Rating: NC--17 for sex and language.
Pairings: 6x2, way background implied 3x/+4, 5x/+S
Summary: Duo makes Zechs an offer he can't refuse :) Oh well. He can. But
he doesn't :)
Warnings: PWP, Yaoi
Notes: Post EW. Title taken from Rammstein's song "Wollt ihr das Bett
in Flammen sehen?" (It goes like this: /Sex ist ein Schlacht Liebe
ist Krieg"/. Utopia Doesn't Exist has my eternal gratitude for a lot
more than the betaing.
Disclaimer: Don't own Gundam Wing. Not making profit either.
is a Battle, Love is War + Part 1
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?
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.
The indifferent look doesn't change. The prince doesn't even blink. Impressive.
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.
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
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,
"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
"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
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
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
"...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
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
But no, is that...the barest hint of amusement flickering in the ice-cold
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
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
Duo has to backtrack mentally to find the meaning - `undress yourself'-this
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.
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
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
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
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.
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.
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.
Initial disbelief quickly dissipates. Fuck that!
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
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.
[part 2] [back to Singles