FicWad

Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Shoo.

Note: 2xD is an EXTREMELY rare pairing, and one I adore. If you take a liking to it, know someone who does, or know where I can find more fics featuring them, I would be extremely grateful. My personal website is being updated to include a 2xD section, so never fear!

If you're having trouble figuring out the setting (a few years after the wars, Europe, the property where Romefeller exiled Treize) or how the hell this all came about, just drop me a line and I'll do my best to help.

If you are having trouble 'getting it' or find some major errors, PLEASE tell me! It's the only way I'll improve. XD


+++


Green Lightning



The ocean glittered, some three miles from shore. The international waters shone with promise, but a storm hovered in the distance, casting a gray shadow that was sure to move inland by mid-afternoon.

Dorothy Catalonia sat alone on the balcony of an upscale café, elegantly sipping a pale pink cocktail of unknown description. She had a clear view of the waterfront district, its warehouses now converted into department stores and restaurants such as the one she had chosen this day for luncheon. Some would assume she had come for the excellent clam chowder, or their infamously decadent club sandwiches, but Dorothy alone knew the true reason.

Never so uncouth as to squint, Dorothy waited patiently for the shapes at sea to resolve themselves into a recognizable form.

A flash of green lightning lit beneath the clouds.

With a smirk slanting her finely carved features, she set down her drink, a third still swirling at the bottom, and left a hefty tip on the table tucked beneath the glass.

As she walked downstairs and onto the cobblestone street, Dorothy pushed her sunglasses back up her nose. A hand fished in her dainty white clutch for her car keys, and as she kitten-heeled it to the parking lot, she allowed herself a low, throaty chuckle.

Behind her, the storm once again flashed green.

+++

Four o'clock on an August afternoon; a Friday, to be precise. Unlike the popular waterfront, the mansions formerly owned by the Romefeller Foundation held less of a draw. Following the war, and Treize's death, the properties had been donated to the local historical society. To the society's great pleasure, the buildings and grounds had been kept in excellent condition, and they were able to begin opening certain areas for public viewing within a year. Now a few pairs and small groups milled the vast gardens, as a final tour left the building to watch a demonstration on Treize's shooting range before the light went.

Already the sky was turning murky, and rumbles of thunder could be heard in the distance. A wind was just beginning to ruffle the tops of the property's massive trees when Dorothy's gold Maserati Spyder (the GTC200, anniversary edition, custom) blazed at a comfortable 70mph past the main entrance, missing the turn for the parking lot.

She circled the grounds, feeling nostalgic as she paid half her mind to the road and the other to a stone fountain nestled at the side of the road. There were other afternoons spent near that fountain, most of them sunnier than this one. Many with a less enjoyable sensation of eagerness resting in the pit of her stomach. She had been cold in those days, playing a game of chess with people and nations for pieces. Now she still played the game, but she knew when to let herself enjoy her wins.

A shrub-shrouded driveway took her behind the main house and she parked beside an old garden shed. The only other cars in the gravel lot belonged to docents and one minivan that might have belonged to the historical society's wife.

Dorothy took a moment to check her reflection in a pocket mirror before stepping out and expertly navigating the piles of stone to the back door. Her low, thin white kitten heels complained, but she ignored them and juggled her keys in her hand until an old, heavy brass key fell into her palm. It fit perfectly into the side door, itself half overgrown from disuse. The newly appointed museum staff preferred the door into the hallway beside the kitchen.

She pulled the door firmly closed, and pocketed the keys.

Expertly, she adjusted the fit of her skirt, her silk tank blouse, and her thin summer scarf, wrapped once around her neck and flung over both shoulders. On this day of days, everything she wore was the same shade of off-white. Pleased, she removed her sunglasses and headed upstairs.

This wing of the building was still closed, while the society's staff catalogued and inventoried every item of furniture and its condition. Dorothy supposed the ESU had already confiscated all official papers, and most of the private ones as well. Nevertheless, she still new the floor plan like the back of her hand, and she ascended the grand stairways to the third floor.

As she opened the door, roses assaulted her nose, and with a delighted gasp, she sucked the scent deeply into her lungs. It had been so very long since a powerful man had commanded the world with the scent of roses. It seemed a world away now since she had known her cousin Treize and come to this office for the first time as a small child accompanying her grandfather.

