Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Wayward Souls ❯ Entry 1: Like a Practiced Whore ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Xander B 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Angst / Romance | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 07.12.2008 | Updated On: 07.13.2008 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.1K | Visits: 740 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Angst / Romance | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 07.12.2008 | Updated On: 07.13.2008 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.1K | Visits: 740 | Status: Work In Progress
Wayward Souls
Warnings: Angst, swearing, LEMON, YAOI, OOCNESS, WAFF, prostitution, slight Relena-bashing, possible violence, Heero POV, darkness, violent sex, possible suicide attempts, drug/alcohol abuse, etc...
Disclaimer: I own nothing. God, I wish I did.
Author's note: I am writing this as a warning to any who are brave enough to read on, Heero is an asshole in this first entry and probably will be for some time. He may or may not get better, but it is all part of the winding plot. I'd appreciate if you would read on, but I am warning you now that it will be dark and very angsty.
Entry 1: Like a Practiced Whore
(Heero POV)
“Take me away,” the command was so soft, hardly more than a breath; it was more of a question really.
“To where?” I replied in question, staring at his darkly silhouetted figure standing in front of the curtainless windowsill. He shrugged his slim shoulders in a sign of nonchalance or perhaps indecision.
“Anywhere you like,” he elaborated, still gazing solemnly with dull-lit indigo irises up at the cloudy midnight sky. There were no stars, or at least it seemed that way, the light pollution of the bustling city casting a sickly orange hue up into the sky. I watched him silently, taking in the slumped shoulders of his broken form, the hollowness of his eyes.
“I can't,” I said after a few moments of quiet scrutiny, “I'm not even supposed to be here at all,” I continued in soft monotone. I can almost hear the tinkling of the shards of his delicate heart falling to the ground as the helpless organ breaks apart a little more. A silent tear escapes from the corner of one glittering eye, the lonely droplet sliding slowly over a too pale cheekbone. I knew that it was my fault that the tear had fallen, that it was my fault for his loneliness and the shattering of his tattered soul.
“Why?” he inquired lowly, his normally melodic voice shaking with the effort of holding back the rest of his salty tears. He already knew the answer to his own question. He'd asked the same one a thousand times before and the answer never changed. I'd told him the same words, the same reasons over and over again, but I wasn't angry when I repeated them each time.
“You know why,” I replied simply, not repeating the worn out explanation for once. I gazed at him, his face shadowed within the low light of the dingy room we stood in, a different, but similar room to all the others before it. So many times, I had met him like this, hiding him away like some kind of dirty little secret. I was pathetic, more pathetic than any other I'd ever met. I couldn't even bring myself to give him a proper answer.
“It's not fair,” he whispered, his voice barely there at all now as he pressed his fingertips lightly to the cold window pane, his glistening teardrop plummeting to the filthy windowsill with a gentle patter. I reached out to touch his bare shoulder, his ever-bound hair pulled over it and dangling over his lithe chest. He was too thin, his bones prominent beneath the smooth ivory skin. Goosebumps rose over the unblemished flesh as my warm hand closed on the bony shoulder. He shifted away.
“Don't,” he said, his voice forced frigid as he spoke the lone command. I reached for him again, not heeding the soft demand. I wrapped my muscled arms around the far too slight waist, my tan skin clashing with the whiteness of his own. He shivered, but didn't pull away. I could see his heart-shaped face in the reflective window pane. His eyes were downcast on the melancholy street below and his lips were chapped as he bit his bottom one harshly.
“Please don't do this,” he pleaded, full-well knowing that he would give in to me. Even as he struggled, he knew that he'd cater to my whims; he always did. I turned him within the unbreakable circle of my embrace. His beautifully unique eyes were closed, glimmering silver tears clung to the long, sooty lashes rimming his closed eyelids and drops trekked winding paths down his cheeks freely, no longer held back by his desperate efforts to keep them from me.
