24 Aug 2000
Category: Angsty romance
Pairings: 2xR/Rx2
Disclaimers: I don't own these delightful people (Sunrise and the
Sotsu Agency do, and Bandai has a license to pass them around), nor
do I intend to infringe upon the rights of their owners.
Rating: NC-17 (probably a bit strong, but oh, well)
Warnings: Sap, introspection, lemony-lime (might be outright lemon--I'm bad at this)
Feedback: Always welcome!
<> denotes thoughts.
Duo peered into the darkened office, rapping experimentally on the open door. "Relena? Your worshipfulness? You still in there?"
He almost missed her slight movement, but then spotted her profile against the window. "What're you doing still up here, Lena? You're missing one heck of a party."
Her face, pale in the dim room, turned toward him from where she sat on the window seat. Her eyes were huge in the darkness, but he saw the flash of a smile before she turned back to the open window. "I know. I can see it from here. Watch--"
Shaking his head at the waste of a perfectly good night for partying, Duo came to the window. Beyond the wide panes, the harbor spread its glittering arms to the sea--the docks and the town were alight with lanterns and strings of lights, the streets filled with revellers as Sank's celebration danced its way into the night. As they watched, another burst of fireworks filled the sky.
"They do this every year," she mused. "Three times, now. On the anniversary of the last battle."
"It's great." He dropped onto the other end of the window seat. "Reminds me a bit too much of artillery fire, but--beautiful."
She nodded, blue eyes dark with memory. "I know what you mean."
Sitting back against the alcove's curved wall, he watched the colored light play across her face. <Those sparklers have nothing on you, Lena. When did you have time to go and get beautiful on me?> "So why aren't you down there with your fans? Woman of the hour, and all that."
Her eyes were still a long way away. "They don't want me. When they didn't have peace, they needed a walking incarnation of it. Now it's theirs, really theirs--all they have to do to see it is look at each other, at their children. Now I'm just a walking reminder of the war. I make them nervous."
"That's only partly true. And anyway, maybe they'll always need a reminder that peace is fragile, ne? A lot more than they need a spectre of death, anyhow."
She looked straight at him, then, and smiled wistfully in the reflected light. "Maybe. Maybe they need both of us. At least for now."
"For now," he echoed, wondering when the sadness in her eyes had acquired such a hold over him. When, exactly, had his feelings of responsibility turned into this fierce protectiveness? What had begun as uneasy friendship, so long ago, had inexplicably become a need to hold on to her as if she were the only real thing left in a world that seemed to be receding on all sides.
Those blue eyes were wondering, now, as she tried to comprehend the clouds darkening his own. Wordlessly, she reached out to touch his cheek, and smiled again when he leaned into the caress. Very gently, as if she might break, he leaned forward and kissed her chastely, almost reverently.
She was still smiling, a little, when he sat back to look at her cautiously. And when she leaned forward, it was to draw him into a long, searching kiss. Still reverent, but hardly chaste; her mouth was cool and dangerously sweet against his, her body swaying dangerously close. It had been so very long...
In just another minute, he told himself, he would break it off, start listing the many reasons why this was a bad idea. Just another few minutes, and he would start trying to find his way back from this incredible place. But his brain couldn't stop trying to interpret this as reality. <This can't be happening,> it reported stubbornly. <She's not in shock this time--nope, don't see any guns--so why would she--so good, her hands in his hair--NO.> He couldn't do this. With a half-voiced exclamation, he tore himself away, not stopping until he was almost across the room.
She half-rose, her tumbled hair glinting silver in the moonlight that had replaced the finished fireworks. "What--?"
"I'm not him, Relena." There. He'd said it.
Something tightened in her chest, but she tried to speak lightly. "Neither am I, but here you are."
It was the one thing they had never talked about, the unspoken shadow always looming between them. He bowed his head as if the words carried physical weight. "He should have been here, with you. He should be here."
He didn't hear her rise, but suddenly she was there, gently turning him to face her, reaching to trace the line of his set face. He wouldn't look at her.
"Everybody's second choice. Is that what you think, Duo?"
A muscle worked in his jaw as he turned away, back to the window. "It's never been that simple," she insisted. "And you know it. When I look at you, I see you. Every time." She fought to keep the pleading out of her voice, but couldn't keep it from showing in her eyes. <Please, let me try. Let me get this right, at least. For both of us.> "What do you see?"
He didn't want to think any more about what all this meant, how it fit with anything else he had thought he knew. "I--I see you too. Every time." It was like a promise.
She came into his arms again, and stayed there. Their long embrace gradually turned into something else as they found themselves back on the window seat, her face lifting to him like some kind of night-blooming flower. Intoxicating. But the hesitation he saw there stopped him.
"You've never done this before." She shook her head, not trusting her voice. "You mean Heero never--"
Another mute shake.
"Idiot. Well." He reached to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "Then we go slow."
The promise in his voice made her toes curl, and it suddenly seemed very warm in the still room. He leaned to kiss her, and then again, setting up a rhythm. Something hot and secret seemed to be uncoiling inside her, and his lips were only making it unfold faster. He paused, drawing a fingertip along her neck and shoulder. "If anything hurts, or doesn't feel right, you tell me and we stop. Okay?"
