I do not own the “Gundam
Wing” characters, nor did I make any money off of this project, so please no
suing. Various pairings, yaoi, AU.
The Completion Of Death
How the Soul Rests
Your Embrace Is All I Need
The night was familiar, as if locked
in time and repeated again for their use only. The setting was different, the
bed larger and softer, the blankets and animal furs smelling sweetly of rose
petals, but the players were the same, along with the act they committed.
“Trowa…”
The flesh was hot beneath his touch,
so pleasantly warm he ached to feel it under all of him. His mouth dove down
onto his lover’s, passion fueling him farther than anything before as he gently
took the man beneath him. He was intoxicated with the gruff smell of sex, of
sweat, of heat that hung throughout the lavish bedchambers. His hand roamed over the lean body of their
own volition, laying their teasing touch upon everything.
Quatre rose up and thrust once more,
his head sliding back. Sweat glistened over his entire body, each bead catching
the pallid moonbeams. His movements were tender and graceful, moving with a
loving ease that he didn’t even know he possessed. Under him, Trowa moaned,
wrapping his arms around his lord and pulling him down atop him.
Their panting and whispered
affections escalated to screams as their time came, each reaching their peeks
together. Their hands clawed at once another, lips searching for the flesh of
the other in the shielding darkness. Bodies shaking, they finally collapsed
beside one another, spent, wrapped in a loose embrace.
“Trowa?” the king whispered,
shimmering eyes lightly shut.
“Yes?” Trowa asked, running his
fingers through the boy’s pale hair.
“Do you think they found their
peace?” he murmured, voice faint. “Do you think they finally discovered what we
have?”
The former Knight of the Scythe
leaned over, lips lightly brushing against his lover’s forehead. “I don’t think
they had to discover it. I think they always knew where it was.”
Quatre nuzzled closer to the taller
boy, his face diving into the crook of Trowa’s shoulder. He felt his lover pull
several animal furs over his small body, his supple lips grazing his shoulder.
Closing his eyes, he drifted off to sleep, blissful to be in the throes of
“human distraction”, especially with Trowa, his soulmate and husband.
“Heero?”
He opened his eyes, turning his head
downward to peer at the boy lying in his lap. The long satin of his hair was
spread in ripples, covering his legs and the surrounding grass, while his
violet eyes were closed in relaxation. Heero leaned back against the tree he
sat beneath, his fingers finding the boy’s eternal face and stroking it.
“Hn?”
“This was the best idea you’ve ever
had,” Duo replied, chuckling.
“Thank you,” he muttered in return,
allowing silence to drift in once more. Above, clouds drifted by with lazy
agendas, light breaths of wind caressing the trees, the nature, the boys.
“Heero?”
“Hn?”
Duo cracked open a single glittering
violet eye, serious look on written across his face. “Do you think they will
remember us for what we truly were?”
Heero raised an eyebrow, perplexed.
“What do you mean?”
Duo struggled, and finally sat up,
hair cascading down his back in a waterfall of brilliant color. “Do you think
the people will only know me as the Demon of Death who lead eight different
deadly wars and massacres during ten centuries and you as the Angel of Life who
spent his life keeping me in line, up until the end, when he died doing so?”
Heero shook his head, sigh leaping
from his lips. “That isn’t true though.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Duo murmured,
lying down once more in his lover’s lap. “That’s what the rumors and history
books all say.”
“I thought Wufei was living in the
Tower, spreading the truth about you and I and what really happened,” the quiet
boy asked.
Duo shrugged. “No one wants to
listen. It’s much easier to place blame unto things that can’t defend
themselves, anyway. Even Relena, Quatre, and Trowa attempted to tell the facts,
but they fell on deaf ears, like usual.”
“Relena?” Heero raised another
eyebrow as he smoothed the long tendrils of hair over his thigh.
“Aye,” the other boy murmured. “She
was rough at first, but she understood in the end. She’s strong, that girl.”
“I thought you didn’t like her,”
Heero taunted.
“That was when I thought you were in
love with her,” Duo growled playfully. “You changed the subject. Do you think
they’ll remember us for only two people who went through hell to be together or
as a monster and a savoir?”
Heero was quiet for a moment, his
fingers diving into the satin of his beloved’s tresses as if searching for
something. At long last, as Duo was about to open his mouth to repeat the
question, the former angel asked, “Does it really matter?”
The late Demon of Death opened his
mouth, and then shut it, doing this several times until he finally whispered,
with a distant, serene smile on his lips, “No. I guess not.” Nuzzling down
further, he hissed, “Nothing matters anymore.”