Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Wayward Souls ❯ Entry 5: Like a Nicotine Patch ( Chapter 5 )
[ 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: 08.08.2008 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.1K | Visits: 460 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Angst / Romance | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 08.08.2008 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.1K | Visits: 460 | Status: Completed
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... BIG WARNING AND YOU WILL ALL HATE ME I AM SURE, HEROXRELENA LEMON AT THE END. SKIP IT IF YOU WANT, YOU CAN LIVE WITHOUT READING IT IF IT DISGUSTS YOU AS MUCH AS IT GROSSES ME OUT TO WRITE IT.Disclaimer: I own nothing. God, I wish I did.
Author's Notes (IMPORTANT!): Okay, so all of you fans that are loving this story and giving me great feedback, I am sorry to announce that updates will be slow in coming for a few weeks as I am in the middle of moving and after Friday next week, I will have no Internet for at least a week maybe longer. So please bare with me; I will be updating as soon as I can, but don't expect it to be sooner than a few weeks at least. Thanks and I will enjoy reading all of your feedback and the complaints I am sure I will get for taking too long to update >.<
Entry 5: Like a Nicotine Patch
(Heero)
I swore as I smashed my fist against my steering wheel furiously. The conversation with Duo had left me fuming. Where did he get off laughing at me as though this whole thing was some big fucking joke? And he had been high on god knows what. I grit my teeth, running a hand through my hair agitatedly. I couldn't go home like this. Relena would surely ask what had happened and I had told her I was going to see him, that I would be back later.
God damn him. I had been expecting to stay at his place for at least a few hours and he had royally fucked that idea over. And I wouldn't have even had to lie to Relena. She would have assumed we were catching up. I growled. Now I was pissed off and horny and I had nowhere to go to get some release. I huffed indignantly, rolling my window down and letting the cool breeze pour over my face and exposed skin.
I drove until I reached the bridge, parking and staring out at the water. I hardly spared a glance for the prostitutes and drug dealers that skulked about in the shadows beneath the bridge, focusing on the water. The worst thing about Duo's little joke was that it was true. All of it was true. I could get away with murder. The world loved me. I was Relena's knight and I took damn good care of her. We made a gorgeously powerful couple and the world was willing to put us on the highest pedestal they could manage.
I couldn't even believe had had the guts to say it, to laugh at me and taunt me the way he had. The bastard had been playing me, seeing how far he could push me and I had fallen for it. I breathed in a heavy breath before exhaling roughly. He was infuriating. First he had taken almost ten minutes to answer his damn door, then he had watched me scramble around to find my wallet while he laughed, holding it in his pocket, then he had had the nerve to call out my flaws and make a joke of my entire life and he was completely right.
I had wanted to kill him, to put a bullet in his head to make his laughter stop, but he had kept at it. And he had known I could never kill him, even though he had only been half right in his assumption. Maybe I couldn't kill him because I would never be able to fuck him again, but that was only half the reason. I didn't even fully comprehend the other half and I sure as hell wasn't going to admit it to him. He'd be too smug if I had.
I leaned back in my seat, unbuckling my seatbelt and shutting my eyes, successfully blocking out any light filtering through the tinted windows of my car. The truth of the matter was that I wanted him, desired him on the level of borderline obsession. I couldn't be with him for fear of the want overwhelming me. I wanted him so badly that when I finally had him, I couldn't get him fast enough. I needed to feel him so much that I had to do it right away, I couldn't spend the time waiting to feel his skin on mine, his body all around me. My love was violent. I knew it. I wanted him with a destructive passion and it only seemed natural that I made him want me just as viciously.
Didn't he once mention that loving him was dangerous? Didn't he say that it would be the death of me? I found it a little ironic that I would most likely be the death of him. What I felt was so carnal, so primitive and brutal. I couldn't control myself with him, I'd never been able to. He was too unique, too beautiful, strikingly, breathtakingly beautiful and I had found that I had to possess him. He wasn't something to be shared, but I could not stop him. He should have been mine and only mine, belonging to me and no one else, but he disobeyed as he always had.
