[catholic schoolboys rule!] Title: Catholic Schoolboys Rule!
Author: Link Worshiper
Pairings: 1=2, 3=4, mentions of others
Stuff: AU, pokes at religious institution, fluff/sap, angst, lemon topping and a bit of drag XD
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Sunrise, Bandai and a lot of other people who aren't me. +5 skill points if you guess the title reference.

Filling a request for Rainya, because she feeds my geek needs. Thanks to Natea for the once-over. This chapter is dedicated especially to Tsubasa No Kami because she's not only a fellow Sacred Heart survivor, but also because she's finally standing under my Heero/Duo box trap. *pulls stick away* 8D

Also, I don't mean to insult anyone's religiousness with some of the shit that goes down in this chapter, so please forgive me if it's something you feel particularly about. I'm already going to hell, though, so I'm set 8D

++++

XVI.

++++

"I heard he stabbed someone!"

"Oh yeah? Well, someone told me that he pushed some guy out of a window."

"No, no, you're both wrong: he got found out for being a terrorist, and now he's wanted by the cops, Interpol and everybody in between!"

"You're a fucking liar!"

"Bull!"

Even in the boys' locker room, the rumours about what had earned Duo such a strict punishment from Mother Superior were flying back and forth like a sailing shuttlecock. Such ridiculous gossip was something Heero thought only girls were capable of, but he was quickly learning how very wrong he was about all that. The after-school sports teams had barely hit the showers before the rumour mills started churning, and he could only imagine what sorts of ridiculous things had been said before that. He felt partly lucky that fencing was a traditionally silent sport and partly curious to hear what everyone was saying.

"Hey, Heero - Heero Yuy!" came a voice from nearby, cutting off his train of thought. His head snapped in the direction of the speaker, who was a small young man Heero recognized as the coxswain of Trowa's crew team. He sat down eagerly on the bench next to Heero: "Is it true that you were there with Duo Maxwell when they found all that stolen money on him?"

Heero continued to focus on stiffly changing his socks, his gaze trained straight forward, all the while wondering if he should correct the others on their misinformation.

"No, that's not even close," said another boy above the slam of a locker door. "The truth is that he killed a man!"

Heero clenched his jaw, trying his best not to get riled by the comment. The voices were now shooting back and forth so quickly, he couldn't even tell where they were coming from anymore - not that it even mattered. After so many years of biting his lip, and especially in light of what had just happened, he was finding it harder and harder to resist the urge to just say exactly what was on his mind.

"Heero, wasn't it your father?" the coxswain pressed, obviously keen that Heero was the one to ask for answers. "Doesn't that make you want to punish Maxwell yourself?"

"Doesn't it make you think you should mind your own business?" a much more familiar voice cut in. Heero turned around to find Quatre standing nearby, a tennis racquet clutched in one hand and a white sports jacket bearing the crest of his L4 academy dangling from the other. He didn't look all too happy with the coxswain.

Heero frowned a little. "I can take care of it myself," he told Quatre curtly before turning his sharp glare on the coxswain. "Piss off and quit looking for trouble," he growled, "or else trouble will start looking for you."

Interestingly enough, the coxswain seemed hardly addled by Heero's threat until he glanced in Quatre's direction. Perhaps it was the fact that he knew Quatre was close to Trowa that he backed off. With a low grumble he turned around to face his locker, rummaging through it with unnecessary intensity.

"It's better to ignore them," Quatre said, taking a seat next to Heero on the bench and setting down his racquet and coat beside him.

"I don't see why. It's not like it'll make them stop - and I can't stand listening to what they say about Duo," Heero protested morosely, his chin perched on one hand as he stared at the row of lockers in front of them. "They're like a bunch of little fucking girls!"

Quatre just shrugged noncommittally, unable to think of anything else to add to such a succinct summation. "Rumours are rumours, Heero," he threw in after a momentary pause. "It's not like they're true."

"They're as true as the person spreading them thinks they are," Heero retorted cynically. He kicked his locker door shut and jammed his feet into his school shoes. "It's like the bullshit all the adults in this place parade around and discipline us with."

"Well," Quatre mused, crossing his arms and rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling, "it can't really be helped that there's a lot of it about."

