June 13, 2000
My first ever 5x1...::sobs:: Be gentle. Feedback is cool, but not
necessary. k? ^_^
ja ne
~ana~
Heero drove up the long winding hill, a feeling of trepidation tripp-trapping in his rib cage, eyes peering up, waiting to snatch a glimpse of South Wynde, his new home on Fisher's Island. Duo would have loved it; the entire island was less than seven miles long and not even a mile wide, placing an emphasis on privacy. Surrounded by the gorgeous Atlantic, natural wildlife flourishing on all sides, it was the perfect place to spend the summer with a lover.
It was a huge castle on the very edge of the island, built from black polished stone and shingled with black slate. Definitely the kind of place Death would love. He already missed Duo, and it hadn't even been four days since the braided beauty left him, claiming he had no passion for life.
It was probably true. Compared to Duo, who was a primadonna opera singer in one of the most exclusive opera houses in the Sanc Kingdom, Heero found life very routine and infinitely boring. Every day, get up, look in the mirror at a haggard face whose eyes grew hollowed and more deep-set every day, whose mouth was slowly drooping into an eternal frown. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been happy.
Then kiss Duo good morning. And make breakfast; Wheaties and toast, before heading to work for 8.25 hours. Suffer secretary's attempts to get a date with him. Leave work. Come home. Eat dinner. Go to bed. Wake up. The monotony of his life was getting to him; surely he would go mad if he couldn't find some source of change to lift his spirits.
Heero parked his Mercedes in the driveway, feeling rather foolish as he fumbled with the key in the doorway. It didn't matter. There was no Duo to mock his clumsiness in that endearingly playful way of his, and no Relena to worry over his health. She had always loved him, and it was a strange kind of tension that existed between them as they struggled to remain friends despite her feelings.
The instant he stepped into the house, he was in love. Simple, yet elegant fixtures adorned what was visible of the front parlor, and a large Waterford crystal chandelier hung over the foyer. Feeling around for the light switch, he fumbled to cover his eyes as the entire first floor lit up in a spectacular display of short rainbows and soft lights.
Apparently, the only sources of light were the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling in every room. Tossing his keys onto a flat wooden chest by the door, he decided to explore his new home.
Real wood floors, all in excellent condition. Recently waxed, he noted with some approval. The front parlor melted away into a large library filled with old manuscripts and texts, some written in Classical Greek. He'd have to explore that later. He slid the next door open, and found himself in a Victorian style kitchen, replete with gas stove, fire place, and an ice box. Combined with a bizarre mixture of Mr. Coffees and blenders, it made for an eclectic cooking space.
Next was a small bedroom, refurbished with fine cherry furniture and a light blue gingham fabric around the windows. Cheery, but small. The way he liked to live, a sharp contrast to...
No. He wouldn't think about Duo anymore. They were history, no longer together. He had forced Duo away, shutting down when the lively opera singer tried to communicate with him. He was taking a well earned vacation--it wasn't as if he couldn't afford it, either. With the passing of Dr. J *and* Relena's father, both of whom he had been extremely close to and whose relationships to himself he had suspicions about, he had been left with a sum of money that could support him for the rest of his life if he chose.
To the left of the small bedroom were the stairs, black and white swirled marble, polished and free from dust. To Heero's surprise, the floor to the right of the stairs consisted of only long panels of mirror, no rooms or doors anywhere. On the other side, there was a huge bedroom, probably where the masters of the house had slept. There was a large canopy bed, with white lace veils shimmering as a slight breeze ran through the room. It *was* a little chilly; he crossed the room to close the window and jumped as the floorboards creaked below his feet.
Belittling himself for being so foolish, he shut the window firmly and headed back downstairs to unpack. All he had brought, really, were clothes and his guitar. An aspiring musician, he was forced to work the ritual 9 to 5 job to make ends meet while he worked on his songs. Duo could easily have supported both of them, but Heero Yuy accepted no man's charity.
After he'd brought his suitcase in and locked the car, Heero collapsed onto the bed in the smaller room on the first floor, exhausted from the move, from their breakup, from life.
"Ha!" the other boy gloated as Heero's sword went flying. They were both wearing men's clothing from the Victorian era, very stream-lined and free-flowing. His opponent had jet-black hair that reflected the light in a crown around his head, and coal black eyes, common but brilliant. He had a name...