He was not one to be tamed, but I was keen on breaking him. He would someday be all mine. He was nearly there. I was sure, since he couldn't escape me. He'd never be rid of me, not really. And I needed her too, but not like I needed him. I needed her to balance me, to keep me from going over the edge and drowning in the need for him. She didn't even know what she was. She was just a patch, like a nicotine patch for a smoker. And god, but he was as potent as the poison in cigarettes, so easily becoming an addiction and I couldn't get enough. I couldn't quit him. The patch only kept the craving at bay for so long before I needed to sneak a drag.
And when the withdrawals became so bad that I relapsed, I took him, sex and violence mixed with something deeper, twisted obsession and what could only be considered love became meshed and blurred so that there was no definition between the two. It made me sick to think of it, the bruises I was so proud to leave all across his ivory skin, the same skin that tasted like honey and vanilla, the same skin that was so smooth, it made silk seem rough. And yet the more I thought about it, the more it made me want him again and again, even if it was disturbed, some kind of wicked desire.
I was so completely horrified to realize that I was probably only this way because of the life I'd led, god knows what kind of disgusting mutated DNA washing through my veins. Doctor J had left my head so unraveled that everything was as though I was the only one normal and the whole world was insane. I knew that that wasn't true, so far from it in fact that I was pretty sure just the notion of it could have me committed to a mental institution.
I pressed my fingers to my temples hard, rubbing them in tight circles, my thoughts jumbling and playing tricks on me. I wanted him so bad right now. The cravings had been coming so frequently lately, like the obsession was worsening. I wanted so badly to be normal for him. He deserved it after all. He'd loved me so long that I was sure he couldn't stop even if he tried. And I was sure he was dying inside, the light in those astonishingly indigo eyes dimming with every visit I paid him. I was no better than those disgusting men that paid for his body; I was worse in fact, at least they paid him.
I fumbled with the handle for my car door, leaving it open as I stumbled towards the water's edge. I vomited, kneeling on the jagged rocks. Some prostitutes twittered somewhere near me, laughing at my expense, but I ignored them. Tears stung my eyes as my body heaved. How could I keep this up? And I knew I would; I wouldn't stop. I didn't know how and the only one who could fix me was long since dead. The crazy doctor had left the world of the living years ago and he'd left me so fucked up that I was sure I could never even hope to achieve normalcy.
God, I needed therapy. I knew that too, but it wasn't going to happen. No one could pay me enough to relive the horrors of my past, especially not some arrogant psychologist who had never seen the horrific scenes of war, but would listen to me recounting it as if they understood, prescribing medication after medication until I could no longer function rationally. I puked again, my stomach revolting against the awful thoughts. Why had Duo brought this up? What had he made me think about it?
He was breaking, using the drugs as a way to let me know that I was killing him; I was winning. He'd be mine soon enough; his mind would be lost and I would be left to keep him as I pleased. I hated the thought of him not fighting me; the fight was the most exciting part, listening to him plead with me and push me away desperately. But I knew that the struggle had been weakening. I had been ignoring the impending break.
He was warning me that it was coming soon; he was too close to the edge, teetering. I hated that I'd been the one to lure him there and I'd be the one to push him over it, drowning him. I'd be the one to hold his head under the water and fill his lungs with it. I knew it and so did he. I stood shakily, tottering back to my car on unstable feet.
I sat, my head against the wheel, willing the thoughts to stop. I couldn't take them; I couldn't analyze my sickness. I couldn't bring myself to get the help that was so direly needed. I wouldn't and couldn't, refusing to accept the need. My programming prohibiting me from asking for it at all. And I knew Relena would be so willing to do it, to help me, to lend me any amount I needed to get well. She'd do it even if it meant I would be leaving her for him. She was too kind, too compassionate.
That's why it had been so easy to play her, using her as some kind of substitute for the reality that I wanted with him, but didn't know how to have. He and I were too much alike, too tainted and rough. We both had too much blood on our hands, our tattered souls hardly existing to be mates. And god, but I felt like some kind of cad for lying to her. She made it far too easy to deceive her, too simple to leave her misguided and misled.
I breathed heavily against the steering wheel, my brows pinched together. I hated thoughts of her more than thoughts of him. She had done absolutely nothing to deserve this, especially from me. She was nothing more than a naive and kind-hearted woman, her heart too big and her eyes too bright. It was so completely perfect to exploit her compassion. She was the most logical choice and the most available at that to become my patch.