"I hate it," Heero groused as he bent to tie his shoes. He seemed to be having a difficult time with the laces. "I won't be a victim to it, and I won't let it swallow Duo, either."

Quatre glanced at Heero, a quizzical expression written across his round features. "It's not your job to save everybody, Heero," he said warily. "You can't choose someone else's life."

"I never said I was trying to!" Heero snapped vehemently. His entangled fingers then paused as he stared down at the tops of his leather shoes blankly. His voice was a hoarse whisper that was nearly drowned out entirely by the locker room hubbub ensuing around them: "But that doesn't mean I can't... that I can't hope for...." His lips continued to move, but his words were unintelligible and far overshadowed by the heaviness in his eyes.

Quatre stared back at Heero, amazed. "What happened between you two?" he murmured back, his voice filled with awe.

Heero lifted his head and turned to face Quatre, staring right back with that same, hollow gaze. "I don't know," he answered helplessly.

Quatre eyed Heero carefully. He could tell there was something else that Heero seemed to want to say, but he wasn't sure it would be wise to try and coax it out. For all his wild fierceness, Quatre could tell that Heero was, at heart, skittish and uncertain of himself, and pressuring him to admit something he wasn't ready to would only make him draw further into himself. So instead, Quatre just shrugged again and said ambiguously, "Well, then, if you don't, then who does?"

Heero said nothing and simply turned away, and Quatre took that as a sign that the conversation was over. Wordlessly, he picked up his jacket and racquet and stood up again, passing behind Heero on his way to his own locker, where he hurriedly packed up his sports bag and then slipped out of the room.

But he was hardly two steps down the hallway just outside, when he heard an unwelcome voice acidly hissing his name from somewhere behind. Quatre slowed down in his tracks as the beckoning became more adamant and stiffly turned around to face the speaker, one hand clutched abnormally tight around the strap of his sports bag. "What do you want, Dorothy?" he asked carefully as the tall blond girl started to stride confidently towards him.

"Glad to have your attention for once. Lord knows you never pay attention to me otherwise," she said airily, and immediately, Quatre felt on guard. "To what do I owe this honour?"

"What do you want?" Quatre pressed, trying hard not to lose his cool.

"I think that's the question you ought to be asking yourself," Dorothy replied ambiguously, now standing conversationally close to Quatre. She looped an unexpected arm around Quatre's shoulders, jerking him close to her side as she said, "I mean, in other words, do you want to survive your time here at Saint Magdalena's?"

"Or what?" Quatre said tightly, grimacing at her from the corners of his eyes.

She was suddenly inexcusably close, her thumb and forefinger pinching Quatre's chin as she forced his gaze to meet with hers. "You know, you're very cute," she segued, a dark smile on her face. "I like that thick blond hair of yours - the way it frames your round, little face. And those big, blue eyes! It's like looking at heaven...."

"W-What is this?" Quatre stammered as one of Dorothy's fingers lingered too close to the corner of his mouth for his liking. "Let go of me!"

"Oh, I don't think so," Dorothy snarled back, the candy coating falling out of her tone as her hands suddenly flew to hold Quatre still by the shoulders. Her nose was a scant inch from Quatre's as she almost immediately became more threatening: "You can either do as I say, or you can deal with the consequences of everyone in school knowing what a slutty little faggot you are, sucking Trowa Barton off and probably pocketing a nice little tip for doing it, too."

Fear registered in Quatre's eyes: he thought he and Trowa had been so careful to hide their budding romance, and yet, somehow, the rumour mill had somehow managed to get a hold of that, too. He hesitated, curious and frightened of how serious Dorothy was about what she'd said - and what she planned to do about it. His lips moved like he meant to protest, but no words came out, something that was probably better in the long run, since God knew what Dorothy would twist out of them.

"Ah, there's the rub. I knew I was right," Dorothy continued, her smile curling into something that was just short of pure evil. "No wonder you never cast a glance my way: you're too busy eyeing the boys."

By this point, Quatre had had enough and wouldn't tolerate this sort of insult against Trowa, himself or the nature of their relationship any longer. "I don't see why any of that is your business," Quatre snapped with unexpected acridity.

