Catherine stood, different facial expressions battling to take control of
her face. In a combat with astonishment, anger, and even disbelief,
astonishment won in the end, Catherine's jaw dropping, her eyes nearly
popping out of her head. The hands gripping the bedsheets around her body
tightened as they trembled.
"Heero?" she whispered, the word barely audible as the two young men stared up at Catherine with fear overtaking their eyes. "Heero...what...what is...?"
Her voice trailed off, her lips mouthing the words she couldn't say, Heero unable to distinguish any real words except for one, which she managed to speak in a soft, scared tone that chilled Heero's very heart.
"Why?" she choked. Tears began to form in her eyes, giving them an appearance of glass. Trowa immediately looked down at his feet, holding his hands over his face.
//What have I done?// he thought, cursing himself as he heard Heero try to explain. He hid behind his hands, not wanting to face...not wanting to face...
"Catherine," Heero began. His heart fluttered and then crumbled as Catherine's chokes formed sobs and he watched as she disappeared from the doorway and slammed his bedroom door. With the bang of the door, Heero slumped back against the side of the bed, slamming his fist into the floor.
"Shit!" he spat out, refusing to look at Trowa's reaction to the whole scenario that had occurred within less than a minute. //How could I have been so foolish?// he thought to himself, his fingers still curled into fists of rage, anger pointed at himself.
He now chanced a look at Trowa, who was now staring back at him. Trowa's eyes were unusually bright, glossy with the tears that had formed and flowed in small silvery rivers down his face. Yet, Trowa continued to stare at Heero for some kind of advice, some kind of wisdom; Heero looked to Trowa for the same things. They wanted so much from each other, and they both didn't know what they'd get in return. Heero didn't rip his eyes away from Trowa's gaze.
"Trowa-" he began, but Trowa's forefinger pressed against Heero's lips, silencing the artist as he attempted to paint words.
"Please, Heero," Trowa said, his voice desperate and sad, a sadness Heero had seen since the first day they'd met, but had never become blatant until now. "Go to her, now. Before we're nothing more than the leftover wicks of a candle."
Heero was silent and still for a moment, then nodded to Trowa, doing nothing more than standing and running out of the room, leaving Trowa alone to his thoughts.
It was Trowa's turn to slump against the bed, letting his legs sprawl out in front of him, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to land on the surface of the bed. He closed his eyes, more tears becoming present and slithering down his cheeks as asps glide through lakes. He didn't make a sound, allowing the tears to tell a story he wouldn't even make noise about.
His heart was full of pain. His own pain, Catherine's pain, and even Heero's. He couldn't comprehend what Catherine was feeling at that time; he could only think of the pain she must be feeling. He knew she'd never had a lover before Heero; it was never worthwhile when you're only in one place for a certain amount of days and then have to move on. And now her first and only lover betrayed her for her brother; for another man, no less.
And what of Heero? Heero now had to deny to Catherine all the things that were true; that he took a male lover, that he was fond of her brother, that he betrayed her after taking her into his bed. The truth was that he was homosexual, that he'd welcomed Trowa in his bed, and that he wasn't betraying Catherine, but betraying Trowa instead. Trowa wouldn't know what to do in Heero's position.
Instead, Trowa didn't know what to do with his own pain. He wanted to console Catherine; but would she take consolation from the man her lover had just embraced, had kissed? He wanted to soothe Heero; but would he take comfort from the man who caused Catherine so much pain? Trowa didn't know what to feel, didn't know what to do. He knew he must apologize to both Catherine and Heero; to Catherine for betraying her and not being entirely honest with her about his life that he had unabashedly concealed from her, and to Heero for even getting involved with him in the first place.
//I'm not homosexual,// thought Trowa. //I am not fond of Heero. Catherine is my blood; I have to make her happy.//
Trowa wondered if he could ever really believe himself. He curled himself into a ball, his arms hugging his legs to his chest and he cried.
----------
"Catherine?"
Heero spoke to the door, hitting his knuckle against the oak wood door. "May I come in?"
"It's your room," he heard Catherine say, her voice heavy with sobs.
He turned the knob and entered, his eyes immediately resting on Catherine's body, which lay wrapped up in his sheets, on the bed. She lay on her stomach, her face buried in a pillow and her arms curled up tightly beneath her. He sat beside her on the bed, his hand coming to rest on her pale, naked shoulder. She instantly shied away from the touch.
"I just as well should have expected it," she spoke into the pillow, her voice muffled but still audible. Heero folded his hands in his lap and listened.
"The one time in my life I settle down and have even a slice of the way life should be; a home, people around me who love me, and even someone who loved me a little bit more." She began to weep openly. "It turns out-it turns out that he was fooling me all along."
Heero's face softened. "Catherine, please believe me that that was not my intention. I never meant to hurt you at all."
