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Nov 14 2012

Shadow Mist

 

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or its characters

Title: Shadow Mist

Author: Karen The Huntress

Rating: R

Overall Warning: AU, language, suspense, lemon

Pairing: 1+2, 1x2x1

Part: 1-5

Feedback: Always appreciated and answered.

Shadow Mist

Part One:

Seeking shelter from wind whipping chilled mist around the French Quarter, a lone figure ducked into an alley sandwiched between the Blue Heron Tavern and La Femme Nue Adult Movie House.

Slender, mid-twenties, dressed in black leather trousers so snug they appeared to be painted on firm buttocks and a slate gray shirt hugged by a black leather jacket, the young man’s dusky camouflage blended flawlessly with the darkness.

With a snort of dissatisfaction Heero Yuy fished out his last Marlboro. The crumpled pack joined faded handbills from Beautiful Pleasures Escort Service, wine and beer bottles, cigarette butts and used condoms littering the isolated area.

A disposable lighter’s flickering flame illuminated high-ridged cheekbones and glinted off twin silver hoops adorning the smoker’s left earlobe. A crimson pinpoint danced in the murky gloom. A deep draw intensified the smothering glow. Wisps of smoke wafted from flared nostrils.

Movement refocused Heero’s attention. An orange tabby hunted rats among the discarded trash. A momentary reprieve spared its prey as amber eyes regarded the human loitering against the damp brick wall emitting pungent whiffs of urine.

From previous experience Heero advised the feral feline. “You should find a warm place to sleep tonight.”

The scruffy cat yowled then, in a disdainful version of “flipping the bird”, hoisted its tail and slunk like ink through rice paper into the dim, weed tangled fringes.

“Fuck you.” was muttered as the depleted cigarette butt was flicked away. Tiny embers skittered across debris-strewn asphalt and dissolved into windblown ashes leaving no clue they ever existed.

******

Cooler temperatures and the late hour had reduced the volume of pedestrian traffic which, in turn, restricted Heero’s business of whoring. An equal opportunity server, female or male, it didn’t matter as long as they had money to pay.

Resigned to the reality, at least for that night, no more revenue would be forthcoming Heero brushed dark brown bangs from Prussian blue eyes and pushed off the wall. He emerged from the self-imposed seclusion to encounter Cherry and Lee Ann whose professions was also selling sex.

Waltzing to the rhythm of the city; revving engines, honking horns, air brakes on buses, sirens wailing in the distance and—the heartbeat of New Orleans—jazz droning from countless venues, the promiscuous pair paused in their dance of seduction for a lustful head-to-toe inspection of their male counterpart.

Both “ladies” could have easily been persuaded to spread their legs, but the purveyor of sensual fantasies wasn’t in the mood. Besides the feigned lovemaking would only grant him temporary release and do nothing to ease his loneliness.

******

Setting off in the direction of home the off duty prostitute slipped his right hand into his jacket pocket. Fingers curled around a six-inch butterfly switchblade.

Senses on high alert Heero dared to boldly traverse the turf claimed by Satin’s Slaves, a band of hooligans who had no aversions to killing rival drug dealers or pimps invading their territory. Rape was added as a specific dissuasive retribution for whores outside their stables.

He cut throughJackson Squarenow devoid of freelance artists, tarot card readers, diverse musicians and quirky street performers who entertained throngs of tourists in the false security of daylight. He lingered briefly to cast an upwards gaze at a bronze statue of the square’s namesake, General Andrew Jackson, astride a rearing horse.

Further along he passed St. Louis Cathedral facing theMississippi River, its murky water shrouded in blanched fog.

On the corner of Chartres Street Heero’s vigilant observation focused on a shadowy silhouette sitting on a bus stop bench. Despite the long braid in mingled hues of ginger and cinnamon draped over a slumped shoulder, the individual was undeniably male and, Heero reckoned, about the same age.

Elbows braced on knees and head bent low as if studying his boots, the sidewalk or, perhaps, nothing in particular the man appeared harmless.

However, since outward appearances were unreliable in judging intensions and Heero’s stanch policy of minding his own business had served him well, he prepared to walk by with no more than a second glance.

Suddenly a subtle mental petition urged Heero to slow his pace. Upon closer scrutiny there was stark evidence the solitary man was out of his element. The degree of unguarded exposure in his body language, that perceived vulnerability, would surely invite unsolicited attention from the wrong people.

Reconsidering his decision to move on without notice, Heero stopped at a secure distance. It had been a long night and he was tied, the perfect combination to cloud his sixth sense for danger. Also the midnight bewitching hour conjured influential magic to sway the most prudent rationality.

A glance at his watch. Green digital numbers stated,12:15 a.m. Raising his voice above river water lapping against an adjacent concrete levee, Heero inquired, “Waiting for the bus?”

At the unexpected question the man’s head snapped up. Wide eyes an extraordinary shade of blue tinged with violet beheld Heero.

“What?” the man asked with visible tension as if he was just now aware of the stranger’s presence.

“If you’re waiting for the bus the last one ran fifteen minutes ago.”

“The bus?” Confusion played across the man’s pale face. “Not waitin’ for the bus.”

Again some peculiar subliminal influence prodded Heero to move closer. In a streetlamp’s improved illumination he was shocked by how thin the young man was. Dark circles underscored those odd eyes and his flimsy denim jacket was too thin to keep the cold at bay.

Concerned not only for the man’s safety, but his fragile health as well, the streetwalker warned, “It’s not safe to sit out here alone.”