He didn't want to let me see his emotion, his weakness; he didn't want to admit it to himself. He gave into me after mere seconds, letting his smaller form mold to mine easily, familiarly. I lowered my lips to his dry ones, figuring that he was willing enough. He shuddered, his eyes tightening as he cried noiselessly into our shared kiss. The salt from his tears lingered on my tongue as I lapped at his mouth, forcing my way inside even as he opened the cavern to grant me reluctant access.
I felt my body heat as his tongue twined with mine inside his moist mouth. I nearly groaned, pressing him into the closed window roughly. He grunted in discomfort, but made no complaint, giving me complete control over him. I should have felt awful for it; I should have felt like some kind of monster for using him the way I did, for forcing him to accommodate my needs. I didn't feel anything, but his warmth and the press of his frame to mine, such a perfect fit. I wanted him again, just like all the other times before this, all the other faded rooms with their dirty windows and harsh outside lighting, their stained sheets and cracked bathroom tiles. Cheap rooms in cheap motels where no one would care to see who I was or who I met there, where no one would ask unwanted questions. I should have felt cheap, but I just felt him.
Somewhere deep within my mind, I knew that I shouldn't have been treating him this way, that he deserved so much better, but I buried those thoughts. I refused to be guilty for wanting him like this, for destroying him like I was every time I saw him. I was sure that he loved me too much to stop me. I was certain he wanted me just as badly. He would never turn me away. I knew it and I exploited it. It was so easy, so simple to fool myself into believing that he would be fine, that he could get over the things I did to him, that he could move on one I was finished. I was so foolish to think that I would be finished with him. I was never done with him. I always told myself each time would be the last, but it never was. I always craved him again.
I'd wait, denying myself for weeks, months even until I couldn't stop myself anymore, giving in to my primal urges and seeking him out. He always moved around, trying to lose me, I suppose, but I was too good. I always found him. I had too many connections that he couldn't outrun me forever. And every time I showed up at his door, his eyes would fade a little more, but the guilt wouldn't come, my mind too fogged with lust for him. He'd let me in and the cycle would begin all over again. It was always the same. He ran and I chased after him. Always.
I had her too, just where I wanted her. She wouldn't ask; she was so naive, so easy to lie to. She didn't even suspect where I went or what I did, so sure that I belonged to her, that I was so in love with her. Somewhere in my mind, a little voice would tell me how sick I must be for doing this to the both of them, but it was the only way to protect her absolutely and he would never leave me. He was bound to me; he'd never escape me completely. Relena needed the protection and I was obligated to give it to her. It only seemed right that I be her knight in shining armor. She seemed to think so too. Besides, I justified, I needed the release that he provided. I couldn't very well have my way with her, so he was a suitable substitute, at least that's what I deluded myself into believing.
I finally pulled away from his intoxicating lips, breaking only briefly for breath. I could see the depression in his gaze and I knew that I was the sole cause of it, but I ignored the obvious, opting to kiss him again instead. I refused to acknowledge the anguish in his indigo depths, closing my own Prussian eyes to block out the emotion pouring from his.
His hands on my chest pushed me back, breaking the lip lock again forcefully. He didn't retreat from my viselike embrace, but held my mouth back from closing over his once more. “Heero, you should go. Your princess will be waiting for you. Won't she be angry if you come home late again?” his voice was breathless and his lips were red and swollen from my brutal kiss as he spoke to me, trying to reason with me. He knew how to use her against me. I growled, but refused to let him go.
She would be waiting, but I hadn't told her how long I'd be out for. She wouldn't worry and she wouldn't ask when I made it home to her, as long as I wasn't gone too long, maybe only a few hours. That would be enough time to get what I wanted from him, what I'd come here for in the first place.
I moved in, trying to kiss him again. He pushed me away once more, desperately hoping to deter me. It was not going to work. I had made up my mind when he'd opened the door, looking bedraggled and completely lovely at the late hour. I licked my lips hungrily, remembering. His brows furrowed. I pressed closer, thrusting him back against the window painfully. He winced.
