13-Jul-2000
Nanana...not mine.
Just sex, right Heero?
Just another mind-blowing, shivering, shuddering, earth-shattering bout of incredible sex. I know you want me. It´s obvious in every little gesture, every cool, careless glare.
I know you want me. I know that you love her.
But she's just so damn innocent. And there's something about innocence, purity, that really turns you on. You're like a man painted with blood who can't help but want to lie down on the white carpet. It's the promise of something new that keeps you wanting her. And I can't help but understand, because there's something about her, her and her ideals of absolute pacifism, something in the naivete and the youth, that makes me think that maybe it has a chance. That maybe, with her pushing for peace with all of her heart and soul, someday it might become a reality.
But either way, it's too late for Shinagami.
I'm used. I'm not innocent; I wallow in the blood of innocents. I've been raped, I've been tortured. I've turned tricks on the dirtiest street corners to keep food in my belly and a roof, however leaky, over my head. I keep needles dipped in tranquilizers in my hair; sometimes the customers got a little rough, and old habits die hard. They've come in handy more than once.
He's never been rough with me. Always so gentle, like I'm made of glass, when all I really want is for him to spread my legs and thrust into me, grinding me into the sheets. I want it to be like the first time, that first moment of childhood shattered into pieces. I want him to be like Father Maxwell, who used me as his little jack-off tool, I want him to make it rough, to make it hurt. I wear my hair long as a tribute to that bastard—he taught me what life was about. Survive, advance. Survive, and advance. No one ever stops to pick you up on the way.
Because if it hurts, then I can pretend that it's the first time. That no one has ever laid a hand on my body, that I'm new. And even if it's only for a split-second of time, it's like recovering my childhood, only to have it broken again.
So I guess that's why I'm here, at this dirty nightclub on L-4, my back pressed against the wall, some boy who looks superficially like Heero grinding his erection high in between my leather-clad thighs. His hair is as wild as the Japanese pilot's; but his eyes are dull, whereas Heero's glitter with intelligence and wit.
But I want this. I need to be fucked, to make the pain go away that curls up in the pit of my belly and just stays there. His hands are sweaty, leaving greasy trails down my hips as they grope and fondle. "Let's go somewhere," he suggests, and I nod, breathless.
We go to one of those cheap motels that sells by the hour, a dusty flourescent light telling us, "Yes, they have acan ies", and before the door shuts behind us he is on top of me, mouth devouring mine in a smothering kiss so unlike Heero's demanding, yet always arousing, kisses. This is more like drowning, like losing sense of myself. He pulls off my clothes in hurried, ragged motions, attacking my vest as I kick my boots onto the floor. He undresses, a mad gleam of lust in his eyes, but he leaves his boots on. The toes dig into my shins, and I make a small moaning sound of complaint.
"Shh," he cautions, as if his girlfriend is right next door fucking another girl, and for all I know she may be. Then his mouth closes around the head of my cock and I gasp, wincing as his teeth scrape against the slit in the very tip. But his mouth is so warm that I just close my eyes, letting sensation carry my away, pretending that it is Heero's mouth that works so carelessly, brutally, over my erection. He would never hurt me.
Then, without warning, he parts my knees with his hand and thrusts, giving me no time to prepare for the sudden and swift intrusion. I breath deeply, trying to get used to the sensation of being filled. He thrusts once, twice, then comes all over me, sticky and gasping for breath. He jabs inside me once more, letting out a roar, and then goes limp. I hear him snoring, and sigh, irritated.
I still have a raging hard-on, and that boy did nothing to alleviate the darkness that's building up inside me. I know now that the pain is something only Heero can take away, and he will not; cannot. There's nothing anyone can do, and there's nothing anyone can say.
I pull on my clothes and flee into the darkness, trying to let the shadows absolve me of my sins, trying to fade away into the background, triumphant, despairing.
End
Bianca
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