Sex is a Battle, Love is War + Part 1

1: First Battle

Anger and resentment. That's all he feels when he eyes the perfect couple for the hundredth time this evening. It isn't Relena's fault, really. It isn't Heero's fault either. That leaves...No. No. Anger. Anger is better than guilt and regret any day, in Duo Maxwell's book anyway. He wrenches his eyes away when he sees Heero smile minutely at something the princess glued on his arm says. No, that ain't fair. But who cares.

He wants to screw something -- someone - over. Badly. Or just screw them. Now that's a thought...

Of all the times he should feel such malice. Rancor even. At a fucking party. He sips disgustingly sweet Champaign from a tall glass-prop, scanning the formally-dressed crowd for the few familiar faces there. Looking for a victim. To hurt someone. Someone to hurt him. Whatever.

Quatre is not far away. Trowa is close to the blond, looking like there's no place in the entire earth sphere he would rather be.

They are close.

Resentment swelling, Duo looks further, to where Wufei is listening intently to something Sally is saying.

Fuck them all.

Well no. Not them. He doesn't have that many friends left alive to afford to lose any. Besides, Duo Maxwell will do many things, but one thing he will never do is hurt his friends. On purpose. Especially for something That Isn't a Problem.

It's not a problem. Really.

His eyes pass over more people. Ah, there...the perfect target. Why hasn't he thought of that before?

An enemy.

Nothing to lose then. Detaching his back from the wall he's been leaning on, he watches as a slight inclination of the regal head sends shorter tresses framing a cold face into temporary disarray. His unwitting victim of choice smiles to Noin beside him, and Duo can see even from a distance that the smile never reaches the frozen eyes. A curt nod, then he is moving away, going wherever. Already on an intercept course, it's no trouble for Duo to plant himself in front of his prey a few steps later.

And he's staring into the blank face of Zechs Merquise. Milliardo Peacecraft. Prince of Sanq.

Relena's brother.

"Wanna fuck?"

The indifferent look doesn't change. The prince doesn't even blink. Impressive.

"How much?"

Duo realizes something must be wrong with him as it actually takes him several seconds to process the insult not even veiled in that polite, cultured question. His face starts burning, and he barely restrains himself from flinging his Champaigne, glass and all, into the hated face.

Wouldn't want to make a scene, god forbid, would we.

"Fuck you."

Softly. Polite. In tone at least, if not words. He turns and swiftly walks to the nearest exit, managing to lose the useless prop of a glass in the process of fleeing.

Duo Maxwell. Fleeing.

Shame mixes with the anger, and not only at the insult. Impotent rage makes him grit his teeth. He has to get out of there, and fast. Before he does something very unrefined and impolite. Very L2. To the Sanq prince, and incidentally his host, no less.

He is barely out the wide double doors when a weight slams him into the wall beside the exit. Yes, something is very very wrong with Duo Maxwell today if someone can sneak up on him. Apparently rage doesn't fare any better than love in the seeing department.

He struggles on instinct against the body - tall, too heavy, male, pressing - pinning his to the wall, he can't move his hands; the angle is such that a knee to the groin is not an option, and the moment it takes him to open his mouth - to bite? to shout? - he is released just as abruptly as he was attacked. He looks up, and astonishment makes him lean against the wall he just had been pinned against, washing away all other sentiment for the moment.

"Did you just..." He interrupts the stupid question himself, while the blond prince just watches him.

"You should be prepared for that kind of reply when you ask questions like that."

Duo almost flushes again at the reminder but a faint smirk riles him up. He remembers he hates the bastard. Has hated him for a long time. Yes. Anger and resentment. Familiar, thus firmer, ground. He straightens up under the cool gaze.

Crossing his arms at his chest, the prince asks nonchalantly.

"Care to explain what brought this on?"

Hah, so he is curious. Letting an uncaring smile twist his lips, Duo shrugs.

"What's there to explain? I like men, you like men; I'm good looking, you're not so bad yourself..." He pauses but Merquise doesn't refute the bold assumption, neither does he take the bait; it's an outrageous understatement and they both know it. "...So, why not?"