"Then why did you?" Catherine said, ripping her face away from the pillow, letting the sheets fall from her body and pile around her waist, leaving her body exposed as she released her fury on Heero. "It doesn't matter that you didn't mean to hurt me! In the end, you did! You're...you're involved with...a man! It's...unnatural!"
"Catherine, I am not involved with your brother," Heero lied, his heart crying inside as each new lie escaped his lips. "I am not fond of men at all. Your brother was not feeling his best. He was worried about where you were last night. I was consoling him, that's all. That's all it was."
Catherine let Heero's words sink into her mind. She gripped the sheets once more, this time not out of passion, but out of desperate worry. //Perhaps my mind is clouded; perhaps they weren't...perhaps they weren't kissing as long as I thought. People show affection when another, their friend, is affected. Well...I did have more to drink than I've ever had before, and perhaps...perhaps my mind is a little biased.//
"So...you're...you're not involved with Trowa?" she asked, her eyes meeting Heero's again.
Heero repeated the lie that killed a small part of him each time he repeated it. "No, I am not."
Catherine's eyes were red from rubbing the tears from her eyes, jamming the heels of her hands into her eyes to stop the tears from coming, only to fail as they trickled down her face. She felt betrayed. But...Heero had said there was nothing between he and Trowa. She had to believe him. He had given her so much; the least she could give him was her trust.
"I-I believe you," she said.
Heero let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Thank you, Catherine. Your trust means a lot to me, and I hope that you won't be this distressed again. I would never do anything to harm you or your brother; both of your are the family I've never had."
//And I mean that,// Heero thought, embracing a distraught Catherine in his arms, feeling her tears moisten his chest, and the last heaves of her sobs quiver against him. He couldn't cry; he hadn't cried for years, ever since he could remember. Ever since...ever since...
Before he had a chance to dive into his past, his eyes fixed upon a candle which was merely a stump. It burned dimly, the last bits of wax dribbling down the sides of the candle, like the non-existent tears that would have streamed down Heero's face, if he had had the strength, the will to exert such emotion.
He regarded the candle with respect; the candle was crying, because he'd never really know how.
----------
It was midnight.
Trowa knocked slowly on Heero's door, a little softer than he normally did. He heard Heero beckoning him to enter the room, a little softer than he normally did.
He entered and found Heero sitting at his easel, his eyes staring at the ceiling. In front of Heero was where Trowa was to be seated. A soft, velvet chair was supported by mahogany legs in front of Heero's beautiful draperies, also velvet, falling dramatically onto the floor, cascading from the ceiling magnificently.
"Take off your clothes," was all Heero said, his eyes continuing to stare at the comforting ceiling.
Without words, Trowa removed the soft pants he'd been wearing all day, letting them form a puddle at his feet. Immediately, the warmth of the room embraced him, enveloping his naked form in a kind of liquid heat that he had experienced for some time now...ever since he'd allowed Heero to paint him. He stepped out of his pants quietly, his bare feet hitting the floor in undetectable steps. He approached Heero, who still gazed at the ceiling.
"Sit," Heero said.
Trowa sat. Heero took his gaze off of the ceiling and fixed it on Trowa, his stare so heavy that Trowa looked away in discomfort. Heero stood and advanced towards Trowa, his hands coming in contact with Trowa's smooth, bronze skin, the skin he'd worshipped for the small, but precious, time they'd spent together.
"Let your legs dangle over the side of the chair," Heero said softly, his commands so soft and sure that Trowa took them as childlike requests and obeyed them willingly. "Let the cushion of the chair support your back. Hook your arm around the arm rest...lay the other one across your stomach. The corner of side of the chair and the back of the chair should cradle your face." Trowa did all he could to please Heero, and found that Heero looked at him now with eyes of contentment and appreciation.
"Are you comfortable?" Heero asked Trowa, his eyes not leaving Trowa's.
Trowa fixed his gaze upon Heero, and nodded. "Yes."
Heero nodded in return, and continued to gaze upon Trowa's body which laid out in front of him. Heero worshiped Trowa's body. He wanted to capture the beauty that was before him. He let his hands wander over exposed flesh, Trowa allowing Heero's hands to stray as they pleased along his torso, along his legs, along his shoulders.
"You're so beautiful," Heero said.
Trowa smiled, taking in Heero's throaty hoarse voice, the voice that baptized him with its every syllable. He closed his eyes, his cheeks flushing a pretty rose. Immediately, visions of Catherine's face as she walked in on their intimate moment flashed across the backs of his eyelids and his eyes snapped open.
"Thank you, Heero," Trowa said softly, a whisper that only Heero could fully understand. "But shouldn't we...shouldn't you get started?" Trowa smiled a crooked, inadequate smile that hid nothing from Heero's wisdom. Heero nodded, and resumed his position at the easel, rinsing the brush that he'd labor with over his worthwhile subject.
Heero dipped his brush into the paint, the tip of the brush turning a dull brown that match Trowa's sunned complexion. Heero didn't know if he could fully acquire all of what he loved about Trowa into the painting, but he wanted to try. And he would try until he was satisfied.