“I’ll be okay.” Yet a gut deep shudder betrayed the lie.

*Can’t leave him here.* that pesky voice of reason declared.

“Dammit! I’m not a babysitter for strays.” Heero argued under his breath.

His equally persistent inner counsel confirmed the seriousness of the situation. *He won’t survive the night.*

Knowing how bitchy his conscience could be, Heero admitted defeat. Trusting street smart instincts he sat down on the bench. The braided youth scooted over to create maximum separation from the unfamiliar intruder without falling on his stonewashed jeans-encased ass.

Heero pleaded his case. “You can’t stay here. You’re cold and I’m betting it’s been awhile since you’ve eaten. My apartment is a few blocks from here. If you stay the night I swear not to mess with you in any way.”

A negative nod.

Heero never begged anyone for anything. This time he made an exception. “Please.”

The seemingly sincere offer of sanctuary enforced by unfriendly elements, inhospitable streets and an empty belly ultimately persuaded the shivering man

“Okay.”

Assaulted by cold wind the man stood unsteadily

Putting his excellent reflexes to good use, Heero caught his soon-to-be guest around the waist and shored him up.

The man stiffened at the contact. “I won’t hurt you.” the prostitute promised. “My name is Heero.”

Those alluring eyes fixed Heero’s gaze and for a moment he forgot to breathe.

“Duo.” was sighed as the remainder of his strength gave out.

End Part One

TBC

Shadow Mist–Karen Hickman–October 2012

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Shadow Mist

Part Two:

Heero’s studio apartment set above Big Easy Magic& Talisman Shoppe which boasted “The Largest Collection of Peculiar Oddities inNew Orleans”.

A sitting area, kitchenette and curtained-off bedroom with double bed, nightstand and armoire were crammed into the single room with a pair of windows overlookingEast La Salle Street. The only door providing privacy belonged to the bathroom with toilet, sink and tub/shower combo.

Fourteen exterior steps were climbed with Duo leaning heavily on his impromptu host. On the second floor landing Duo clutched the semi-circle wrought iron railing while Heero unlocked the door and switched on a lamp.

Duo was guided to an oval table and eased into one of two wooden chairs. He sat quietly surveying both the orderly apartment and the enigmatic man whose refined mannerisms and speech patterns and everything-in-place tidiness seemed contrary to the street-savvy persona he presented to the outside world.

Meanwhile Heero removed his leather jacket, laid it on the faded maroon sofa and tugged off his boots then searched the cabinets for a suitable supper. A can in each hand, he asked, “Vegetable or tomato soup?”

“Vegetable.”

Dollar store brand vegetable soup was poured into a stoneware bowl and put in the microwave. Half a gallon of milk and chocolate syrup were set on the counter. This time Duo wasn’t given a choice.

“Hot chocolate.”  Heero announced

“Got any coffee?”

“You need extra calories not caffeine.”

Milk and syrup were mixed together in matching mugs imprinted with the Saints football team’s black and gold Fleur de lis logo. Microwave beeped. Soup bowl traded places with mugs and the timer was reset.

Steaming soup, a spoon and hot chocolate were set before Duo. A green box of Club Crackers completed the simply yet nutritious meal.

“Bon appetit.” Heero teased as he and his mug took their place on the opposite side.

“You’re not eating?” wondered Duo

“Had a burger and fries earlier.”

Duo blew across a spoonful of diced potatoes and carrots, kidney beans and barley swimming in brown broth then sipped cautiously. Several spoonfuls were cooled in the same manner before the hot chocolate was savored.

Dabbing a brown sugary “mustache” off his upper lip with the paper towel serving as a poor man’s napkin, Duo expressed his appreciation. “This is good. Thank you.”

Heero smiled, “Won’t find this Soupe du Jour on a swanky restaurant menu but it is hardy fare.”

Since Heero had already surmised from Duo’s lack of either a southern coastal Creole accent or, most definitely, Cajun dialect, he stated. “You’re not from the city.”

A final slurp. Spoon clanked in the bowl. Duo sat back with a weary sigh. “Actually I’m a long way from home.” he confirmed but offered no additional information.

With Heero’s “none of my business” policy still in force, he didn’t press for details. It didn’t matter where the braided stray called home or where he’d go come morning. Right now Duo was fed and safe from any bogeymen going bump in the night.

“Didn’t mean to pry.” Heero apologized. “If you’d rather not talk, that’s all right.”

Body too fatigued to cooperate and mind too dull to think, Duo admitted. “Don’t think I’d be much a chatterbox tonight.”

Heero understood. “The bathroom is over there. A hot shower will help warm you up.”

*I know another way to warm him up.* Heero’s raring-to-go libido declared.

As already snug leather trousers tightened uncomfortably, he augured against the sensual urges. “Only love at home.”

“Can you manage a shower or should I fill the tub?” Heero asked as Duo shed his shabby denim jacket.

Undaunted, Duo reckoned he had enough stamina to bathe himself. “I’ll shower.”

Heero gathered fresh towels from the linen closet’s top shelf. “Use all the shampoo and conditioner you need. Take your time there’s plenty of hot water.

In appreciation for Heero’s kindness, Duo expressed heartfelt gratitude to his host who, as promised, had been a perfect gentleman. “Thanks for taking me in.”

“You’re welcome.”

******

While steam warmed the bathroom, Duo unbraided his hair. With an air of sinful abandonment he stepped into the pelting spray. Hot water cascaded over shoulders, chest and genitals. Pulsing droplets chased away chills and soothed cold-cramped muscles.