The man leaning against the large mahogany desk in the center of the office was, however, in no way related to her.

And that was how she wanted it.

With a sly smile, she slid around the door and closed it behind her, turning the lock by feel. He returned her smile with an impish grin, uncrossing his legs and standing to greet her.

"Took you long enough."

"I wanted to make sure you had enough time to get here," she replied without hesitation. "Those toys of yours are hard to hide."

He shrugged, but couldn't hide the smug set of his shoulders- thick, muscled shoulders she ached to grasp and pull toward her with her nails biting predatorily into his skin... "If I'd taken this long during the war, I would never have survived."

"No," replied Dorothy slowly. "I don't suppose any of us would be where we are right now..." Her eyes wandered from his robust figure dressed in black, to the desk, resting just below his ass, where he had just been sitting.

He saw the hungry look in her eye and rose an eyebrow, motioning to the unobtrusive doorway leading to the officers' apartments. "To business then, m'lady?"

"Duo," she rapped out, hand pressing back against the door, like a runner preparing to take off when the whistle blew. He straightened, all attention, his chest straining against the dark material of his polo shirt. He opened his mouth to respond, his braid swinging into view, and it became more than she could take.

Dorothy launched herself from the door and into his arms, straining up to reach his mouth. Duo responded in kind, his hands landing precisely on her hips and his mouth descending to devour her mouth. Practiced lovers, their lips parted and his tongue plunged in, to be greeted by her own. They battled and strained, pressing together as closely as their clothing would allow, until, gasping, Dorothy dropped away first, her head falling back.

Duo dropped to kiss the base of her throat, loosening the scarf and drawing a moan from her. His two-day-old stubble only enhanced the sensations. Dorothy's chest heaved and he slid to the top of her breasts, his hands shifting under her buttocks until he could lift her up and against him. She closed her eyes as their pelvises rubbed together, but when he made a move to lift her completely and carry her off, she brought her hands to the sides of his head and forced him to look at her.

"Here."

"What?''

"Here. I want to do it here. Now."

Duo frowned, confused. "Here? In-"

"In Treize's office," she supplied, swallowing a breath and licking her lips.

He glanced down and to her left at the desk immaculately arranged for display. It seemed unlikely that Treize had ever kept it so neat and uncluttered during his lifetime, but who was Duo to judge? His gaze wandered to a pen with 'T. Kushrenada' engraved on its barrel. And then he got the most wonderful and wicked idea.

Without further hesitation, he lifted her and turned them both so that she sat on the desk, in the very place he himself had been sitting only a moment before. Her desires realized, Dorothy pulled him closer and wrapped her legs around his torso, rewarding him with a burning kiss. Her tongue plunged into his mouth and a fire was lit beneath them, their primal roles temporarily reversed.

Her scarf was the first to go, already slackened. As he fought with the zip at the back of her tank, she sucked at his neck, grazing it both harshly and softly with her teeth. Duo groaned as she teased his Adam's apple, and savagely ripped the silk away. He fell upon her breasts, pushing them both down until her back hit the desk top. He nuzzled and squeezed, eliciting excited gasps as his hands found her already erect nipple. Dorothy pulled his head into her chest, almost purring as his tongue sought a way beneath the tight lace of her carefully chosen bra. It was nearly the same color as her skin, the lace offering tantalizing illusions. He mock-bit one breast and her back arched, her knees at his waist pulling him down to her. "Duo," she gasped, and cried out as he did the same to her other breast.

He mumbled something into the inviting fold of her cleavage but she tugged at his collar and he rose above her to rip the polo away. His bangs flew free in disarray, only enhancing his natural mischievousness. Dorothy blessed him with a rare, truly delighted smile, and drew him back down to her for a kiss and a bare-chested embrace. The joy of skin against skin brought their passion to another level, a deeper, more luxurious sensation.

Their mouths locked together once more, their hips began to move. Dorothy rocked her pelvis, thrilled at the size of the lump between them, and Duo responded with a hand on her thigh to allow himself to get in closer. She obliged, using his bum to help kick off her potent little kitten heels; the little jarring motions drove him down and they groaned together.