He played with the shadows the candlelight cast across Trowa's skin, teasing Heero's eyes as they continued to dance. As Heero let the brush hit the canvas, the color spreading like fire across the canvas, he recalled his words to Trowa from what seemed like ages ago.
//"The candlelight is fickle. Always changing, never pausing. Similar to life itself. There are many changes that can't be done over again. And these changes are continuous, like how the candles continue to burn."//
"Heero?"
Heero snapped out of his contemplation only to realize that Trowa was staring at him attentively. His brush was still on the canvas, the colors bleeding rapidly. He immediately dropped the brush and it clattered to the floor. Heero looked up sheepishly.
"What were you thinking about?" asked Trowa as quietly as he always was.
Heero paused, and looked down at his feet. "I was thinking about the past," he said, picking up the brush from the floor. "But no matter. It does no use to think of it now."
Trowa decided he shouldn't say anything. He returned his head to its resting place, in the corner of the chair, and he stared at the same picture on the wall of Heero's room that he'd been staring at before. It was of a man, around his age, and of his stature, sitting between two women who were over dressed and quite distinguished looking. The man was dressed in a nobleman's attire; but something about him seemed misplaced. "Who is that man?" Trowa asked, staring at the picture on the wall.
Heero looked up and met Trowa's gaze. He continued to paint. "He is of the past. It does no use to think of it now."
Trowa didn't know what to say. He looked down at himself, his exposed body laying across the chair. He gazed around him, noticing all the fine luxuries that Heero look as daily annoyances.
//What do I want from him?// Trowa asked himself for the first time. //It's no longer for money. At a time, it was for love. Now...now...I don't know what I want from him anymore. Perhaps love; but that only proves to be difficult as time has revealed.// Trowa felt tears burning in his eyes, not knowing how to stop them from sliding down his face as they had earlier before.
Heero looked up to see wet trails upon Trowa's face, and his own face softened and he got up from where he sat to kneel in front of Trowa. Trowa didn't meet Heero's gaze and didn't respond to Heero at all, even as Heero began to stroke the side of his face with the back of a hand.
"What's troubling you, Trowa?" Heero asked softly, fully knowing what was troubling the man in front of him.
After some time, Trowa's lips moved the slightest bit, obviously in response. Heero leaned closer and asked Trowa to repeat what he had said.
"Take me," Trowa said again, his request soft but demanding. "Now. Please."
Heero was astonished. He hadn't expected Trowa to say anything like that...not at the current state that time had thrown them into. Trowa finally turned his head to face Heero, a look of desperation and lust in his eyes.
"Please," Trowa repeated, reaching for Heero's face. "Please."
Heero was about to protest, but he felt pressure at his neck. Before he knew quite what was taking place, his lips pressed against Trowa's, Trowa forcing their tongues to clash and war against each other. Heero pulled away.
"Trowa..." Heero didn't know what to say or do, but Trowa sat up, taking a hand and pushing the hair out of his face. He now sat in front of Heero, legs spread invitingly, leaning over so that their faces were millimeters away.
"Please take me, Heero," Trowa said, his voice quiet, but his demands becoming more and more fierce. His eyes darkened as Heero continued to look at him blankly.
"Fuck me," Trowa whispered harsly.
Heero couldn't hold back another second; he smashed his lips into Trowa's, pulling the boy's head down to meet his lips. Heero pulled Trowa off the chair and into his lap, leaning back against a nearby table. He ground rowa's groin into his own, the coarse fabric scratching at Trowa's bare skin. Trowa moaned into Heero's mouth, thrusting back with his own hips in earnest.
//This is what I want...right?// he thought to himself as Heero began to touch him, the touch like fire that burned across his skin and pierced right through. //Yes. This is what I need.//
Trowa began to squirm, the fire too much, but so fulfilling. He leaned back and let his head hit the floor, his back arching sharply as Heero began to attack his chest. Trowa began to scratch ferociously at the hardwood floor. "More," he groaned, squirming away. Heero released his hands, but Trowa took them in his own and began to move Heero's hands to grab at his waist.
"Don't let go!" Trowa whispered, continuing to squirm and fight against Heero's grasp. "Hold me, keep me close, don't let me get away-"
Heero tightened his grip on Trowa's hips, and began to lick lightly at Trowa's chest.
"Harder!" Trowa sobbed. "I need it harder!"
Heero began to scrape his teeth against Trowa's chest, the small whimpers and moans leading him to believe that he should stop. He tasted blood, but Trowa asked for more, gripping Heero's hands to his waist so hard, Heero knew that it would bruise.
"Trowa," he said hoarsely. "I'm going to hurt you."
