must drench
title: Must Drench To Numb - part 12 (gw)
rating: NC 17 - 1xOCs, 1xrelena, unrequited 1+2
warnings: sex, angst, swearing, unbeta-ed
summary: One of the pilots is gay. Now married and living "happily ever after" he must make this discovery and keep this secret on his own.
notes: it's a little late, but do you still remember what last happened?
Part 12
It was cold and getting dark. I looked back the sun as I lingered near the door, my hands in my pockets, but still getting numb.
I had called. I had dialed his number.
He had picked up, asked, "Hello?"
And then I had hung up, hadn't meant to, but something flickered inside me and my thumb moved. I cursed myself, at my cowardice, at the desire to even call. But I was curious and he had been so open and willing...and easy. To go to him would be easy, I would have a solid alibi.
I called again after a few minutes and this time he answered, "Heero."
Had breathed it low and gentle, like he understood, like he knew what I was feeling. I had leaned against the wall and waiting for instructions, for him to tell me what to do, but he was quiet.
Finally, I broke down and gave in, "I want to meet with you."
So, here I am at his mansion, freezing, while Relena is out to the movies with Sylvia. I still haven't knocked yet. I just observe his house, an ugly brick thing that smells like fire. The rain slides down my face and numbs it. I breathe in the cool air, suck it down. I can feel my body naturally try to shiver, but I suppress it - I feel the control over it. I need to be able to control my own body.
After a few minutes, the door opens and it's him. For a moment we just look at each other.
I sniff. He tilts his head and sighs. This isn't as easy as I thought it would be.
"For God's sake, " he breathes out, with a frown, "Get in."
I sniff again, hanging outside in the cold for longer than I had intended. I brush past him, careful not to touch him.
I don't feel any more comfortable inside than I did outside. I look around nervously; I'm on edge. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck grow stiff and my skin tingles. I'm ready to fight. I ready to run.
I turn to face him, but don't know what to say.
He slowly makes his way to the wall across from me and leans against it, studying me.
We're silent and far from each other, watching and waiting.
"No one's here," he says after a few minutes, ducking his head, "And our wives are gone for the next few hours..."
Our wives...God, I feel so dirty. I came here to be unfaithful to Relena. I came here to have sex with her friend's husband.
"Forget about it," he admonishes me, but his tone is even and soft.
"How?" I growl out, my voice becoming raspy and gravelly, "How can you just...do this?"
"It's who I am," he answers just as evenly and for some reason it pisses me off. Doesn't he care at all what he's doing? This is unnatural and disgusting and he's ok with it. He's just become it without question...and I'm the one struggling trying to make sense of it. Why do I have to wrestle with these feelings, this guilt, all alone?
I find myself moving to him, hands on his shirt, pushing him against the wall - the anger, the desperation, burning in my lungs.
"Why?" I grunt out, pushing him, strangling him with his shirt.
His thumbs dig into my throat, putting more pressure as time ticks on. We see who will last, who will be right-
I drop him and we both cough, he falters and falls against the wall.
This isn't about right or wrong. I didn't mean this to be about who's right and who's wrong. We're both wrong. We're equal.
I join him on the floor, feel the cold wall on my back. We swallow and breathe, not touching each other.
"I used to be angry, too," he admits suddenly and glances over.
"I don't know how to make it stop," I say bitterly.
"You don't."
I knew he'd say something like that.
"I don't know how to be normal."
"You are."
"I don't know how to be...this."
His hand slides over to my leg and rests there, and it feels so hot, too hot. Maybe I was just waiting for this.
"I think you have a good idea," he whispers and I lean back, letting his hand move higher.
"I don't know how to make it stop," I say again, but the words stumble, break, as his fingers trace the outline of my hardening cock.
"You shouldn't try," I hear him move closer, "You can't."
And I wonder if the roles were reversed with him at one point. Who touched him like this? Who told him that this was who he was? Who showed him how to not care?
His thumb rubs against the head through the pants and I sharply inhale.
I can feel his nose against the side on my face, his breath curling around my ear. The fly being unzipped...my pants pulled down, right here in the hall, and he pulls on my cock. He quietly jerks me in the hallway, the only sounds are coming from me.