I sickened myself. Duo had asked me more than once to take him away, to save him from himself. I don't know why he asked me. I was his biggest tormentor, but he did ask and many times over. And my answer never changed. I didn't even know why I couldn't do it, take him away. I could. I was positively capable. And we'd never even had to be found if I wanted it that way, but I was in too deep. I had dug myself a hole so deep that it had caved in upon me, suffocating me with my own dirt.
I sucked in a breath, clenching my teeth against the rise of bile in my throat. My hands shook as I picked up the key and thrust it into the ignition, turning it and letting the car purr to life. I really shouldn't have been driving, but I did, letting my body work mechanically to bring me home to my palace and my princess.
I don't know how fast I drove or how long it took to get back to my home, the crumbling buildings and overflowing dumpsters, shrubs and cracked alleyways giving way to meticulously groomed lawns and flower beds, Jaguars and overly luxurious mansion homes. I ignored every one of them. I refused to even look at them, my eyes trained on the black speckled asphalt of the street.
I don't remember pulling into the driveway, or parking the car in the garage. I only know that once the key was pulled from the ignition, it was flung to the passenger seat and I sat unmoving for what seemed like months, but was really only minutes on the belt of time. I stared at nothing and everything, not taking in any of it, just letting my eyes roam. I swallowed several times, forcing my throat to work keeping down the vomit that threatened to ruin the upholstery in the expensive vehicle.
I didn't blink when the lights in the garage turned on and I didn't flinch when the door was pulled opened. I hardly noticed when the smell of lilacs hit my senses. I didn't feel the arms that wrapped around me, or hear the voice that was so familiar now whispering in soft tones next to my ears. I didn't taste the lips that pressed against my own. And I certainly didn't answer when the question was asked.
“Heero, why are you crying?” I hadn't even known that I was, the salty rivulets running along my cheeks and making my skin itch.
I let Relena lead me into the house and strip me to my boxers. She even put me in bed and then she laid with me. I don't remember when I kissed her or when the kissing turned from chaste to heated. I don't recall how she lost her skirt or her blouse. I don't even know what it was that triggered the chain of events leading to her and I naked and panting against one another.
I was distinctly reminded that she was not Duo. My body comparing them even as I touched her and let myself be aroused. She was soft where he was sharp, her hips full where his were prominent, her mouth small, lips plump and smooth where his was wide, lips shapely and chapped. Her body was petite, he height so much shorter than his. It didn't quite fit against mine as his did and her hair wasn't as shiny or long. And her nails were sharp instead of blunt, her eyes the wrong shade of blue. Her voice was high and not husky.
She didn't arch like he did when I entered her. She cried, but her tears weren't as beautiful as his. She moaned, but they weren't as arousing. She kissed me, but they weren't as brutal. Her tongue wasn't as rebellious; she didn't duel with my own in her mouth like he did. Her gasps weren't as graceful and her legs not as smooth as she wrapped them around me. Her skin wasn't as white as his, hers unblemished and creamy where his was scarred and ivory. Her nipples were pink and her breasts supple and obvious where he was flat-chested and his nipples dusky.
Her face wasn't as gorgeous as his when her orgasm took her over. She wasn't as tight around me as she convulsed in the aftershocks climax. And I didn't come inside of her, my semen trapped within the constricting latex of a condom. Her expression wasn't serene or melancholy afterwards, but pleased and sated. It was too easy taking her. She had been so willing, so wanting. She wasn't as pretty when she sweat with her cheeks flushed and the flush didn't melt onto her neck and chest and she didn't have the tiny freckles that he had across the bridge of his nose. And I didn't feel as accomplished about taking her virginity as I had when I took his.
And when she fell asleep, I went into the bathroom and vomited again, tossing the condom away disgustedly and showering before returning to the newly rumpled bed. Relena didn't make the noises he did while asleep and her breathing wasn't as soft. And as I wrapped an arm around her protectively, more out of habit than necessity, the tears came again with a morbid realization.
She wasn't him.
And she never would be.
TBC...
I thought I would help you all to get a little insight into Heero's psyche. He is one fucked up little boy, that's for sure and I really think that you all should read the above lemon if you didn't because it's not as bad as it sounds and you might actually like it, since all Heero does is think about Duo. Also, please give me some feedback on this chapter. I really want some input, so I know how you all are feeling about the turn here. Thanks again for all the reviews and I hope to hear from you all again soon.