"Master Chang," he complained, letting one tanned hand fall to his hip. "You always beat me..."
Chang raised an eyebrow. "Shall I let you beat me? And I have told you before, call me Wufei when Father is not around, Heero." He found himself nodding, rather than questioning the entire dream. Within moments, he was entirely submerged, lost within the movements and speech particulars of the time period.
"You are so beautiful," he murmured, one long finger tracing swirls on Heero's cheek. "I can't believe you're from slave stock. I'll never regret the day I made Father buy you. It was worth the beating," he declared, catching Heero's face in his hands.
"I cannot--" Wufei silenced the smaller boy with a deep kiss, tongue probing his mouth, caressing his own tongue. Heero made a sound of protest that quickly deepened into a moan as the Chinese boy's hand slipped inside his pants, touching him, fingers searching in between his legs. He moved his feet a bit further apart to allow him easier access; Wufei chuckled.
"You protest what your body already knows," he sighed, pinching the tip of Heero's weeping erection, flooding his mind with abstract images of pleasure, red and vibrant, and pain, white and pulsing. He found himself sprawled face down on the practice mat, hands sliding his pants off his narrow hips, and let out a strangled cry as Wufei's tongue touched him there, sliding along the crack of his buttocks, delving in and out, moistening his flesh.
"How can yoooOOH! Oh!" he wailed as Wufei slid deeply inside him, forcing his way past the tight muscular ring and rubbing against all the right places. He was so big; every time they made love, Heero couldn't sit still for days after. But when he was fully seated inside Heero, the head of his cock remaining pressed firmly against that soft, spongy spot inside him that always made him scream.
The Chinese boy pulled Heero up so he was on his hands and knees, one long arm threaded around his hips to keep him from collapsing. He was so beautiful, face flushed all over, his nipples, the color of brown sugar, erect, and the proof of the pleasure he was feeling hard between his legs. Reaching down a leisurely hand, he pumped him once, twice, in counterpoint to his thrusts, exploding inside of Heero as the boy came, screaming for his God. Grunting as he began to extricate himself, his heel caught on the long fabric of his pants and he fell forward, thrusting again inside him. Heero came again, arms giving out as his upper half crashed to the floor.
Smiling slightly, Wufei began to thrust into his slave's body as hard as he could, sending him flying into the ground, only to come again, cries echoing throughout the practice courts, his body tensing .. Again and again, until the Japanese slave collapsed with a shout that reverberated through the entire house, heart racing, pupils dilating as he panted, sighing as Wufei leaned down and licked his seed away, swallowing it appreciatively. Every part of him was perfect.
Upstairs in the master bedroom, his father shook his head sorrowfully. "Such a shame that Wufei punishes Heero so harshly. I can hear his screams from here."
Heero woke early in the morning to find sore, as if he really had been relentlessly fucked until he passed out. "What a dream!" he exclaimed softly, covering his mouth as he let out a terrific yawn that seemed to stem from his toes.
Sighing, he wrapped his arms, covered in gooseflesh from the breeze in the room, around his naked chest, his mind slowly waking up.
Heero found many things wrong with that last thought.
He'd had his clothes on when he'd gone to sleep; during the time he'd slept, someone had stripped him to his black silk boxers. Too tired to undress, even, he'd fallen asleep in the little bed on the first floor.
Which led to the next problem. He was trembling and sweating in the big canopy bed on the second floor, the covers pushed down, only a single silk sheet covering his body.
And the third problem?
The window was open.
God damn it, it was cold in the room. Even the memory of his dream wasn't enough to warm him. God, he hadn't had a wet dream in years. Then, he hadn't gone without sex for longer than three days in years, ever since the first day that he and Duo met...
The dream had been so real. It was almost as if he *had* been fencing...and doing everything else that followed.
But that was crazy. Just a dream, sparked by his own inner romanticist's secret longings and the architecture of the house. Yeah. Must have been that... He ignored the fact that there was a little voice inside of him screaming, pointing wildly at the window and his own scantily-clad state. Wincing as his feet hit the cold wood floor, he padded downstairs to make some breakfast. Preferably something other than Wheaties.
The day went by uneventfully. He walked along Isabella Beach, enjoying the way the sand sank between his toes, and went for a bike ride. Heero felt a thrill of excitement run through him as the sun set on the water and night fell in his window. Stripping down to his boxers, he slid between the cool sheets and fell asleep.
End Part One
Ariana
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