Outside, thunder rolled its own pleasure, chasing away the mansion's staff and visitors. Lightning frightened small children while their older siblings counted the seconds between crash and flare.

One, two, three- "Duo!"

Four, five- "Dorothy-!"

Crash!

She pawed at his pants, desperate to have him inside her. The flickering lights and her own frenzy made her clumsy. She cried out in frustration, and big hands folded over her own to skillfully whip open his belt buckle and shimmy out of his pants. He had barely stepped out of them before she was back, tearing away his boxers- for the room, of course- and freeing him from the tent they had become. His breath hissed out between his teeth as she took him into her hand and gave an appreciative squeeze.

Duo leaned forward, hands on either side of her on the desk. Without hesitation, she kissed him, a full, giving kiss, and the tenderness in it nearly rocked him backward. Then he recalled himself and dove headlong into the kiss, grabbing her at her sides and driving her down to the desktop once more. Dorothy's hands fled up his chest, nails grazing his nipples. She gasped his name as he moved to her neck and down once more to her breasts. He grunted in irritation to find them still bound by her bra, and slid his hands around to her back to find the clasp. Obligingly, she rose on one elbow, the other hand moving up to push his bangs out of his eyes. The look of concentration on his face made her smile- and with a twist, the band around her chest popped open, and the tight hold it had on her breasts loosened.

His eyes lit as they fell into their natural shape, and with delight he pulled the lacy material away to nuzzle between them. He buried himself against the warm place over her heart, and she shivered happily, her hand toying affectionately with his hair, tugging a few strands loose. Though he couldn't see the look in her eyes, Duo could feel the tenderness in her touch. He kissed the inner cheek of her cleavage and moved on to take one pale, rosy nipple into his mouth.

Dorothy's breath left her as warmth surrounded one of her most sensitive areas. For a few fortunate moments, any and all doubts she might ever have had about being unattractive evaporated.

She was desired, wanted, and perhaps even...

No, it was better not to plumb the depths of their emotions. They were already too dangerously entangled for her liking. So as Duo pulled away to allow cold air to tease her rapidly stiffening nipple, she threw her head back in rapture, and pushed her hips closer to his.

Oh, how she wanted him...

The perfection in her arching back and open lips brought Duo to awe. For a split second he could only marvel at her beauty- until he was seized with the passionate urge to make her feel every bit of the- fervor- he felt for her in that moment.

His hand went straight to her skirt, still bunched up between them. He smirked, remembering an encounter not too long ago when she had fussed at him for using her cashmere sweater as a pillow, and using both hands pushed it up and over her hips, exposing the most charming pair of lavender panties he had ever seen. Definately silk, definately expensive, and definately thin. The crotch was already moist. He grinned and pressed his knuckle against her in a rocking motion, recieving a groan in reward.

"Oh, god- stop teasing me-!" Dorothy swore, trying to shimmy closer. The size and pressure of his fist only reminded her that he was not inside her. Her efforts only earned her extra torture: a dextrous finger plying her clitoris through the smooth fabric. She gasped out in both pleasure and frustration, "Duo-!" Thunder and lightning sounded off, now virtually on top of them.

He was torn. Always, at this point, he hesitated.

She called for him to slake her need, pressing against his hand. He could give it to her easily; only that thin lavender wall separated his fingers from her center. But he always balked to do so, not because of any fear or dislike, but because he knew the power they could achieve by holding out for more.

Dorothy had never been patient. It made her aggressive in both war and love, and there were times when Duo wondered whether she could make the distinction between the two. She had no qualms, and rose to where their mouths could again meet, and her hand went straight for his awaiting penis.

He moaned into her hot, cloying lips and almost savagely responded, thrusting into her hand and driving her back down onto the desk. She squeezed his head in her palm and groped for the rest of the shaft, intent on bringing him to the same brink she teetered on.

They thrashed on the desk, trying to meet both their needs- his hand on her breast, hers on his penis, maintaining a kiss of passion, the angles just right- Papers and penholders were shoved away with abandon, Treize's nameplate plummeting to the hardwood floor and carving a pale slash in the stained wood. Neither Duo nor Dorothy cared, and as the storm renwed itself above their heads, he clambered up onto the desk with her, tearing her panties away while she yipped in joy.