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... BIG WARNING AND YOU WILL ALL HATE ME I AM SURE, HEROXRELENA LEMON AT THE END. SKIP IT IF YOU WANT, YOU CAN LIVE WITHOUT READING IT IF IT DISGUSTS YOU AS MUCH AS IT GROSSES ME OUT TO WRITE IT.Disclaimer: I own nothing. God, I wish I did.
Author's Notes (IMPORTANT!): Okay, so all of you fans that are loving this story and giving me great feedback, I am sorry to announce that updates will be slow in coming for a few weeks as I am in the middle of moving and after Friday next week, I will have no Internet for at least a week maybe longer. So please bare with me; I will be updating as soon as I can, but don't expect it to be sooner than a few weeks at least. Thanks and I will enjoy reading all of your feedback and the complaints I am sure I will get for taking too long to update >.<
Entry 5: Like a Nicotine Patch
(Heero)
I swore as I smashed my fist against my steering wheel furiously. The conversation with Duo had left me fuming. Where did he get off laughing at me as though this whole thing was some big fucking joke? And he had been high on god knows what. I grit my teeth, running a hand through my hair agitatedly. I couldn't go home like this. Relena would surely ask what had happened and I had told her I was going to see him, that I would be back later.
God damn him. I had been expecting to stay at his place for at least a few hours and he had royally fucked that idea over. And I wouldn't have even had to lie to Relena. She would have assumed we were catching up. I growled. Now I was pissed off and horny and I had nowhere to go to get some release. I huffed indignantly, rolling my window down and letting the cool breeze pour over my face and exposed skin.
I drove until I reached the bridge, parking and staring out at the water. I hardly spared a glance for the prostitutes and drug dealers that skulked about in the shadows beneath the bridge, focusing on the water. The worst thing about Duo's little joke was that it was true. All of it was true. I could get away with murder. The world loved me. I was Relena's knight and I took damn good care of her. We made a gorgeously powerful couple and the world was willing to put us on the highest pedestal they could manage.
I couldn't even believe had had the guts to say it, to laugh at me and taunt me the way he had. The bastard had been playing me, seeing how far he could push me and I had fallen for it. I breathed in a heavy breath before exhaling roughly. He was infuriating. First he had taken almost ten minutes to answer his damn door, then he had watched me scramble around to find my wallet while he laughed, holding it in his pocket, then he had had the nerve to call out my flaws and make a joke of my entire life and he was completely right.
I had wanted to kill him, to put a bullet in his head to make his laughter stop, but he had kept at it. And he had known I could never kill him, even though he had only been half right in his assumption. Maybe I couldn't kill him because I would never be able to fuck him again, but that was only half the reason. I didn't even fully comprehend the other half and I sure as hell wasn't going to admit it to him. He'd be too smug if I had.
I leaned back in my seat, unbuckling my seatbelt and shutting my eyes, successfully blocking out any light filtering through the tinted windows of my car. The truth of the matter was that I wanted him, desired him on the level of borderline obsession. I couldn't be with him for fear of the want overwhelming me. I wanted him so badly that when I finally had him, I couldn't get him fast enough. I needed to feel him so much that I had to do it right away, I couldn't spend the time waiting to feel his skin on mine, his body all around me. My love was violent. I knew it. I wanted him with a destructive passion and it only seemed natural that I made him want me just as viciously.
Didn't he once mention that loving him was dangerous? Didn't he say that it would be the death of me? I found it a little ironic that I would most likely be the death of him. What I felt was so carnal, so primitive and brutal. I couldn't control myself with him, I'd never been able to. He was too unique, too beautiful, strikingly, breathtakingly beautiful and I had found that I had to possess him. He wasn't something to be shared, but I could not stop him. He should have been mine and only mine, belonging to me and no one else, but he disobeyed as he always had.
He was not one to be tamed, but I was keen on breaking him. He would someday be all mine. He was nearly there. I was sure, since he couldn't escape me. He'd never be rid of me, not really. And I needed her too, but not like I needed him. I needed her to balance me, to keep me from going over the edge and drowning in the need for him. She didn't even know what she was. She was just a patch, like a nicotine patch for a smoker. And god, but he was as potent as the poison in cigarettes, so easily becoming an addiction and I couldn't get enough. I couldn't quit him. The patch only kept the craving at bay for so long before I needed to sneak a drag.