A washcloth soaked with liquid soap scrubbed grim from Duo’s face and neck then cleansed the cross tattooed on the underside of his right forearm.

The permanent pattern was ornate in its composition. Green flowering vines wound up the shaft splitting at the crosspiece in opposite directions but, curiously, the cross was etched in bright scarlet and the interwoven roses were black.

Soapy film caused the indelible design to glisten in the overhead light. Out of habit Duo rubbed his thumb over the holy icon even though he knew no amount of soap and water or tears would wash it away.

A thorough shampooing was followed by copious amounts of Green Tea conditioner as it was the only way to tame the tangles in his lengthy mane.

Shower finished, Duo tuned off the facet, dried briskly, wrapped the damp towel around his waist and employed another to extract excess water from his hair.

Scrutinizing his vapor-distorted reflection in the mirror, Duo murmured, “You almost look human.”

A hand swiped across the glass cleared just enough condensation to stare into eyes that harbored dark secrets. He leaned closer to better examine cavernous pupils but saw not a glimmer in the black depths. “Almost.” was hissed with a sardonic snicker.

******

Donning the green and white plaid boxers, gray sweatpants and navy blue tee shirt provided by Heero with the logic, “A clean body should have clean clothes”, Duo hung both towels over the shower curtain rod and stepped into the makeshift bedroom.

“There’s a comb on the dresser. You’ve let your hair grow for a long time.” Heero stated the obvious.

As before Duo didn’t expound on any particulars, “A very long time.”

Weary muscles protested against the strain of combing. Mumbled curses proclaimed the detangling was becoming an insurmountable challenge.

“Let me help.” offered Heero. “Sit on the bed.” With expert efficiency tangles were banished and silken hair braided.

Duo was suitably impressed. “You’re a man of many talents.”

“Two sisters taught me well.” was affirmed with a smile. “I’ll be on the sofa if you need me.”

“I can’t take your bed.”

Heero insisted. “You need the bed more than I do.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue.”

Obediently Duo slipped under the sage green duvet and nestled in the warmth radiating around his exhausted body. Head cushioned on the soft pillow encased in a fresh white case, he studied his handsome host silhouetted in muted lamp light shimmering through diaphanous window curtains.

“Good night.” Heero wished as the turned to leave.

In a swift move, Duo grabbed Heero’s arm just before he stepped out of reach.

At the unexpected contact Heero froze in place. Held fast by the young man’s exotic blue/violet centers of sight, he questioned, “Duo?”

Tightening the resolute grip to emphasis his wish not to be alone, Duo implored, “Stay.”

End Part Two

TBC

Shadow Mist–Karen Hickman–October 2012

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadow Mist

Part Three:

~1812~

Dominic Martinelli was twenty-one of noble Italian birth and a Tuscan aristocrat of high standing.

Few people measured up to Dominic’s superior standards yet, in his own way, he was as haughty and shallow as the common populace he deemed unfit. Alas that identical arrogance predestined his downfall.

Dominic thought himself better than the gardener’s daughter when he required her virginity as payment for her family’s debts. But was he better? By demanding sexual favors he lowered his station and for that unethical descent he paid the ultimate price.

Little did he realize when the intimated girl of sixteen began to pleasure him in a stable she was actually the whoring bride of the undead.

At dawn Dominic woke with a raw ache in his throat and sickening pain racking his entire body. Five nights the devil’s concubine returned to his crude straw bed in the horse stall and fed until she leached out the last of his life.

Bite after bite, Dominic was turned, robbed of sun and soul, before the Queen of the Damned vanished leaving him alone in a terrifying world with no clue of how to survive.

******

Feral, voracious, Dominic wandered dark, dank alleys feeding on rats, vagabonds and zombie-eyed frequenters of opium dens then hid from the daylight in putrid sewers.

After months of meager subsistence the filthy, emaciated mongrel staggered into a subterranean grotto claimed by vampires who sheltered the wretched fledgling.

Taught cunning tactics by well-versed elders he grew stronger and much wiser. Employing the magic metamorphosis imparted by the Dark Kiss he garnered wealth and reclaimed a lofty social status. Countless lovers, vampiric and human, vied to be his mate but no one ever captured his heart.

After half a century he grew weary of the superficial revelry, the meaningless affairs and gave into wanderlust. He traversed the globe. Stood onMountOlympusand gazed at the sunset. Sailed the seas with pirates and walked theGreat Wall of China.

Dominic feasted with kings and sultans. He also imbibed ale in boorish taverns with the salt of the earth, bedded wenches in the squalid slums ofLondon’sEast Endand roamed the sinister streets of Whitechapel undaunted by the horrendous slayings of Jack the Riper.

******

~1912~

~Tenth of April~

Southamptonharbor.

Seeking solace from his tempestuous existence Dominic Martinelli stowed away on the pride of the White Star Line RMS Titanic.

Content to slumber in the cargo hold, he shunned the upper decks where affluent voyagers engaged in gossip mongering and currying favors as if they were at court with King George the 5th. Likewise there was no contact with the poor emigrant travelers consigned to dreary catacomb compartments known as steerage.

~Fifteenth of April~

Navigating a course contrary to the tide of panicked passengers fleeing certain death, Dominic kept a straightway route down Titanic’s acutely inclined, water-swamped foredeck.

He’d refused a floatation vest and ignored the frantic scuffles between men vying for space on two remaining lifeboats. Instead, wading chest high into rapidly rising water, he climbed a submerged railing, glanced back at Captain Edward Smith gazing blankly out the wheelhouse windows and, without pause, dove into theNorth Atlantic Ocean.