I try to stretch out my legs, but my pants are painfully tight across against my legs. However, with his hand moving on me, his mouth by my face, the ache that I've felt for a while...I come quickly. It hits me in waves, my fists clench, I grunt, I feel the semen on my stomach...and his lips against my neck. Just that little, wet touch and I come harder.
The next few moments are quiet as I regain my breath and composer, as I feel my cock soften. He leans again the wall again, but the wetness on my neck reminds me he was there.
"I love her," is all I can think of to say.
"I love her, too," he confesses, "But it's not enough."
"She means the world to me," I reply and it's odd that I tell him that because I don't remember even expressing that to Relena.
"Gloria saved my life," he continues and it almost feels like we're competing.
So, I break the trend and ask, "Where did you meet?"
"The library," he answers with a rare smile, "She was looking for the same book as I was. We nearly fought over it. So, instead, she asked me on a date and told me that we could read it together."
"That's nice," I try to compliment, and it does sound nice. It sounds romantic.
"You?"
When people ask that, I usually say that it was school where I met her, but I want to be honest with him, maybe because he feels like someone who would listen and understand.
"It was a beach..."
"Vacation?"
"No, it was the start of my mission...She had seen too much. She had seen my face and I knew who she was. I knew her father had influence, so...," this part is hard, still hard, "So, I tried to kill her and myself. I thought the mission was compromised. I thought it was already over."
I pause a moment before contemplating, "You know, there were so many times that I thought it was over when it wasn't. I kept thinking, 'this is it. I don't have to fight any more.' I didn't think I could live without the mission, without the war."
He thinks about it before he asks, "When did she enter in after that?"
"I was undercover in a school...she just happened to be there. I thought if I killed her, there would be no loose ends."
And this part I'm still struggling with, the other part of myself is, not the human part of me, but the soldier, "I couldn't kill her."
"I still can't," I breathe out.
An awkward moment passes before he slowly and carefully rises and just says, "Come on."
I do. I follow him.
-------
We sit in a parlor that must be very impressive during the day, but at night just looks empty and somewhat sinister. When asked, I request water and he pours two glasses. The room would be more depressing if there was a a clock ticking in the background, but there isn't, just the sound of wind against the windows.
"Do you miss the war?" he asks after a few minutes of contemplating the question.
"There are times," I reply candidly and I've said this many times before to my friends, to Relena, so it doesn't feel unnatural.
But then he asks a question that no one else has, "When?"
I hesitate. I stop for a moment to look at him. He seems relaxed, contemplative. I try to imagine him in an OZ uniform, and I can see it. I hate it, but I can imagine it so perfectly. I can picture him interrogating me...But he's not. He's not OZ anymore. And I'm not a soldier.
"When she's gone," I finally answer, "When she's gone and I'm alone."
He nods distantly and says, "I miss it when I think about it, when I have the time to."
It's my turn to nod and understand.
"Things seemed so much easier," he offers and watches me nod again, this time it's stiffly.
He sets his drink down and looks at me, like the first time we met, observes me and the little things about me that I may not even notice anymore.
"Gloria doesn't know about it, but," he pauses, brings his hands together in contemplation, "I had one battle before the accident happened. It's easier for her to think that I never saw combat. It's much easier for her to think that I wasn't really OZ, that I didn't do things that OZ is associated with, but...you understand. It's war. Everyone is an enemy. And now, in a time of peace..."
I tilt my head, curious. I want to know who he was, what he saw, what haunts him at night. Whose blood did he spill? How are we the same?
"It was a small town in Europe," he softly elucidates, "We were sent to find a man named...It doesn't matter. We were sent to find him after discovering evidence of the target making explosives. We took three suits for intimidation. We knew we weren't going to be well-received and the Commanding Officer thought the townspeople might be too unpredictable for us to go in with out any precautions."
"It was a bloodbath," he concluded, sharply - abruptly. His jaw tightens and he looks into his cup. I don't pry and he senses that. He meets my gaze. He doesn't say anything but slowly gets to his feet.
But I want to ask. I want to see the faces he killed. I want to feel the blood on my hands. I want to know. I want...so much. What did he feel at the time? I want him to talk about the things that none of my friends want to remember. They hide it, but I want to know that it happened and what it was like. But I want to remember...
With his eyes still on me, he walks toward the door.
For the second time, I follow.