"I don't care," Trowa breathed, tightening the grip on his hips. "Please...Hurt me...Break me! Heero, please!" He began to frantically writhe and twist in Heero's grasp, Heero biting down on Trowa's nipple as hard as Heero believed the man could take it. Trowa's back arched like a bow, his mouth opening to let loose a mute scream of pleasure.
Heero pinned Trowa to the ground, Trowa continuing to thrash beneath him, his face flushed, his actions desperate. Trowa breathed heavily, sobbing now, wanting more of something he couldn't identify. He felt like he was burning, like he was freezing, like he was dying, like he was being born. He wanted to be hurt, to feel pain with pleasure, to feel pain itself, to be fucked. But he wanted something else, something he couldn't place. He grazed his nails along Heero's back, thrusting up wantonly against Heero's clothed erection. He began to tear at the material covering Heero's back.
Heero straddled Trowa's waist, forcing Trowa to stay put as he removed his shirt and covered Trowa's body with his own flesh. Trowa began to moan and squirm again. It was all too much. It was all not enough.
"Please!" Trowa begged for what he didn't understand, for what he didn't know. He writhed against Heero's body as their erections touched again, ice shooting up his back as his back bowed again. "Hold me!"
Heero wrapped his arms around Trowa as Trowa's legs tightened around Heero's waist, thrusting up and engulfing Heero's erection without preparation. They both screamed in ecstasy, Trowa feeling more pain and pleasure than he'd ever felt before. "Harder! I need you to hold me harder!"
Heero embraced Trowa tightly, so tightly he felt he would break the fragile boy, and he began to slowly thrust into Trowa's body. Trowa twisted in Heero's grasp.
"Fuck me, Heero! God, PLEASE! PLEASE! Harder! Take all of me, please! Please!"
Heero proceeded to fuck Trowa into the ground, squeezing him tightly as he pounded into the lithe body beneath him, Trowa panting hard and gasping for air, his whimpers becoming desperate moans for more.
Trowa needed more, more of something, more of anything. He was relieved when Heero released him and threw him face down on the floor with all his strength, like a rag doll. He smiled as he felt Heero push his shoulders to the ground and pull his hips near Heero's erection again. Heero slammed into Trowa's body, keeping one hand against Trowa's shoulders, holding him down, and using the other to brace himself as he mercilessly thrust into the boy's tight passage, Trowa continuing to twist beneath him.
"Yes! Yes!" Trowa chanted softly. "Yes, Heero, hard! Harder!"
Heero grabbed Trowa's hair and pulled Trowa's head back, arching Trowa's back again as he continued to rap into Trowa's constricting chasm.
"Don't stop! Please! Harder! I need it harder...fill me...please...God, PLEASE! Don't let go, please!!!" Trowa breathed harshly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling that had captured Heero's interest earlier that night.
Heero didn't know if he should stop or if he should continue on...half of him was screaming at him to cease, as Trowa's passage became lubricated with blood, as Trowa's eyes began to appear empty and sated. The other half of him was screaming at him to continue, to grasp the boy's hair and tug violently, to tattoo Trowa's ass with his cock, to revel in the pleasure that he was experiencing.
Trowa once again opened his mouth wide, a throaty nothingness emerging as his eyes rolled back into his head, the pleasure and pain connecting together in his heart and in his body. He knew what he wanted.
He wanted Heero to hurt him, to abuse him, to be violent, to be brutal, fierce, dominant, and intense. He wanted pain. He wanted it to overcome the pleasure, the pleasure he shouldn't be feeling...should he be feeling pleasure?
//No!// his mind screamed, and he thrust back against Heero, feeling Heero penetrate him deeply, and shamelessly asking for more, demanding for more.
"Fuck me, Heero...god, yes, more, please, PLEASE! Make me bleed, make me hurt, make me feel pain, PLEASE!"
Heero let go of Trowa hair and took Trowa's hips in both hands, his fingertips digging into Trowa's sides as Trowa let loose a soft moan. He pistoned his hips forward, pummeling Trowa hard and with more force than he believed he had. He wanted to inflict pain...why did he want to inflict pain? Was it because Trowa was taking it...and asking for more? Was it because he could? He didn't know, and didn't think about it any longer as he felt his climax approaching, speeding his thrusts and making Trowa sob openly against the floor, his side of Trowa's face audibly sliding against the wood, burning the skin from Trowa's face.
"Yes! Please, more, please! I don't care if you break me, just PLEASE! I need you, please! Fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me..." Trowa's demands became loud sobs of pleasure as he orgasmed, his seed splashing against the floor and beneath his knees which were bloody and bruised from their abuse they'd taken that night. With Trowa's release, Heero pounded a few more times into Trowa's body, the tightness over coming him and sending him spiraling off the edge. He slumped on top of Trowa's body, sending them both crashing to the ground in a puddle of semen, blood, and sweat. Their breath echoed throughout the room, and Heero looked over to see Trowa's eyes closed, unconsciousness taking over the man turned child in Heero's arms.