"Oh, you don't, do you?" she replied snarkily, before forcefully herding Quatre from the middle of the hallway and slamming him up against the concrete wall. "Well, let me just clear that up for you, then," she continued, pinning Quatre in place with some well of hidden strength, her eyes blazing with ferocity. "I wanted you from the first second I saw you, and I won't stop until you're mine," she hissed dangerously, her fingernails digging savagely into Quatre's shoulders as she spoke. She glanced to her left, where a gaggle of lacrosse players had just exited the boys' locker room, and then impulsively grabbed one of Quatre's hands, pressing it aggressively against her bosom as she handed the blonde boy her ultimatum: "You either give up kissing Trowa Barton and turn to me instead, or I'll scream."

Quatre's eyes widened in terror. He tried to jerk his hand away, but Dorothy's grip was fierce and her positioning had him cornered. He knew the only way to break free would be some kind of forcible action, but hitting a girl could look just as bad as her threat.

"I'll do it," she pressed, "and when they come over here, I'll tell them what a limp-wristed little queer you are, and then we'll see the locker room gossip fly!" She forced Quatre's hand to give her breast a squeeze as her pale blue eyes locked with Quatre's sea green ones: "Don't put it by me: it'll happen. I'll do it right now...."

"You'll do what, exactly?"

Dorothy startled at the sound of Trowa's voice, almost immediately dropping Quatre's hand and stepping well clear of the blond boy. She whirled on Trowa, glowering at the tall rower with malcontented eyes, though she kept her lips poised as not to betray her scathing thoughts. Meanwhile, Quatre slumped against the wall with a quiet sigh of relief, thankful he didn't have to resort to any sort of aggressive action against her. Maybe it was because he had so many sisters, but he didn't much care for the thought of striking a girl, even if she was being a sleaze.

Trowa took a step to stand more assertively next to Quatre as he repeated his question. "I'm giving you a chance to explain yourself," he continued. "Otherwise, I'll ask Quatre, here. Or better yet, I'll just make a judgment based on what I saw."

"Trowa, really, don't worry about it," Quatre said with a shake of his head. His fingers sought Trowa's nearest hand as he glanced nervously back at Dorothy, who was still glowering. "She has the answer to her question. No need to press it any further, right?"

Trowa's expression was skeptical as his eyes darted back and forth between Quatre and Dorothy, but the feel of Quatre's palm against his easily soothed his wariness. "Right," he agreed slowly, still eyeing Dorothy carefully.

Knowing she'd lost this round, Dorothy balled her hands into tight fists and snapped, "Don't think this is the last time you'll hear about this!" Then she turned rigidly on her heel and stalked away from the pair, darkening the very air around her as she left.

When he was sure Dorothy was gone, Trowa turned to Quatre and said seriously, "You're sure she didn't do anything?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Quatre assured him, giving the hand he was still holding an affirmative squeeze. His other hand danced up the length of Trowa's arm, his fingers pulling at the fabric of Trowa's oxford shirt. "If she thinks bullying is the best way to get what she wants...."

Trowa reached up to catch the hand Quatre had laid on his shoulder. "What did she want?" he asked gently. The hallway was relatively empty at this point, but Trowa didn't really care: people could say what they wanted, but it wouldn't change the way he felt about Quatre.

Quatre glanced away, thoughts rolling through his mind like a fierce squall at sea, before he finally replied, "A toy." He leaned forward to rest his forehead against the crook of Trowa's neck, calming himself with a series of slow, deep breaths.

Trowa tightened his eyebrows but said nothing, instead just breaking his hold on Quatre's hand to rub his back soothingly. He knew Quatre could have handled himself, but that didn't mean that Quatre necessarily made it through the encounter unscathed. He only hoped his support was enough - something that he would have been assured of had he been able to see the contented smile blossoming on Quatre's lips.

And all the while, obscured in the shadows by the locker room door, Heero lingered and watched the two of them, secretly wishing he knew how to hold Duo the same way.