Her curls were exposed to him- a honey blond just a few shades darker than the near-white of her hair- and he plunged a finger between her warm and inviting, swollen folds. Together they exulted, she in being filled and he in being engulfed. Dorothy reached up to dig her hands into his hair, dislodging more whisps from his capable braid. Her chest heaved between them, and their eyes met.

Slowly, like Prince Charming leaning in to awaken his princess, Duo lowered himself to kiss her once more, their mouths open to one another. The emotional connection neither would admit to meaning was forged, and their heated motions took on a new solemnity.

He seized her thighs and brought them up to his hips. Opening her eyes, Dorothy oligingly locked them around his waist, purpose infusing her. They took their time to arrange themselves, and at long last, he pressed against her entrance. Their kiss broke, briefly, began again, and he thrust deeply into her.

Lightning lit the room, highlighting their marvel at the sheer ecstacy so simple a motion could generate. Thunder boomed belatedly, and together they began to move.

They began steadily, testing one another for preferences old and new. Yes, they assured themselves, nothing had changed. As they began to be more adventurous, small grunts and sighs filled the office.

Duo planted light kisses across her face, sweating already with the effort. She craved to be full of him, and Dorothy pushed her hips upward, pulling him deeper into her with her legs. The friction was glorious. He knew the way she liked it, and Duo pulled out halfway, to shove back in as far as he could go. She cried out as his momentum pressed against her clitoris. He repeated the action, again and again, until he pulled out less and less and stayed in her more, pushing deeper with every thrust. Dorothy's nails clawed at his back, unable to stand the sensations- until with a gasp her muscles clenched around him, and she shuddered from top to toes. Duo groaned, and began thrusting quickly, knowing his end was in sight. Beneath him Dorothy's hips tried to keep up, his ministrations drawing out her orgasms. Small tremors continued to rock her with every thrust, until he came with a loud shout, ramming into her more deeply than either of them had yet experienced.

The thunder rolled, announcing the final act of their drama. They panted against one another, dropping lingering kisses, carresses, and sighs as they basked in what only they could create.

Slowly, she let him go, and Duo kissed her hot forehead.

Action and thought returned to them leisurely, and it was some time before Duo had the forethought to sit in Treize's chair, pulling her into his lap for a muchly deserved nap. These were the times he liked best, before her defenses returned and she forced distance between them once more. He knew that when she awoke she would seem like the most foreign person imaginable, but when she needed him, as she had today, and when they rested like this away from the world, she was simply herself, and she was no longer afraid to let him hold her.

With a self-satisfied yawn, Duo hugged her to him, put his feet up on Treize's once immaculate desk, and drifted off to sleep as well.

It almost seemed cruel, what he would do to her later.

+++

They woke at midnight, only enough to agree that deskchairs made terrible sleeping quarters. Clumsily, they gathered up what they could find of their clothes, and Dorothy navigated drowsily toward the building's guest quarters. To an outsider they would have appeared almost drunk, teetering down the vast hallways with their clothes bundled under their arms, whispering too loudly and laughing when the mood struck.

Before entering the first furnished bedchamber they came to, Duo pulled her aside and kissed her again. She trembled between him and the wall, her muscles still tingling from the force of that evening. They made love again before drifting off in one another's arms for the second time, and as she feel asleep, Dorothy imagined that she might someday be willing to call it that aloud- making love.

When dawn came, the storm long passed, she found herself alone in the massive bed. She sighed quietly, half from sorrow and half from relief. She usually woke first, and was careful to say goodbye without ceremony, the only indication of approval a curt inquiry as to how and when she could contact him next. It was cold, like the coldness of her early teens, but after an intense night with Duo... she needed to overcompensate for the weakness he brought out in her.

Still, she missed being able to watch him sleep.

She sat up to take a brief shower in the next room, and found a note on what was left of Treize's personal stationary beside her on the mattress where Duo should have been. The heavy pen with 'T. Kushrenada' inscribed on its barrell had rolled beneath the blankets to lie against her. It was still warm as she picked it up and turned to the letter.

Dotty,

Don't panic. I went downstairs to see if there's anything to eat in this place. I understand if you haveta run.

