Skip to main content

Pic/fic: Cupcake of Life

Title: Cupcake of Life
By: Pinkwhirlwind
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, alas.
Warnings: Masturbation, brainwashed Heero.
Note: This story is the companion to Cupcake of Death. I told Sharon from the LJ 1x2 community that I'd draw a companion Heero pic to Duo's pic, I'm not sure if I like it, but it's on my site too, link to follow. 

It was a single strand of hair. Heero slipped a finger under the long dark strand. Duo was always careful to wipe up his hair in the bathroom, everywhere. He'd never actually touched Duo's hair before, but there it was, a single very long almost russet hair hanging over his finger like... like something Heero couldn't rationalize or verbalize to himself. 

It was just a single strand of hair, not exactly useful data or a case of ammunition. It wasn't valuable. It shouldn't have been left around as evidence, and yet, standing there in the safe house, the studio that he had been sharing with Duo on this mission, the gloom of the blacked out bathroom window, the drawn blinds and that hair felt like it was made out of electricity. 

That hair grew to feel heavy. Goosebumps made him feel strange. His heart beat too fast, felt larger than it had ever been, even in pressure training.  He was supposed to be sleeping. That was what he'd scheduled for this period, but then he'd laid down on the bed and found this single little whisper of Duo's presence. He could smell the scent of Duo's sweat, of the ejaculate that Duo had left very faint traces of in the bed when he'd masturbated during the night, could smell the faint hint of vanilla shampoo stolen from some store some where. 

Heero blinked, almost panicked by his own surprise and he reached down to touch the front of his shorts. His penis was hard. Blue eyes opened even wider, the feeling of panic rose. The very intense training and very narrow parameters of his behavioral conditioning... broke. He wanted. 

It didn't matter what he wanted. The fact he wanted meant that there was a he to want, not just an organic computer to carry out missions, but a person. He wanted Duo. He wanted to touch him, to talk to him, to tell him everything, to hear Duo talk for hours and days... years. He wanted to do to his penis what Duo had done to his own. His lips parted and he really wasn't sure that the pain in his chest wasn't a really bad indicator, but he wanted Duo to do to his penis what Duo had done to Duo's own. New mission... he had to read about sex, about romance, about seduction, about... love. 

Duo talked too much, in general, shared too much. He'd once said that he stole Deathscythe to prevent the weapon from being misused, by Duo's moral code, at least.  Heero classified himself as a weapon. Duo could steal him too. In perhaps the first selfish and impetuous thing Heero had done since Dr. J undertook his training, Heero ate that single strand of hair. 

With the hand he'd been holding that single illicit hair, he drew down his shorts, slide his hand over his penis, gliding, very light, because that's what felt good and because that's what Duo had done.  Want became a fire and he took a nearly silent, but deep gasping breath.

When he came, it was small, barely a splash and so fast it took only a few strokes of his hand. The training team was far away though, they couldn't punish him, but at that moment, he really didn't care. He pulled his shorts back up, his thoughts clearing... clearing in entirely new directions. He wanted to survive the war and make Duo happy, maybe have the chance of having Duo enjoy being around him. 

Then it occurred to him that there had been 729 days since he'd met Duo. He could buy him a gift. It would also be an American holiday the following day, the American holiday of romance. He would buy Duo a gift, to announce his intentions. 

The smile that seized his face felt strange, but strange in a good way. Quickly, he dressed in civilian clothes, jeans and a tee-shirt, picked a decent id, cash that would be good for this city. 

As he walked down the street, another change he noticed and wasn't sure how to deal with was the he felt like he fit in... like he was the same as all the other people walking around him. He shoved his hands in his pockets the way Duo sometimes did and imagined them having a house together, a house that would echo with Duo's laughter and chatter. 

Then he saw the black cupcake. Whatever programming he'd had about not wanting things - it was gone now.  Face still a complete poker face, he stepped into the shop.  "I would like two of these cakes," he pointed to the black cupcake with the tiny red heart on top.

"Sure," a cheerful girl said. "For your Valentine?"

"Yes," Heero said, smiling just a tiny bit. 

"We have cards and stuff, if you need it," she said, as she boxed up the cupcakes. "First girlfriend or boyfriend?"

"Yes," he said, looking through the cards. He didn't want to give Duo something that he couldn't keep. 

She rang him up. He paid. 

He stopped at a book store, read a book on romance and seduction, read another on gay sex, then left before someone could get in their mind that they should come help him. 

Six hours remained until Duo was due from his mission. 

Heero worked, working very diligently on work that his controlling team could see. 

Seven hours passed. 

Eight hours passed.

Heero finally understood what an upset stomach was, outside of medical side effects. 