For several moments his one-time enemy just looks at him, contemplating. The pause gives Duo a chance to ascertain that their little scuffle has passed unnoticed, as the hum of too many conversations continues uninterrupted from inside the huge ballroom; people, mostly waiters are going in and out the door paying little attention to the two men in formal attire standing a little to the side. The corridor they are in is relatively dark compared to the exuberant light coming from the ballroom. There are tall potted plants a few steps to their right producing even darker shadows. Never one for the light, Duo moves a little in their direction. It's always better if the enemy can't see you when you can see them, is a flitting thought as Duo gazes at the ballroom chandelier lights flickering on Merquise's too handsome face. He's looking inside now seemingly unaware of, or merely unconcerned by Duo's scrutiny, or his `exposed' position.

Never one for long silences either, Duo speaks again.

"Relax Zechs. I'm not talking about moonlit walks and roses...Just fucking. Nothing complicated. Like say...blowing up the planet..."

The cool gaze is on him again and somehow manages to make him feel like he was eight years old. He almost regrets the cheap shot. Almost.

Merquise ignores the sorry attempt of a taunt as he goes straight for the throat.

"And this offer of yours has nothing to do with the fact that HeeroYuy is presently...nuzzling my sister's ear, as it were?"

Oh yeah? Heero did not nuzzle. He must be simply talking to her ear; it is quite noisy in there after all. Duo throttles the impulse of checking to see for himself. The choice of words is meant to gall him. Duo's eyes narrow. There isn't a cheap shot he won't not take now.

"If it did...wouldn't you like that? To take something from your rival? After all, you never did manage to beat him in a fight; you should be jumping at this opportunity to get back at him."

"By taking his leftovers?"

This insult hurts more than the first one but Duo swallows it easier. It's the truth after all. Apparently the prince is either very astute, or has his sources.

"I see," Duo smirks knowingly. "What's the matter? Afraid of poaching on a territory that Heero has marked as his?"

The last word has barely left his mouth when his back is slammed against the wall, Merquise's weight pushing the air out of his lungs to be captured in the other man's mouth on his - hard, devouring; tongue expertly going so deep Duo can't move his jaw. It happens so fast, he has to wonder whether there has been more than Champaigne in his glass earlier but no, he hasn't drunk more than a few sips. No reaction time would have been good enough; the man hasn't been called the Lightning Count for nothing.

His wrists are captured and the grip is unbeatable, his whole body pushed up, his toes barely touching the floor, weight supported only on a muscular thigh shoved between his own, against his groin, pressing, moving, rocking. It's overwhelming. Duo can't do much to stop any of this...Should he even try?

All thought is blanked out by the unexpected assault.

And it feels wonderful.

But he can't breathe. Renewing his struggle, he attempts to at least free his wrists - to push? to hold? -  but it's all futile: the prince won't release him until he's taken his fill. Staked his claim? Made his point?... Whatever his intention is.

It should be alarming. Really.

At last, and at the same time, all too soon, he is let go, the hot tongue ceasing the comprehensive invasion. Leaving his mouth, it trails a bit of saliva down his chin which Duo absently brushes, vaguely surprised that he can move his hand now. The thigh is removed too, and he is left leaning against the wall, panting, battling sudden arousal.

Belatedly he remembers where they are and looks around in a semi-panic but fortunately there is no one in sight just now. That doesn't mean there hasn't been one around a few moments earlier though. Heat rises to his face, belatedly too, when he thinks about exactly how that had looked like.

He glares daggers at the calm prince who somehow manages to look as cool and composed as ever. Like he should, if they were having a polite conversation. Like he hadn't just been forcing his tongue down Duo's throat deep enough to lick his tonsils.

Unflappable bastard. Duo hates him admiringly. Not a contradiction.

"You and Heero?" Prompts the unflappable bastard after he's decided that Duo has had enough time to gather enough breath to speak.

"Me and Heero?..."

A small bitter laugh escapes him, and he's suddenly too tired to be angry.  

"Me and Heero."

Words start tumbling from his mouth then - haltingly, unwelcome, as he never lies dammit - though at times like this, he wants to. Desperately. If he can lie to another, it will be easier to blind himself to the truth a little while longer.

All the good that will bring him.

"Me and Heero. We had an understanding. - During the war. No time for things like that. - For anyone. We worked close....There was -tension. We fucked. A few times - many times. It was - good..."

He falls silent as a particularly vivid memory assaults him; one of so many. Forces himself to continue. Past it.

