra money yet, but it was something _normal_ for him; he wasn’t exactly normal in any sense of the word. Somebody _normal_ wouldn’t sell off multiple plots of valuable property, cars worth more than his own life, and even servants to run off in pursuit of some invisible romance. Most young men would do anything before giving up that lifestyle or one remotely resembling it. Most young men like that, though, could easily find young girls who would flock to him for his wealth. Duo didn’t want girls, and he didn’t want somebody who couldn’t see past his money. That wasn’t a life.
He scooped his tresses into a loose braid, trying to flatten the monster that called itself hair and methodically dressed himself in his yellow and red work uniform which screamed something comfortably nestled halfway between ‘I’m gay’ and ‘I’m poor’. He didn’t grab any breakfast; a lunch of work’s fried chicken would have enough calories to carry him through _two_ days. He finished off his sloppy look by spreading his habitual chap stick over his lips and tucked it securely in his back pocket before setting out on foot down King’s Highway [2]. Ten minutes on foot was normal in this town.
+
He sprawled himself over a folding chair in the break room and brushed his bangs away from his eyes for what must have been the billionth time in the four hours he’d been working. The temperature had climbed to unbearable height, about one hundred and six degrees, and not for the first time he caught himself wishing he had the ambition to move to a cooler area like Washington or Colorado or Wyoming. He hadn’t ever left the east, being born and raised in Massachusetts, and was sort of reluctant to do so yet in his two years of travel. But heat like this really drove him insane and the air conditioning was broken, yet again, leaving him with a cheap little fan and the feeble breeze that floated through the drive thru window.
Luckily for him, the break room was a lower level of it’s own and had three large floor fans. It was also empty. He worked in a smaller restaurant of the branch, where there were only six or so to a shift, and right now his pimply young comrades at the register, Cal, Kreu, and Rein, were up in the heat while he enjoyed every second of his twenty-five minute break. An empty room left his thoughts free to wander wherever they dared to go, and since they seemed to be steadily trekking back to the Asian beauty from last night, he figured that was a good thing.
It really bothered him that the seductive, catlike man with ebony eyes was on his mind so much, but he really couldn’t control it. He was sexy, intelligent, and practically scared out of his wits to live. There wasn’t much not to like about him.
He decided, then, that he had to see him again, just one more time.
+
The hair around his face was curling into chestnut ringlets even as he held it with a straightening iron, trying to tame it. Casting a scowl at the white bottle of de-frizzing product, he decided tonight to stop and get something new or move to a better climate. Cutting his long, satin strands wasn’t even an option; it was worth the hassle to know he had better hair than most of the girls who wanted to date him. Besides, it was one of those things his parents had always hated and he had kept in spite of them. His lover had made him keep it, too. It wasn’t worth it to cut his locks now.
He gave up on getting his stubborn hair straight and tossed the straightening iron into the bathroom sink in annoyance. Though his usual braid was flashy for a young man and never failed to win people over, a little variety was always in order. He contemplated the alternatives for a few moments before reaching for a little bag in which he kept his ’face highlighters’ as he liked to call his makeup and withdrew a sheer black ribbon edged in gold trim. He then pulled his hair into a low ponytail, fastening the ribbon in the band, and then braided it as usual, weaving the ribbon through his hair as he went, making it look like a streak of black lowlights. After securing the tail of the braid, he blew his hair dryer over it a few minutes, luckily with minimal frizz.
Then, dumping the contents of the makeup bag on the counter, he chose lip liner of such a deep crimson that it was very nearly black and a shimmering vanilla gloss to glaze the top, chocolate eyeliner that could have been edible, and a faint black glitter to ghost around his eyes. While dressing his still-boyish face, he wondered with an amused smile if the young girls at work would still be going after him if they saw him with makeup on. Their annoying swooning would probably turn to spiteful laughs of disgust. Unless gay guys turned them on... then he'd at least be able to have something in common with them.
He finished with his face and moved onto dressing the rest of his sensual body. After checking himself over thrice in the bathroom mirror and stuffing a sizeable wad of cash in his pocket, he headed down three flights of steps to the parking lot and set off on foot once again for his nightly ritual.
Any other night, he would have stopped to engage himself in petty conversation with the men who cast an interested, appreciative glance over his body, but not tonight. Tonight, his million dollar looks weren't for sale. He looked good-- better than usual, actually-- and he damn well knew it, but tonight he was saving the sexy sights for just one man.
**********
[1] Bojangles is a sort of fast food chicken place. They’re all over the freakin’ place in Myrtle Beach. I don’t really like chicken, but they have good mashed potatoes and cider, I must say.
[2] King’s Highway is one of the main roads that runs parallel to the beach. It has pretty much everything you need somewhere on the road.
**********
Author: Kentra Shinataku
Anime: Gundam Wing
Pairings: 2x5x2
Archive: http://www.deathandpassion.vze.com
Category: Romance/Drama
Rating: R/NC-17
Spoilers: None.