Swimming among ice-frosted corpses, some buoyed by vests, others floating face down, he had no fear hypothermia would freeze skin or halt heartbeats that had stopped long ago.

A fortunate deckhand stared in shock as hands folded over the topside of lifeboat number six then a face surfaced from the black water. After being hauled aboard Dominic huddled amongst the salvaged occupants compelled by destiny to witness the worse maritime disaster of their lifetime.

Ten minutes.

Accompanied by sharp snaps of deck planking and a shrill crescendo of brittle metal the grand ship floundered and broke in half. As Poseidon pulled unsinkable Titanic beneath the icy sea, frothy whitecaps churned then the restless water smoothed over as if nothing had ever been there.

No more emergency flares sputtered orange against the ebony star-studded sky. No hisses of steam. Hundreds of screams were suddenly silent and the haunting refrains of “Nearing My God to Thee” wafting on the arctic air were hushed forever.

Two hours.

The Curard Line RMS Carpathia sailed across the very spot where Titanic had vanished. Of 2,224 passengers and crew listed on the ship’s manifest only 705 people were plucked from lifeboats.

Days later the Carpathia docked inNew York City. Dominic disembarked into a chaotic scene of inconsolable families searching for loved ones who would never return and stunned survivors seeking absolution from nuns handing out blankets and hot tea.

Coerce by curiosity, Dominic sought out a priest with kind but sad eyes. Despite the devastating grief besieging the docks, Father Maxwell displayed a peaceful countenance as he offered prayers of condolence.

By divine discernment the benevolent man-of-the-cloth sensed Dominic’s altered state. “I can not allow you to feed here.” he declared firmly.

“There are many vile sinners who warrant retribution.” Dominic stated with dispassion borne of dealing daily with evil. “I shan’t bother you or these anguished souls.” was vowed as he turned to leave.

Father Maxwell called above the mournful confusion of misery and despair. “By whose sanction do you punish transgressors?”

Dominic pivoted in place and proclaimed. “The God of Death.”

“Then I shall pray for you.” the righteous priest promised.

At that fateful moment Dominic Martinelli put on the mantle of a new identity. “Duo” to denote his duality of life and death and the surname “Maxwell” in tribute to Father Maxwell for his sincere but misguided faith that he could petition the devil out of Hell.

******

~2012~

Years merged. Past fused with the present to come around full circle.

Although still haunted by poignant memories of family disownment, his forced exile among caves and crypts and nightmares of Titanic, Duo Maxwell settled in the modern city ofNew Orleans.

Since arriving a fortnight ago he’d hoped, during his nightly prowls, to encounter an individual with extraordinary aptitude and breeding.

Night after night he attended posh parities, hobnobbed with the elite of high society, yet there was not one female or male worthy of his time and attention.

Even after two centuries these piteous creatures called humans offered irrefutable proof that the inherently haughty nature of man hadn’t evolved over the preceding decades.

******

Duo’s optimism of finding a suitable mate was waning into despondency.

On Autumn Equinox Eve he attended the Crescent City Film Festival. Leaving theContemporaryArtsCenterin a chauffeured limousine, a probable companion was discovered standing on the corner ofSt. Joseph Street.

Duo immediately knew this leather-clad male was the only person compatible in physical fortitude, intelligences and strength of spirit and he became inescapably entranced.

For two nights, with stealthy stalking, Duo observed the young man’s sexual prowess in the games of enticement so effortlessly accomplished. He was amazed by how effortlessly the charming male altered his body language and modified his mindset to fit the fantasy of a perfect lover.

Alas Duo’s chosen mate didn’t move in the privileged circles of wealth and power. The sexual purveyor’s daily existence was raw; his money earned by wanton fornication so Duo utilized a proven strategy of seduction to lure the object of his fascination.

On that September night, when daylight and darkness were equal, he donned his “lost boy” guise and set his trap at theChartres Streetbus stop.

*******

Heero Yuy’s apartment:

“Stay.” Duo whispered tightening the unexpected grip to emphasis his wish not to be alone.

Realizing the implications Heero hesitated.

Normally a person would be reluctant to crawl into bed with a man he’d met just two hours before, yet that was exactly what Heero Yuy did for a living. Every night found him in the company of strangers.

Why should this be different?

He knew Duo couldn’t pay, but bringing him home was done without proposition. In fact he’d promised not touch the handsome young man.

Better judgment nagged his mind. Instincts insisted, as appealing as sex might be, he shouldn’t cross the line.

Heero decided to decline the offer. After all, Duo was not well—as good an excuse as any other. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Please.” came the impassioned plea that completely eroded Heero’s sensibilities.

Compelled to comply by desire more persuasive than mere carnal lust, Heero whispered, “All right.”

Alluring eyes bewitching thoroughly, Duo pulled back the duvet and slid over to make room for his submissive lover to join him.

Stroking Heero’s cheek, he purred. “Everything will be all right.”

The breathy words seeped into Heero’s mind in a muddled mingling of sounds. Each disjointed syllable ricocheted inside his head until all rational thoughts were vanquished.

Subconscious shadows veiled his perspicacity.

Without warning his senses came undone.

He couldn’t think. Couldn’t utter any objections.

Most disconcerting of all, bound in place by Duo’s touch, he couldn’t move.

Tactile sensations ran hot and cold at the same time. Fingertips burned his skin then froze the aroused nerve endings to incapacitate him further.

Fire and ice.

Pleasure and pain.