++++

Though most of the school's religious faculty lived in the rectory near the girls' dormitory, there were still a few small rooms in the eves above the chapel for the two or three nuns who oversaw its upkeep. It was in one of these tiny rooms that Duo was bidden to stay while he served his punishment for attacking Dr. Jay and Odin. Duo was pretty sure that the only reason he hadn't been reported to the police was to keep them out of other school affairs and the strange business regarding Heero's family, and though he supposed he ought to count his blessings for that, it still grieved him to think that things had fallen to such disastrous lows. If Sister Helen were still here, she would have wept at the depravity of it all.

But as any good fighter knew, there was a time and a place to strike, and this wasn't it. So instead, Duo bided his time as he moved through his solitary regimen. He was expected to hear Mass with the rest of the student body, though he was forbidden to sit in the nave with the rest of them. He took his meals alone in the simple room that was to be his residence during the length of his penance and was only thankful that he'd managed to convince Sister Strom, the nun overseeing him, to allow him prayer in the hidden side chapel dedicated to the statue of the Madonna. She had also once known Helen and easily consented to Duo's request.

That evening, after he'd helped Sister Strom tidy up the chapel and organize the vestry, he helped the old nun up the stairs to her room and bade her goodnight, mentioning briefly that he was going to be spending the night in the Madonna's chapel to continue his prayers until dawn. "I do it for Helen every month," he explained, and she just smiled at him with understanding.

"You know, despite everything, you really are a good boy," she told him, reaching up to pat his shoulder affectionately. "God bless and keep you, Duo."

"The same for you, Sister," he said feebly, forcing out a smile for her sake before she closed her door for the night. Then he turned down the narrow hall and made his way in the dim light for the winding back stairs that would take him back down to the main floor. As he walked, he wondered why he'd been so dedicated to this whole routine when it would have been just as easy to duck and run out of the whole ordeal. Maybe Sister Strom was right and he really was a good boy. Or maybe he just felt that driven to apologize for... something.

The Madonna's niche was even darker than usual without the sun shining through the small stained glass windows that flanked the altar's statue, the sacred alcove lit nightly by only flickering candles. With a reverence that most might not have expected from Duo, the longhaired boxer moved silently towards the prayer railing that surrounded the Madonna statue and knelt on the top step. His string of rosary beads fell from his pocket and into one palm with a whisper, soon clenched between his folded hands.

For some time, he was silent, his crossed thumbs pressed urgently against his crinkled brow. He tried to regulate his breath as memories of Helen came pouring back, the echoes of another life that seemed to belong to someone else. The smile that should have graced his face at the memory of her was pulled into a grimace that stretched over clenched teeth. "I don't know what you thought you had to do to please the Lord," Duo whispered harshly, his body shaking a little, "but do you really think that leaving me alone was really part of His plan? Do you really...?"

The light in the room flickered sharply as if the candles were being teased by a puff of wind, heralding the presence that had crept up to Duo and was now lingering beside him. He abruptly halted his muttered prayer, clenching his rosary beads tightly for a brief moment before letting out a heavy sigh. He knew already whom it was, standing so quietly beside him, and there was little need for words, but he spoke anyway. "How did you know I'd be here, Heero?"

Heero's response was muted and subtle, a bare breath in the darkness: "Only because you weren't here last night, or the night before that, or the one even before that," he answered, falling into a cross-legged position next to Duo. He faced out towards the little niche's four pews, his back pressed up against the intricacies of the prayer railing's curled bronze. Familiar with only the traditions of his personal heritage, he wondered if he ought to take off his shoes for the sake of respect in the chapel and sat in silence as he toyed with the curiosity.

Duo took that moment to glance over at Heero for the first time since he'd sat down. He looked exhausted, his eyes dark, his hair somehow messier than usual; his normally immaculate uniform was creased in places, unbuttoned and crooked on his body, almost as if he'd merely thrown it on for the sake of decency. "Were you... really looking for me all this week?"

Heero just shrugged, figuring that Duo already knew the answer to that one. There was no use hiding the fact that he had come to miss Duo since they'd been forced apart. Even though he'd seen Duo come and go all throughout their time together, how could he have known that Duo would have managed to steal the show?

"Why?" Duo wanted to know, jarring Heero's thoughts.

