Warnings: Lemon. Very much so. ^^ Meaning, rated 'R'.

Random inane notes: Okay, since I've not found Wufei's Episode Zero manga translated yet, I'm not overly certain what his family life was like. I'm going to go out on a limb here, so if you want to come with me, that'd be much appreciated. Just bring some rope in case the branch decides it wants to break on us. ^^

When Fallen Angels Fly: Part Eight

Two slight figures sat in oversized chairs, hands spanning the space between to clasp one another in defiance of the distance. Their eyes were on the darkness before them, watching the trees sway and bend to the will of the wind, who whispered through their leaves like the voices of those long past. There was a comfort in this, a tranquillity that they were loathe to shatter. Life allotted them so few moments such as these, that if they didn't capture it now, it would slide past their fingertips, dancing just out of reach until the next time.

Perhaps there was more to it as well. They stood on the verge of making a decision that would forever change the relationship between them. Once it was made, there would be no going back. Neither would be satisfied with anything less. The Chinese did not take love and the giving of it lightly, and the American had learned to hold fast to only what was important, for he had lost much and been given so little in return.

Their world was one filled with conflict, fighting, and loss, a place where beauty was scarce unless you dug deep to find it. In the midst of this, if two hearts could find a mutual link, if arms could find comfort in each other, and a short escape from the harsh reality of duty, then whatever new pain, sorrow, or loss it would introduce was well worth it.

A short, soft sigh drew his attention, and Wufei turned to regard the outline of Duo's profile in silence. How different he looked without the braid. Younger, and more vulnerable somehow. But he knew, perhaps better than anyone, that the strength that made up the core of the Deathscythe pilot was very much there and real. He caught you off guard because of his laughter and his smiles, but when it mattered most, he shed them and showed the steel.

Unable to bear that in the face of his own uncertainty and cowardice, Wufei looked away. He ran from everything. From his responsibility toward Meiran, from his feelings for Duo, from his actions as a Gundam pilot. He ran from them all and hid himself away in his room, surrounded by books that could not talk back, could not accuse, and could never feel. Duo wanted to force him to change all that. And Wufei wanted him to succeed.

"It must be hard," Duo's voice cut through the silence.

Wufei started. "What?"

"Seeing things in black and white."

He tensed, the hold he had on Duo's hand loosening.

"Don't get insulted," Duo continued, tightening his hold. "You see things in terms of right and wrong, and I admire you for that. But there isn't always a set way for things to be. There's exceptions to every rule, and what might not work for one situation, does for another. For someone that honor means so much to, it must be hard to fight in a war where there are no clear boundaries and where you have to compromise your principles."

Wufei stared at Duo, his mouth open in surprise. The other pilot was still not looking at him, and there was a wistful quality in his tone that said he knew what he spoke of because he had experienced it firsthand. What amazed him, was how completely the American had read him, how close to his heart the other boy had touched. No one had ever tried to look that closely before. Only Duo. Only he cared enough to see what Wufei kept hidden away.

"Duo..."

The other boy turned to look at him, and there was a distant expression in the moonlight reflected from his eyes, and a soft, almost aching smile on his lips.

"Don't beat yourself up too much, huh, Wufei? In a perfect world, we wouldn't have to be doing this."

His heart hurt. So much so, that it wanted to break free from the confines of his chest with the intensity of the ache. Was this love? This jumble of wanting, needing, and giving?

"Thank you."

Duo's expression turned quizzical. "For what?"

Dark, somber eyes held his. "For caring. For listening. For trying."

Now, it was Duo's turn to feel the ache. Wufei meant too much. And that scared him, but he could no more stop it from happening than he could the progress of a train.

"We fight for that perfect world," Wufei voiced suddenly, eyes turning to the skyline.

Duo sighed again. "Yeah... and we don't even know if it really exists."

"But we need to. We need to believe that it does. It is all that there is for us now."

"No."

The force behind that one word had him turning to look at Duo again.

"We have each other. All of us Gundam pilots... And our colonies. You've got a family, right Wufei?" Duo added, seeming to need to pull them away from the seriousness of the conversation.

There was something in the way he said it too, that made Wufei understand his need to hear it.

