Prologue

Duo slid out his tray of dried tints and horsehair brushes. He stoked the bristles of his favorite brush. A white haired mare had contributed to the making of the brush. His hands moved around until they found his cheapest brush; it was only worth a labor man’s one-day pay

The next few minutes were spent mixing the tints with a bluebird’s egg yoke. Soon the colours begged to be used on the canvas in front of him. But he couldn’t; he had not a model yet. Hilda was let. She said she would bring him a beauty as an apology for being let with the last model, making all Duo’s paints dry out.

The knob on the door turned and the door swung open. Hilda swished in and winked at Duo.

“Come in, boy. The artist waits for you.” she said.

First a leather clad leg, then, after a few hesitant seconds, the rest of the body. Hilda didn’t lie. Long, loose, dark hair framed the perfect face. Timid blue eyes stared out from the face. White teeth squeezed a nervous lip. The skin had not a blemish to be seen anywhere. A tight, red shirt accented the muscles and the black leather pants hid nothing but the most private.

“You owe me big,” Hilda said as she pushed the boy all the way in and closed the door behind her.

“Sit down, beautiful.” Duo said. The boy blushed and hurried to the waiting stole in front of the canvas.

Duo picked up his brush and painted his first stroke. Another went down, then another. The work of painting the lovely creature before him swallowed him.

Slowly, the boy appeared on the canvas as what he was, an angel trapped on earth. Black wings sprouted on the painted boy’s back. A white glow surrounded him. And he was an angel trapped in canvas.

To Duo, the work finished itself to fast. The angel in life would want to go when he was finished. At the last stroke, Duo knew what he needed to do to get the magical creature to come back.

Dou laid down the white-hair bristled brush and wiped his hands on the brown smock he wore. He took the smoke off slowly and sensually. He wore a violet shirt and lose, black paints.

Duo glided over to the model. The boy widened his eyes and opened his mouth. If he was going to talk, none will know. Duo used the opportunity to lean down and capture the lips. He didn’t intrude into the mouth, but he did make his wants clear.

After a minute, Dou stopped. He left the boy staring dumbstruck on the stool and called over his shoulder, “Coming tomorrow?”

“Yes,” said the boy.

“Good.” Duo smirked as put away the tools and heard the boy leave.

Ch1

Duo surveyed the Studio. An odd assortment of canvases leaned against the sole, half a wall big window, but didn’t stop the sun’s light, and more importantly heat, from entering the room. The canvases stopped the window from being opened without having to do any work, just like he thought they would. A mind doctor’s sofa lay in the window’s light. A red silk cloth sat on the sofa, folded but without any creases Perfect, Duo thought as he smirked.

A faint layer of sticky sweet had developed as he stood in the light. Still smirking, he headed out of the light and to his workstation where the sun never reached. His had mixed the paints before he came up with the great furniture arrangement that served him many, many purposes; one namely being a way to get the boy’s cloths off from the heat from outside (and maybe the heat from the inside).

A slight bulge pushed against his black leather shorts. He turned away from the thoughts and busied himself by trying to light the kerosene lamp. After eight tries and a slightly reddened thumb, he got the lamp to light. He set the lamp upon the fireplace mantle. The light flickered up, illuminating the angel on earth painting proudly displayed above it.

Duo heard a timid knock and smirked some more. His prey, ah, model was here.

“Come on in, angel. I’m ready,” he said as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms under his chest and pierced right nipple.

The boy poked his head in and flushed at the sight of Duo.

“Well, are you coming in or standing at the threshold goggling.”

The boy flushed again and came in. He was dressed in tighter then yesterday pants, but of the same colour and look. A blue silk shirt hung loosely off his shoulders, unfortunately covering his tight butt. One side of the shirt hung down more then the other. By the time Duo finished his study, the boy was blushing like a small girl just shown a man’s most privates.

“Sit down, beautiful.” Duo indicated to the sofa. The boy hurried there. He walked slightly weird; a leg was always in front of him from Duo’s view. When he sat down, he draped a leg over his other leg. Duo thought that weird until he burst out laughing upon realizing why the boy was acting so strange. Too early, Duo thought, I need to distract him.

“By the way, what is your name? I forgot to ask; I was a bit distracted yesterday. And if Hilda didn’t tell you, I am Duo, Duo Maxwell to be exact. And well we’re being exact, Dou Picasso Maxwell. My gypsy mother fancied herself a soothsayer, and my father liked to paint when not out thieving.”

“I am called Heero Yuy.”

“That’s all?”

Heero grunted.

“Okay with me.”