Though he was nervous to allow his gaze to settle on Duo for too long, Heero's eyes darted over towards the kneeling boxer, who was still bent over the prayer railing with his eyes cast down at his folded hands and prayer beads. "Because... because I..." he started to say, speaking with the hoarseness of one who hadn't used his voice in a while. He swallowed, gathering his knees against his chest and holding them tightly: "I was lonely," he whispered.

Duo snapped up, his back suddenly ramrod-straight, his hands now tight around the prayer railing, moist with anticipation. He stared over at Heero with unabashed surprise, even though Heero had buried his nose into his knees, masking his eyes behind the fall of his long, shaggy bangs. He could see Heero's knucklebones standing up through his taunt skin a he gripped the fabric of his pants, his voice muffled as he continued. "Even though I used to pass the time alone, I'd never felt that way before," he mumbled almost incoherently. "And then I saw Trowa and Quatre together one day, and I realized that..." - here he took in a large, settling breath - "...that I've been lonely my whole life." His shoulders quaked a little as he buried his face deeper into the fabric of his maroon pants, pulling his knees in tighter; "I realized that all this time, I've just been hanging on - hanging on, waiting around until I'm gone."

All this time, Duo had listened in silence, afraid to break the moment with a stupidly vocalized thought, or even a misplaced breath. He continued in this fashion even after Heero had finished, slowly allowing his body to relax as the things Heero had said began to settle more comfortably in his mind. He didn't want to chase Heero away with a careless word, and yet, he felt that the only thing that would serve would be unabashed honesty, so that's what he gave: "You might forget, but you're not alone," he said with simple reverence. "I'd never let you be."

One of Heero's eyes glittered back at Duo from the depths of his folded arms. He might have said something if he'd known how to explain what was on his mind, but he didn't.

Duo flopped down, draping one arm over the prayer railing and angling his body to better face Heero. With a melancholy sigh, he shook his head and murmured, "Do you even know how easily you're loved?"

Heero only hugged his knees tighter against his chest.

Shakily, Duo extended a hand towards Heero, his fingertips just grazing the other boy's shoulder. "I know I've only known you for a little while," Duo began softly, his voice just as unsteady as his fingers, "and I don't want to jinx it or nothing, but since I met you, I never thought I'd ever feel this way. That I'd ever be able to...." His voice trailed off wistfully as his hand fell back to his side limply. "Heero, please, look at me!"

The way Duo's voice choked seemed to elicit something in Heero, and he lifted his head a bit to peer over the wall of his arms at Duo.

A pained expression filled Duo's eyes, stumbling closer to Heero as he spoke the singularly most honest thing he'd ever expressed in his life. Whispering, a knot started to grow in his chest: "Here I am, Heero. I have no clue what I'm supposed to be anymore, but here I am."

Wiping his damp nose against the inside of his sleeve, Heero unfolded himself slightly, though his cloudy eyes were still cast down the slopes of his shins. "I don't know what you're waiting around for me to do," he grimaced morosely.

"Nobody else has to see," said Duo earnestly. "It's just you and me."

At this, Heero's expression softened, though his eyes remained downcast. "What if," he began hesitantly, "what if we did nothing. If we just sat beside each other and allowed ourselves just to... to be."

"Together?" Duo mused as he finally crumpled beside Heero, leaning back against the prayer railing also. Their shoulders were touching, their thighs pressed against one another. His fingers twiddling nervously between his knees, Duo's lips quirked up into a soft smile: "I'd like that very much, Spaceboy."

A moment of silence ensued, and in the stillness, Heero felt the tremor of Duo's heartbeat beneath his cheek. For the first time in a very long while, Heero thought that it was good to be alive. Almost subconsciously, he reached up with his far hand and clutched at Duo's shirt, feeling the roll of Duo's voice beneath his palm as he breathed Heero's name inquiringly. The sound of it murmured dazedly around Heero, who felt almost in a trance as he angled his head a bit more towards Duo. Everything he'd ever had or ever lost - every dream he'd had so close that had gone up in smoke - all of it seemed to have been washed clean of him, his mind and body conscious only of that warm pillow of air lingering between their parted lips.