"Yes... A large family steeped in tradition... We follow the ways of the old. Justice and honor and respect. I was nothing like any of them until Meiran died, until I took Nataku to fight."

Duo didn't have to ask who Meiran was.

What of you, Duo? Do you have a family? Or was I right?

"And you?"

Duo's smile turned slightly bitter. "Not now, Wufei. Let's not talk about me."

The Chinese pilot wanted to press, but he left it a that. Duo would share when he was ready, and for now, that was enough. Where he had needed to speak of his past before committing himself to the present, Duo seemed content to let things stand as they were for the time being. He could respect that.

Wufei watched Duo for a moment. "And you, you fight because you don't wish for others to experience the pain and loss you have. You believe in the ideal of peace, but you know we can't achieve it through words alone. You will do what is necessary to make that dream a reality, even if it means going against everything you had ever believed in. You are strong for that."

Duo was stunned into silence, a rarity for him. He had not expected Wufei to be looking past the surface while he was. Wufei always seemed so focused on the present moment, on what was important to the task at hand. Duo could see now, as he had not really before, that Wufei was a dreamer at heart, someone who had once looked to tradition and memories with great importance. Time and circumstance had stolen that from him, but they could never completely stamp it out.

Without warning, Wufei let his hand drop from the other's and leaned over the side of his chair to grasp the edges of Duo's. With a quick jerk, he had the chairs tucked snugly against one another, and himself positioned so that he was looking down into that startled, upturned face.

Duo felt the change thread through Wufei, through the air, and answered it with his own. Longings drifted on the silence between them, reaching out to tangle them together in an invisible web. Words had no meaning here, only feelings and the whisper of skin against skin, as Wufei reached down to take Duo's chin in his fingers and slowly lower his head until his mouth was settled over the other boy's.

Just the warm pressure of lips, the simple pleasure of that first touch. It was no longer than a second, before Wufei lifted his head and stared into Duo's eyes, finding himself lost and swimming amid a sea of endless blue. Blood hummed, skin tingled, and hearts ached. More was the only way out. More and then more, until it was too much and not enough all at once.

Duo reached up, unbound Wufei's hair, and watched as the sheen of black silk swung down to his shoulders, to frame his face and tangle on the wind. While he watched his lover's face, he slid his hands into it, caught great fistfuls, as Wufei's eyes drifted shut on a sigh of pleasure and his body instinctively drifted toward the source of that pleasure.

Mouths sought out one another again, hands curled and lost themselves in the softness of their partner's hair, and bodies were separated only by the existence of plastic. They took the moment of their lips pressed against each other for what it was, felt it roll across their skin in sweet waves of desire.

Duo was the first to yield, his lips parting to accept the first shaky breath from Wufei's. The world outside them ceased to be, and nothing existed except their mouths, fused together as tongues came out to meet somewhere between the heated barriers. They touched tentatively, tangled, and then mated, as they sought to meet the rising passion that threatened to consume them both in the flames of need.

Somewhere in the midst of this, Duo lost the last bit of his strength as his insides turned to liquid fire and it felt more like he was hanging on to Wufei than holding him. The Chinese boy held a lot behind that silent mask of his. Certainly, a passion that rocked him to his toes and made him want to melt into the cracks of the wood...

Wufei was more than a little stunned as he pulled away from Duo and stared at him through heavy-lidded, blurred eyes. He had thought kissing him would be pleasant, but he never expected this explosion of feeling that left every part of him alive and aching, as if he was bared for all the world to see and didn't care. And what was more, it wasn't simply desire... It was his caring, his love, that completed it, that cinched it, and that told him for now, Duo was what he wanted and nothing more.

With ease and care, he let his hands slide down and gripped Duo around the waist, where he lifted and pulled the Deathscythe pilot until he was in his lap and against his chest. Duo slid his arms up and around Wufei's neck, his hair spilling all around them like a living blanket. And Wufei gave into a weakness that had been plaguing him for days by burying his face in the softness of it and inhaling deeply.