----------
Catherine laid in her bed, the sounds of what took place in the next room echoing in her ears.
//I'll give him my trust,// she thought. //I'll give him my trust.//
--to be continued--
"Heero?" she whispered, the word barely audible as the two young men stared up at Catherine with fear overtaking their eyes. "Heero...what...what is...?"
Her voice trailed off, her lips mouthing the words she couldn't say, Heero unable to distinguish any real words except for one, which she managed to speak in a soft, scared tone that chilled Heero's very heart.
"Why?" she choked. Tears began to form in her eyes, giving them an appearance of glass. Trowa immediately looked down at his feet, holding his hands over his face.
//What have I done?// he thought, cursing himself as he heard Heero try to explain. He hid behind his hands, not wanting to face...not wanting to face...
"Catherine," Heero began. His heart fluttered and then crumbled as Catherine's chokes formed sobs and he watched as she disappeared from the doorway and slammed his bedroom door. With the bang of the door, Heero slumped back against the side of the bed, slamming his fist into the floor.
"Shit!" he spat out, refusing to look at Trowa's reaction to the whole scenario that had occurred within less than a minute. //How could I have been so foolish?// he thought to himself, his fingers still curled into fists of rage, anger pointed at himself.
He now chanced a look at Trowa, who was now staring back at him. Trowa's eyes were unusually bright, glossy with the tears that had formed and flowed in small silvery rivers down his face. Yet, Trowa continued to stare at Heero for some kind of advice, some kind of wisdom; Heero looked to Trowa for the same things. They wanted so much from each other, and they both didn't know what they'd get in return. Heero didn't rip his eyes away from Trowa's gaze.
"Trowa-" he began, but Trowa's forefinger pressed against Heero's lips, silencing the artist as he attempted to paint words.
"Please, Heero," Trowa said, his voice desperate and sad, a sadness Heero had seen since the first day they'd met, but had never become blatant until now. "Go to her, now. Before we're nothing more than the leftover wicks of a candle."
Heero was silent and still for a moment, then nodded to Trowa, doing nothing more than standing and running out of the room, leaving Trowa alone to his thoughts.
It was Trowa's turn to slump against the bed, letting his legs sprawl out in front of him, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to land on the surface of the bed. He closed his eyes, more tears becoming present and slithering down his cheeks as asps glide through lakes. He didn't make a sound, allowing the tears to tell a story he wouldn't even make noise about.
His heart was full of pain. His own pain, Catherine's pain, and even Heero's. He couldn't comprehend what Catherine was feeling at that time; he could only think of the pain she must be feeling. He knew she'd never had a lover before Heero; it was never worthwhile when you're only in one place for a certain amount of days and then have to move on. And now her first and only lover betrayed her for her brother; for another man, no less.
And what of Heero? Heero now had to deny to Catherine all the things that were true; that he took a male lover, that he was fond of her brother, that he betrayed her after taking her into his bed. The truth was that he was homosexual, that he'd welcomed Trowa in his bed, and that he wasn't betraying Catherine, but betraying Trowa instead. Trowa wouldn't know what to do in Heero's position.
Instead, Trowa didn't know what to do with his own pain. He wanted to console Catherine; but would she take consolation from the man her lover had just embraced, had kissed? He wanted to soothe Heero; but would he take comfort from the man who caused Catherine so much pain? Trowa didn't know what to feel, didn't know what to do. He knew he must apologize to both Catherine and Heero; to Catherine for betraying her and not being entirely honest with her about his life that he had unabashedly concealed from her, and to Heero for even getting involved with him in the first place.
//I'm not homosexual,// thought Trowa. //I am not fond of Heero. Catherine is my blood; I have to make her happy.//
Trowa wondered if he could ever really believe himself. He curled himself into a ball, his arms hugging his legs to his chest and he cried.
----------
"Catherine?"
Heero spoke to the door, hitting his knuckle against the oak wood door. "May I come in?"
"It's your room," he heard Catherine say, her voice heavy with sobs.
He turned the knob and entered, his eyes immediately resting on Catherine's body, which lay wrapped up in his sheets, on the bed. She lay on her stomach, her face buried in a pillow and her arms curled up tightly beneath her. He sat beside her on the bed, his hand coming to rest on her pale, naked shoulder. She instantly shied away from the touch.
"I just as well should have expected it," she spoke into the pillow, her voice muffled but still audible. Heero folded his hands in his lap and listened.
"The one time in my life I settle down and have even a slice of the way life should be; a home, people around me who love me, and even someone who loved me a little bit more." She began to weep openly. "It turns out-it turns out that he was fooling me all along."
Heero's face softened. "Catherine, please believe me that that was not my intention. I never meant to hurt you at all."
"Then why did you?" Catherine said, ripping her face away from the pillow, letting the sheets fall from her body and pile around her waist, leaving her body exposed as she released her fury on Heero. "It doesn't matter that you didn't mean to hurt me! In the end, you did! You're...you're involved with...a man! It's...unnatural!"