"...It...made life...good. We - talked. Got closer... Became friends, you could say..."

Another memory. Duo stares at the floor by his feet, hard. Until all he can see are the patterns on the carpet.

He could be talking to a statue, the prince is that silent. It makes this easier.

"...We always said that... this...we...that it was temporary -- because there was no one else...couldn't have been. That after the war..." if they survived; unlikely, "...we... we would be free to be with whomever we wanted to...girls, boys..."

"And now...the war's finally over. Heero said...we... had a choice now. ...Chose Relena..."

Saying the words aloud, he can feel his heart break, now, at this moment, and it fucking hurts. But it's Not a Problem.

"Heh ...I had been saying it too. ...We agreed. No surprise there. ..I-I just h-hoped..."

His voice breaks and Duo freezes at that, mortified. No no no. Rising panic, shame -- of all humiliating things, this is the worst. This cannot be happening. Hell. He cannot possibly break down and cry in front of Zechs frickin' Merquise.

His immediate instinct is to flee, and he does -- or attempts to, before he is crushed to the wall, again. What? Can't the bastard think of some other move -- one that doesn't involve wall-slamming and physical domination with his superior weight and height?

Laugh bubbles in him but it's easy to restrain it -- it isn't funny -- and he has to get away, now. Panic is fueling him -- he can't let Merquise see him like this, this is all one big mistake -- he almost manages to squirm out of the hold but no, he's pinned again -- the hold not at all invasive like the last one -- the prince is merely letting his body mass and the wall to keep him in place. But he is an unyielding, solid bulk against him and Duo can't budge him, can't hurt him, and is that even possible? The only way out seems if he manages to slide down and circumvent the freakishly long legs but that would look ridiculous, and Duo stops squirming just in time to hear the rasped "Calm. Down."

The cold tone makes him see reason, and, thank goodness, the panic gradually deserts him. He breathes deeply, feeling more foolish by the second.

Way to go Maxwell. If not lovesick confessions, panic attacks certainly make a great impression. He must have been more pathetic than that in his life but right now he can't think of an occasion that has felt more utterly humiliating that this.

Merquise finally lets him go, and when the arms around him are removed Duo belatedly realizes the prince has been holding him. At the moment he is too dumb to make anything out of it.

His one-time enemy turns away then and takes several steps along the corridor. Appropriately disgusted most likely. But then he stops and glances at Duo's inert form over his shoulder.

For reasons he can't fully explain, Duo chooses to interpret that as the invitation it couldn't have been, and moves to follow.

The party is boring anyway.

+

They walk along many long corridors, passing curiously uncurious waiters and other serving personnel along the way. They all bow respectfully to them, or rather, to His Royal Highness. As if anyone would bow down to a teenage ex-terrorist from L2. This is Sanq -- saving the world doesn't count much against their prince, attempts to blow up the said world notwithstanding.

The two men receive more attention from the Preventer security agents stationed at various places throughout the palace. There are no reasons for concern however  - it's peacetime now, we're all one big happy family - and they reach their destination without slowing the brisk pace Merquise seems to favor.

Their destination turns out to be a bedroom. A royal bedroom, by the look of it. Even the royal bedroom.

The first thing Duo notices are the antiquated chairs and screens, the old-fashioned guard-de-robe, the intricately woven carpet and the silk covering the walls. It's really too much to take all at once. He knows intellectually it all should be replica -- every child knew how Sanq had fallen, it's royal palace burnt to ashes - but to the street orphan it seems real enough; this pre-Colony luxury traditional for European aristocrats for centuries on end. He can't help but be a trifle awed. The guest rooms' more modern furnishings are a far cry for what's in front of him.

Then he contemplates the bed and his awe takes on different proportions -- it's canopied and ...well, enormous, and looks like it has been conjured right out of a fairy tale. It certainly looks like something only royalty would sleep on.

Taking in the lush surroundings, he turns to the one member of the royalty that led him there to find the usual lack of identifiable expression firmly in place. Why had he ever bothered with a mask? You couldn't read his face anyway...

But no, is that...the barest hint of amusement flickering in the ice-cold eyes?

Duo keeps from flushing by sheer force of will, resenting having been caught gawking at the rich room like the poor L2 street kid he had been. Being a source of amusement for the aristocratic son of a bitch wasn't why he has followed him here!