TBC i know it's been a while. i hope you like ^^
rating: NC 17 - 1xOCs, 1xrelena, unrequited 1+2
warnings: sex, angst, swearing, unbeta-ed
summary: One of the pilots is gay. Now married and living "happily ever after" he must make this discovery and keep this secret on his own.
notes: it's a little late, but do you still remember what last happened?
Part 12
It was cold and getting dark. I looked back the sun as I lingered near the door, my hands in my pockets, but still getting numb.
I had called. I had dialed his number.
He had picked up, asked, "Hello?"
And then I had hung up, hadn't meant to, but something flickered inside me and my thumb moved. I cursed myself, at my cowardice, at the desire to even call. But I was curious and he had been so open and willing...and easy. To go to him would be easy, I would have a solid alibi.
I called again after a few minutes and this time he answered, "Heero."
Had breathed it low and gentle, like he understood, like he knew what I was feeling. I had leaned against the wall and waiting for instructions, for him to tell me what to do, but he was quiet.
Finally, I broke down and gave in, "I want to meet with you."
So, here I am at his mansion, freezing, while Relena is out to the movies with Sylvia. I still haven't knocked yet. I just observe his house, an ugly brick thing that smells like fire. The rain slides down my face and numbs it. I breathe in the cool air, suck it down. I can feel my body naturally try to shiver, but I suppress it - I feel the control over it. I need to be able to control my own body.
After a few minutes, the door opens and it's him. For a moment we just look at each other.
I sniff. He tilts his head and sighs. This isn't as easy as I thought it would be.
"For God's sake, " he breathes out, with a frown, "Get in."
I sniff again, hanging outside in the cold for longer than I had intended. I brush past him, careful not to touch him.
I don't feel any more comfortable inside than I did outside. I look around nervously; I'm on edge. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck grow stiff and my skin tingles. I'm ready to fight. I ready to run.
I turn to face him, but don't know what to say.
He slowly makes his way to the wall across from me and leans against it, studying me.
We're silent and far from each other, watching and waiting.
"No one's here," he says after a few minutes, ducking his head, "And our wives are gone for the next few hours..."
Our wives...God, I feel so dirty. I came here to be unfaithful to Relena. I came here to have sex with her friend's husband.
"Forget about it," he admonishes me, but his tone is even and soft.
"How?" I growl out, my voice becoming raspy and gravelly, "How can you just...do this?"
"It's who I am," he answers just as evenly and for some reason it pisses me off. Doesn't he care at all what he's doing? This is unnatural and disgusting and he's ok with it. He's just become it without question...and I'm the one struggling trying to make sense of it. Why do I have to wrestle with these feelings, this guilt, all alone?
I find myself moving to him, hands on his shirt, pushing him against the wall - the anger, the desperation, burning in my lungs.
"Why?" I grunt out, pushing him, strangling him with his shirt.
His thumbs dig into my throat, putting more pressure as time ticks on. We see who will last, who will be right-
I drop him and we both cough, he falters and falls against the wall.
This isn't about right or wrong. I didn't mean this to be about who's right and who's wrong. We're both wrong. We're equal.
I join him on the floor, feel the cold wall on my back. We swallow and breathe, not touching each other.
"I used to be angry, too," he admits suddenly and glances over.
"I don't know how to make it stop," I say bitterly.
"You don't."
I knew he'd say something like that.
"I don't know how to be normal."
"You are."
"I don't know how to be...this."
His hand slides over to my leg and rests there, and it feels so hot, too hot. Maybe I was just waiting for this.
"I think you have a good idea," he whispers and I lean back, letting his hand move higher.
"I don't know how to make it stop," I say again, but the words stumble, break, as his fingers trace the outline of my hardening cock.
"You shouldn't try," I hear him move closer, "You can't."
And I wonder if the roles were reversed with him at one point. Who touched him like this? Who told him that this was who he was? Who showed him how to not care?
His thumb rubs against the head through the pants and I sharply inhale.
I can feel his nose against the side on my face, his breath curling around my ear. The fly being unzipped...my pants pulled down, right here in the hall, and he pulls on my cock. He quietly jerks me in the hallway, the only sounds are coming from me.
