25 Apr 2000
Hi hi! It's been a while since I've posted any of this one ^_^ Hope you all
remember what it's about! Please to enjoy straight away, since I don't have
any actual comments to make (that would pertain to anything, at least).
Warnings: yaoi, lime, AU, language
Feedback please! Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: GW isn't mine even though I spent my last
tooth wishing for that. :(
Quatre smiled as he watched Abdul tease Mariemaia about her pretty red hair. The Manguanacs had come to the instantaneous, but apparently official, resolution to adopt the young woman as "theirs". Mariemaia didn't seem to mind, for all that she obviously did not know what to do with so much well-intentioned regard.
The Winner executive turned from the window and now comtemplated his guest--Treize--with a more serious turn of mind. "All right," he said finally. "Tell me what brings such a look to your eyes."
"What look?" Treize snapped.
"That angry look," Quatre replied, easing into a crouch beside the general's chair. "That puzzled look. Something is wrong. Won't you tell me?"
Treize sighed, and reached out a hand to stroke back a lock of hair that had escaped Quatre's grooming and fallen into his bright eyes. "How are your lodgers faring?"
"Well enough, considering it's only been a few days," Quatre answered. He smiled, but it was shadowed by worry. "They're both so... withdrawn. So hard to read. Miss Barton speaks for Duo all the time; I miss hearing his voice. Do you know, we talked for *hours* the night he arrived here?" He shook his head. "Now, it's as though he doesn't even want to be here."
"Give him time," Treize automatically consoled. "He's adjusting. It's not going to happen immediately. Half of his life, my dear, half of his life was lived in one room no bigger than this! He just needs to adjust to the notion of... freedom. It doesn't have anything to do with you."
Quatre knew this was true--but he also knew that somehow, he had to find more time to *be* there for Duo, to help him with that transition. If Duo deserved more from him than that, time would have to do to start.
"You never answered my question," he recalled after a time. "Tell me."
"Why should anything be wrong?"
"I don't know. I won't unless you tell me." With the infinite patience that had stood him so well all his life, Quatre looked up at his friend and waited.
Finally Treize glanced away. "I can't," he murmured. His hand caressed Quatre's hair, smoothing it, then digging deep into it before smoothing it out again. "It's far too personal right now, my dear. Can you please wait for me a little while longer?"
Quatre smiled. "I will always be your friend," he promised.
Treize returned his smile, then leaned forward and kissed him. "I shall hold you to that, Mr. Winner," he whispered, kissing him again.
Quatre accepted the arms that slid around his waist and drew him up into the older man's lap--but all he could think of was Duo.
Duo heard the latch click. "Who's there?" he asked.
"It's me." The quiet, gentle voice was one that Duo was slowly becomming familiar with; he relaxed.
"Why are you in the dark?" the voice asked him. He heard the light being keyed, and then the shuffling uncertain footsteps walked more surely to the bed where he sat, before halting in front of him.
"Why not?" Duo replied listlessly. "There's no point in wasting your money on something you can't make use of."
There was a pause. Then clothing shuffled as the person moved, and Duo felt warm hands on his cold skin, sliding from his knee up to the soft linen shirt puddled in his naked lap. "Duo?"
He wanted to leave. He wanted to get to his feet and saunter to the door the way he had used to, when he was younger--hell, he'd settle for staggering there, if it would get him out. His hands, clenched in the fabric of that sinfully soft and almost otherworldly clothing that was so different from what he'd worn all his life, trembled.
"Duo." The tender voice moved higher, and the bed creaked slightly as a heavy weight settled beside him. Strong arms moved around him, held him tightly.
He remembered other arms, other unwanted embraces. Other kisses pressed against his mouth just like this one, and him too alone and weak to stop their invasion. He stood, and Quatre let him go, trying to find words and failing.
He shook his head, and felt hair fall into his face. "I'm scared," he whispered into the charged silence. "I--I don't know what--there's just so--so much--"
"Then let me help you." This from the bed.
"What can you possibly do?" He hugged himself to hide his shuddering and struggled against the two battling memories, Rudee, Quatre, past, present--so much.
He was just as trapped now as he'd been a short week before.
"Let me love you," Quatre said, coming to him and pulling him close again. Duo found the silky skin that glowed beneath his sensitive fingers, found the lines of eye, and mouth, and cheek, then mouth again--felt the pressing kiss again, lips parted over his and hesitating, asking, waiting for him to open up, give up, give in.
No alcohol to make it easier--no weariness to break down his walls--just hands moving through his hair, tiny damp hot kisses all over his face and throat. "I'm scared," he said, and he'd never admitted that before to anyone, not with such complete honesty. "Help me. Help--"
Quatre drew him back to the bed. "Relax... It's so much more *right* with you here... relax, Duo, let it be just like before, when I loved you."
"When I was alive... "
"When it was perfect," Quatre breathed, and he was easing slowly on top of Duo, pressing him back into the hand-woven threads of the coverlet. The Arabian shivered as Duo clumsily touched him, hands slipping, trying to fumble open his belt; he leaned in to crush Duo's mouth to his again, matching, upping, the urgency.
Duo hated the heat that began to burn in him almost against his will, constricting his chest painfully--were these tears? He hadn't cried since he was child--not once in all the years at Rudee had he cried--Quatre pulled the American up against him, stroking his back, lips moving along the curve of his neck, nipping here and there, leaving traces of warmth on his skin that added to that heat inside.
"No," Duo whispered.
Quatre kissed him so many times he lost track, pushing him down, holding him so tightly, lips following the path of work-roughened fingers, tracing knobby collar-bones and a sunken chest and capturing his mouth again. Duo opened his mouth under that assault and gasped into Quatre's passion...
And the door-buzz sounded.
Quatre rolled off him quickly, one hand clutching his loosened shirt closed. "What!" he yelled hoarsely.
"An urgent call, Quatre-sama," replied a very composed voice.
"Damnit," the Arabian cursed. "Damnit, damnit--Duo." Quatre touched his face and kissed him one last time. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Duo shook his head. "Go," he mouthed. He couldn't manage sound.
Quatre stood and Duo heard him straightening his clothing, imagined him running his hands through his hair to tame it again. He lay on his back and closed his eyes, wondering if maybe Quatre would think he had dozed off and would thus spare him a good-bye kiss.
No such luck. It was no more than a quick grazing of teeth and tongue against his slack mouth, but it sent a jolt through his entire body. Duo bit back the moan it wrung from him, and Quatre, already out the door, never noticed.
Duo buried his face in a pillow. "Shit," he breathed. "Shit."
End Part 5
(:./erin/20years5)
