(Slave to your love) Scars of Love [Part VI: Almost...there]

[Leia Avenrose]

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing?, or the men. I own the plot and the sex, as well as the killing.
Dedication: To the participants and all who read.



Scars of Love
By: Lynzi Knight
Rating: NC-17/XXX
Part VI: Flying Without Wings


He walked down the bustling street, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his pants. His head was lowered, his thoughts getting the best of him. He shouldered someone roughly, continuing to walk, not bothering with whoever it had been. They called him a few names, adding a swear or two in. They then ignored him. A woman smelling of flowers brushed past him, her hand brushing his, her shoulder bumping into his. She murmured an apology when he didn?t look up, kept on going with what she had to do. He ignored everyone around him, not paying attention to the vehicles that splashed through the puddles of last night?s shower. Why did things go the way they did? Why did everyone die, sooner or later? He had been trained to handle this sort of thing, but inside he was mourning his loss, his dead life. He had been educated in the ways of death to only bring it, not fear it or cry over it.

She had plagued his dreams.

His thoughts were only of her, the way she smiled, her hair, the smell of it, the feel of it against his face, his chest after their wild nights of making love. All those nights of finally lived passion had come alive, been wasted for this day.

?Why did she have to take her own life?? His question was only an empty mutter to the wind, the backs of heads all around him. Dark clouds rolled past the sun, blotting it out of sight for a brief moment, until it covered it entirely. A jagged limb of lightning sprang across the skies.

A man, his unkempt hair looking like it hadn?t been tainted by a pair of shears, his clothes torn, full of holes and covered in dirt, stepped onto a large wooden crate. He threw his arms to the sky, his smudged fingers poking through the clothed fingertips. The sleeves of his trench coat slid down his raised arms, revealing black and red tattoos of Celtic symbols. He began to dance on his box, lifting one leg up at a time. To everyone passing by, he looked to be doing some sort of an olden folk jig. Whatever it was, words went right along with the dance, chanting terminology no one around could come to understand in this lifetime.

?An angel will be removed from the Heavens! Its death awaits someone else. An angel will be removed from the Heavens! Its death awaits someone else. The drink is poison! Do not drink it. The drink is poison! Do not drink it.? He went on and on, repeating mostly everything he had shouted out, until his eyes slid shut. A gust of wind crashed into him, nearly knocking him from his sanctuary. His lips began to move, but no words slipped from his tongue. Only the closest could hear his horrible, yet brilliant words of wisdom and prophecy:

?She will arrive, salvage rule over her Kingdom. Her time of reign is not at an end yet. The stars finally see her, watch her, and tell her the truth. Perhaps it is for you to do the same?? His eyes snapped open, revealing a glossy white. They stared at the man with shaggy brown hair, and eyes as blue and deep as an ocean captivated by its own mysteries that it held deep.

His heart, the one thing he had lost control of so long ago, to now have finally grasped its thread, was bleeding, crying. He would never admit it, he knew it now, to his friends of what he felt, how he felt. He was sure of making certain none of their meetings had been revealed. He watched the pavement pass under his feet slowly, looked at the smoke buds that traveled by, the insects searching for their food, trying to avoid death. None of it made any sense! This whole world was just one big fucking question! He shifted his feet into a different direction, to his left. The smoke buds vanished, along with the bugs. Yellow strips glided into view, disappearing beneath his feet. He had stepped out onto the street, slowly, this time, moving out of people?s ways.

It had then begun to rain, turning quickly into a heavy downpour. Everyone brought out umbrellas, some even running for shelter from the unexpected onslaught.

?That fucking weatherman promised us sun!? someone shouted over the abrupt, earsplitting clash of thunder. It shook the ground, made it tremble.

?What was the point of suicide?? A loud noise blared to life beside him. People all around paused in mid-stride at the sides of the street to watch, gasp, point, shake their heads in horror, cry out to him. A voice in his mind told him to ignore them, to pay them no heed.

The horn went off again, the sound of water pelting the concrete echoing around it.

He jerked his head up, his eyes staring straight into the oncoming lights. He saw the panic on the drivers? face, could tell he was trying to stop, the tires? squealing in protest at the new rink of ice. He stood where he was, not bothering to move. Why worry about it anymore? There was no point. He found the lights mesmerizing; found he felt like wanting to touch them, to see if they were real. Someone screamed in the distance, in the back of his mind. He overlooked it, as it was nothing important?it wasn?t. The driver continued to slam on the brakes, but nothing was happening. Sure the brakes had locked the tires, but the car kept right on sliding. He was now using his last trump card, although he had been doing it the whole time, screaming at the man in front of him, jerking his arm to the side in the window for him to see.

Heero would?ve moved, if the situation had been different then it was now, but it wasn?t.

The lights on the car dimmed. A figure appeared, dressed in a black robe. Fine wheat colored hair hung around the body in thick strands. They lifted an arm, extending a finger towards him. Against the black backdrop of the car, a pair of blue eyes, glowing, intense, stared at him, wide and fearful. The mouth snapped open, followed by a loud scream of terror. Heero stared at it, slowly understanding the situation, the transparent being that floated off the ground in front of him. It all made sense now. He reached out to her, his fingers suddenly aching to hold her, just touch her. Unexpectedly, he was hit hard, knocked to the side, out of the path of death. He hit the ground with a painful jarring of bone against cement. Whiplash overtook his neck.

The car then flew past him, coming to a final halt a few feet away. The driver sat in the vehicle for a moment more, before lowering his head to the steering wheel in stunned relief.