Duo went back to studying his subject. He scrunched his eyebrows and started arranging Heero’s body. A faint sheen covered the visible body. Dark patches grow in some areas of the shirt.

“Now, this won’t do.” Dou clicked his tongue. “Take your shirt off.”

“What! I cannot.”

“Can’t you? You just slide your hands out of their silk covers.”

Heero lowered his eyes and looked guilty. Something was up. Duo leaned down and put his hand on Heero’s chest. Heero flinched. “Please.” Duo wined.

Heero looked up and into Duo’s eyes. After a second, he slowly nodded. Without taking his eyes away, Heero unbuttoned his shirt. He slid the shirt off and broke eye contact to lower his eyes.

What Heero just revealed, shocked Duo. No, nothing at all muscled six-pack and chest. It was what was on them. A light scar stood out from the dark skin and stretched from the waistline to, around the right bottom most muscle, and ended its curve at Heero’s bellybutton. A purplish blue scar stained the skin above it. Nail scratches littered all over the body, from the arms to two scratches by the scar.

Heero pushed into the sofa he lay upon. He had another guilty, shamed look on his face.

Duo latched onto Heero and hugged him softly. He would kill the bastard that did this to the angel. He would take the family scythe and chop his head off, but not before making him suffer; suffer greatly.

Heero melted into the welcome hug. He buried his head in Duo’s neck. Duo lifted the head and kissed first on the forehead and then softly on the lips, lips he had just noticed were slightly bruised.

Ch2

Heero cried now. Tears streaked down his face, a droplet of sadness each. He had cried when Duo had ended the kiss. He cried as Duo whispered caring words to his ear and rocked him in his lips. The sobs slowly ran their course down his face and onto Dou’s neck.

The boy’s arms tightened around Duo’s waist. He lifted his head and looked into the violet orbs that were about to add to the watery puddles.

“Please, Do not make me go back,” he whispered. “Please, oh please.”

“I won’t make you go anywhere, angel, anywhere.” Duo said.

“Thank you.” Heero pulled away, but only to whip away his eyes. “I don’t wanna go back.”

Duo stoked Heero’s back. Sweat met his hand, but not the sweat of heat. It didn’t feel any different then regular sweat, but there was too much to be regular sweat. It made Duo’s hand slick down and there was so much of it that Duo could almost say it was a layer, like clothing.

“Heero, who does this to you?”

“O… Odin.” Heero collapsed fully in to Duo. He started rubbing his hands along Duo’s back. “My, my boyfriend.” He kissed Duo. “And my father.”

Duo shook his head. A father doing This to their very own son? Who would’ve imagined? The civil war two years ago had left many deranged and slightly crazy from havening to kill their own brothers, sisters, sons, parents, and the children, but so deranged they would do this? No, it wasn’t that bad. The rebels had only used one band of children to attack.

“Why?” Duo said.

Heero started his story in a child like voice. “He loved mama. Mama was killed in the war. He killed her. He slashed open her throat. He misses her. He says I look like her. He likes to have ‘fun’. I didn’t resist much at first. Mama said to listen to my father. I didn’t want to make mama sad. I didn’t want to make mama sad. I did it. I encouraged him.”

Heero broke of and started crying again. Duo comforted him, telling him that it wasn’t his fault, mama didn’t know, mama would want was best for, mama would want him to be free… Heero’s tears abated.

“But nobody will want me now. I am tainted.” He said.

“No, no you’re not. I want you. You are an angel to me.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Duo kissed Heero. Heero kissed back. Duo quickly took off his shirt. They were equal now, both without shirts. Duo sucked one hard nub, then another. His hands lightly made circles on the leather clad shaft that begged to be released. Heero moaned and squirmed against Duo.

Duo reached lifted his hands and unbuttoned Heero’s pants. They stopped short when he tried to push them down. He scrunched his eyebrows and lifted his head from sucking Heero’s nipple. Ah, Heero was too aroused. He used both hands to get the pants down this time. The friction on his length made Heero gash and moan. He bucked his hips.

Duo chuckled at that and what he found; Heero wore no underwear. Duo’s length begged to be released, but it would wait. Duo lowered his head and took Heero fully in the mouth. Heero yelled this time. He sucked up and down. Heero bucked his hips again and went over the edge. Duo swallowed as Heero shot his seamen into him. It tested like cherries and innocence.

Heero turned over and said, “Please, please in me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please.” Heero wiggled his hips seductively.

Duo slipped his pants off. His manhood was erect and purple with blood. He reached below the sofa and retrieved what he had stored there before Heero had come. He lathered his length thickly. He wouldn’t be able to prepare Heero; he had to have him now.