Warning: AU, prostitution, language, angst-ish, past NCS, citrus,
probably some `Fei-torture (or mentions of it…)
Disclaimer: I don't own Duo or `Fei. Get it? Got it? Great, now we
can get along. I will be owning the OC's, but hey, they're not a
huge part in this story, they're just there for the plot. ::shrug::
Feedback: You betcha, positive and negative are both encouraged and longed for and all that jazz.
Summary: Duo's lonely lifestyle seems to only bring him pain, not
the love he's longing for. When he encounters a dancer in a night
club, will he be rewarded with true love, or just more pain?
**********
Renouncing Rituals: Part Three
The shady, bleak sand hid his feet and hands beneath it’s dusty outer layer, the moon illuminating a pathway over the steady black rolling water and highlighting his own facial features. His hair fell halfway braided, the lower strands drifting in the wind, ending up splayed behind him on the sand. The sounds of the waves gave him a tranquil mind, though he wasn’t usually one for sappy ideas like that. He frequented coastal locations, though, when he chose ‘homes’ because of the ocean, despite the heat, which he was none too fond of.
But no matter what spell the dark waves laid over him, tonight his mind was woven too deeply in the enchantment that called himself Wufei. He still couldn’t believe somebody could live that way. He chewed on a dull fingernail that had been chewed down far too many times and made a face of disgust at the metallic taste of chipping black nail polish. He definitely had to quit putting things like that in his mouth.
He scolded himself for being so drawn with the man. He had only just met him and though their conversation had extended for some time, it wasn’t grounds for a relationship. He didn’t know him. Besides, he tried to persuade himself, he was just a dancer. He couldn’t fall in love with him. But his mind counteracted that thought almost immediately. Wufei may have been shy and reserved, but it was unfair to call him incapable of love. Actually, Duo was surprised when the young man revealed wit and intelligence.
Which made him even more curious about his situation. A man like him could easily have a college education and a steady job, but instead he was desperate for every dime he could fit in his leather pocket and engaged in derogatory work. Duo would have loved to ask, but every mention of the job and Wufei shied away from him. The last thing he wanted to do was push on a first encounter.
First encounter? What was he thinking? There wouldn’t _be_ a second encounter. The man’s life was none of his business. He didn’t know him, it didn’t matter. He had to get him out of his mind. It wasn’t right to think so much about someone, no matter if that someone had elegantly arched obsidian eyes and a golden-tanned body that moved with more fluidity than water. He had fallen for meaningless physical seduction before, and though that boy, as they had been at the time at only 18, became his first and only serious lover, the relationship had only lead to horrible pain on his behalf. He definitely tried to avoid such pain when humanly possible, which, thus far, was working pretty damn well if he did say so himself.
Though, there happened to be a tiny hitch in that seemingly perfect plan: loneliness. And the fear nagging the back of his mind that fixing that little problem was going to cost him all the money he had accumulated in his sizeable bank account. Not that he was lacking in that department by any stretch of the imagination; he could probably buy out the shabby hotel in which he had taken up current residence if he really wanted, but he was planning on moving around until he could find a loving partner in his solitude. However, by keeping every possible candidate for the role close enough to fuck but too far to bond, he had a sinking feeling he’d be ‘homeless’ in his own way for a long time to come.
And as important as this issue was, his slightly lacking attention span was once again spinning his thoughts into fantasies of heated copper skin against his own and a wild, fearless glaze highlighting passionate eyes slanted in a charcoal hue.
A shiver raced just beneath the surface of his skin and he realized it wasn’t just from the images poisoning his mind, as lovely a poison as it could be, but the breeze streaming in over the water had taken a definite turn toward chill and was growing in strength, which also meant annoying sand burn on the inches of his exposed skin. He figured that he should possibly check the weather channel once in a while so that he could be as smart as the other beach goers and stay indoors when a storm was blowing in. Besides, as he glanced at the bulge between his legs, he heard a hot shower and his friendly hand calling his name.
+
Humidity is really a bitch, he decided defiantly, running a brush through his hair again and again. Two hours ago he had emerged from the steamy bathroom sated and graced the lonely hotel room with his nude presence, and his hair, though always time consuming, hadn’t even begun to dry.
Some crappy romance movie was on the television, and since he didn’t feel like wasting his money on pay-per-view or killing his time on anything productive, he endured the unrealistic, sappy crap that polluted the screen. It was so stupid, he knew, but just watching it was prodding the painful ache just behind the hole in his empty heart. He wanted that love so badly, something more than just a one night stand, something based on a truly intellectual level.
After a while, the pain numbed like it always did, and he was tired, tired of the loneliness, tired of the scars of the past, tired of thinking. He eventually drifted to sleep leaning over the back of the chair, his legs entwined around the wood.
