Elyndys 
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Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. All typos do. I
regret both these facts.
Pairing: 2x1
Warnings: Lemon/lime? Um.
Sap? Oddish?
Notes: This idea is based on a scene in "Complicity"
by Iain Banks, an author I hate, but I was casting round for ideas and
this came back to me. So I adapted it to my own purposes, and this is what
came out. The bits in square brackets are… well, you'll work it out, I
hope. That's a very small amount of notes for me, ne?!
This is
dedicated to Sharon, who is wonderful, and Shinigami's Faithful.
Absolutely
Absolutely
Shh.
I have to be very quiet.
Silently, under cover of darkness, picking this easy lock and
entering the house.
I must not be seen.
Still not making a
sound… making my way up the stairs in search of… valuables.
Nerves
jump in me like I've never felt them before. This is not so unfamiliar;
sneaking around, like a criminal, it brings back memories of a past I
moved on from.
But it came back to me easily. I examined the house
from the outside, planning this out, taking my time, discovering where I
am likely to find the greatest rewards.
I choose a door – this
one, this is the bedroom.
[Why am I so afraid? I steel my nerves
and put a hand towards the door.
I hesitate; stop again, willing
myself to get it together.]
I must act like a rapist.
[It'd be a lie if I said I was comfortable with this. But it's
what he wants… and I'd do anything for him… I take my courage in both
hands and open the door.] It swings into the room on hinges I've oiled:
silence, unbroken. My eyes are used to the dark by now, and I gaze around
the room, still a statue in the doorway.
Through a chink in the
curtains I see a shard of deep blue… dawn comes, colouring the sky like
his eyes. I scan the room quickly, my eyes inevitably drawn to the figure
on the bed.
My breath catches in my throat as I observe him. He
lies on the right side of the double bed, on his left side, facing away
from the emptiness beside him. I see one hand, half-stretched in front of
him – towards me… Pale skin against the dark covers, the dark room, the
darkness outside.
Absolutely… beautiful…
It shocks me as I
suddenly realise I am painfully aroused, and have been for some time. Some
part of me wants to do this, and that scares me.
With automatic
stealth I approach the bed. He moves; I freeze. Slowly, almost delicately,
he opens his eyes, sensing the intruder; I can see him feel my presence
even though he remains still. His eyes find me; I feel the fear radiate
from him and seep through me, I scare myself as much as I scare him.
But that dark space inside me that wants this… it guides me to the
bed, uncaring, and I kneel behind him.
Watching for a moment as he
lies, absolutely still, hardly breathing. I know his eyes are open, I can
see as I lean slightly over him, seeing dim light glint off wet glass.
What's he thinking? I wonder, strangely, but I know.
Tentatively,
tentatively, I put a out hand towards his translucent body. Hesitate…
then… grasp his shoulder. Feel him shiver under my firm touch. No going
back now, I realise, as the feel of his skin against mine goads that deep
well of darkness in me into motion: I follow, helpless. I kneel behind
him, bring my other hand to his flesh, pull his liquid body up… Still
silence; only a whispered order of mine breaks it.
"On your hands
and knees." A whisper; what a command.
With my hands' persuasion
his obedient body obeys absolutely. His silent passivity enflames me,
engorges me: I'm still a little afraid of this strange being that's
projected onto and around myself. But now that hypersensitive stranger is
unfastening my jeans and positioning me behind this pliable victim: and
now I'm thrusting, hard, into that godsweet body.
[Oh god… I feel
how tight he is and it almost makes me angry. I told him… But he hasn't
prepared himself as thoroughly as I would have done. Deliberately, I know
it: he wants to feel it as close as possible, as hard-edged and sharp as
we could make it. I don't understand why. I don't want this! But god, but
I do.]
With a few deep, almost-harsh thrusts I'm ready to come.
That black shard of me finds this the most intoxicating experience of my
life. And I'm afraid, because it's a part of myself I never expected – or
hoped – to find. It's got a grip on me, though, and it catches me tightly,
so I'm gasping for breath.