And when the withdrawals became so bad that I relapsed, I took him, sex and violence mixed with something deeper, twisted obsession and what could only be considered love became meshed and blurred so that there was no definition between the two. It made me sick to think of it, the bruises I was so proud to leave all across his ivory skin, the same skin that tasted like honey and vanilla, the same skin that was so smooth, it made silk seem rough. And yet the more I thought about it, the more it made me want him again and again, even if it was disturbed, some kind of wicked desire.
I was so completely horrified to realize that I was probably only this way because of the life I'd led, god knows what kind of disgusting mutated DNA washing through my veins. Doctor J had left my head so unraveled that everything was as though I was the only one normal and the whole world was insane. I knew that that wasn't true, so far from it in fact that I was pretty sure just the notion of it could have me committed to a mental institution.
I pressed my fingers to my temples hard, rubbing them in tight circles, my thoughts jumbling and playing tricks on me. I wanted him so bad right now. The cravings had been coming so frequently lately, like the obsession was worsening. I wanted so badly to be normal for him. He deserved it after all. He'd loved me so long that I was sure he couldn't stop even if he tried. And I was sure he was dying inside, the light in those astonishingly indigo eyes dimming with every visit I paid him. I was no better than those disgusting men that paid for his body; I was worse in fact, at least they paid him.
I fumbled with the handle for my car door, leaving it open as I stumbled towards the water's edge. I vomited, kneeling on the jagged rocks. Some prostitutes twittered somewhere near me, laughing at my expense, but I ignored them. Tears stung my eyes as my body heaved. How could I keep this up? And I knew I would; I wouldn't stop. I didn't know how and the only one who could fix me was long since dead. The crazy doctor had left the world of the living years ago and he'd left me so fucked up that I was sure I could never even hope to achieve normalcy.
God, I needed therapy. I knew that too, but it wasn't going to happen. No one could pay me enough to relive the horrors of my past, especially not some arrogant psychologist who had never seen the horrific scenes of war, but would listen to me recounting it as if they understood, prescribing medication after medication until I could no longer function rationally. I puked again, my stomach revolting against the awful thoughts. Why had Duo brought this up? What had he made me think about it?
He was breaking, using the drugs as a way to let me know that I was killing him; I was winning. He'd be mine soon enough; his mind would be lost and I would be left to keep him as I pleased. I hated the thought of him not fighting me; the fight was the most exciting part, listening to him plead with me and push me away desperately. But I knew that the struggle had been weakening. I had been ignoring the impending break.
He was warning me that it was coming soon; he was too close to the edge, teetering. I hated that I'd been the one to lure him there and I'd be the one to push him over it, drowning him. I'd be the one to hold his head under the water and fill his lungs with it. I knew it and so did he. I stood shakily, tottering back to my car on unstable feet.
I sat, my head against the wheel, willing the thoughts to stop. I couldn't take them; I couldn't analyze my sickness. I couldn't bring myself to get the help that was so direly needed. I wouldn't and couldn't, refusing to accept the need. My programming prohibiting me from asking for it at all. And I knew Relena would be so willing to do it, to help me, to lend me any amount I needed to get well. She'd do it even if it meant I would be leaving her for him. She was too kind, too compassionate.
That's why it had been so easy to play her, using her as some kind of substitute for the reality that I wanted with him, but didn't know how to have. He and I were too much alike, too tainted and rough. We both had too much blood on our hands, our tattered souls hardly existing to be mates. And god, but I felt like some kind of cad for lying to her. She made it far too easy to deceive her, too simple to leave her misguided and misled.
I breathed heavily against the steering wheel, my brows pinched together. I hated thoughts of her more than thoughts of him. She had done absolutely nothing to deserve this, especially from me. She was nothing more than a naive and kind-hearted woman, her heart too big and her eyes too bright. It was so completely perfect to exploit her compassion. She was the most logical choice and the most available at that to become my patch.
