The Adventures Of Vampire!Duo
Finally catching up in this comm again. WELCOME all new members, and yay for the activeness in old ones. Sometimes I feel like this comm is the last gasp of the GW fandom, so you're all very awesome and appreciated! *squishums*
The Adventures Of Vampire!Duo
Pairing: possibly 1x2ish, other hints (concerning Trowa)
Warning: very dark, weird, sorta character death re vampire-ness, strong language, graphic torture.
Notes: Um... I had this on my puter since forever, and I can't remember when I wrote it. I think it may have been in response to something Ralphiere said last year, but don't quote me on that. Anyway, I never posted this online because I hated it, and even if I still do, I haven't done anything psycho!Duo in a while, so... hee! E posts polished old fic--I post weird fic found on my hard drive! Here's to keep the muses in line. Sorry for the cracky title--it's not my best fic, but it's probably entertaining. I hope, that is. Keep the warnings in mind.
Summary: Duo is feeling peckish.
“Duo? You there?”
Whimper, not a bang. Writhing in my lap like a bed-headed angel with come dripping from his thigh; that was Yuy. Bleeding into the green carpet in coarse black patches, the bone of his left forearm jutting up from slashed skin. Such a wretched little thing.
“Pl... please...”
The human body is so fucking disgusting. All the shit, piss, the snot, the slime, the fucking come, the fluids, the germs, the diseases, the begging... even the blood is vile, coagulating into a gooey, crusted mess over creamy skin and my brand new carpets. I hate him just a little more for that, even while I love him. But he doesn't understand yet. He's only human.
Twist a little harder, but my hand over his mouth muffles the screams. He bites down, and I keep the hand there and until he starts drinking from the wound. My wound, my blood. Make it better; my blood isn't vile, my blood can cure Heero of his disease. I'll save him. I laugh at him because he isn't strong enough to throw me off, and I find that amusing.
Sobbing.
“Duo, what is that? Are you okay?”
Sob, moan, writhe. Red splashes in the green, green carpet. I think of Christmas.
“Yeah, fine. Look, Tro, I'm busy. What the hell do you want?”
“Heero's missing.”
Pink tears mix with the snot and saliva. He swallows, fathomless eyes glaring up at me. Make it better, Duo. Got the cure. Make it better.
“Really,” I say, and smirk because it's sort of funny. “You sure he wants to be found?”
“His apartment was trashed.”
Grunt. Struggling, and I bend the broken arm back. The skin splits further. Another muffled scream. Shivering in ecstasy, I want to hurt him again, want to bleed him dry.
“Tro, I said I'm--”
So fucking scrumptious.
“You haven't seen him,” Trowa says, but what he really means is You're a liar, Maxwell.
“Wouldn't I tell you if I did?” No.
“So have you seen him?” Yes.
Don't lie. Never lie.
Fuck. “I told you, Barton--”
“Where is he, Duo?”
Not a liar.
Staring. His are eyes of ocean depths and pressure that makes a skull implode from the inside. I fall into them, down to the sea floor, and it hurts, hurting him. It hurts, and I have a headache.
“What the fuck, Tro? How dare you suggest--”
“Where is he?”
Hang up the phone. Hang it up. Hang it up, Maxwell. What does it matter? Heero needs you. Hang it up.
Don't--
“He's dead.” He's about to be.
“Why?”
“Because he's fucking mine, that's why.” He's about to be.
“Duo--”
“Fuck off.”
Hang up the phone.
Hang it up.
“Duo, you didn't kill him. You wouldn't do that.”
Hang it up!
“Don't presume to understand me.” In order to get this, you kinda have to die. S'the way this works, chump.
“You wouldn't,” Trowa insists. Only humans ever lie.
“Maybe not before, but things are different now.”
“Before what, Duo?”
“Before some cocksucker in the cemetery fucking killed me.”
“What?”
“Nevermind, Tro. Fuck off and have a nice life. Yuy and I have business to finish, yeah?”
“What?”
“Told you, I'm busy. See you later.”
“Duo--”
“Chow!”
Clickity, click click.
Heero stares.
I smile.
Heero screams.
Smile.
Heero dies.
Smile...
**
Knock, knock.
Trowa opens the door and breathes a sigh of relief. Then he punches me.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Maxwell?”
Heero growls and jumps up to defend. Mine. My Heero. My dog.
“Lots of things," I tell him, "but you knew that.”
Trowa turns to Heero, dismissing me. He notes the way Heero is vaguely animalistic, rumbles vibrating deep in his chest like an internal thunder storm. Don't touch the fucking sire, he says.
“You're alive,” Trowa says.
Heero's eyes glisten, but he says nothing.
Trowa steps back.
And I rub my jaw, glowering. Hungry.