Heero's kiss was exceedingly gentle, almost innocent in its timid curiosity. Duo could only allow his eyes to slip closed as he relished the touch of Heero's mouth against his, certain he had never before experienced a sensation so sweet. Even when Heero drew away, Duo still felt overcome by euphoria, daring only to let out the most tiny of exhalations as he slowly opened his eyes once more. "What now?" he dared to whisper as he gazed at Heero with half-lidded eyes. When Heero's only response was a tiny whimper, Duo could barely keep himself from leaning in to kiss Heero again.

This time, as they kissed, Duo gathered Heero against him, wanting to be ever closer to him. Their breaths were more ragged and hurried as their need for one another began to crescendo. Heero arched his neck as Duo's fingers began working at Heero's black necktie and the stiff collar of his shirt, desperate to taste more. Their inhibitions mired by the moment's impulsiveness, Heero barely thought to ask if this was something they should give into right then. But Duo wrote it off easily, saying that if God had given them love, then the best thing they could do was show him how much they appreciated it.

Pushing the fabric of Heero's maroon jacket down his arms as Duo peeled the fabric of Heero's oxford apart, he leaned in to lay more kisses upon Heero's bared pectorals. With the quake of Heero's naked chest beneath his lips, Duo wondered what this moment meant to him - wondered if it meant as much to Heero as it did to him, or if Heero even realized its significance. They had each come a long way, but it was Heero who had played that secret chord that had roused within Duo a symphony he knew would change him forever. Love, no longer a victory march, had become something new and beautiful to Duo that left him feeling very much like a shy newborn experiencing it for the first time.

And as for Heero, as the rustle of fabric and the clatter of metal buckles shivered around every soft whimper and sigh that fell from his mouth, he was at least able to discern there was something different in Duo this night, and his soul no longer felt the need to draw back. Allowing Duo's lips to pass over a tender nipple, Heero found his hands that gave nothing, his arms that knew no tenderness, were suddenly clutching at Duo helplessly as his deceitful voice gurgled pleasurably in the back of his throat. Overwhelmed by lust and sin like none he'd ever known, he found himself wanting things he'd never before desired, and found himself wanting them only from Duo. He suddenly cared little about where they were, knowing only that it was there in Duo's embrace that he wanted to be buried - that it was his sanctuary.

Duo was lost in the darkness of Heero's stare as it crashed over him relentlessly, slowly driving him mad with need. He'd never wanted anyone like this in his life, even in all the time he'd spent questing for Heero's attention beforehand. Heero was now sighing Duo's name like it was a prayer as Duo nuzzled at the brass button that was barely constraining Heero's awakening cock within the fabric of his pants. Mindlessly aroused by the prospect of driving Heero wild with pleasure, Duo's mouth was already eager to explore the contours of Heero's erection even before freeing it of its bondage. He teased and nipped at it, hoping that Heero would stop him there if it was something he decided he wasn't comfortable with and had to marvel that he even thought to allow Heero such a courtesy. And yet, here he was, a drowning man that had found someone to rescue him in this world he wanted so desperately to conquer and despise.

Unused to being touched in such a fashion, Heero could barely voice a coherent thought. "I wanna... wanting, needing... waiting... for you..." he gasped, hardly even sure of what exactly it was he craved as Duo continued to fondle him. He threaded one hand through Duo's thick hair, pressing him closer. His other hand clenched into a tight fist, he clung to the prayer railing as Duo took his begging as an open invitation to continue undressing him, gracelessly jerking Heero's uniform pants down his thighs with a ripping yank that left Heero's hardened cock bobbing helplessly in their wake.

"That's what I want," Duo hissed as he fell into a low crouch, wasting very little time in claiming Heero's cock as his plaything. Duo's oral explorations left Heero capable only of tiny, orgasmic moans that rolled over his tongue with such languid need, it wasn't long before one of Duo's hands found his own erection, which he palmed eagerly as he continued to greedily devour Heero. Duo swallowed the thick shaft of it, soon moving lower to roll the heavy sac around his skilled tongue.

Suddenly, Heero let out a sharp gasp of surprise as Duo's wet tongue slid lower still and began to probe between his firm ass cheeks. It was an alien and unexpected feeling, and Heero had to squint his eyes shut as Duo pressed his tongue deeper into him, torn between the discomforting, yet oddly pleasing sensation of it. He could barely whimper in protest.