His thoughts on the topic are hijacked abruptly when the prince finally speaks.

"Undress me."

Duo's reaction at the calmly-spoken command wavers between outrage and amusement. He ignores the slow heat the words spread like poison in his belly and chooses to go with the latter -- after all he had been demonstrated just now that amusement exudes superiority.

And now he knows the prince has accepted his offer.

With an insolent smirk he saunters over and takes to the task at hand. He looks his enemy straight in the eye, accepting the challenge he sees there. Lifting his arms to the lapels of the black tux coat he tugs up and outward, then down. Given his smaller stature, and the prince just standing there making no move to assist, it requires a bit of stretching but he manages. He lets the coat fall to the floor uncaring for its future fate, and moves his fingers to the pale blue cravat adorning the princely neck. Resisting the momentary urge to strangle, he makes short work of it and continues on to the white silk shirt. Without haste his fingers work their way through the buttons, as he finally looks away from the unwavering cold blue eyes to his hands.

It is less sexual like this and he want to keep it that way for a little longer. To see how far the prince will push.

Up close, Merquise smells faintly of nice, masculine, expensive cologne Duo has never smelled before. Inexplicably, it's a smell of warmth and comfort. It doesn't make any sense.

Once the shirt is removed Duo doesn't spare a glance to the perfectly-defined naked chest before him, or the pale blond tresses spilling over the muscular shoulders. Instead his attention is absorbed lower, with unbuckling the belt and subsequently the black pants covering the prince's lower half. He doesn't let himself think about anything, not about the washboard stomach his fingers can't help but brush in their work, and much less about anything he could find lower. Focus on the task at hand.  It's nothing he hasn't seen before.

As it is, what he finds is inconspicuous boxers, light blue, and gently tented at the front. Nothing he hasn't seen before. Right.

Throughout the process of disrobing, the prince doesn't move at all. He doesn't grab at Duo, or touch him in any other way. Duo is surprised but not much. It's obviously all in the game. Being a little miffed about it can't be helped.

While Duo stares at the oh so ordinary blue boxers for a heartbeat, the decision of exactly how to continue is taken out of his hands as the prince steps away and out of the pants pooled at his ankles. It's not like Duo would kneel to help with that. He retreats back to give the now mostly naked man space but before he can do anything else, Merquise speaks again.

"And yourself."  

Duo has to backtrack mentally to find the meaning - `undress yourself'-this time.

This is harder. The prince has divested himself of socks and shoes, and - yes, Duo's eyes find the blue boxers on top of the heap of clothes on the floor - underwear too, and is by now half-sitting, half-reclining on the huge bed against the headboard. No naughty bits are to be seen, as Merquise has draped a part of a bed sheet across his thighs, the rest of the bedding pushed to one side. Duo can't help but scoff at the false modesty. His distraction has prevented him from seeing anything else however. Pity.

And now the prince is watching him just standing there, waiting to be obeyed. Duo has to fight off another blush, and forces himself to start undressing as if no one's there, unthinking. He has stripped for a lover before but this is harder. No appreciative audience this time -- it isn't Heero's fiery gaze riveted on his body and hands twitching with impatience to touch. It is Zechs Merquise's frigid stare, face unreadable and unconcerned, body language indifferent and utterly still.

The silence is oppressive. As is the stare of the man on the bed. Duo has to fight the urge of making a haste discarding the rest of his clothes. He isn't teasing but he wouldn't tug desperately at his shirt and pants either.

All the same, he knows he is undressing to have sex. But it doesn't feel that way. It's perplexing.

He's surprised to find he is semi-hard at this point.

When he's done, he straightens and meets the cool gaze in a silent challenge of his own, unabashed by his nakedness. He is less calm on the inside but he knows what his body looks like. He has never been ashamed of it, and he isn't going to start now just because Merquise looks like he might be staring at a piece of furniture. Scratch that. Looks like a fucking Greek god staring at a piece of furniture. Duo has seen perfectly sculpted Greek gods in the form of statues, and this one is no different. Heh.

Thankfully, the prince spends no time on watching him stand. He doesn't deign to speak this time, flicking his eyes to the bed in front of him instead.

A little anger boils up but is quickly smothered, as Duo scoffs but obeys the unspoken command and settles on his knees at the foot of the bed, facing the royal bastard.