+
An annoying beep startled him from his uncomfortable position so much that he nearly fell out of the chair. The first thing that sprang to his mind was that his hair was still wet, but the half that was dry had turned into a monster of living frizz. Well, his _very_ first thought was something along the lines of ‘What the _hell_ is that sound?!’, but it didn’t take long to realize that it was his watch alarm. Which shouldn’t be a surprise, of course, because he had to go to his lame ass job at Bojangles [1] today. He really didn’t need the extra money yet, but it was something _normal_ for him; he wasn’t exactly normal in any sense of the word. Somebody _normal_ wouldn’t sell off multiple plots of valuable property, cars worth more than his own life, and even servants to run off in pursuit of some invisible romance. Most young men would do anything before giving up that lifestyle or one remotely resembling it. Most young men like that, though, could easily find young girls who would flock to him for his wealth. Duo didn’t want girls, and he didn’t want somebody who couldn’t see past his money. That wasn’t a life.
He scooped his tresses into a loose braid, trying to flatten the monster that called itself hair and methodically dressed himself in his yellow and red work uniform which screamed something comfortably nestled halfway between ‘I’m gay’ and ‘I’m poor’. He didn’t grab any breakfast; a lunch of work’s fried chicken would have enough calories to carry him through _two_ days. He finished off his sloppy look by spreading his habitual chap stick over his lips and tucked it securely in his back pocket before setting out on foot down King’s Highway [2]. Ten minutes on foot was normal in this town.
+
He sprawled himself over a folding chair in the break room and brushed his bangs away from his eyes for what must have been the billionth time in the four hours he’d been working. The temperature had climbed to unbearable height, about one hundred and six degrees, and not for the first time he caught himself wishing he had the ambition to move to a cooler area like Washington or Colorado or Wyoming. He hadn’t ever left the east, being born and raised in Massachusetts, and was sort of reluctant to do so yet in his two years of travel. But heat like this really drove him insane and the air conditioning was broken, yet again, leaving him with a cheap little fan and the feeble breeze that floated through the drive thru window.
Luckily for him, the break room was a lower level of it’s own and had three large floor fans. It was also empty. He worked in a smaller restaurant of the branch, where there were only six or so to a shift, and right now his pimply young comrades at the register, Cal, Kreu, and Rein, were up in the heat while he enjoyed every second of his twenty-five minute break. An empty room left his thoughts free to wander wherever they dared to go, and since they seemed to be steadily trekking back to the Asian beauty from last night, he figured that was a good thing.
It really bothered him that the seductive, catlike man with ebony eyes was on his mind so much, but he really couldn’t control it. He was sexy, intelligent, and practically scared out of his wits to live. There wasn’t much not to like about him.
He decided, then, that he had to see him again, just one more time.
+
The hair around his face was curling into chestnut ringlets even as he held it with a straightening iron, trying to tame it. Casting a scowl at the white bottle of de-frizzing product, he decided tonight to stop and get something new or move to a better climate. Cutting his long, satin strands wasn’t even an option; it was worth the hassle to know he had better hair than most of the girls who wanted to date him. Besides, it was one of those things his parents had always hated and he had kept in spite of them. His lover had made him keep it, too. It wasn’t worth it to cut his locks now.
He gave up on getting his stubborn hair straight and tossed the straightening iron into the bathroom sink in annoyance. Though his usual braid was flashy for a young man and never failed to win people over, a little variety was always in order. He contemplated the alternatives for a few moments before reaching for a little bag in which he kept his ’face highlighters’ as he liked to call his makeup and withdrew a sheer black ribbon edged in gold trim. He then pulled his hair into a low ponytail, fastening the ribbon in the band, and then braided it as usual, weaving the ribbon through his hair as he went, making it look like a streak of black lowlights. After securing the tail of the braid, he blew his hair dryer over it a few minutes, luckily with minimal frizz.
Then, dumping the contents of the makeup bag on the counter, he chose lip liner of such a deep crimson that it was very nearly black and a shimmering vanilla gloss to glaze the top, chocolate eyeliner that could have been edible, and a faint black glitter to ghost around his eyes. While dressing his still-boyish face, he wondered with an amused smile if the young girls at work would still be going after him if they saw him with makeup on. Their annoying swooning would probably turn to spiteful laughs of disgust. Unless gay guys turned them on... then he'd at least be able to have something in common with them.
He finished with his face and moved onto dressing the rest of his sensual body. After checking himself over thrice in the bathroom mirror and stuffing a sizeable wad of cash in his pocket, he headed down three flights of steps to the parking lot and set off on foot once again for his nightly ritual.
Any other night, he would have stopped to engage himself in petty conversation with the men who cast an interested, appreciative glance over his body, but not tonight. Tonight, his million dollar looks weren't for sale. He looked good-- better than usual, actually-- and he damn well knew it, but tonight he was saving the sexy sights for just one man.
**********
[1] Bojangles is a sort of fast food chicken place. They’re all over the freakin’ place in Myrtle Beach. I don’t really like chicken, but they have good mashed potatoes and cider, I must say.
[2] King’s Highway is one of the main roads that runs parallel to the beach. It has pretty much everything you need somewhere on the road.
**********