June 13, 2000
Here it is, in its unedited glory...Sheesh, I'm tired. G'night every one...
ja ne
~ana~
"Sit like this. No, move your hand here, bend your little finger like that. Perfect. Don't move your head, Heero, I want the light to hit your hair like...that. Don't move." Giving Heero a gentle smile, he moved to his easel, where a large canvas had been stretched earlier that day. They were in the cramped space of the attic, the only place his Father dared not trespass. It was in the attic that he worked on his art, sculpting, drawing, and painting. He and Heero had a lot of fun with body paint...
Heero sat naked on a wooden crate, legs parted innocently, one hand at his chest clutching a sheet over the front of his body, the other at his mouth, almost as if he were chewing his fingernails or deep in thought. Oil lamps set around him in a ring gave his skin a flushed glow. Wufei smirked as he used a pencil to make a rough sketch of his body. He had a nice neck, long but not too long, and long, long legs up to his chin. Even his fingers and toes were long; it were as if someone had put him on the rack and instead of breaking, he simply stretched.
He could finish painting later; he had memorized every feature of his lovely boy's face and body. Every scar from mistreatment by his former master had been worshipped tenderly with his tongue and his hands; Heero was often shy about exposing his body, and it had taken months to get him to pose for any painting, let alone a nude. He had such a perfect, god-given form even if Wufei hadn't been sleeping with him he would have ached for a paintbrush whenever he saw him. And that face...
It was wrong for one person to be so heartbreakingly beautiful. Adding the last few lines of his sketch, he closed his pencil case and was about to tell Heero he could get dressed when the attic door suddenly banged open. Heero jumped and knocked over one of the lamps. The sheets dipped into the low flame, and within seconds, his lover was suddenly on fire, crying out in pain.
"HEERO!" Jumping over a few of the other oil lamps, he grabbed a thick wool blanket they'd used as a bed during cold nights and rolled Heero in it until the flames died out. Amazingly enough, not a single hair on his head was singed. "You're a very lucky baka," he informed his trembling lover.
A soft cough reminded them why Heero had suddenly jumped, and Wufei turned around to see one of the stablehands, averting his eyes as he studied the floor. "What did you want?" the Chinese boy snapped.
"Y-your father requests your presence," the servant stuttered, not meeting Wufei's eyes. Heero watched impassively as Wufei snorted and stalked down the stairs. What a night. About to pull on his pants, he gulped as he felt the sharp curve of a knife against his throat.
"Wh--"
Heero woke screaming.
He choked out a sob, clutching his throat as if he expected to find it slit, blood pouring down his chest. It had seemed so real! He could still feel the flames licking at his skin...
And he was in the canopy bed again, the sheets tucked up to his waist and around his legs in a futile attempt to keep him there. The house was giving him the creeps; he felt as if there were eyes in the walls, watching his every move, watching as he sat, hyperventilating, trembling in the dark...
When the door opened, Heero felt his stomach bottom out and nearly fainted. His fingers gripped the sheets tightly, expecting anything. A ghost. A killer. Wufei, even, with his refined accent and dark eyes. A shiver ran down his back as he remembered the feel of his eyes on his skin... No, not his skin. Just a dream... Why couldn't real life be more pleasant like that?
"Ow! Shit..." He winced as the sound of a shin connecting with the foot of the bed echoed through the silence.
That was the last voice he'd ever expected to hear. Straining his ears, he listened to the footsteps, heard the familiar thump-thump-ksscchchh shuffle of his former lover's walk.
"Duo?"
"Yeah? Shit, ow, Heero, this hurts..." A hand grabbed wildly at his face, and Heero pushed him away irritably. "Don't be cross, Heero. We both know that we're meant for each other." He felt lips swarming over his, gentle hands cupping his face. "It's such a nice house, Hee-chan. The island's nice and private...we could do it on the driveway and no one would know..."
"Duo," Heero snapped. "Get off me. What the hell are you doing here, anyway? And *how'd* you get here? The last ferry was at 10:15."
"Chartered a private boat. I needed to see you again, Heero." His voice dropped to a husky alto, and Heero knew that if he could see him, Duo's eyelashes would be fluttering in a very sexy way. As it was, Heero wasn't interested. In the time they'd been apart, he'd begun to dissect their relationship, and saw that it was fatally flawed. They both craved something that could not be found in the other.
A thought occurred to him. "How long have you been here?" he asked suspiciously. Duo grinned sheepishly; in the moonlight, he looked almost innocent. But Heero had lived with Duo long enough to know that he should never trust Maxwell when he was smiling like that.
"Just got here. Why?" Heero's face fell. It would have explained it all if only it had been Duo...
"I think there's someone else in the house," he confided, telling Duo about how he'd gone to sleep in one room and woken up in another...twice. Once...well, he couldn't even explain once, could he? "And it's all really suspicious because..." He hesitated. Did he really want to tell Duo about his sexually explicit dreams about some boy his mind had conjured up?
Not in particular. "Never mind," he muttered under his breath. Exasperated, the American threw up his hands and shook his head at the ceiling. "It's not important." *That* piqued Duo's interest. The moment Heero dismissed something as unimportant was the moment the bloodhound in Duo took over. Leaning forward, wetting his lips, he caught Heero's face in a gesture that was frighteningly like the one Wufei had used.
"What? Heero, you just don't *want* it to become important," he scolded. "What is it? I won't laugh."
Reluctantly, Heero relayed the two dreams he'd had, ending with the last few moments where the servant had slit his throat. He was surprised to find that he was shaking; Duo, concerned, pulled him in for a quick hug.
"It was just a dream, Heero," he sighed, rocking him gently, his chin resting on the soft silk of his hair. "Just a dream. Just a silly dream," he reiterated, as if trying to convince himself.
"No," Heero insisted stubbornly, "someone's been in the house!"
"Hee-chan," Duo said reasonably, "your alarm's on."
Heero suddenly went deathly pale. "Then how the hell did you get inside?" he growled, wrenching out of Duo's grasp. "Who the hell are you?"
"Heero!" Duo sounded shocked. "I--" He stopped, unsure, face scrunched up into a scowl. A very familiar scowl. "Baka," he scolded, Duo's prominently American features melting away into strong Asiatic curves. "I have finally found you again. Do not think I am letting you go."
"What are you talking about?" Heero demanded angrily, even as his body responded to his presence. Coal common eyes met dark blue eyes, both glaring and unwilling to relent.
"I have looked for you for over one hundred years, koi." A slight sob escaped him. "I knew you would be drawn back to this house...I just knew it..." He swallowed. "I thought you were asleep."
"So the dreams?" Heero demanded, his chest growing heavy.
"Not dreams," he admitted. "Memories." Wufei's eyes brightened as Heero nodded once, beginning to understand. There was a gleam in them that seemed almost the brink of madness.
"Now we can be together forever like we planned." The slender Chinese boy grabbed Heero's hand, twining their fingers together. "Just one kiss and it will finally be over, Heero. All it takes."
All it takes.
Amethyst eyes staring up at him.
All it takes is a yes, Heero.
He glanced up, letting himself drown in Wufei's black eyes, the darkness overwhelming him, beckoning with one finger to him. Hesitantly, his fingers playing over his face, Heero raised himself to his knees, arms sliding behind the other boy's neck in a familiar position. It felt as if he were a key that had been fit into its keyhole; things fell together, edges joining. frayed threads mending.
Heero slid his eyes shut and parted his lips, waiting for his kiss.
End Part Two
Ariana
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