Say it, Trowa.
Trowa frowns. “Come in?”
Three hours later, we're all headed Quatre's place.
--Fini
The Adventures Of Vampire!Duo
Pairing: possibly 1x2ish, other hints (concerning Trowa)
Warning: very dark, weird, sorta character death re vampire-ness, strong language, graphic torture.
Notes: Um... I had this on my puter since forever, and I can't remember when I wrote it. I think it may have been in response to something Ralphiere said last year, but don't quote me on that. Anyway, I never posted this online because I hated it, and even if I still do, I haven't done anything psycho!Duo in a while, so... hee! E posts polished old fic--I post weird fic found on my hard drive! Here's to keep the muses in line. Sorry for the cracky title--it's not my best fic, but it's probably entertaining. I hope, that is. Keep the warnings in mind.
Summary: Duo is feeling peckish.
“Duo? You there?”
Whimper, not a bang. Writhing in my lap like a bed-headed angel with come dripping from his thigh; that was Yuy. Bleeding into the green carpet in coarse black patches, the bone of his left forearm jutting up from slashed skin. Such a wretched little thing.
“Pl... please...”
The human body is so fucking disgusting. All the shit, piss, the snot, the slime, the fucking come, the fluids, the germs, the diseases, the begging... even the blood is vile, coagulating into a gooey, crusted mess over creamy skin and my brand new carpets. I hate him just a little more for that, even while I love him. But he doesn't understand yet. He's only human.
Twist a little harder, but my hand over his mouth muffles the screams. He bites down, and I keep the hand there and until he starts drinking from the wound. My wound, my blood. Make it better; my blood isn't vile, my blood can cure Heero of his disease. I'll save him. I laugh at him because he isn't strong enough to throw me off, and I find that amusing.
Sobbing.
“Duo, what is that? Are you okay?”
Sob, moan, writhe. Red splashes in the green, green carpet. I think of Christmas.
“Yeah, fine. Look, Tro, I'm busy. What the hell do you want?”
“Heero's missing.”
Pink tears mix with the snot and saliva. He swallows, fathomless eyes glaring up at me. Make it better, Duo. Got the cure. Make it better.
“Really,” I say, and smirk because it's sort of funny. “You sure he wants to be found?”
“His apartment was trashed.”
Grunt. Struggling, and I bend the broken arm back. The skin splits further. Another muffled scream. Shivering in ecstasy, I want to hurt him again, want to bleed him dry.
“Tro, I said I'm--”
So fucking scrumptious.
“You haven't seen him,” Trowa says, but what he really means is You're a liar, Maxwell.
“Wouldn't I tell you if I did?” No.
“So have you seen him?” Yes.
Don't lie. Never lie.
Fuck. “I told you, Barton--”
“Where is he, Duo?”
Not a liar.
Staring. His are eyes of ocean depths and pressure that makes a skull implode from the inside. I fall into them, down to the sea floor, and it hurts, hurting him. It hurts, and I have a headache.
“What the fuck, Tro? How dare you suggest--”
“Where is he?”
Hang up the phone. Hang it up. Hang it up, Maxwell. What does it matter? Heero needs you. Hang it up.
Don't--
“He's dead.” He's about to be.
“Why?”
“Because he's fucking mine, that's why.” He's about to be.
“Duo--”
“Fuck off.”
Hang up the phone.
Hang it up.
“Duo, you didn't kill him. You wouldn't do that.”
Hang it up!
“Don't presume to understand me.” In order to get this, you kinda have to die. S'the way this works, chump.
“You wouldn't,” Trowa insists. Only humans ever lie.
“Maybe not before, but things are different now.”
“Before what, Duo?”
“Before some cocksucker in the cemetery fucking killed me.”
“What?”
“Nevermind, Tro. Fuck off and have a nice life. Yuy and I have business to finish, yeah?”
“What?”
“Told you, I'm busy. See you later.”
“Duo--”
“Chow!”
Clickity, click click.
Heero stares.
I smile.
Heero screams.
Smile.
Heero dies.
Smile...
**
Knock, knock.
Trowa opens the door and breathes a sigh of relief. Then he punches me.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Maxwell?”
Heero growls and jumps up to defend. Mine. My Heero. My dog.
“Lots of things," I tell him, "but you knew that.”
Trowa turns to Heero, dismissing me. He notes the way Heero is vaguely animalistic, rumbles vibrating deep in his chest like an internal thunder storm. Don't touch the fucking sire, he says.
“You're alive,” Trowa says.
Heero's eyes glisten, but he says nothing.
Trowa steps back.
And I rub my jaw, glowering. Hungry.
Say it, Trowa.
Trowa frowns. “Come in?”
Three hours later, we're all headed Quatre's place.
--Fini