"Catherine, I am not involved with your brother," Heero lied, his heart crying inside as each new lie escaped his lips. "I am not fond of men at all. Your brother was not feeling his best. He was worried about where you were last night. I was consoling him, that's all. That's all it was."
Catherine let Heero's words sink into her mind. She gripped the sheets once more, this time not out of passion, but out of desperate worry. //Perhaps my mind is clouded; perhaps they weren't...perhaps they weren't kissing as long as I thought. People show affection when another, their friend, is affected. Well...I did have more to drink than I've ever had before, and perhaps...perhaps my mind is a little biased.//
"So...you're...you're not involved with Trowa?" she asked, her eyes meeting Heero's again.
Heero repeated the lie that killed a small part of him each time he repeated it. "No, I am not."
Catherine's eyes were red from rubbing the tears from her eyes, jamming the heels of her hands into her eyes to stop the tears from coming, only to fail as they trickled down her face. She felt betrayed. But...Heero had said there was nothing between he and Trowa. She had to believe him. He had given her so much; the least she could give him was her trust.
"I-I believe you," she said.
Heero let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Thank you, Catherine. Your trust means a lot to me, and I hope that you won't be this distressed again. I would never do anything to harm you or your brother; both of your are the family I've never had."
//And I mean that,// Heero thought, embracing a distraught Catherine in his arms, feeling her tears moisten his chest, and the last heaves of her sobs quiver against him. He couldn't cry; he hadn't cried for years, ever since he could remember. Ever since...ever since...
Before he had a chance to dive into his past, his eyes fixed upon a candle which was merely a stump. It burned dimly, the last bits of wax dribbling down the sides of the candle, like the non-existent tears that would have streamed down Heero's face, if he had had the strength, the will to exert such emotion.
He regarded the candle with respect; the candle was crying, because he'd never really know how.
----------
It was midnight.
Trowa knocked slowly on Heero's door, a little softer than he normally did. He heard Heero beckoning him to enter the room, a little softer than he normally did.
He entered and found Heero sitting at his easel, his eyes staring at the ceiling. In front of Heero was where Trowa was to be seated. A soft, velvet chair was supported by mahogany legs in front of Heero's beautiful draperies, also velvet, falling dramatically onto the floor, cascading from the ceiling magnificently.
"Take off your clothes," was all Heero said, his eyes continuing to stare at the comforting ceiling.
Without words, Trowa removed the soft pants he'd been wearing all day, letting them form a puddle at his feet. Immediately, the warmth of the room embraced him, enveloping his naked form in a kind of liquid heat that he had experienced for some time now...ever since he'd allowed Heero to paint him. He stepped out of his pants quietly, his bare feet hitting the floor in undetectable steps. He approached Heero, who still gazed at the ceiling.
"Sit," Heero said.
Trowa sat. Heero took his gaze off of the ceiling and fixed it on Trowa, his stare so heavy that Trowa looked away in discomfort. Heero stood and advanced towards Trowa, his hands coming in contact with Trowa's smooth, bronze skin, the skin he'd worshipped for the small, but precious, time they'd spent together.
"Let your legs dangle over the side of the chair," Heero said softly, his commands so soft and sure that Trowa took them as childlike requests and obeyed them willingly. "Let the cushion of the chair support your back. Hook your arm around the arm rest...lay the other one across your stomach. The corner of side of the chair and the back of the chair should cradle your face." Trowa did all he could to please Heero, and found that Heero looked at him now with eyes of contentment and appreciation.
"Are you comfortable?" Heero asked Trowa, his eyes not leaving Trowa's.
Trowa fixed his gaze upon Heero, and nodded. "Yes."
Heero nodded in return, and continued to gaze upon Trowa's body which laid out in front of him. Heero worshiped Trowa's body. He wanted to capture the beauty that was before him. He let his hands wander over exposed flesh, Trowa allowing Heero's hands to stray as they pleased along his torso, along his legs, along his shoulders.
"You're so beautiful," Heero said.
Trowa smiled, taking in Heero's throaty hoarse voice, the voice that baptized him with its every syllable. He closed his eyes, his cheeks flushing a pretty rose. Immediately, visions of Catherine's face as she walked in on their intimate moment flashed across the backs of his eyelids and his eyes snapped open.
"Thank you, Heero," Trowa said softly, a whisper that only Heero could fully understand. "But shouldn't we...shouldn't you get started?" Trowa smiled a crooked, inadequate smile that hid nothing from Heero's wisdom. Heero nodded, and resumed his position at the easel, rinsing the brush that he'd labor with over his worthwhile subject.
Heero dipped his brush into the paint, the tip of the brush turning a dull brown that match Trowa's sunned complexion. Heero didn't know if he could fully acquire all of what he loved about Trowa into the painting, but he wanted to try. And he would try until he was satisfied.