“Heero stop. Please go, just go,” his panicked voice only served to pique my arousal as I continued to pin him to the unforgiving glass. I leaned in, nipping his pale neck, up to his set jaw, tasting his sweat, the salty tang exciting me all the more. I wanted him something fierce, more so than I thought should be physically possible.
He and I both knew what was going to happen. We both knew where it would lead and we both knew that he would fight me only briefly. When he twisted out of my loose grip, I was prepared for it, grabbing him and slamming him back into the window, the elderly glass shuddering in its grungy frame. I smirked wolfishly at him, his eyes filling with trepidation and unhindered pain. He was trapped. He struggled in my arms futilely, fighting me until his strength waned, taking his will with it. He favored his left shoulder a bit, probably pulled something when I'd shoved him into the window again. He breathed heavily, nearly panting.
His body went limp finally as he gave in fully. I'd won. He submitted himself to me in that moment and I took him. I yanked his flimsy pajama pants off his hips, letting them drop to the floor, pooling around his ankles and leaving him completely bare to my gaze. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. My cock was so hard, it had begun to ache and I wanted him. He shivered with his back against the chill glass. I pinned him there, biting his neck and collarbone roughly, leaving angry red markings along the soft flesh. I kissed him harshly, meshing our lips together brutally. He groaned in half-pain, half-pleasure.
I forced him to step out of his abandoned pajama bottoms, spreading his milky thighs impatiently and making him tiptoe to seat himself partially on the dirty wood of the outcropping windowsill. He hissed at the coldness of it, but didn't complain, letting me guide him into the position I wanted. He was so pliable, like a doll. I really should have felt guilty at that point, but lust can blind even the most observant of us. He let me spread him like a practiced whore which I knew he was and I stepped between his open legs, the smoothness of them rubbing against my nude midriff, having already begun pulling my shirt off. I tossed the offensive garment across the room carelessly before unzipping my blue jeans and letting them fall halfway down my muscular thighs.
I convinced myself that he wanted this as much as I did while I spit on my hand and lubed my dick with the slick saliva. I hardly had time to think of anything better to use, assuming he'd still be stretched from his earlier customers. It wasn't like I was the only one he let fuck him; I just happened to be the only one he didn't charge. I wondered idly why that was.
I pushed the thought to the back of my mind as I positioned my erection at his entrance, uncaring of whether he was ready or not before thrusting inside of him. He yelped, his bare legs tightening about my waist compulsively. I hilted myself fully, the makeshift lubricant barely giving any leeway as my cock filled the tightness that shouldn't have been possible in a profession like his. He panted, his breathes coming in ragged gasps, his eyes screwed shut and his bottom lip held between his white teeth. I moaned just looking at him, even with great fat tears beginning to roll down his flushed face, he was breathtaking.
I thrust into him, disregarding his obvious discomfort and plowing forward, my fingers digging into his hips, bruising him easily. He cried out loudly, the tears still falling in transparent rivulets down his cheeks. I panted, pushing in and out of the tight channel roughly. He didn't waste much time bucking back against me, the tip of my penis brushing over his prostate repeatedly, even with the pain of my intrusion into him. He moaned, his hands curling into my hair, twisting the strands around his fingers. I wondered if he moaned like this for his customers. It made me furious thinking that he might.
It didn't take long for my climax to reach its peak, I shoved in as deeply as I could, wrapping a fist around his pulsing cock. He opened his lust-filled eyes, near violet with arousal. “Please don't,” he begged breathlessly. I didn't listen, stroking him in time with my now shallow thrusting, pulling him closer to the brink with me. Merely seconds passed before he was moaning out and trying to stifle it behind bitten lips. His heated semen shot up onto his stomach and over my hand. I grinned triumphantly before groaning with the impact of my own orgasm, coating his insides with sticky, pearly ejaculation.
I pulled away just moments later, letting my now flaccid penis slip from his body followed by a string of white sperm which slid sluggishly down his thighs. He stood shakily as I pulled my jeans back up, tucking my cock back inside their confines and searching around in the dim light for my earlier discarded shirt. I found it and pulled it on quickly, sparing him a glance.