The situation should have easily been manipulated. Responses should have been automatic. Heero Yuy had always been able to detach emotions from the concept of love. He was an expert skilled in the art of illusion who could make anyone believe they were the center of his universe, at least for as long as it took to get the job done.

He told his dates what they wanted to hear; transported them to the brink then push them over the edge without thinking or feeling. Fast release with no strings attached was his expertise and he was damn good at it.

But, now, transfixed by odd violet eyes darken to ebony in the limited light, Heero was well beyond comprehending that the tide had turned.

Even so a question struggled through the curtain of desire shrouding his mind. *Where in the hell did Duo find this sudden strength?*

Two hours ago Duo could hardly walk now he commanded every part of Heero’s being with absolute authority. It didn’t make sense but then nothing had since his first glimpse of the perplexing young man.

Even more curious Duo maintained his effortless domination without a single kiss. There had been no meeting of lips or tangling of tongues. It was as though he was deliberately avoiding the kiss that might breach the enchantment or divulge the source of his sorcery.

Heero’s arms rose automatically to let Duo slip his shirt over his head. Likewise, hips were raised. Leather trousers and underwear slithered away to present his distended erection for Duo’s scrutiny.

Again those sultry fingertips caressed Heero’s bare chest, traced over his stomach leaving fiery tracks in their wake. Over and over Duo’s hands roamed threatening to ignite smoldering embers into a full blown blaze.

To intensify the assault of sensations, Duo’s mouth joined the skillfully employed agents of touch. Moist lips suckled taut nipples. A darting tongue lapped at sweat-dampened flesh tasting the secreted salt and the sensual essence of his enslaved lover.

By some crafty trick Duo had sled his clothing. Now his nude genitals rubbed impatiently against Heero’s engorged penis.

Realizing he was helpless to halt the ravishing onslaught Heero demanded. “What are you doing to me?”

Duo leaned closer. “What you want me to do.” was declared with a guttural growl as a hand tunneled around his paramour’s sensitive manhood then began a series of strokes, gliding from base to tip and rubbing his thumb over the dewy slit.

“You were destined to be with me from the beginning.” Duo proclaimed increasing the stroking to a fever pitch.

Heero writhed under the focused assault. Hands clawed up fistfuls of damp sheets. “I don’t—understand—from the—beginning—” he stammered.

The fractured wonderings ended when Duo’s mouth engulfed the swollen shaft to coerce a climactic conclusion.

Trembling from need Heero resisted the strong and painful urge to come, yet an inexplicable craving prodded him toward the corporal release of both seed and soul.

Duo sucked harder.

“Oh God.” Heero cried in choked gasps when orgasmic shudders tore through his body.

Duo let the throbbing member slip from his mouth but his hand grabbed hold again. With a sinister smile he snarled like a wolf ready to pounce. “God has nothing to do with this. Yield and I will free you from your misery.”

Powerless to refuse Heero gritted his teeth and surrendered the tattered remnants of his willpower.

A mournful whimper trembled through Heero’s throat, his last pitiful plea before the spillway unleash its fury. With a gut-wrenching convulsion he came hard, milky seed surging over Duo’s hand. The forceful gushes continued to spew, to propel him into a downward spiral culminating in a fusion of ecstasy and madness.

Heero lay limp. Residual aftershocks pulsed. Breathing came in shallow puffs and not an inch of his flushed skin was dry.

Content to share the afterglow Duo released his conquest’s softening member. With a satisfied sigh his head rested on Heero’s damp chest.

Strangely Duo wasn’t winded at all. His creamy skin displayed no rosy blush produced by the strenuous activity nor was his manhood in need of release.

By deliberate degrees, Duo inched up to capture his lover’s slightly parted lips. Finally, with the satisfaction of a hungry predator feasting on prey, he delivered a searing kiss.

All Heero could do was moan, too feeble to react when Duo’s hand cupped under his chin and straightened his neck.

A hot tongue flicked over twin silver earrings. Lips slithered down Heero’s throat. “I have waited so long la mia bella amante.” Duo murmured softly in stark contrast to his former aggressive behavior.

Duo’s mouth closed over the smooth skin. Strong suction raised a swollen welt and he was rewarded with another low groan from his totally compliant quarry.

“Always meant to be mine.” Duo hissed huskily and with that claiming pronouncement the bedroom was enveloped in dank mist.

Through the murky vapors billowing in ominous clouds, Heero glimpsed black wings, webbed flesh rather than feathers, unfurl from Duo’s back then, in an equally brief instant, the wings disappeared.

Was Heero witnessing some eerie transmogrification or had his senses plunged into the abyss of insanity?

“Mine.” Duo repeated as extended canine incisors punctured the sweet flesh.

Heero jerked. In a panicked state of utter disbelief his entire body bowed off the bed.

Duo tightened the bite to discharge the bloody gift then drank slowly. There was no need to hurry for Heero was held in perfect submission under his spell.

End Part Three

TBC

Author’s Note: La mia bella amante translated from Italian is My beautiful lover.