Who predictably doesn't do anything. If it isn't for the tenting of the respectably-colored pale tan sheet covering the prince's middle Duo would have sweared the man was a eunuch.

It's unnerving to say the least. Duo wants to clutch at his braid but doesn't.

Still, excitement and some fear make his heart thump faster. He can still feel his body being pushed against the wall by the naked man opposite him. The hard, unyielding hold.

Inescapable.

What has he gotten himself into this time?

It's a paradox -- he hardens further feeling the frozen eyes move over him. They sweep over his upper body and focus somewhere below his waist. Where his erection is obviously proud at the inspection. Duo scowls at it and almost misses the next soft words.

"Touch it."

The increased huskiness of the voice pleases him and his cock twitches at the words. He takes it in hand and slowly drags his fist up and down its length, gathering and smearing precum. Has to grit his teeth. It wouldn't do to moan now. He is close to victory. The prince will have to touch him now.

He smirks when Merquise reaches to the ornate nightstand closest to him, muscles rippling under the skin with the fluid motion.  A short rummaging later and the prince is reclining again in his previous position, small tube in hand. He completely disregards Duo's triumphant expression as he tosses the lube at the ex-gundam pilot.

Duo instinctively catches it, confusion replacing the smirk. What the fuck is that? He can't even begin to contemplate what Merquise can or cannot be insinuating passing him the lube.

He is spared the effort as the next command hits him.

"Prepare yourself."

Initial disbelief quickly dissipates. Fuck that!  

"Fuck you!"

His newly remembered anger flares and he has to just breathe for several heartbeats. Sadly, murder is not an option anymore. But he's done with playing submissive, silently obeying the princely orders. What's next, `here's my cock, fuck yourself while I read a book'?

"I don't care for this shit. I'm outta here."

He jerkily moves to get out of bed, almost jumping in haste.

In the next moment he is face down on the floor, his braid hitting the carpet half a second later. His right leg is twisted awkwardly and still on the bed, the ankle in an iron grip. No way is this happening. The bastard had tripped him!

He ungraciously rolls on his back, murderous fury in his eyes, and nearly succeeds in catching Merquise in the face with his left foot in the process. That would have felt good but the bastard's reaction is lightning fast, as always. He expertly dodges the kick without losing his grip on Duo's ankle, and a second later he bends his entire upper body over the edge of the mattress, arms outstretched and grasping Duo's middle. Duo's body is tense with surprise -- a mistake, as it's easier to be manhandled this way. A quick pull and a heave later and he's effortlessly lifted onto the bed again, and dragged to its center. Back and head on the mattress, and a prince between his spread legs.

Merquise has let go of his waist but has captured his left ankle. Duo is overall free to move but doesn't, anger somehow forgotten again, as he stares at the suddenly alive face of the man towering over him and the mass of pale hair streaming down towards him. The prince's eyes are blazing with cold triumph and a touch of irritation which Duo knows he should hate, will hate, any minute now. The bastard is beautiful though, and scary, and awful, and Duo is distracted enough to allow a short pull on his ankle up and away, spreading him further.

His prey has turned predator.

Duo is truly afraid now.

To think he just despised the bastard for only muttering orders without doing anything. Careful what you wish for...

He can't stop this now, not with Merquise looking at him like that, hungry at last, but cold and angry at the same time. Why is he angry? Because Duo tried running away?

Would he even consider stopping if I said no? Duo wonders detachedly as the prince single-handedly squirts some gel on his palm from a tube which Duo has though lost in the scuffle. Thank god for small mercies. He keeps staring at his enemy's face and doesn't even blink as two cool wet fingers find his opening and unceremoniously push inside.

It hurts; he feels pinpricks in his eyes and they start watering but he stubbornly doesn't utter a sound.

I wanted this. I asked him for this.

He will not stop.

He has lost the game on his bluff, and he would suffer the consequences. As the fingers inside him move - to stretch, not please - Duo contemplates briefly of saying no aloud, for the record, but is distracted by his erection twitching again -- the erection he also thought lost in the scuffle.

Apparently not. Not that it matters. What follows will certainly take care of that, and not in the good way either. He has no illusions -- it's going to hurt.

A lot, he mentally adds, catching a first glimpse of a thick cock protruding from blond curls.