[A hand around his body tells me he's
ready too. I only have to give him a couple of rough strokes before he
comes by my hand, onto the sheets. He cries out gutturally, a sound of
animal intensity that tears through him from deep inside… I'm so close and
the sound affects me so that it's all it takes to push me over the edge. I
clutch at his hip with the hand that isn't wringing his orgasm from him;
there'll be bruises but he – he wants them. I want to be silent, I want to
be detached, I want to not have to admit to the fierce, shocking ecstasy I
feel… but I can't, and I too cry out through gritted teeth as I convulse,
my body out of control by his inducement. I have to remember, he brought
me here, he wanted it… We collapse together to the side onto the bed, me
still inside and half on top of him, both trembling and panting. Shakily I
put a hand to him; so gently that he'll hardly feel it… I just want him to
know it's me, I'm here, I'm his… he's mine… I want to know it too, need
reassurance, need to understand. Need to get back in touch with what I am
and what I'm doing here.]
Why I'm here…
[My eyes opened
wide at his admission. "You mean you want me to…" I felt sick. "I
couldn't! Heero, I love you!"
He smiled gently, though his face
was earnest. "I know, Duo. I just want … to pretend, that's all."
Slightly reassured, I was still feeling unsettled and had to ask
the inevitable. "Why?"
He was silent for a long moment; I thought
he wasn't going to answer, felt a pit open inside me like I'd hurt him in
a terrible, unintentional way… but then he answered. So quietly I almost
didn't hear him.
"I'm used to being in control. Taking my own
decisions. But –" his whisper got a little harsher, and I saw the knuckles
of one hand turn white as he clenched his fist "- I make mistakes. I get
it wrong. Maybe –" he looked me in the eye; he looked vulnerable, somehow,
and I softened my expression as he went on " – maybe if someone else was
in control of me… Totally in control… I think I want someone to have that
power over me. Someone even stronger than me…" He shivered a little at
that thought, and so did I, contemplating that. Someone… better than him,
is what he was implying. Then it struck me that he was inviting me to be
that person… I felt something inside me fill up and overflow, and we made
love there and then, so tenderly I thought I would break. At the end I
squeezed my eyes shut so tightly that the tears spilled out from the
corners, and he kissed them from my face. His trust overwhelmed me, and I
wanted to show how much it meant.]
But this is just too close to…
that past that rose like a ghost in my mind when I came here. You would
hear stories. It hung around sometimes, always just outside the corner of
your vision, and when you turned, it would be gone again. For me, at
least; for others, not so lucky, it would reach in and grab them. I wonder
sometimes if it's still the same. How it would be if I… if we had never…
It makes me shiver.
I stir, slipping out of him finally,
intent on whispering assurances for him and myself… But he turns slightly,
and whispers to me instead.
"Is that it?"
[It's not a
challenge; there's trepidation and in his wide, scared eyes I see only a
plea for me to say yes. All soothing utterances fade from my lips and as I
look into his face I feel that tingling again…]
"No," I say, and
whisper it again. "No."
I kneel again, taking his body easily in
my hands, and turning him, as if he were a doll, onto his back. He
half-sits up, splayed open, trembling; "No," he echoes me, shaking his
head. "No."
The word does something to me, sets me on fire all
over again and I want him again, desperately, absolutely.
He
shifts up the bed, away from me. "Please," he whispers, "No." A little
louder: "Not again. Please. Please."
His pleading snaps something
inside me, the reins holding back that black hole in me and it spreads,
inky, consuming everything and flooding me. I can't control it now.
He's before me, and I reach: push him flat to the bed, pin his
arms either side of his head, spread his legs wide apart roughly with my
knee. Press my body between his thighs to keep him there.
"No," he
says, "Please, no."
And it thrills me, he says no but he can't
stop me! His weak words are nothing to my power!
"Stop," he says,
"Please!"
His protests are more hysterical, but they spur me on. I
thrust hard into him, still holding his arms in place. He's still slick
with my previous release, and the feeling multiplies my arousal tenfold,
like I've never felt it before. I don't wait, not at all; I'm too far
gone.
"No… no, no, no…"
His words are automatic, I hardly
hear. Their rhythm echoes mine; we're as lost as each other. It's like
everything in between us has been ripped away, and every sensation is
magnified, right up close to me and so vibrant, I'm right against it… It's
raw, wild, naked. It feels like a storm. Surges of absolutely pure,
distilled, concentrated feeling flood every nerve and pleasure centre in
my body and brain.