Shadow Mist—Karen Hickman—October 2012

~~~~~~~~~~

Shadow Mist

Part Four:

A vampire may be lifeless but a fervent spirit still burns with such intensity countless ages can not cool the flames.

If he or she is lucky enough to find that one person whose soul can withstand the clarifying refinement without being consumed then neither the angels’ petitions for redemption nor the archangels who rule the hellish recesses of Sheol can avert their claiming.

Before this night in New Orleans Duo had not destroyed a single innocent individual as there’d been a surplus of prey amongst gang members, thugs and dope dealers slinking within the city’s loathsome traces.

Those peddlers of pain had satisfied his taste for blood, provided necessary nourishment but not one had filled the hallow vacancy in his stagnant heart.

Now, in the enshrouding darkness, with he and Heero joined by the Dark Kiss, Duo’s intension was not to feed but to kill for only in death could the alluring human become his eternal mate.

Duo desired a noble companion with the strength and wisdom to be his equal. He longed for a soul mate to rest with him by day, hunt with him by night and share his cursed life that evermore shunned the sun.

Nude bodies pressed together Duo continued to suckle. Beneath him Heero lay limp like a flesh and bone rag doll, shallow breathing barely inflating his lungs.

Sensing the turning was almost complete Duo uncoupled fangs from flesh and swallowed the last bloody dregs. “It won’t be long my love. Soon wintry pain will be replaced by warm passionate pleasure.”

The sharp point of a fingernail sliced across the underside of Duo’s wrist. Crimson droplets discharged from the cut. As his paramour’s life slipped away Duo had mere seconds before the perpetual midnight of death would defeat the claiming.

With tenderness borne of love, Duo lifted Heero’s head and centered the scarlet offering over his slightly parted lips. “Drink,” he coaxed, “so we can be forever joined.”

Survival instincts in full force Heero latched onto the congealing liquid and drank with renewed urgency. As Duo’s blood trigged the transformation, a hiss of air expelled one last breath, a surrendering heart thumped its final beat and Heero Yuy was gone.

Held safe in Duo’s protective embrace, Heero began his regenerative journey to his new existence. “Sleep my love.” Duo whispered, “Come the next sunset we will never be parted.”

******

At the midpoint between death and resurrection, Heero was granted extraordinary recollections of numerous reincarnations.

Heero was a ronin, a rogue samurai without a master. Shoulder length hair was secured in a ponytail. A sheathed katana angled across his back and a tanto was tucked in the belt of his hakama pants.

Solitary, without perceived direction, he wandered through a grove of blossom-laden cherry trees while thousands upon thousands of petals swirled in the breeze like pink snow.

Next green meadows, dense forests and towering snow-capped mountains came into view. Spires of a grand castle were silhouetted against a crystal blue sky.

Broadsword at his side, Heero sipped ruby wine before a great stone fireplace. He could smell the wood smoke, hear the fire crackle and feel the tactile sensations as his fingers raked through a Scottish deerhound’s shaggy gray coat.

Suddenly bygone visions accelerated in dizzying sequences.

Crossbows unleashed barrages of steel bolts.

Swords clanged, blade against blade.

Corpses of men and horses littered a blood-soaked battlefield.

Time and place raced forward.

Muddy uniforms and dirty faces. Soldiers scrambling into trenches.

Cannon balls gouged out earth. Voices screamed in anguish.

Thick clouds of dust. Sulfur scents of gunpowder.

The stench of death.

Pain tore through Heero’s war-battered body. He closed his eyes and drifted away into a soundless, sightless void.

The progression of life after life continued for his consideration but each episode was detached. Somehow removed from reality the scenes were part of him yet disconnected as if they were not truly his.

Heero wandered alone in New Orleans. Cold and afraid. Hungry and hopeless.

Huddled in a doorway. Cold rain pelted the cracked concrete sidewalk. An older male propositioned him to trade money for sex. He accepted. At least for that night he’d be able to eat.

~Mardi Gras~

Surreal images fluttered like hallucinatory butterflies across Heero’s mind as if watching an age-faded theater reel with grainy images and scratchy sound.

A grotesque masquerade. Bizarre phantasmal apparitions drowned in a deluge of rainbow-colored beads. Corpses in varying stages of decay materialized from the beaded burial mound. Skeletal hands clawed Heero’s legs. Bony fingers grabbed hold to drag him beneath the putrid ground.

******

Heero thrashed about, arms flinging wildly as he fought to exorcise imaginary demons not quite buried.

Duo shored up his embrace; placed a gentle kiss on his lover’s scarlet-stained lips. “Heero. Wake now.” was urged to guide his lover through the final passage.

Eyes of cobalt blue tinged with flecks of fire locked with Duo’s blue/violet sight. “Master.” Heero declared without any doubts.

Duo beheld his companion, his counterpart. “Let me be joined with you to seal our bond.”

Enfolded in his Sire’s arms Heero yearned for the union. In eager anticipation he spread his legs to remove the last barrier to their long awaited consummation. “Love me now and forever.” he begged unashamedly.

Duo centered his body between Heero’s toned thighs and savored the sensual sensation of skin against skin.

Heero elevated his hips for more precise placement then, as an additional incentive, rubbed his distended penis against Duo’s equally aroused manhood.

“Now.” was growled like the feral being he was always meant to be.

Without the necessary preparation when Heero was human, Duo aligned his enlarged member and drove the head through tight anal muscles.

A grunt was Heero’s reply as he gripped Duo’s firm buttocks to establish their coupling.

Fully seated Duo pulled halfway out. “Mine.” confirmed his absolute possession of Heero’s body, mind and soul.

Heero wrapped his legs around Duo’s slender waist. “Yours.” he pledged.