He shuddered in the aftermath of our fucking, a translucent sheen of sweat covering his skin as his body quivered, bruises already forming on his hips, thighs and buttocks. I smiled, proud of the marks I'd marred him with. He didn't look at me, his beautifully broken eyes cast to the dingy carpet below his feet. Bloody semen leaked down his legs; I'd obviously been just a little to forceful with him than I should have been, but I didn't apologize. It's not like he hadn't enjoyed himself after all.
“Why? Why do you do this to me Heero?” he murmured just under his breath, his voice cracking with emotion, unshed tears glimmering in the blue-violet depths as he stared at the ground.
I didn't answer him, letting the repercussions of what I'd just done sink in. He just stood there by the window, trembling with his arms hugging his own slim torso. I didn't even look back at him as I moved towards the door, already regretting what had happened, but still feeling sated anyway. This part was the worst. The guilt was setting in and I'd need time to convince myself and justify the events in my mind. I pulled my shoes back on swiftly and placed a hand on the door handle, preparing myself to leave once again. I breathed a sigh, smelling the pungent odor of sex and sweat and the coppery tang of what had to be his blood.
It had happened again. I'd raped him so easily. He hadn't even fought me hard this time. I pushed the regret to the back of my thoughts, turning half-way to peer at his hunched form, still standing silhouetted by the naked window. “Goodbye Duo,” I spoke quietly, turning the handle and opening the door with a drawn out creak. I hardly heard what came from his lips next.
“I hate you,” it was barely more than a whisper, a sigh of heated breath, but it was there and I ignored it, letting the door close with a soft snick behind me as I went.
As Heero walked out the splintered door of the seedy motel room, he failed to see the long-haired boy collapse to the ground, his shoulders shaking with sorrowful sobs, his hands coming up to cover his sallow face. He hated the one he loved and there was nothing left to be done, but cry himself to sleep again.
TBC...
Reviews are always appreciated. I'd like some feedback on this one. I know how awful I've made Heero out to be, but it'll all work out in the end, I think.
Angel
Warnings: Angst, swearing, LEMON, YAOI, OOCNESS, WAFF, prostitution, slight Relena-bashing, possible violence, Heero POV, darkness, violent sex, possible suicide attempts, drug/alcohol abuse, etc...
Disclaimer: I own nothing. God, I wish I did.
Author's note: I am writing this as a warning to any who are brave enough to read on, Heero is an asshole in this first entry and probably will be for some time. He may or may not get better, but it is all part of the winding plot. I'd appreciate if you would read on, but I am warning you now that it will be dark and very angsty.
Entry 1: Like a Practiced Whore
(Heero POV)
“Take me away,” the command was so soft, hardly more than a breath; it was more of a question really.
“To where?” I replied in question, staring at his darkly silhouetted figure standing in front of the curtainless windowsill. He shrugged his slim shoulders in a sign of nonchalance or perhaps indecision.
“Anywhere you like,” he elaborated, still gazing solemnly with dull-lit indigo irises up at the cloudy midnight sky. There were no stars, or at least it seemed that way, the light pollution of the bustling city casting a sickly orange hue up into the sky. I watched him silently, taking in the slumped shoulders of his broken form, the hollowness of his eyes.
“I can't,” I said after a few moments of quiet scrutiny, “I'm not even supposed to be here at all,” I continued in soft monotone. I can almost hear the tinkling of the shards of his delicate heart falling to the ground as the helpless organ breaks apart a little more. A silent tear escapes from the corner of one glittering eye, the lonely droplet sliding slowly over a too pale cheekbone. I knew that it was my fault that the tear had fallen, that it was my fault for his loneliness and the shattering of his tattered soul.
“Why?” he inquired lowly, his normally melodic voice shaking with the effort of holding back the rest of his salty tears. He already knew the answer to his own question. He'd asked the same one a thousand times before and the answer never changed. I'd told him the same words, the same reasons over and over again, but I wasn't angry when I repeated them each time.