He played with the shadows the candlelight cast across Trowa's skin, teasing Heero's eyes as they continued to dance. As Heero let the brush hit the canvas, the color spreading like fire across the canvas, he recalled his words to Trowa from what seemed like ages ago.
//"The candlelight is fickle. Always changing, never pausing. Similar to life itself. There are many changes that can't be done over again. And these changes are continuous, like how the candles continue to burn."//
"Heero?"
Heero snapped out of his contemplation only to realize that Trowa was staring at him attentively. His brush was still on the canvas, the colors bleeding rapidly. He immediately dropped the brush and it clattered to the floor. Heero looked up sheepishly.
"What were you thinking about?" asked Trowa as quietly as he always was.
Heero paused, and looked down at his feet. "I was thinking about the past," he said, picking up the brush from the floor. "But no matter. It does no use to think of it now."
Trowa decided he shouldn't say anything. He returned his head to its resting place, in the corner of the chair, and he stared at the same picture on the wall of Heero's room that he'd been staring at before. It was of a man, around his age, and of his stature, sitting between two women who were over dressed and quite distinguished looking. The man was dressed in a nobleman's attire; but something about him seemed misplaced. "Who is that man?" Trowa asked, staring at the picture on the wall.
Heero looked up and met Trowa's gaze. He continued to paint. "He is of the past. It does no use to think of it now."
Trowa didn't know what to say. He looked down at himself, his exposed body laying across the chair. He gazed around him, noticing all the fine luxuries that Heero look as daily annoyances.
//What do I want from him?// Trowa asked himself for the first time. //It's no longer for money. At a time, it was for love. Now...now...I don't know what I want from him anymore. Perhaps love; but that only proves to be difficult as time has revealed.// Trowa felt tears burning in his eyes, not knowing how to stop them from sliding down his face as they had earlier before.
Heero looked up to see wet trails upon Trowa's face, and his own face softened and he got up from where he sat to kneel in front of Trowa. Trowa didn't meet Heero's gaze and didn't respond to Heero at all, even as Heero began to stroke the side of his face with the back of a hand.
"What's troubling you, Trowa?" Heero asked softly, fully knowing what was troubling the man in front of him.
After some time, Trowa's lips moved the slightest bit, obviously in response. Heero leaned closer and asked Trowa to repeat what he had said.
"Take me," Trowa said again, his request soft but demanding. "Now. Please."
Heero was astonished. He hadn't expected Trowa to say anything like that...not at the current state that time had thrown them into. Trowa finally turned his head to face Heero, a look of desperation and lust in his eyes.
"Please," Trowa repeated, reaching for Heero's face. "Please."
Heero was about to protest, but he felt pressure at his neck. Before he knew quite what was taking place, his lips pressed against Trowa's, Trowa forcing their tongues to clash and war against each other. Heero pulled away.
"Trowa..." Heero didn't know what to say or do, but Trowa sat up, taking a hand and pushing the hair out of his face. He now sat in front of Heero, legs spread invitingly, leaning over so that their faces were millimeters away.
"Please take me, Heero," Trowa said, his voice quiet, but his demands becoming more and more fierce. His eyes darkened as Heero continued to look at him blankly.
"Fuck me," Trowa whispered harsly.
Heero couldn't hold back another second; he smashed his lips into Trowa's, pulling the boy's head down to meet his lips. Heero pulled Trowa off the chair and into his lap, leaning back against a nearby table. He ground rowa's groin into his own, the coarse fabric scratching at Trowa's bare skin. Trowa moaned into Heero's mouth, thrusting back with his own hips in earnest.
//This is what I want...right?// he thought to himself as Heero began to touch him, the touch like fire that burned across his skin and pierced right through. //Yes. This is what I need.//
Trowa began to squirm, the fire too much, but so fulfilling. He leaned back and let his head hit the floor, his back arching sharply as Heero began to attack his chest. Trowa began to scratch ferociously at the hardwood floor. "More," he groaned, squirming away. Heero released his hands, but Trowa took them in his own and began to move Heero's hands to grab at his waist.
"Don't let go!" Trowa whispered, continuing to squirm and fight against Heero's grasp. "Hold me, keep me close, don't let me get away-"
Heero tightened his grip on Trowa's hips, and began to lick lightly at Trowa's chest.
"Harder!" Trowa sobbed. "I need it harder!"
Heero began to scrape his teeth against Trowa's chest, the small whimpers and moans leading him to believe that he should stop. He tasted blood, but Trowa asked for more, gripping Heero's hands to his waist so hard, Heero knew that it would bruise.
"Trowa," he said hoarsely. "I'm going to hurt you."
"I don't care," Trowa breathed, tightening the grip on his hips. "Please...Hurt me...Break me! Heero, please!" He began to frantically writhe and twist in Heero's grasp, Heero biting down on Trowa's nipple as hard as Heero believed the man could take it. Trowa's back arched like a bow, his mouth opening to let loose a mute scream of pleasure.