He got a nod, but she was already tired of talking. "More."
His eyes were wicked. "Slow, I said. Hold still."
She tried, but was set squirming again by his mouth on her throat; one hand dealt with the buttons of her blouse, which seemed like a very good thing, but his other hand was motionless on her thigh, just under the edge of her skirt. And oh, she wanted that hand to move. She arched restlessly, unable to keep still as he laid back the edges of her blouse. Those fingers were agonizingly light as they caressed the curve of her breast through its second skin of silky fabric, until his mouth replaced them to let his hands work briefly at her back, freeing her skin to his lips. Her breath came in little sobbing gasps, hips moving helplessly as he shifted position, that hand finally moving deliberately up to stroke maddeningly against the fabric between her legs. And then he was lifting her, easing the elastic over her hips, tossing the scrap of silk to the floor. She moaned, reaching for him, but he was already back; next to her, over her. She was lost, lost, and she finally stopped trying to catalogue the separate sensations as everything inside her seemed to tighten, to gather--until finally the throbbing organized itself into a series of deliciously slow spasms.
When the stars faded from behind her eyelids, she opened her eyes to meet his slow, rather triumphant smile. She smiled back, flexing the fingers that had been digging into his shoulders. His fully-dressed shoulders. Something clicked. "That--that wasn't--?"
Still smiling, he wiggled his fingers at her. "H-hi, guys. I think I love you!"
He laughed against her hair, levering himself up onto one elbow. She tried to disentangle herself from her open blouse, letting it drop with her bra to the floor. Better. Especially when wriggling out of her top made his eyes go hot like that, his face suddenly intent. "So there's more?" She smiled with what she hoped was seductive coyness, stretching her arms languidly over her head.
"Oh, yes."
"Still want to go slow?"
"More than ever, love. All night. And maybe most of tomorrow, if none of your assistants happens to have a key to this office."
"Only my chief of security." Her toes were curling again. It was about time he had a taste of his own medicine. Slow, indeed. She reached for his knee, then slid her hand deliberately upward. "Show me."
His breath hissed between clenched teeth--he'd been waiting for that touch for so long it hurt, and his control almost slipped. Almost. This part could be scary, could be painful. It had been for him, the first--how many times? But he thought he knew a way to solve some of that. <Control, Maxwell.> "You're in charge, koi."
She tipped her head questioningly, but now her smile was wicked. "You mean I get to do whatever I want?" Her hands weren't waiting, but tugging his shirts up, finding his skin. Whatever conditions he had been about to impose were drowned in a groan--this was too good. Way too good to be happening to him. The past hour had left him close to the breaking point--the way she moved against him, the incredible softness of the secret places he'd been, the broken cries as she tightened around him--and it took all his concentration to lie back now, pulling her over him so she could explore.
Lying half alongside him, half atop him, Relena let her fingers follow the line of the muscles in his shoulders, his chest, taking note of which touches seemed to tickle and which ones stopped his breath entirely. He was trying hard not to move--she could feel the tension nailing his shoulders to the cushion--but it was demanding considerable effort. She laughed low in her throat, smiling as he finally opened his eyes.
"You aren't showing me very much, are you, Maxwell-sensei?"
"Are you done playing?"
"Oh, I didn't say that...." Slim fingers slid under his waistband, finding more room to work when his surprised gasp pulled his abdomen even tighter. Past both waistbands, now, and he moved to help her, dealing with zippers and fighting his way out of the rest of his clothes. She felt the slow heat reaching out inside her again as he moved to meet her curious hand, a fascinating combination of softness over hardness. Where to begin? His normally mobile face was fixed in concentration: no help there. She stroked him experimentally, feeling her way. A stifled cry made her look back up along his body to his face--biting his lip, hooked fingers doing serious damage to the cushions, he fought to hang on to the last shreds of his control. He might have lost it if he had seen her teasing smile, but he finally did snap when she leaned even closer and drew her tongue lightly up the entire length of him.
He almost dumped her off the seat as he sat up, taking her face into his hands so he could drink deeply from her lips. When he looked up, his eyes had darkened from violet to indigo. Their darkness sent her mind spinning again.
Sliding her fingers into his hair, bringing it down all around her, she nodded in answer to their mute question. "Please, sensei?"
Again, that flame leapt in his eyes. <How did you ever leave him, Heero, if he looked at you like this?> With incredible gentleness, he eased her back against the piled pillows, pausing to stroke her nearly senseless again before--slowly, deliciously--showing her exactly what 'more' could mean.
When at last they lay in a tangle of limbs and hair and tumbled cushions, she found herself giggling against his chest.
"What?"
She looked up, still laughing. "And you were afraid I'd miss the fireworks!"
She could feel the low rumble of his answering laugh. "Silly bijin. What am I going to do with you?"
"Many, many things, I hope. But right now I'm getting cold."
"Bed?"
"Bed."
End of Part 4.
(:./lilias/complicated4)