I try to stretch out my legs, but my pants are painfully tight across against my legs. However, with his hand moving on me, his mouth by my face, the ache that I've felt for a while...I come quickly. It hits me in waves, my fists clench, I grunt, I feel the semen on my stomach...and his lips against my neck. Just that little, wet touch and I come harder.
The next few moments are quiet as I regain my breath and composer, as I feel my cock soften. He leans again the wall again, but the wetness on my neck reminds me he was there.
"I love her," is all I can think of to say.
"I love her, too," he confesses, "But it's not enough."
"She means the world to me," I reply and it's odd that I tell him that because I don't remember even expressing that to Relena.
"Gloria saved my life," he continues and it almost feels like we're competing.
So, I break the trend and ask, "Where did you meet?"
"The library," he answers with a rare smile, "She was looking for the same book as I was. We nearly fought over it. So, instead, she asked me on a date and told me that we could read it together."
"That's nice," I try to compliment, and it does sound nice. It sounds romantic.
"You?"
When people ask that, I usually say that it was school where I met her, but I want to be honest with him, maybe because he feels like someone who would listen and understand.
"It was a beach..."
"Vacation?"
"No, it was the start of my mission...She had seen too much. She had seen my face and I knew who she was. I knew her father had influence, so...," this part is hard, still hard, "So, I tried to kill her and myself. I thought the mission was compromised. I thought it was already over."
I pause a moment before contemplating, "You know, there were so many times that I thought it was over when it wasn't. I kept thinking, 'this is it. I don't have to fight any more.' I didn't think I could live without the mission, without the war."
He thinks about it before he asks, "When did she enter in after that?"
"I was undercover in a school...she just happened to be there. I thought if I killed her, there would be no loose ends."
And this part I'm still struggling with, the other part of myself is, not the human part of me, but the soldier, "I couldn't kill her."
"I still can't," I breathe out.
An awkward moment passes before he slowly and carefully rises and just says, "Come on."
I do. I follow him.
-------
We sit in a parlor that must be very impressive during the day, but at night just looks empty and somewhat sinister. When asked, I request water and he pours two glasses. The room would be more depressing if there was a a clock ticking in the background, but there isn't, just the sound of wind against the windows.
"Do you miss the war?" he asks after a few minutes of contemplating the question.
"There are times," I reply candidly and I've said this many times before to my friends, to Relena, so it doesn't feel unnatural.
But then he asks a question that no one else has, "When?"
I hesitate. I stop for a moment to look at him. He seems relaxed, contemplative. I try to imagine him in an OZ uniform, and I can see it. I hate it, but I can imagine it so perfectly. I can picture him interrogating me...But he's not. He's not OZ anymore. And I'm not a soldier.
"When she's gone," I finally answer, "When she's gone and I'm alone."
He nods distantly and says, "I miss it when I think about it, when I have the time to."
It's my turn to nod and understand.
"Things seemed so much easier," he offers and watches me nod again, this time it's stiffly.
He sets his drink down and looks at me, like the first time we met, observes me and the little things about me that I may not even notice anymore.
"Gloria doesn't know about it, but," he pauses, brings his hands together in contemplation, "I had one battle before the accident happened. It's easier for her to think that I never saw combat. It's much easier for her to think that I wasn't really OZ, that I didn't do things that OZ is associated with, but...you understand. It's war. Everyone is an enemy. And now, in a time of peace..."
I tilt my head, curious. I want to know who he was, what he saw, what haunts him at night. Whose blood did he spill? How are we the same?
"It was a small town in Europe," he softly elucidates, "We were sent to find a man named...It doesn't matter. We were sent to find him after discovering evidence of the target making explosives. We took three suits for intimidation. We knew we weren't going to be well-received and the Commanding Officer thought the townspeople might be too unpredictable for us to go in with out any precautions."
"It was a bloodbath," he concluded, sharply - abruptly. His jaw tightens and he looks into his cup. I don't pry and he senses that. He meets my gaze. He doesn't say anything but slowly gets to his feet.
But I want to ask. I want to see the faces he killed. I want to feel the blood on my hands. I want to know. I want...so much. What did he feel at the time? I want him to talk about the things that none of my friends want to remember. They hide it, but I want to know that it happened and what it was like. But I want to remember...
With his eyes still on me, he walks toward the door.
For the second time, I follow.
TBC i know it's been a while. i hope you like ^^