Heero pinned Trowa to the ground, Trowa continuing to thrash beneath him, his face flushed, his actions desperate. Trowa breathed heavily, sobbing now, wanting more of something he couldn't identify. He felt like he was burning, like he was freezing, like he was dying, like he was being born. He wanted to be hurt, to feel pain with pleasure, to feel pain itself, to be fucked. But he wanted something else, something he couldn't place. He grazed his nails along Heero's back, thrusting up wantonly against Heero's clothed erection. He began to tear at the material covering Heero's back.
Heero straddled Trowa's waist, forcing Trowa to stay put as he removed his shirt and covered Trowa's body with his own flesh. Trowa began to moan and squirm again. It was all too much. It was all not enough.
"Please!" Trowa begged for what he didn't understand, for what he didn't know. He writhed against Heero's body as their erections touched again, ice shooting up his back as his back bowed again. "Hold me!"
Heero wrapped his arms around Trowa as Trowa's legs tightened around Heero's waist, thrusting up and engulfing Heero's erection without preparation. They both screamed in ecstasy, Trowa feeling more pain and pleasure than he'd ever felt before. "Harder! I need you to hold me harder!"
Heero embraced Trowa tightly, so tightly he felt he would break the fragile boy, and he began to slowly thrust into Trowa's body. Trowa twisted in Heero's grasp.
"Fuck me, Heero! God, PLEASE! PLEASE! Harder! Take all of me, please! Please!"
Heero proceeded to fuck Trowa into the ground, squeezing him tightly as he pounded into the lithe body beneath him, Trowa panting hard and gasping for air, his whimpers becoming desperate moans for more.
Trowa needed more, more of something, more of anything. He was relieved when Heero released him and threw him face down on the floor with all his strength, like a rag doll. He smiled as he felt Heero push his shoulders to the ground and pull his hips near Heero's erection again. Heero slammed into Trowa's body, keeping one hand against Trowa's shoulders, holding him down, and using the other to brace himself as he mercilessly thrust into the boy's tight passage, Trowa continuing to twist beneath him.
"Yes! Yes!" Trowa chanted softly. "Yes, Heero, hard! Harder!"
Heero grabbed Trowa's hair and pulled Trowa's head back, arching Trowa's back again as he continued to rap into Trowa's constricting chasm.
"Don't stop! Please! Harder! I need it harder...fill me...please...God, PLEASE! Don't let go, please!!!" Trowa breathed harshly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling that had captured Heero's interest earlier that night.
Heero didn't know if he should stop or if he should continue on...half of him was screaming at him to cease, as Trowa's passage became lubricated with blood, as Trowa's eyes began to appear empty and sated. The other half of him was screaming at him to continue, to grasp the boy's hair and tug violently, to tattoo Trowa's ass with his cock, to revel in the pleasure that he was experiencing.
Trowa once again opened his mouth wide, a throaty nothingness emerging as his eyes rolled back into his head, the pleasure and pain connecting together in his heart and in his body. He knew what he wanted.
He wanted Heero to hurt him, to abuse him, to be violent, to be brutal, fierce, dominant, and intense. He wanted pain. He wanted it to overcome the pleasure, the pleasure he shouldn't be feeling...should he be feeling pleasure?
//No!// his mind screamed, and he thrust back against Heero, feeling Heero penetrate him deeply, and shamelessly asking for more, demanding for more.
"Fuck me, Heero...god, yes, more, please, PLEASE! Make me bleed, make me hurt, make me feel pain, PLEASE!"
Heero let go of Trowa hair and took Trowa's hips in both hands, his fingertips digging into Trowa's sides as Trowa let loose a soft moan. He pistoned his hips forward, pummeling Trowa hard and with more force than he believed he had. He wanted to inflict pain...why did he want to inflict pain? Was it because Trowa was taking it...and asking for more? Was it because he could? He didn't know, and didn't think about it any longer as he felt his climax approaching, speeding his thrusts and making Trowa sob openly against the floor, his side of Trowa's face audibly sliding against the wood, burning the skin from Trowa's face.
"Yes! Please, more, please! I don't care if you break me, just PLEASE! I need you, please! Fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me..." Trowa's demands became loud sobs of pleasure as he orgasmed, his seed splashing against the floor and beneath his knees which were bloody and bruised from their abuse they'd taken that night. With Trowa's release, Heero pounded a few more times into Trowa's body, the tightness over coming him and sending him spiraling off the edge. He slumped on top of Trowa's body, sending them both crashing to the ground in a puddle of semen, blood, and sweat. Their breath echoed throughout the room, and Heero looked over to see Trowa's eyes closed, unconsciousness taking over the man turned child in Heero's arms.
----------
Catherine laid in her bed, the sounds of what took place in the next room echoing in her ears.
//I'll give him my trust,// she thought. //I'll give him my trust.//
--to be continued--