“You know why,” I replied simply, not repeating the worn out explanation for once. I gazed at him, his face shadowed within the low light of the dingy room we stood in, a different, but similar room to all the others before it. So many times, I had met him like this, hiding him away like some kind of dirty little secret. I was pathetic, more pathetic than any other I'd ever met. I couldn't even bring myself to give him a proper answer.
“It's not fair,” he whispered, his voice barely there at all now as he pressed his fingertips lightly to the cold window pane, his glistening teardrop plummeting to the filthy windowsill with a gentle patter. I reached out to touch his bare shoulder, his ever-bound hair pulled over it and dangling over his lithe chest. He was too thin, his bones prominent beneath the smooth ivory skin. Goosebumps rose over the unblemished flesh as my warm hand closed on the bony shoulder. He shifted away.
“Don't,” he said, his voice forced frigid as he spoke the lone command. I reached for him again, not heeding the soft demand. I wrapped my muscled arms around the far too slight waist, my tan skin clashing with the whiteness of his own. He shivered, but didn't pull away. I could see his heart-shaped face in the reflective window pane. His eyes were downcast on the melancholy street below and his lips were chapped as he bit his bottom one harshly.
“Please don't do this,” he pleaded, full-well knowing that he would give in to me. Even as he struggled, he knew that he'd cater to my whims; he always did. I turned him within the unbreakable circle of my embrace. His beautifully unique eyes were closed, glimmering silver tears clung to the long, sooty lashes rimming his closed eyelids and drops trekked winding paths down his cheeks freely, no longer held back by his desperate efforts to keep them from me.
He didn't want to let me see his emotion, his weakness; he didn't want to admit it to himself. He gave into me after mere seconds, letting his smaller form mold to mine easily, familiarly. I lowered my lips to his dry ones, figuring that he was willing enough. He shuddered, his eyes tightening as he cried noiselessly into our shared kiss. The salt from his tears lingered on my tongue as I lapped at his mouth, forcing my way inside even as he opened the cavern to grant me reluctant access.
I felt my body heat as his tongue twined with mine inside his moist mouth. I nearly groaned, pressing him into the closed window roughly. He grunted in discomfort, but made no complaint, giving me complete control over him. I should have felt awful for it; I should have felt like some kind of monster for using him the way I did, for forcing him to accommodate my needs. I didn't feel anything, but his warmth and the press of his frame to mine, such a perfect fit. I wanted him again, just like all the other times before this, all the other faded rooms with their dirty windows and harsh outside lighting, their stained sheets and cracked bathroom tiles. Cheap rooms in cheap motels where no one would care to see who I was or who I met there, where no one would ask unwanted questions. I should have felt cheap, but I just felt him.
Somewhere deep within my mind, I knew that I shouldn't have been treating him this way, that he deserved so much better, but I buried those thoughts. I refused to be guilty for wanting him like this, for destroying him like I was every time I saw him. I was sure that he loved me too much to stop me. I was certain he wanted me just as badly. He would never turn me away. I knew it and I exploited it. It was so easy, so simple to fool myself into believing that he would be fine, that he could get over the things I did to him, that he could move on one I was finished. I was so foolish to think that I would be finished with him. I was never done with him. I always told myself each time would be the last, but it never was. I always craved him again.
I'd wait, denying myself for weeks, months even until I couldn't stop myself anymore, giving in to my primal urges and seeking him out. He always moved around, trying to lose me, I suppose, but I was too good. I always found him. I had too many connections that he couldn't outrun me forever. And every time I showed up at his door, his eyes would fade a little more, but the guilt wouldn't come, my mind too fogged with lust for him. He'd let me in and the cycle would begin all over again. It was always the same. He ran and I chased after him. Always.
