July 20, 2000
Rating: Adult...ish.
Pairings: Established 3+4 but... can't everybody have a little fun...? Sure they can... (now if I can only figure out how...)
Warnings: **Sexually** charged. Yaoi themes. Sappy in some areas (blame it on the romantic). ***Angst*** in other areas. Incoherence and random POV switching throughout. Annoying cliff-hangers...
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters belong to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency and are only being used for non-profit entertainment purposes.
Thank You's: Thanks to everyone who's been encouraging this little project along. I've been getting an overwhelming response. It's great to know you guys are enjoying the read!
Notes: Heero's out on a mission that wasn't even assigned to him. He's been shot at (but don't worry. It's *only* a shoulder wound) and now he's been clomped upside the head.
~~ Have you ever...? Have you ever...? Have you ever... danced...? Have you ever...danced... devil...? Have you ever... danced... devil... pale moonlight? ~~
The words were a mantra that repeated over and over... pounding on steady as a heartbeat... his heartbeat.
A scene played out with the words. A vision. A vision of laughing violet eyes, long chestnut hair... appealing lips curved in a smile. Laughing. He was laughing. Arms outspread as he twirled around and around, laughing. It was nighttime, and the moon was full overhead.
'C'mon, Heero! Come over here and *feel* the moon's rays! Soak 'em up! It feels *great*!'
Laughing. Dancing. Dancing in the pale moon light. The devil was dancing in the pale moon light.
'Hn. Baka. You should come in before you get sick.'
Violet eyes shot a mock-pout in his direction. 'Oh, c'mon, Heero! I *know* you wanna dance with me!' He stopped twirling and just *looked* at him. 'You aren't afraid to dance with the devil, are you?' he asked mockingly.
'Hn.'
~~ Have you ever...? ~~
'I have no desire to go out there in the snow and twirl around like an idiot,' he told the other, turning from the doorway.
'Don't you want to dance with the devil in the pale moon light?' a voice whispered in his ear.
He whirled, but no one was there. At least, no one was directly behind him... but there *was* someone on the bed... writhing... moaning...
The body arched, black satin sheets falling off the body to reveal a stunningly naked Duo Maxwell. His breath caught in his throat. Moonlight lit across the bed and its occupant, lighting every detail. Chestnut strands of silky hair were spilled out across the pillows. Violet eyes were hooded with passion. That lithe body was undulating over the bed.... It was as though he was---
'Don't you wanna dance with the devil in the pale moon light?'
He groaned, feeling his body respond to the sight before him.
'Dance with me, Heero?' the braided vision pleaded. 'Dance with me...'
He struggled to control his breathing... his racing heart... his increasing temperature...
"Sir! Sir! It looks like he's coming around!" a voice called out. One he didn't recognize.
"Good, good." Another unrecognizable voice. Calm. Smug. Stomach-turning.
'Dance with me, Heero? Please?' the braided vision moaned, arching once again. Gasping. 'Dance with me!'
"Can you hear me, private Taylor?" that smug voice questioned. "Or perhaps I should call you 01? Or maybe you will provide me with a name with which to call you by? Hmmm?"
'Have you ever...? Have you ever...? Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moon light?'
'No...' but he had wanted to...
"I'm sorry, sir. He's unconscious again."
Commander Valdeon looked down at the boy strapped down to a table, frown plastered across his face. "Hm. I see. Very well," he said, turning away. "Have me informed immediately when he regains consciousness."
"Yes sir!" the eager-to-please officer replied, snapping to attention. Valdeon didn't bother to acknowledge, but swept away from the room, heading to his own quarters. Once inside, he sent out two very similar messages.
He had the gundam pilot 01 in his possession. Now the only thing left for him to decide was who to sell the boy to... who would pay the most for possession of this boy...
Romafeller... OZ... or the White Fang.
Valdeon didn't care which one, really. You see, he was only in this war for the profit.
End of Part Twelve: Sweet Dreams
Andrea Readwolf
Please send comments to: andrea_readwolf@hotmail.com