Duo perched his erection about Heero’s entrance and plunged in. Heero screamed in bliss and arched his back. Duo was in bliss. Heero was still tight and fit Duo perfectly. He snaked his arms around Heero’s waist and grasped the newly aroused member. He moved in and out of Heero. His hands stoked up and down Heero’s length. His past became faster and faster.

Heero yelled and released his seed on the sofa. His muscled clamped on Duo, causing Duo to release his seed into the passage.

Wearied and exhausted, the two loves fell asleep side by side on the skinny sofa.

Ch3

A warm back and two arms incased him in comfortable warmth. His mind, foggy for some reason, immediately wanted to stay. But why would he want to stay? Wasn’t it his father’s back and arms that incased him? Wasn’t it his father’s length that had made his butt hurt and be so sore? Wait, his but didn’t hurt. It just felt a bit sore, like if someone used lubricant before taking him. Odin never used lubricant; he claimed it took away from the sensation.

Something was defiantly different but not at all bed. The chest brushing his back was smooth and unscarred, not at all like the Odin’s old, harsh, and from brawls scared skin. It was probably one of Odin’s friends who had come for a good fuck at a cheap price.

It made some senses; the only person who had ever used lubricant was that long blonde haired one. What was his name? Ah, yeah, Zecks was the name he used around Odin. Zecks skin was youthful, but he had some scars that when Heero had asked about them after a session, he had flinched, mumbled a name, and fucked Heero again to silence him.

So, not Zecks then. There was something different about the material that touched parts of his body. It was to good, to rich for him. Odin believed the cheaper the better; the sheets and mattress were going to get dirty anyway. Could it be silk? Yes, it was. But who would let him lay on silk sheets. He was a no worth whore that was to be used and used again, no matter his feelings, well, the feelings he had left. Silks were not for him. He was tainted. Who?

There was only one way to find out shorter then waiting for his mind to unclog and grant him his memories. He opened his eyes.

He was in a room. Painted and unpainted canvases lay everywhere in the painted in every color imaginable but pink room. The job he got just to be free from home for a bit and calm Odin. The painter. He was in the painter’s arms, on the painter’s sofa. Memory decided it was time to pay a visit. The reaction gotten from those memories was a true smile and a staring in his groan.

“So, your awake finally.” The painter said as he tightened his arms around Heero. “And in more ways then one.” Duo chuckled and his lips touched Heero’s neck, sending pleasure through Heero’s body. The lapped at the flesh, but never biting even though Heero sensed Duo wanted to.

Heero rubbed against Duo. Duo’s hands stated massaging Heero’s stomach, occasionally dipping low and brushing the half aroused staff there. Heero squirmed toward the hands.

He needed Duo in him now to fill the emptiness inside him, that vast emptiness that lived with him everyday. He pushed his hips back against the fully aroused cock.

“Not just yet,” Duo moaned. A hand left its playing. It soon was back, brushing against Heero’s cheek with a plastic container. Some off the liquid splashed on Heero as Duo opened the cap one-handed.

Heero screamed as the stiff cock thrust into him, and hit that spot inside him, making him thrash and toss his head. He was higher then heaven and bliss together. A lubricated hand slid around his waist, letting some of a liquid trail on him. Those hands made it all the way to his length and grasped it in their hot embrace.

He couldn’t take it anymore, and led his seed spray onto the floor. He clenched his muscles. Duo thrust hard in him and screamed with the release of his seed.

They flopped down onto the sofa and rested for a bit.

“Heero,” Duo mumbled.

“Yes?”

“Have you ever been on the top?”

Heero flushed and blushed and the unexpected question.

“No.”

“Want to?”

Heero was about to say no; he liked Duo atop him and in him to banish the loneliness. But it might be fun to be on the top. He had never done it before, so he might as well try.

“Sure.”

Duo wrapped his arms around Heero. “Turn around.”

Heero did. Their bodies rubbed against each other, arousing then for the third time that day. Duo’s cock was purple with blood and almost totally aroused; he must have been thinking about it before he poised the question.

Was Duo going to turn around? He didn’t. Instead, he moved his legs slowly up, caressing Heero’s skin with his toes. Duo’s length was trapped in-between them and thickened as they squirmed. Duo’s tongue darted out and licked at the nipple in front of him. Heero moaned as he felt the textured tongue on his erect nipple swirl around.

Two hands reached down and grabbed his length. They had lubricant on them and coated his length with it. Those hands led his cock to an entrance. He thrust up and was engulfed in pleasure, almost as much pleasure as he got when Duo was inside him.