Heart loud and fast in his ears, Duo abandons himself to his fate. He will not resist.

The fingers are removed and Duo involuntarily closes his eyes preparing for the worse pain to come. When it doesn't, he peeks up to find Merquise slicked and poised for entry. Hungry. Looking at him with that unreadable expression again.

Waiting.

Duo almost laughs. The game is not over? They are still fighting?

He can say no. And it will go no further.

The icy eyes dare him to back down -- he should, pain is coming -- but he remains silent, daring the prince to continue. Does he really expect Duo to yield his own game? Battle-like adrenaline makes him smile -- cold and taunting - and the moment's over. With a swift push Merquise is in him.

Duo's body arches from the bed at the too fast invasion -- and apparently the tall prince is commensurately developed everywhere because it feels like nothing he has felt before -- and Heero isn't small by any standard. Duo feels too stretched, too full; he gulps air in harsh pants, and tears are definitely leaking from his eyes this time, but otherwise he bites his lip to stay silent. It's an impossible feeling - he can't imagine a movement from the cock inside him that wouldn't break him. Merquise's breathing is heavy too now, and Duo is vaguely pleased about that.

Until the prince nudges him slightly inside and somehow he's big enough that even that minute movement presses against Duo's prostate. He can't help a gasp at that as his whole body suddenly feels hot and light and heavy and tingling all the way to his toes and fingertips.

The feeling only intensifies as Merquise starts fucking him in earnest.

Duo knows there's pain somewhere, at the borders of his consciousness -- he hasn't been properly prepared, and Merquise isn't being gentle -- and Duo will be sore and sorry later. Now it's pleasure, blindingly-sharp and focused, that makes his thighs tremble wildly and his hands claw and clench at the bed sheets. He is keeping as silent as possible -- he's stubborn, he will never give the bastard the satisfaction of hearing him moan-- and he won't touch that perfect body either, a twisted revenge for something he can't quite remember. But his hips meet the forceful thrusts in a powerful counterpoint -- an involuntary concession of need but that he just can't help...

When it gets too much one of his hands -- his free hands -- seeks out his neglected erection but Merquise swiftly intercepts the limb with his own free hand. Duo glares and barely restrains a whine but manages to catch it in time, but dammit, it's not fair! Then he notices the bastard smirking and he would definitely hit him if he wasn't so close...and it's not going to happen that way, he needs the extra stimulation...Won't beg...so close...In frantic desperation, he lifts his hips to meet each slam; he wants, he needs more...And just as new tears, of frustration, prick his eyes -he's suddenly there, and it's a blackout.

There is wetness on his stomach and he's left shuddering and quivering all over, and knows the prince has come too -- he can feel it now but he's not able to tell when. He has been silent, just as Duo has been. Such is their game.

Merquise slips out and falls back and Duo can't help a reactive shudder as they both lie on the messed up bed, catching their breath.

After a while, the prince moves to resume his favorite position -- reclining against the headboard and Duo can just see the self-satisfied smirk that would be twisting the cruel lips. He lifts his head to make sure - this time the royal bastard will definitely get it -- but no - the unreadable expression on the prince's face has come back, eyes cold and guarded. He still doesn't say anything. The mussed up hair and the wet, softening cock are the only evidence of what has transpired -- otherwise he looks just like when he first lied down -- and somehow, somehow that's worse than the most superior smirk.

Duo's fury is hot and potent and overwhelming but unleashing it against the soulless son of a bitch seems to defeat the purpose.

He doesn't know what galls him so much. He had offered a fuck and had been fucked as offered. What is left is for him is to get out of there before he does something regrettable.

Like giving Merquise a real reason to wear a mask.

He gets up on not too steady feet and carefully dresses with calmness belying his renewed anger. He debates chancing his voice -- how long has it been since he last said anything? -- to say...what? Goodbye? See you around? Thanks for the fuck? But when he turns to face Merquise, the prince's eyes are closed and his breathing even. Sleeping. Or pretending to.

Duo leaves, closing the door carefully, justifiably proud of his restraint.

+

He spends the night in a dreamless sleep in the bedroom assigned to him as an honor guest to the palace for the duration of the peace celebrations.

He remembers about Heero only when he sees the man himself at breakfast and not a second earlier.

Duo smiles.

[part 2] [back to Singles a-k ]