There’d be no foreplay, no gradual escalation of sexual excitement. This time all-consuming cravings for their long awaited copulation were the driving force.

Not wanting to grant his erotic mate a moment’s respite from the carnal lust consuming them Duo rutted fast and furious. Heero proved he was indeed Duo’s equal as he met each pounding thrust with his own lascivious fire that could only be quenched by his Master’s seed.

Grabbing Heero’s engorged erection, Duo milked his lover. Friction building to a fever pitch Heero issued a primal howl of ecstasy and climaxed hard.

Duo arched his back, planted his length to the hilt and quivered when the culmination of orgasmic desire sent shockwaves coursing through his entire body.

Heero Yuy’s unconditional love freed Duo Maxwell from ages of forlorn misery. With that perfect liberation a single residual spark of his mortal life was resurrected to grant him a meager measure of humanity.

As the tremors subsided, Duo eased out and settled down beside his sated lover. Arms and legs entwined Duo nuzzled the puncture marks on Heero’s neck. In turn Heero interlaced his fingers and squeezed Duo’s hand.

Utilizing enhanced night vision, Heero studied the tattoo on Duo’s forearm. “The color, so strange.” he commented on the curious markings.

Surprisingly self-conscious Duo glanced at the tattoo then averted his eyes

Newly born empathy sensing the distress his question caused, Heero implored, “Please. Let there of no secrets between us.”

Duo rested his head on Heero’s shoulder. Voice barely above a whisper he affirmed. “My Sire gave that to me.”

“The one who turned you?”

“The girl who feigned innocence, who stole—.” A solemn sigh, “She fashioned one final remembrance should I’m ever tempted to disregard her creation.”

Heero puzzled over the peculiar choice of branding, especially since Duo’s vampirism was already a constant reminder of his Sire’s dark gift. “But why a cross?”

“That was my Mistress’ cruel scheme. She knew I was religious so what better memento for my fall from grace.”

Heero tilted his head for closer observation. “The scarlet is beautiful.”

“Not red ink but my blood crafted this hypocritical etching.”

Without hesitation Heero kissed the crimson cross made unique by Duo’s own life fluid. “You should cherish this holy symbol.”

Duo’s eyes widened. “Cherish this abomination?” he declared with disdain.

“It was created from you. Your Mistress in her misguided folly didn’t take away but added. Through this divine imprint your soul has been sanctified.”

Duo countered his mate’s devoted appraisal. “Evil does not have a soul.”

Heero locked his fire-flecked sight on his eternal soul mate. “There is good in you despite this hellish curse. From this moment forward you will no longer dwell in darkness for I will be your light.” he avowed then sealed the heartfelt promise with an impassioned kiss.

End Part Four

TBC

Shadow Mist—Karen Hickman—October 2012

~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadow Mist

Part Five:

Halloween Eve.

Sunset flared fiery rays to streak the sky in variegated stripes of red and orange. Further to the west, beyond the dusk-silhouetted cityscape, the full moon balanced on the horizon like a huge silver dollar.

Heero pushed aside heavy blackout curtains utilized to keep the sun at bay. Through a dirt-dulled windowpane he watched the last remnants of purple twilight dissolve into evening.

Sated to the point of exhaustion from his and Duo’s extensive passion session, which had run its course between midnight and five o’clock that morning, the lovers had shared their daylight slumber side by side.

Now the encroaching night stirred Heero, restless and hungry, from his “dead-to-the-world” sleep.

Gloriously naked, his rejuvenated body was perfect. Sculptured muscles rippled with each enticing movement and flawless skin glowed golden. Likewise newly heightened senses conveyed information concerning his surroundings.

Prussian eyes, now an extraordinary shade of blue, studied a moth fluttering around a security light. Distinct characteristics of the manic insect were magnified. Each meticulous detail scrutinized as if viewed through a microscope.

Ears perceived every flap of gossamer wings pulsating against the air. Acute hearing also monitored mice scratching in the attic and amplified voices through the brick wall as though the various dialogues were conversed beside him.

Nose wrinkled at the stench of clogged gutters filled with stagnant water. Another sniff discerned individual aromas—tomatoes, pepperoni, sausage, ham, mozzarella, onions and garlic on pizzas at Tony’s Bistro across the street.

Heero licked his lips, tongue tasting his lover’s residual essence. In pure erotic ecstasy he savored Duo’s animalistic scent inundating the bedroom with such intensity a sturdy shudder slithered up quivering thighs and his highly sensitive manhood twitched.

In his own magnificent state of nudity, with cascades of ginger hair cloaking his shoulders, Duo sauntered to his partner. From behind Duo slipped his arms around Heero’s waist and pressed their bodies so tightly flesh melded together.

“Buona sera il mio amore.” Duo purred, nuzzling Heero’s neck.

Again a fierce shiver threatened to negate Heero’s small measure of control. “Je t’aime.” was breathed reverently.

Duo pivoted his partner in place. Hands resting on Heero’s hips he gazed into desire-glazed eyes. “In the week since our initial union your cunning in the hunt and ability to glamour your prey has surpassed all my expectations.” he praised.

“Heero Yuy, you are no longer a fledgling but my equal in every way.” To validate his eternal soul mate’s vampiric evolution, Duo delivered a fervent kiss.

When their lips parted, Heero vowed. “I freely give my love and loyalty and promise to stand by your side until the world fades away.”

“I also give my oath and guarantee to forever be joined with you.” Duo pledged.

******

All manner of specters meandered through the French Quarter. Costumes ranged from bizarre to macabre to comic. Childhood goblins and bed sheet ghosts had been vanquished by creepy clowns, brain eating zombies and rakish pirates.