As Duo had earlier, he thrust in and out, the muscles around Duo’s hole welcoming him. The pleasure reached its peak. He thrust forward as he shoot his seed into Duo. Duo also reached his peak and warmth flooded between their stomachs as he released.

Like before, they flopped down onto the Sofa, of course after Duo took his limbs down.

“You like?” Duo said.

“Yes, but not as much as when you’re in me, Love.”

Heero grinned and looked up. And freaked.

Ch4

Heero pushed himself out of the warm arms and off the couch. He hit the floor with a thump on his slightly sore arse. Even as he tumbled of his love, he never left his stare off of what frightened him so. It was the window he stared at in heart deep fear. But that wasn’t quite it. No, not the widow. The thing that made him rush out of the only person who cared for him was what the window let in: the faint light of night just in and settling down for its brief stay.

It was night. It was night and he was died, or almost died. He promised Odin he would be back by afternoon. That was the way for him to get to see the painter and to have freedom for brief moments in his never-ending torture. And he broke it. There was no way that he would be able to get out of whatever Odin planed for him.

Heero finally stopped the window looking, but only to look down and find his clothing after a minute of groping that produce neither pants nor shirt. As he looked down, he saw his seamen splattered stomach. No, Odin would know just touching there, and Odin had wandering hands. Heero twirled his head, but could not see a washbasin.

“Love, what be wrong with you?” Duo mumbled as he pushed his chest up from the couch, almost exposing the thing that pleasured Heero so earlier that day.

“Washbasin, I need a washbasin. Please?”

Duo blinked and shrugged. He slid off the couch and walked to a corner of the room that Heero could hardly tell it was a corner because the piles off dirty clothing and dishes. Heero waited and waited. The only thing he heard from inside the mess was the sound of tumbling things.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He bought his hands up. He scratched at the stickiness. If Odin didn’t see, Odin wouldn’t know. He would scratch away the evidence. Odin wouldn’t hurt him too much. He would say that something happened. Yeah, Duo ran out of paints and spent lots of time getting the new paint.

His nails broke skin, but he didn’t stop. He hardly noticed the brain’s danger warning. He scratched. Blood soon made his fingers slid lower. It grabbed the thing that caused him so much problems, the thing that had brought him pleasure with only one and pain with so many others. He would destroy the evidence. He would…

Hands closed around his wrists. He tried to wiggle out of them, but they held tight, even with the slippery blood.

A voice broke through his thoughts, his insanity. “Stop Heero; he’s not worth your blood. Odin’s not worth any of you. Stop, Heero,” the voiced repeated in his ear. His fingers relaxed. The hands around his wrists left and were replaced by a towel. It tingled slightly on his scratches as it wiped away the blood and evidence. Soft lips, his love’s lips, traveled his face, filling the boy with love, pure love.

And the door bang opened with the force to knock canvases onto the floor.

Heero looked up and screamed.

His father had come for him. Thick, blue veins, visible against the pale neck, were about to post. Spasms shook the body. Blood leaked out of the clenched hands.

“Get away from my whore,” he growled in an all so familiar tone.

Duo hugged Heero close, but Heero didn’t want it, sort of. He didn’t want the punishment associated with it. He pushed back with all his strength. He flopped away and laid waiting for the punishment to come with his eyes clenched. He waited. It didn’t come.

A slap rung put, forcing Heero’s eyes open with dread. Odin had wrapped his hands around Duo’s wrist and lifted him off the ground. Odin slapped Duo on the face and then punched him in the stomach. Duo struggled, but was just too weak.

Heero scrambled up after grabbing the nearest thing to him; a brush bristled with white horse hair. He would not let Odin hurt Duo. He loved Duo. He could not live with duo hurt.

On the feet of a sly predator more silent then a cat, he walked to the enemy, his father. Casually heard information, overheard from assassin talk at that brothel Odin let borrow him, aided him. Behind the ear was the place, they said, and that was where Heero drove the paintbrush in.

Blood spurted out and hit Heero, spraying him. Duo fell from lax fingers. Odin toppled, soundless. Odin died.

Heero laughed crazily. Heero cried crazily. Heero toppled.

Duo pushed the dead man of him. He crawled over to Heero and hugged him.

Slowly the sobs and laughing died like Odin. Duo grabbed the slightly red wash cloth and wiped the salt off Heero’s face with the clean parts.

Heero looked into the violet orbs wide eyed. “Will everything be okay now?”

“Yes, everything will be perfect, just perfect.” Duo hugged the boy close. They fell asleep like that, Odin’s corpse cooling.