I had her too, just where I wanted her. She wouldn't ask; she was so naive, so easy to lie to. She didn't even suspect where I went or what I did, so sure that I belonged to her, that I was so in love with her. Somewhere in my mind, a little voice would tell me how sick I must be for doing this to the both of them, but it was the only way to protect her absolutely and he would never leave me. He was bound to me; he'd never escape me completely. Relena needed the protection and I was obligated to give it to her. It only seemed right that I be her knight in shining armor. She seemed to think so too. Besides, I justified, I needed the release that he provided. I couldn't very well have my way with her, so he was a suitable substitute, at least that's what I deluded myself into believing.
I finally pulled away from his intoxicating lips, breaking only briefly for breath. I could see the depression in his gaze and I knew that I was the sole cause of it, but I ignored the obvious, opting to kiss him again instead. I refused to acknowledge the anguish in his indigo depths, closing my own Prussian eyes to block out the emotion pouring from his.
His hands on my chest pushed me back, breaking the lip lock again forcefully. He didn't retreat from my viselike embrace, but held my mouth back from closing over his once more. “Heero, you should go. Your princess will be waiting for you. Won't she be angry if you come home late again?” his voice was breathless and his lips were red and swollen from my brutal kiss as he spoke to me, trying to reason with me. He knew how to use her against me. I growled, but refused to let him go.
She would be waiting, but I hadn't told her how long I'd be out for. She wouldn't worry and she wouldn't ask when I made it home to her, as long as I wasn't gone too long, maybe only a few hours. That would be enough time to get what I wanted from him, what I'd come here for in the first place.
I moved in, trying to kiss him again. He pushed me away once more, desperately hoping to deter me. It was not going to work. I had made up my mind when he'd opened the door, looking bedraggled and completely lovely at the late hour. I licked my lips hungrily, remembering. His brows furrowed. I pressed closer, thrusting him back against the window painfully. He winced.
“Heero stop. Please go, just go,” his panicked voice only served to pique my arousal as I continued to pin him to the unforgiving glass. I leaned in, nipping his pale neck, up to his set jaw, tasting his sweat, the salty tang exciting me all the more. I wanted him something fierce, more so than I thought should be physically possible.
He and I both knew what was going to happen. We both knew where it would lead and we both knew that he would fight me only briefly. When he twisted out of my loose grip, I was prepared for it, grabbing him and slamming him back into the window, the elderly glass shuddering in its grungy frame. I smirked wolfishly at him, his eyes filling with trepidation and unhindered pain. He was trapped. He struggled in my arms futilely, fighting me until his strength waned, taking his will with it. He favored his left shoulder a bit, probably pulled something when I'd shoved him into the window again. He breathed heavily, nearly panting.
His body went limp finally as he gave in fully. I'd won. He submitted himself to me in that moment and I took him. I yanked his flimsy pajama pants off his hips, letting them drop to the floor, pooling around his ankles and leaving him completely bare to my gaze. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. My cock was so hard, it had begun to ache and I wanted him. He shivered with his back against the chill glass. I pinned him there, biting his neck and collarbone roughly, leaving angry red markings along the soft flesh. I kissed him harshly, meshing our lips together brutally. He groaned in half-pain, half-pleasure.
I forced him to step out of his abandoned pajama bottoms, spreading his milky thighs impatiently and making him tiptoe to seat himself partially on the dirty wood of the outcropping windowsill. He hissed at the coldness of it, but didn't complain, letting me guide him into the position I wanted. He was so pliable, like a doll. I really should have felt guilty at that point, but lust can blind even the most observant of us. He let me spread him like a practiced whore which I knew he was and I stepped between his open legs, the smoothness of them rubbing against my nude midriff, having already begun pulling my shirt off. I tossed the offensive garment across the room carelessly before unzipping my blue jeans and letting them fall halfway down my muscular thighs.
I convinced myself that he wanted this as much as I did while I spit on my hand and lubed my dick with the slick saliva. I hardly had time to think of anything better to use, assuming he'd still be stretched from his earlier customers. It wasn't like I was the only one he let fuck him; I just happened to be the only one he didn't charge. I wondered idly why that was.