-02

Beneath it were the frequencies and coordinates where she could next contact him. She studied the unfamiliar numbers for a brief moment, then shook it off as sleep-clouded confusion. She tucked the note into the only shoe she had recovered from the office, and went to take her shower.

A tray with tea, milk, and creamer stood beside the bed when she emerged, already dressed, her bangs dripping. Duo started, just walking back in with his hat and her other shoe. "Hey. Sorry, they don't have much for breakfast here. Someone left their lunch in a tupperware box in the fridge, but I doubt it's edible anymore."

She nodded, "Thank you. This is fine." She poured them each a cup, and checked that she still had her car keys. Duo watched her from the far side of the bed, his hair loose about his shoulders. His hairbrush was with his base; he would have to wait to rebraid it. He sighed inwardly, recognizing the lowered lashes and her damning practicality for the cool persona she adopted after every encounter. Many a time he had wondered why he allowed her to treat him so terribly and then return for more, but as she put down her tea and glanced up, he saw one of the many, tiny cracks in her armor that ever strengthened his determination.

"Going now?" he asked coolly, knowing the answer.

"Yes," she said firmly, stepping into her kittenheels and pulling out her keys. She was shaken by the intensity in his face. That kind of silliness simply couldn't continue. Perhaps this would be the last time. It was so dangerous, what they did. He was no one, a pariah at worst and a washed out celebrity at best. He worked in a junkyard-! Or told her he did. She knew better. The fresh scars she continued to discover from time to time told her that he didn't need a gundam to still do battle. Dorothy was a lady of standing, with influence on Vice Foreign Minister Relena, land and money of her own, and her own delicate ventures to consider. Why, why, WHY did she continue to perpetuate this ridiculous game?

"I'll walk you downstairs."

The walk from her car to Treize's office had seemed like a millennia yesterday. Today, the distance from that spare room to the kitchen and its side exit was interminable. He burned beside her, tempting her away from rational decisions. Forcing herself back to old patterns, she grit her teeth, and when they entered the kitchen, made straight for the far door.

Goodbyes were too precious to allow here.

The door closed behind her, and with quickening steps, crossed the gravel lot to her car. It gleamed champagne in the early morning sunlight. The heat had broken with the storm, and what had been an excellent outfit for the day before was now almost chilly. Resisting a shiver, she unlocked the car and arranged herself for comfort. As she turned the ignition, horror formed an O of her lips. Why was he running toward her? What was he carrying?

Duo rapped the driver side window with his knuckles and waited patiently for her to roll it down. She squinted up at him in the sunlight, wishing she had grabbed her sunglasses first. "What do you want?"

"I found some fruit in the kitchen," he replied as though he couldn't see her discomfort. He handed her a paper bag with a banana, an apple, and an orange in it.

The weight surprised her and it fell into her lap. "Oh. Thank you." She waited for him to say something more, so she could leave, and think about never coming back.

"I also just wanted to say," he drawled, one hand on the roof of her car, as he leaned down to look her full-on... and came through the window to plant a searing kiss on her surprised mouth. She was caught up by his tongue and found herself responding with more ardour than she had ever wanted to admit she had for him outside of sex. Triumphantly, he pulled back and said, "That's all. Take care, Dotty. And make sure you wash your back." Duo thumped the roof of the Maserati twice, and backed away so she could go.

Eyes wide with something akin to fear, Dorothy threw the car into reverse and hastily backed out of the courtyard. She did not wave back to him as she turned onto the road that circled the property. Birds flew by overhead, but Dorothy just kept driving, the Spyder picking up speed as she barrelled away to the main road and escape. Never. She could never return to him. They had passed the point of Meeting for Sex Only. Now there were emotions involved. Now there was- Pressing down on the gas, she rocketed away from that word and her late cousin's legacy, the smell of roses still heavy in her senses.

Though she would not know it until she returned home at 3am that evening, exhausted from a puddle-jumper flight to Hamburg, a message awaited her. The shower had threatened to wash it away, but Treize's inks were made of toughed stuff than that.

On her lower back, in that place above her bum where her instinctive arch began, a careful, sure hand had written,

You may run, and I may hide,
But last kisses never lie.



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