Absolute power. Absolute control. Such strength
now such fragility.
His frantic whispers have become screams now;
the way he says it, it sounds like a name, yes, he's saying it over and
over, Duo, Duo, Duo, Duo, and I'm thinking That's not me, that's not me,
that's not me…
[That's not… What am I…]
That's not my
name! I don't know my name. I don't know who I am. This is all I've ever
done. I never left the ruins I call home ever since I can remember. This
is what I was born for, this is what I know. This is what power I have,
and I'm delirious with the sheer perfect and absolute ecstasy it shows me,
it's a part of me, right in the centre and spreading outwards.
He's screaming now – still that name, I force it from him with
each thrust. It strikes right at my very core, permeates me and magnifies
everything even more so I'm lost in the rush, it's pressing on me from all
sides… And it's… absolutely… Everything. And I'm nearly there, nearly at
the very top… Then it suddenly hits me… his screams… they aren't…
[…screams of pain, of fear – they're… absolutely instinctive,
uncontrollable expressions of the best he's ever felt… I know it, I can
feel it. And with the realisation, the blackness that has held me, bound
me, withdraws like I wiped off the stain with bleach, and I come in a
rush, so hard I can't breathe, I can't hear, I can't see, I'm lost in him,
absolutely… And it IS my name that he says, it IS me who's here, it IS me
who's making him feel this way, as I hold his shuddering body to me,
sharing every drop of love that I can. I'm elated, super-sensitised, I
almost laugh with the giddy sunshine feeling of it… But then I remember…
It wasn't me at all, it was some dark stranger, as dark as me but a
different shade of black. No, worse: it WAS me, my blackest facet,
unleashed on the man I worship. I lie down, still, quiet, feeling a shock
every so often from him… stroking his hair gently, over and over in the
same way, trying to make everything right.
We lie there for a
while, his panting breaths returning to normal as I rhythmically stroke
his hair, hiding my face in the pillow above his head. I don't cry. I feel
empty, like I lost him. Like he's not mine… I would have hurt him. And
even though I didn't, it wasn't quite me who gave him what he wanted.
A long while after his breathing has slowed to almost sleeping
rate, I hear him whisper. So soft… like he was… is… "That was…
absolutely…" He doesn't need to go on, but presses a firm kiss to my neck.
I stare over his head at the wall as I reply. I can't reassure him like I
wanted to, can't tell him it's me, I'm here, I'm his…
"But Heero,
I betrayed you." I hurt inside; my voice is level and soft. "It wasn't me…
It was… something I'm not. Something I don't want to be. I could've hurt
you. You could have really been telling me to stop, and I wouldn't have. I
couldn't. Heero…" Now I pull back, look into his eyes, whisper. "I wanted
to rape you."
He looks back into my face, and I'm taken aback by
his question. "/Was/ it me?"
I think hard. In shame I tell the
truth, I couldn't lie to him. "Ye…" I falter. "Yes." Still a whisper.
"Why?"
I close my eyes and breathe. In my head I watch us
on the bed, look down at my own impassioned body and see, I was a vision
of someone I could have been.
And so was he…
I answer
honestly, opening my eyes and seeing his, clear, in front of me. "Because
I was stronger than you. I could do it, if we'd never met. If we'd not
been who we are… I'd be him, that's what I'd be doing. But I don't want
that!" Now the tears come. "I don't want to do that! I'm not him!"
He comforts me now, cradling me against him so gently, stroking my
hair and back. I adore him, he's got such… strength… but it's bound to me…
And I understand!
"See, Duo. If we'd not been who we are… if we'd
not taken the paths we chose, you're right. But we did, and so we don't
need to think about what didn't happen, and never will. And you know Duo,
that you would be the one I gave that to; you would be the only one who
could. You are the one I trust with my weakness. I am the one you trust
with your strength. That part of me, and that part of you… we don't need
to be afraid of them now. Now we're together…" He touches his lips to mine
gently, tasting tears. He smiles. Nothing else.
He holds me, and I
smile against his smooth skin. I feel… reconciled. That elation that
poured over me, that completion when I felt us jumble together at that
stellar apex, it was right after all. He needed me to do this for him… and
I needed to do it for me. And for us. He knows.
Absolutely…
perfect…
Absolutely…
Elyndys
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