Rising, Duo curled against him, Wufei left the darkness of the balcony behind, navigating his way through the dimly lit house and down the hall, until they found his room, bathed in moonlight from the open window, that scattered itself across the floor like a welcoming rug. The door shut softly behind them as Wufei carried him the short distance to the bed and carefully set him on the edge.

Hearts pounded in unison as he fell to his knees and curved his arms around Duo's waist, pulling the boy into an embrace so that nothing came between them but the fabric of their clothing. Duo thought Wufei had never looked more beautiful, with his hair falling free and his eyes so dark and without any defense, their every emotion open and there for him to read. No one had ever looked at him with such honesty before, with such care, or with such need. Wufei needed him. Wufei wanted him. And Duo was beyond humbled.

With not altogether steady hands, Duo reached for the hem of the T-shirt he had changed in to, to lift it over his head, but was stopped by Wufei, who lifted it with thumbs only, fingers sliding across his skin, causing muscles to jump, his breath to catch, and a moan to escape upon exhale.

Bronzed fingers came up again to press against ivory skin, and Wufei dropped his lips to touch above Duo's collarbone, where his pulse fluttered. He slid lower, opening his mouth to draw his tongue across Duo's shoulder, burning the other's skin, eliciting a gasp, and leaving Wufei to savor the taste and feel of him.

When Wufei pulled back, Duo reached out, eyes dark with barely suppressed desire, as he tried to get the buttons of the shirt the Chinese boy wore to cooperate with him. Impatience had him ripping down, sending the offending snaps flying to the ground, where they clattered and slid across the floor to the darkened corners untouched by the moon. Trembling fingers lifted the undershirt left behind, and then smoothed themselves to the contours of Wufei's chest, liking the hiss of air that escaped the other's lips, and the way Wufei's fingers came up to grip his forearms.

Lips met again, and bare skin pressed against bare skin for the first time, their pulses and heartbeats melting into one so that they could not separate the two. The need to touch and explore was overwhelming, and fingers touched here and there, and lips slid across heated flesh, pressed into the sweet scent of hair, and met each other, where their individual tastes mingled.

Duo slid off the edge of the bed and onto Wufei, who was bent back on his own heels, eyes wide with the feel of Duo's arousal against his own. His breath caught painfully in his chest as he allowed himself to be pushed back all the way, falling against the floor with a noticeable thud. He looked up to find Duo sprawled across him, the American's smiling face inches from his own.

"Your knee-"

"Is fine," Duo assured him, pleasure arching through him at the unsteadiness of Wufei's voice.

Dark eyes softened as he reached up to take Duo's face in his hands. The other boy turned his face to the side, pressing his lips to the inside of Wufei's wrist. And then words ceased to be needed again, as Wufei rolled carefully to the side and came up, half his body covering Duo's as he stared at it in consideration.

The Chinese pilot ran a finger experimentally along Duo's side, marveling at the response, the way his muscles tensed and quivered, rising toward him as if seeking more. He brought his hand lower, splaying it across the flesh of his stomach just above the waistband of his loose fitting pants. Pressing a kiss to his side, Wufei deftly slid his fingers into the warmth beneath the pants, noting Duo's sharp intake of breath. Fingers encountered crisp hair, and then closed around the combination of softness and strength.

Duo's hips jerked upward, and he cried out, "Wufei!"

A smile formed as dark eyes swept shut, an answering tug pulling on his groin at having his name called with such abandon.

Duo's palms flexed against the floor, his breath coming in short, quick gasps as he tried to deal with the sensations having Wufei's hands on him created. The Chinese pilot was certainly not sparing him any mercy, as his fingers curved, and pressed, and moved in a rhythm that was taking him one step closer to the edge of release.

Then, abruptly it stopped, and cold air washed across the center of his heat, before his pants were tossed aside and he was only given a moment to regain his breath. Wufei's mouth, hot and damp, brushed across his stomach, playing a game of making lazy circles until it moved past his navel and pulled him deep into warmth. The rhythm began all over again, and Duo could feel the hold on his control slipping through his trembling fingertips.