However, it didn't take long for Duo to notice the change in Heero's reactions, and he was quick to withdraw, soon sitting back on his ankles and searching Heero's face, though he still kept a hand idly stroking his own erection, unable to abandon it so easily. "Did I... hurt you, Heero?" he wondered aloud.

Heero, still panting, was able to at least shake his head in the negative. He had collapsed against the prayer railing, absently fingering his straining cock, which lay enticingly against the inside of one naked thigh as he managed to explain, "I've just never been... touched like that."

Duo regained the nerve to position himself much nearer to Heero again, his voice a husky whisper. "No one's ever wanted to make love to you? To be inside of you?" he asked, reaching up to cup Heero's cheek lovingly. He leaned in to lay a tender kiss on Heero's lips, which were parted in confusion. "I don't believe that for a second, kitten."

Heero's eyes slipped closed as he allowed himself to savor the kiss while it lasted, but his distress was clear when they parted. "I'm not someone who's... who's desirable," Heero protested, glancing away in embarrassment, though the empty eyes of the Madonna statue weren't much more settling than Duo's. "Everyone I've ever know is either afraid of me or could care less."

Duo's retort was an impassioned reaction: "That's a lie!" he cried out, grabbing Heero's chin more firmly and dragging their eyes level with one another. "I'm not afraid of you, Heero. I care about you more than I've ever cared about anyone in my whole fucking life. I've been left alone for so goddamn long, running and running and looking for me... and then I found you. I had been searching everywhere, and you were right there in my sights the entire time."

Heero seemed so vulnerable, leaning there against the railing, mostly naked in the candlelight. "It's okay," he murmured almost absently; "Loneliness has never been a stranger."

But Duo wouldn't hear any of it. Moved by passion, he said, "Dammit, Heero, when you've got sorrows as heavy as mine, I didn't think there'd be anybody who could lift me up to the stars. But now - since you came here - I don't feel like I'm always falling." He moved to slip Heero's limp body into a tight embrace, cradling their heads together. "Heero, I... I just want to be with you, for God's sake. I love you."

They were words Heero never thought he'd ever hear just as much as they were words Duo never thought he'd ever say, and yet, there it was. It wasn't long before their lips had found each other once again, this time meeting for a soft, consummating kiss that blossomed their intimacy once more. Duo settled against the prayer railing and Heero fell easily into his lap, gently rolling his hips against the other wantonly. Arching against Duo, Heero gasped, "I still want to... I need...!"

"I'm yours if you want me," was all Duo said, the expression in his darkened eyes glimmering with the unspoken volumes of his sincerity. He took Heero's uncertain hands into his and guided them down the length of his body, tearing the buttons of his pants apart so he could cup Heero's palm around his arousal. He pushed his pants further down his legs, leading Heero through his first lesson on intimacy.

Heero had never felt such pleasure, and it was heightened only by the knowledge that he was sharing such a feeling with Duo. But just when Heero thought feeling anything more euphoric was a kind of impossibility, Duo wrapped a slick hand around Heero's cock and latched his other arm around his neck and drew him closer, ready to take him inside. Their eyes met briefly, just as their copulation was about to come to fruition, and Heero saw in Duo's face an expression of the utmost adoration wherein Heero saw himself reflected back.

And then, the world seemed to be turning only for the two of them. Every breath he drew was like a whispered hallelujah as Heero found himself deeper and deeper into Duo with each one. Duo's head was rolled back over the top of the prayer railing as he let his pleasure-shocked gasps waft up towards heaven, his blunt fingernails clawing vehemently into Heero's back. As his climax mounted higher and higher, he begged Heero to promise not to ever stop and screamed out to a God he hardly knew as his passion exploded between their grinding bodies.

Heero shuddered against Duo's limp body as he reached his own climax and clung to him as if he might float away without Duo there to ground him. He had never felt anything like that in his entire known existence, and in the afterglow of it, could only wonder if what had just transpired was reality or a very cruel dream. It was as if he had his hands on a miracle, and he would be damned if he would allow anyone to ever take it away, even if the one he had to overcome was none other than himself.

++++

TBC

++++

[last]

[next]