Heero sat in a daze. It came at him out of nowhere, hitting his mind like a big surprise. ?I?ll never l-let him have me again! He?ll never do it anymore. No more. It?ll all go away, all away. Goodbye. I love you, Miliardo. Say that to everyone I love, you know who they are.? They echoed in the back of his mind, making his head throb in time with the beat of the words. He could hear the emotion, tell there were tears, pain.

Standing up, he didn?t bother to brush himself off, or thank the man who had saved him in the nick of time. The man, or whoever it was, had disappeared, obviously not wanting any thanks of any sort. Who had saved him anyway, knocked him from the lane of fatality? He looked around. Everyone had continued on with what they had been doing. He glanced up at the name of the street, recording it into his memory. Fiakoli Ave. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a compact, black cell phone. Heero punched in a few numbers, then brought the receiver to his ear, beginning to walk down the main street before turning down into a deserted alleyway. It rang, rang, and rang, until someone decided to pick up, the breathless voice gasping over the lines, like invisible fingers of fear and hesitation reaching for something or someone unknown, unheard of.

?Hello??

?You have her there?? He passed an old bum; sitting leaned up against a dirt-smeared brick wall. His grimy scrap of cardboard read: don?t let the homeless die because of your petty foolishness. Heero tossed him a penny.

?Yes.? The doctor fidgeted on the other line. ?Will you be in soon to receive her??

Heero glared ahead at the set of stairs that led downwards into the basement of a large building. ?Have her ready in the next minute, I?m already here.?

*

Their meeting, just as the rest of them, had begun tense, without much emotion from both sides. The park was empty, all quiet excluding the gentle cry of a breeze that whispered along the air. He had waited for her behind some bushes, crouched down. There, she had casually walked from the shadow, stepping into the spread out shaft of light that shone down from the streetlamp set by the bench and small chain-linked garbage can. He watched her in silence, watched how the light from the simple streetlamp lit her hair, creating a halo of gold around her head, watched how her expression was hesitant, somewhat on the blank side. She glanced down at her watch, tapping her heeled foot to keep herself occupied, and turned her back him, kicking at some pebbles on the concrete pathway.

He waited no longer, silently stepping from his hiding place. Her expression was one of surprise, her eyes wide, and her soft lips opening to form an O. He had already forgotten what those tasted like. She stared up at him, her hands now in the pockets of her trench coat. It reached down to her knees. He?d have to wait till later to see what was underneath. Damn. Reaching down, the tips of his fingers grazed her lower lip, his thumb caressing the side of her smooth face. She leaned into his hand, eager for his touch, her eyes closing slowly. His eyes were hooded; he could feel the desire running deep in his veins, setting everything on fire, and sending a pleasant ache throughout his body and deep into his groin. He couldn?t wait any longer for it; he had to have his taste.

He ducked his head, while he had the chance, before she?d open her eyes and end the moment. His lips brushed hers, his hand, the one on her face, applying a little bit of pleasure to her tender cheek. The woman sighed under his touch, sending her sweet breath into his mouth. Shivers he never knew he?d feel in his life, or in the coldest parts of the world, shimmied down his spine. She was melting beneath his touch, a touch he showed her and only her, no one else. He brought his other hand up and cupped her face firmly, wordlessly telling her he didn?t want it to end. Sucking in her bottom lip between his teeth, he nibbled gently, and released it to then slip his tongue past her lips. Her tongue met his, tangled, and then pulled away. They both dove in for some more of what they couldn?t get enough of, fighting each other in an erotic way.

His blood turned to fire, while the whole time his defenses dissolved.

She moaned softly against him in such a way a woman could do that he had to control the urge to grab her, force her down onto the bench behind them and ravage her body uncontrollably. His love for her went deep. One day she would know it, but he was positive she knew it now. Instead, he pulled her hard against him, crushing her breasts to him. Through the trench coat, he could feel the firmness of her breasts, the way they were shaped, the soft, round edges that fit to his hard, rugged muscles. At the thought, an involuntary shudder ran throughout his entire body. He pulled away, his breathing labored, hard. He felt his eyelids droop lower. The woman in front of him ducked her head, trying to avoid his intent gaze of lust and wonder.

Behind the long curtain of her hair, she felt her cheeks burn, her lips tingle, swell with passion, and her breathing trying to control itself. Even her irregular heartbeat struggled for some restraint against the assault of emotions and touch that left her breathless, light-headed, wanting more and more. She closed her eyes, breathing a soft, small breath of relief. That?s when she felt his finger under her chin, lifting her flushed face upwards.

Immediately her eyes snapped open. She stared up at him, not knowing what her eyes betrayed, what her body led him to think, but she knew that her face and state of mind, just the look splashed across her features, betrayed her. Her need for him, what he could give her, that?s what her body, her face gave out publicly. His eyes searched her, looking for some sort of sign that would indicate her displeasure, her uneasiness at their situation at this moment. From what he could see, behind the flush of rose that streaked her cheeks, made her soft lips, that were like the petals of a flower beneath his rough lips, all swollen and cherry-red, everything he had just done had gone right.

?Let?s get going,? he growled under his breath. He walked away then, heading the way she had come from.

?But?? she began to protest, and was cut off by a glare as he glanced back over his shoulder. She closed her mouth, locking her lips before touching the flesh together.

?Fine,? she muttered, clenching the pair of cool, hard objects in her pockets. She followed in silence, staring down at the ground as she went. Thoughts assaulted her mind, images drifting into her mind at the previous meetings.

About fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the front door to his four-story apartment. Upon entering, he continued to ignore her, only glancing back once, as they climbed the stairs to the fourth floor of the massive building.