I pushed the thought to the back of my mind as I positioned my erection at his entrance, uncaring of whether he was ready or not before thrusting inside of him. He yelped, his bare legs tightening about my waist compulsively. I hilted myself fully, the makeshift lubricant barely giving any leeway as my cock filled the tightness that shouldn't have been possible in a profession like his. He panted, his breathes coming in ragged gasps, his eyes screwed shut and his bottom lip held between his white teeth. I moaned just looking at him, even with great fat tears beginning to roll down his flushed face, he was breathtaking.
I thrust into him, disregarding his obvious discomfort and plowing forward, my fingers digging into his hips, bruising him easily. He cried out loudly, the tears still falling in transparent rivulets down his cheeks. I panted, pushing in and out of the tight channel roughly. He didn't waste much time bucking back against me, the tip of my penis brushing over his prostate repeatedly, even with the pain of my intrusion into him. He moaned, his hands curling into my hair, twisting the strands around his fingers. I wondered if he moaned like this for his customers. It made me furious thinking that he might.
It didn't take long for my climax to reach its peak, I shoved in as deeply as I could, wrapping a fist around his pulsing cock. He opened his lust-filled eyes, near violet with arousal. “Please don't,” he begged breathlessly. I didn't listen, stroking him in time with my now shallow thrusting, pulling him closer to the brink with me. Merely seconds passed before he was moaning out and trying to stifle it behind bitten lips. His heated semen shot up onto his stomach and over my hand. I grinned triumphantly before groaning with the impact of my own orgasm, coating his insides with sticky, pearly ejaculation.
I pulled away just moments later, letting my now flaccid penis slip from his body followed by a string of white sperm which slid sluggishly down his thighs. He stood shakily as I pulled my jeans back up, tucking my cock back inside their confines and searching around in the dim light for my earlier discarded shirt. I found it and pulled it on quickly, sparing him a glance.
He shuddered in the aftermath of our fucking, a translucent sheen of sweat covering his skin as his body quivered, bruises already forming on his hips, thighs and buttocks. I smiled, proud of the marks I'd marred him with. He didn't look at me, his beautifully broken eyes cast to the dingy carpet below his feet. Bloody semen leaked down his legs; I'd obviously been just a little to forceful with him than I should have been, but I didn't apologize. It's not like he hadn't enjoyed himself after all.
“Why? Why do you do this to me Heero?” he murmured just under his breath, his voice cracking with emotion, unshed tears glimmering in the blue-violet depths as he stared at the ground.
I didn't answer him, letting the repercussions of what I'd just done sink in. He just stood there by the window, trembling with his arms hugging his own slim torso. I didn't even look back at him as I moved towards the door, already regretting what had happened, but still feeling sated anyway. This part was the worst. The guilt was setting in and I'd need time to convince myself and justify the events in my mind. I pulled my shoes back on swiftly and placed a hand on the door handle, preparing myself to leave once again. I breathed a sigh, smelling the pungent odor of sex and sweat and the coppery tang of what had to be his blood.
It had happened again. I'd raped him so easily. He hadn't even fought me hard this time. I pushed the regret to the back of my thoughts, turning half-way to peer at his hunched form, still standing silhouetted by the naked window. “Goodbye Duo,” I spoke quietly, turning the handle and opening the door with a drawn out creak. I hardly heard what came from his lips next.
“I hate you,” it was barely more than a whisper, a sigh of heated breath, but it was there and I ignored it, letting the door close with a soft snick behind me as I went.
As Heero walked out the splintered door of the seedy motel room, he failed to see the long-haired boy collapse to the ground, his shoulders shaking with sorrowful sobs, his hands coming up to cover his sallow face. He hated the one he loved and there was nothing left to be done, but cry himself to sleep again.
TBC...
Reviews are always appreciated. I'd like some feedback on this one. I know how awful I've made Heero out to be, but it'll all work out in the end, I think.
Angel