On the ninth hour, he wasn't sure that the war hadn't completely shifted. Peace for everyone was a lovely goal, but right then, he'd settle for doing extreme bodily harm to whoever was detaining Duo. Then there was someone on the stairs, limping, determined, and Heero knew it was Duo.
Then Heero understood elation, the feeling of a soul flying. It came as an even greater shock that he felt like he had a soul. It was just an illusion. He knew this. It didn't matter that it was illusion. He felt his soul soar now that Duo was coming up the stairs. Moving with socially unacceptable speed, he put food into the microwave. 

When Duo opened the door, Heero kept all emotion off his face. He was going to kill people over this. Side mission.  "I heard you coming up the stairs."

"I'm sorry," snarled resentfully.

"You're late."

"Sorry," Duo hissed then limped towards the tiny bathroom.


Watching Duo study himself in the mirror, Heero's emotions went to a place that he couldn't even describe. It was as if the soul he didn't believe he had turned into a thick grey storm cloud. Want drove him into the bathroom behind Duo and they both studied the battered face for a moment. 

"You did good."

For just a second some other unknown emotion, but a positive emotion, Heero suspected, flickered over Duo's dejected face. "Why?"

"You succeeded in your mission and are here alive."

The rest of the conversation barely touched Heero. It was all mission mode, all distanced. He held Duo's hand, the swollen and dislocated finger looking like a bad training experience. He took hold of it and fixed it in one smooth motion. Duo screamed. He kissed him. The kiss swallowed Duo's scream. Blue and violet eyes met for a moment, but Heero knew Duo was already gone. A first kiss during a painful first aide measure had not been one of the recommended experiences in either of the books he'd read. It worked for him though, even as Duo's body went slack, falling backwards towards the tub until he caught him, Heero's lips tingled, the kiss bright and lovely. Heero lifted an unconscious Duo in his arms, carried him to the single small cot they had in the apartment. He continued first aid, made Duo as comfortable as he could and set about waiting for him to wake. 

Work filled his mind. He found the surveillance data that recorded Duo's beating. He knew his targets. He completed a hacking job for his handlers and before he knew it, Duo was up, leaning against the doorframe, a small cupcake in his hand. One eye was till swollen shut, and he knew what size boot Duo had been kicked by because the boot print was still on the pale skin, but when Duo smiled, the smile was so brilliant and bright that Heero was suddenly utterly glad he had a soul. Duo's smiles were cupcakes of life. 

He could have a soul, if Duo could smile at him. 


Popular posts from this blog

Christmas Blog Hop

Joyous Holidays! Merry Christmas!

How was your Thanksgiving? I hope you had a great time! For your reading pleasure, I offer you this scene from my current novel. Syn is going to have a Christmas like none other! The prize for this blog hop... is that if you comment on this post, you'll be entered into a drawing for the 5th, which is when Christmas Carnival is going to release, and that is the prize. It's going to be a very hot and wicked book... Christmas on a colony where sex is the center of everything. It's a kinky, BDSM book, so if that's not your thing, you'll be welcome to pick a story from my back list!

You Rock!


Saturday's Edit!

This post is going to get edited multiple times over the next few days :) I've got story and art to add in. I've never been one to wait till Christmas or want a surprise, but maybe I've been wrong, so I'm exploring this idea of timely gifts :)


Sunday's First Edit!

It's Sunday.. in December! …

Excerpt 2: Redeem Me

Title: Redeem Me By: Sebastian Blade Publisher:  SLPP Genre: yaoi, m/m, contemporary, paranormal, illustrated, and it might even count as inspirational.  Buy Link: AllRomance: Amazon: Rating: NC17... Contains graphic sex, language, and violence Blurb: Love's roots run deep in a soul. It's not just the beautiful blossoming of love when two people meet. This story spans Corey and August's lives. To know the way forward, sometimes you have to know where you've been. Law is not very good for redemption. To redeem his lover, August will have to venture into faith, which may be a little hard for a man who seduced his lover in his limousine the first day they met and nearly lost him after sex at a nightclub. For the first time in his life - love becomes more important than sex.  Excerpt 2 August h…

Confessions and a Cassock

Confessions and a Cassock  by Sebastian Blade
copyright 2010  All Rights Reserved He had red hair, fine golden copper, dark green eyes. He'd been a runner in college, strong and fast.  Black suited him. His slacks lay perfectly over a firm ass, the little white at his throat that promised he was a decent and upstanding man, a servant of God. And he was. Monday through Friday he taught at Saint Sarah's Academy. Sundays he worked in the parish, counseling and genuinely caring for people. He'd watched children, built fences, milked cows, changed tires, and read letters to people. God called him to be a servant of men, and he was.  There were some thoughts to wrestle with though. When he'd been a younger man, back in his college days, he known an uninhibited brunet who had made him wonder what path he wanted for his life.  It was Saturday. The questions always came back.  The brunet had become a lawyer. The brunet's name was August Richards.  Father Anderson knew that he shouldn…