by: Storie Nites
Beta Read by: Maki
Quick note! The G-boys are..18 in this fiction. At the beginning anyway.
The scent of sex hung in the air. Two figures, each entwined in each other's arms, lay in comfort on the single bed that was one of the two pieces of furniture in the small room. One of the figures, a fey-looking youth with beautiful long chestnut hair, hung in between sleep and wakefulness. The other, a youth with messy brownish hair and hard Prussian blue eyes, merely watched his partner. Propped up on his elbow, he allowed his other arm to drape across the other's chest.
"I love you".
The bare whisper hung heavily in the air. The youth tensed, looking down. His partner was asleep, but he clung to him like a life line. He frowned. Removed his arm from the slumbering beauty and sat up. He stood, careful to not make any noise. Silently, he dressed. Pausing long enough to scribble a swift note, he left the sex scented room.
Duo woke, feeling for once at peace. Still caught by his pleasant dream, he did not realize that he was the only one in the room. At first. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he sat up and stretched. He glanced around, noticing that someone was missing. With a soft frown, Duo stood. His face paled slightly when he noted that Heero's bag was gone. Then he smirked. Heero was always taking off. And heusually came back. Always. This decided, he sat back in full confidence that his Heero would return to him. As he sat, his eyes wandered about the small room. Then he saw a small paper taped to the wall. A vague frown on his lips, he stood and went to the wall. Suddenly uneasy, he pulled the paper from the wall.
Unfolding it, he skimmed it and paled. His jaw tightened and he balled the paper up. He spun on his heel, paper still in hand. Glaring at the bed, he grabbed his bag and left.
"No one fucks Death over and lives," he growled as he slammed the door.
Three Years Later.
Gasping, the outlaw named Derin Masters ran faster than he had ever run. The bounty hunter, only known as The Reaper, was still chasing him. Well. Not really. The Reaper was merely playing with him. Derin realized that when his wife came home to him in a small box. He ducked into an alley, in hopes that he could loose his pursuer. He couldn't help but chuckle. So far, this bounty hunter was the only one able to make him nervous.
"Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly," a honeyed voice purred.
Derin froze and looked around. No one in site.
"Look up, little duck," the voice advised. Derin did so and paled. There he was. Black trench coat. Black fedora. Black sunglasses. Black leather pants. Black silk shirt. Black boots. But this, Derin ignored. What he was most focused on was the cold smile that was on The Reaper's face.
"From what I hear, you've been a bad boy, Derin," he mocked.
Derin glared, hiding the chill that had settled in his bones. The Reaper jumped down and landed in front of Derin. He straightened and looked Derin in the eye. His smile chilled him even more.
"There's a reason for my name you know." He tipped his hat and turned away.
Derin watched at The Reaper walked away from him. Relief filled him. Maybe The Reaper would spare him. So caught up in his thoughts, he failed to see that The Reaper had pulled out an odd weapon with a curved blade. He failed to notice the icy smile as The Reaper casually walked up to him and swung the blade up and over. He did not fail, however, to see too late as the sharp blade bit into his neck and severed his head from his neck. The body fell as the head of Derin bounced and rolled on the dirty concrete.
"I always get my prey," he said as he calmly placed the head into a bag. As he left the scene, he depressed a button on his weapon. It collapsed into a pen-sized rod.