I sickened myself. Duo had asked me more than once to take him away, to save him from himself. I don't know why he asked me. I was his biggest tormentor, but he did ask and many times over. And my answer never changed. I didn't even know why I couldn't do it, take him away. I could. I was positively capable. And we'd never even had to be found if I wanted it that way, but I was in too deep. I had dug myself a hole so deep that it had caved in upon me, suffocating me with my own dirt.
I sucked in a breath, clenching my teeth against the rise of bile in my throat. My hands shook as I picked up the key and thrust it into the ignition, turning it and letting the car purr to life. I really shouldn't have been driving, but I did, letting my body work mechanically to bring me home to my palace and my princess.
I don't know how fast I drove or how long it took to get back to my home, the crumbling buildings and overflowing dumpsters, shrubs and cracked alleyways giving way to meticulously groomed lawns and flower beds, Jaguars and overly luxurious mansion homes. I ignored every one of them. I refused to even look at them, my eyes trained on the black speckled asphalt of the street.
I don't remember pulling into the driveway, or parking the car in the garage. I only know that once the key was pulled from the ignition, it was flung to the passenger seat and I sat unmoving for what seemed like months, but was really only minutes on the belt of time. I stared at nothing and everything, not taking in any of it, just letting my eyes roam. I swallowed several times, forcing my throat to work keeping down the vomit that threatened to ruin the upholstery in the expensive vehicle.
I didn't blink when the lights in the garage turned on and I didn't flinch when the door was pulled opened. I hardly noticed when the smell of lilacs hit my senses. I didn't feel the arms that wrapped around me, or hear the voice that was so familiar now whispering in soft tones next to my ears. I didn't taste the lips that pressed against my own. And I certainly didn't answer when the question was asked.
“Heero, why are you crying?” I hadn't even known that I was, the salty rivulets running along my cheeks and making my skin itch.
I let Relena lead me into the house and strip me to my boxers. She even put me in bed and then she laid with me. I don't remember when I kissed her or when the kissing turned from chaste to heated. I don't recall how she lost her skirt or her blouse. I don't even know what it was that triggered the chain of events leading to her and I naked and panting against one another.
I was distinctly reminded that she was not Duo. My body comparing them even as I touched her and let myself be aroused. She was soft where he was sharp, her hips full where his were prominent, her mouth small, lips plump and smooth where his was wide, lips shapely and chapped. Her body was petite, he height so much shorter than his. It didn't quite fit against mine as his did and her hair wasn't as shiny or long. And her nails were sharp instead of blunt, her eyes the wrong shade of blue. Her voice was high and not husky.
She didn't arch like he did when I entered her. She cried, but her tears weren't as beautiful as his. She moaned, but they weren't as arousing. She kissed me, but they weren't as brutal. Her tongue wasn't as rebellious; she didn't duel with my own in her mouth like he did. Her gasps weren't as graceful and her legs not as smooth as she wrapped them around me. Her skin wasn't as white as his, hers unblemished and creamy where his was scarred and ivory. Her nipples were pink and her breasts supple and obvious where he was flat-chested and his nipples dusky.
Her face wasn't as gorgeous as his when her orgasm took her over. She wasn't as tight around me as she convulsed in the aftershocks climax. And I didn't come inside of her, my semen trapped within the constricting latex of a condom. Her expression wasn't serene or melancholy afterwards, but pleased and sated. It was too easy taking her. She had been so willing, so wanting. She wasn't as pretty when she sweat with her cheeks flushed and the flush didn't melt onto her neck and chest and she didn't have the tiny freckles that he had across the bridge of his nose. And I didn't feel as accomplished about taking her virginity as I had when I took his.
And when she fell asleep, I went into the bathroom and vomited again, tossing the condom away disgustedly and showering before returning to the newly rumpled bed. Relena didn't make the noises he did while asleep and her breathing wasn't as soft. And as I wrapped an arm around her protectively, more out of habit than necessity, the tears came again with a morbid realization.
She wasn't him.
And she never would be.
TBC...
I thought I would help you all to get a little insight into Heero's psyche. He is one fucked up little boy, that's for sure and I really think that you all should read the above lemon if you didn't because it's not as bad as it sounds and you might actually like it, since all Heero does is think about Duo. Also, please give me some feedback on this chapter. I really want some input, so I know how you all are feeling about the turn here. Thanks again for all the reviews and I hope to hear from you all again soon.
Angel