Spiderman and Green Lantern, fairies who could pass for porn stars, witches, warlocks and werewolves also shared the night with legions of departed spirits who had traversed the liminal veil.

Set apart from the crowd by mystical transformation, a seductive figure encased in a tight silver-gray tee shirt, formfitting black leather trousers, matching leather jacket and boots moved with feral ease among the Halloween revelers.

This time no multi-colored beads rained from the sky. No skeletal hands clawed and grabbed. Heero Yuy no longer feared the Grim Reaper’s minions for he’d transcended the mortal condition of humans and, although his soul be damned, had conquered death.

Constantly surveying the milling mass of pretenders, Heero paused to display his trim physique in a “come hither” posture—after all—why not advertise when what you’re selling is top grade.

It had always been easy to lure dates. Heero naturally secreted sensuality from every pore but now, enhanced by potent pheromones, he was irresistible. He didn’t need Duo’s “lost boy” ploy to beguile his clientele. Primal magnetism did the fetching for him.

******

A teenager dressed in a pinstripe waistcoat and trousers, black cape and scarlet cravat strolled pass Fritzel’s Jazz Club. Face painted stark white, eyes ringed in black, ruby red lips and fake fangs deforming his mouth, the pseudo-vampire was quite cartoonish.

More suited to the huntsman’s requirements, a middle-aged man in mundane street clothes crossedBourbon Street. Predatory charm in force Heero inquired huskily. “Looking for some action?”

Entranced, the man stared in utter fascination. It took several seconds to find his voice. Finally he stammered. “How much–for an–hour?”

“Three hundred.”

Sadly funds fell short of the expected fee. Disappointment etched on his face, the man sighed. “Don’t have that much.”

Lamplight glinting off two silver hoop earrings, Heero leaned closer and set the trap. “Got fifty?”

Concentration comprised, the ensnared prey nodded “yes”.

“What’s your name?” asked Heero.

“Eric.”

Heero started off across a cobblestone courtyard. “Okay, Eric, come with me.”

Consumed by the promise of licentious pleasure with the walking wet dream, Eric never imagined he was being led to his doom.

A graffiti-decorated door opened into the gloomy narrow hall. Heero selected room thirteen, followed his quarry inside and bolted the latch against unwanted intrusion.

Seemingly unconcerned about being caged in the small windowless room illuminated by a single bare light bulb, Eric paid then offered no resistance when instructed to lie back on the single bed made up with faded green sheets.

“Relax.” was urged as Heero knelt on the floor. Eric’s waistband was unsnapped and the fly unzipped. In one fluid motion both trousers and underwear cleared hips to pool around ankles.

Noting his unsuspecting date was already fully erect from anticipation, Heero wedged his body between trembling legs. No words were spoken. Only sucking, low moans and heavy breathing disturbed the silence.

In the throes of unbridled lust, as Heero ravished his body and mesmerized his mind, Eric failed to notice murky fog swirling in the opposite corner. Slowly the stealthy dark vapors condensed into a solid human form.

Duo observed his lover’s domination with pride. It had been but a week since Heero’s turning. Seven days of resting together by day, seven sunsets of dual stalking.

Tonight Duo had given his consent to let Heero hunt alone then followed when his lover went on the prowl. Heero was clever, there was no doubt, but his newly acquired authority was amazing.

At this decisive moment Duo was certain he’d made the right choice. Instincts honed over numerous lifetimes and centuries of accumulative knowledge did indeed affirm his correctness concerning Heero Yuy.

Heero continued his oral manipulations until Eric cursed and begged for release.

One final pitiful groan triggered an incapacitating climax.

The whimpering mortal went limp and surrendered his soul.

Intense blue orbs shimmering like reflective cat eyes, Heero slid forward to gaze into Eric’s glassy eyes. “Now for my reward.”

Positive the glamour was absolute Heero straddled the means to satisfy his ravenous hunger, cupped his hand under Eric’s chin and tilted his head to the side.

The bite was swift and merciless. Convulsive jerks and strangled gurgles betrayed the fangs’ contact and ripping of flesh testified to the feeding frenzy. Insatiable appetite spurred by gushing blood, the salty tang washed over canine incisors to pool in the back of Heero’s throat. Swallowing as fast as the flow he fed without repentance or remorse.

Seconds before Eric’s heart gave up its last beat Heero remembered Duo’s warning of the dire consequences should he drink the last dregs of cooling blood.

Sitting back Heero savored the coppery aftertaste caressing his tongue then closed his eyes and released a sigh, not borne of effort but of satisfaction.

From his covert concealment Duo moved swiftly to his lover’s side. Sliding his arms around Heero’s waist and pulling him close, he praised. “You did well, my love.”

Duo licked over Heero’s crimson-stained lips to share any lingering traces. “Are you sated or do you still desire to hunt ahead of the sun?”

“I wish to hunt.”

Duo stood back enough to fully see Heero’s face and smiled. “Then we shall hunt together.”

Neither immortal looked back at the gruesome vestige of a sallow, half naked corpse enshrouded in death’s icy embrace nor did they regard sightless eyes and ashen lips forever denied one redeeming breath.

“Always by my side.” Duo promised his nocturnal partner.

“Always.” vowed Heero.

Hand in hand, by gradual degrees, Duo Maxwell and Heero Yuy were enshrouded in an ebony cloak then, bonded by the Dark Gift and their eternal love, the shadow mist lovers floated away into the comforting darkness.

OWARI

Author’s Notes:

“Buona sera il mio amore” translates from Italian to “Good evening my love.”

“Je t’aime” translates from French to “I love you.”

Shadow Mist—Karen Hickman—October 2012

Thank you for reading.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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