"H-hey Wu-Wufei, not yet, I-"

Long fingers reached up to press against his lips and he closed his eyes, letting himself be swept away with the feelings that seemed to be coming from every part of him, leaving him weak and wanting less, but craving more. It was the most exquisite pain he had ever experienced, building and building until he thought he would break into a million tiny pieces. And then he did. He shattered as his hips arched off the floor, and the waves of pleasure poured through him, leaving him hot and cold and finally too weak to move.

When he opened his eyes, it was to find Wufei just above him, staring at him intently. Unable to form words, he let his own eyes do the talking, as he reached up and pulled the other boy down. They lay like that for some time, Wufei listening to the rapid beating of Duo's heart, beyond comfortable, beyond content, before he came to his knees and pulled the Deathscythe pilot into his arms to once again deposit on the bed.

Duo rose to meet him when he joined the former on the bed, reaching out to tug Wufei's own pants down his hips, liking the innocent way the Chinese boy's face flushed. The boy could love him as if he had done that many times before, and then when it came his turn, his inexperience shone through. That was more than fine with Duo. They could learn together. Each the other's first.

To both his shock and pleasure, Duo found that Wufei was bronze everywhere, as if the Chinese pilot made a habit of wandering around in the nude. Which was probably far from the truth, but it made an interesting image for Duo to mull over.

He pressed his lips to the hollow of Wufei's throat, drawing a pattern down his body with the tip of his tongue, stopping only long enough to draw a lazy circle around his arched nipple, before taking it into his mouth and gently rubbing it against edge of his tongue. Wufei's startled exclamation had him smiling, as he by-passed his navel entirely to part his legs and press kisses on the inside of his thigh.

Wufei instinctively quivered and jerked away from him, Duo's breath fanning across his skin in a way that was entirely unsettling but welcome at the same time. He could not offer up much protest as skilled fingers traveled across his body, seeming not to miss any part of him. The touch lit his skin afire, showed him what it felt like to fly outside of his Gundam. And when they lifted, he found himself reaching out for more.

Duo lay beside him now, and their arms were wrapped around one another, bodies pressed together, Duo's hair trapped between them as their lips met again and again, pulling, touching, and exploring.

Abruptly, the American rolled away from him, rising to his feet with a slightly painful jerk. He was a magnificent study in the moonlight, surrounded by a cloud of dark hair, and for a moment, all Wufei could do was stare at him in silent admiration.

"I'll be right back," Duo promised, when he was finally able to tear his eyes away from the sight of Wufei lying on his bed, head propped up on his hand, his body a length of lithe muscle.

Wufei lay where Duo left him, feeling at peace and for the first time, complete. He had never known that giving and taking pleasure could bring so much with it. All he knew, was that in this moment, he loved Duo more than he ever had, and promised himself that he would get up the courage to tell the American pilot so.

True to his word, Duo hobbled back in to the room a short time later, something clutched in his hand.

Brows raised, Wufei asked, "What is that?"

To his credit, the American pilot colored slightly. "It's... lotion."

"Lotion?"

"For..." his words faltered. He, who was so good at talking his way through and out of anything, didn't know quite how to explain this to Wufei.

Collapsing gratefully onto the bed next to the Chinese boy to relieve the weight from his injured knee, he held it up and said quietly, "I want you inside of me."

Another blush swept across Wufei's cheeks and he could only manage, "Oh..."

"Do you...?"

Wufei nodded.

Duo smiled, and Wufei, who was touched by it, reached up to finger his cheek. "You are beautiful."

His heart caught. "But not stupid?"

Wufei felt a smile bloom. "No, not stupid."

And while he was poised above him, eyes locked on that beautiful profile, he said, "Duo... I... I love you."

Before the American could answer, he plunged deep into him, holding on to him tightly, remaining unmoving as he fought to keep control of his near shredded mind.

"Hey... W-Wu," Duo managed on a shaky whisper, "do you mean it? Do you love me?"

He moved.

"Yes. You should know me better than that," he drew out.

Duo thought he would burst, both from the pleasure of Wufei's words and the pleasure of his hands on him again.

"I love you too, Wufei Chang."

And the rhythm began again, taking them both higher, flying on invisible wings, closer to another human than they had ever been, and together over the edge of reality, where their minds and bodies shattered and were carried away on the moonbeams dancing across the floor.