Pairing: 2x1 Warnings: Lemon/lime? Um. Sap? Oddish?
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. All typos do. I regret
both these facts.
Archive: Elyndys is over the moon to be archived at Tenrai, 1x2x1.org,
and D-babe's site! (Sig still in production... Hey, it's late!)
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.
I have to be very quiet.
Silently, under cover of darkness, picking this easy lock and entering
I must not be seen.
Still not making a sound... making my way up the stairs in search of...
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.
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.
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
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
[...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/
I think hard. In shame I tell the truth, I couldn't lie to him. "Ye..."
I falter. "Yes." Still a whisper.
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
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.
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