She waits on her knees for his reply, dreading the answer she knows is coming... but she had to ask. The floor, although well-carpeted, is hard on her knees, and she shifts slightly. Please... just this once... just once...
She had known he would say no, he always says no; but she could never help asking. But tonight she has gone too far, has allowed more of her desperation to show than she meant, and still, it is not enough. If she were to abandon pride completely, to weep and beg, she knows it would not be enough. His eyes are dark, troubled, not without regret.
"No." He shakes his head once, for emphasis.
The single word crushes her with the force of gravity, pressing her to the floor, and she feels the need rising inside her. With a sense of despair she tries once more... "Please... god, please, just this once! I need it, I want you so bad, please, make love to me, just once--" She breaks off, sharply, before the gasping breath turns into a sob. She bites her lip fiercely, holding her breath, her gaze never leaving his eyes.
Not me, never me you wanted... god, just once, why couldn't it have been me? Why couldn't it be me you wanted, me you watched out of the corner of your eye? But I see you, always, and it's him you watch, him you want, not me. Never me.
"No, Relena," he says again. "You know that." She does know that. He has told her, often enough. If he ever fucks anyone, it is not going to be her, she thinks bitterly. Not because she means nothing to him, no--but because the other means so much. He has already decided who it's going to be, and if he can't have him, he won't have anyone, not like that. He lets her kiss him, lets her touch him, lets her get him off, but he would never make love to her. Never. That is only for him.
She could almost admire that loyalty, that true heart, but she wishes -- god, she wishes -- that it were directed at her.
Seeing the finality and the pain in his eyes as he repeats the words, something inside her finally dies. She has asked, every time; it has become something of a ritual for them. But she has never let him see before just how badly she wants it. She had known, somehow, what the choice would be, and it hurts. Oh god, it hurts like hell.
She can't even hate him, the long-haired, blue-eyed imp who has stolen the soldier's heart from her. No, she can't hate him. She can't blame Heero for wanting him... he is damn sexy, and she has to admit it.
Sighing, she opens her eyes again, knowing as she does so that this will be the last time. She can't keep doing this and keep her soul intact. Something inside her has broken tonight, and suddenly this isn't just about sex anymore, and she just can't do it. She looks up at the naked, perfect body of the man before her, aching with longing and want. Need. Just once, just once more, she would make him see stars, make him come at her touch... not the touch he craved, the lover he wanted, but a lover's touch all the same.
His eyes are hooded, silently asking a question. You sure you want to do this? Yes! Yes, of course she does... they are here, and naked, and both horny, and she isn't about to let him go without finishing what they started. She will take one last chance to savor this, to be with him, to cherish the illusion of being his lover.
Her clever, talented mouth and fingers stroke and tease and soon have him panting, gasping, his fingers clenched in her hair.
When he comes, finally, she swallows as much of it as she can, the rest dripping down her chin. He is completely silent as he comes, rigid with his head thrown back, biting his lip until it almost bleeds. He wouldn't say it, wouldn't say a word, and for that she is grateful, that he does her at least that small courtesy, not to cry another's name in her bedroom.
He looks down at her then, blue eyes glinting as she carefully wipes her chin with a slim white finger, and slowly, deliberately licks it clean. God, he was beautiful, gorgeous when he came.... but she knows, instinctively, that she has never seen that complete abandon to passion that only one person will ever bring him to. She knows that she will never see him like that, and suddenly, sharply, it stabs her in the gut with a knife of loss and pointless envy.
She has lost him, really lost him then. And all for a dream, a wish, a man who doesn't even care. Or at least, has shown no sign of caring. She knows the only reason she has ever had as much of him as she did, was that he believed the one he really wanted, didn't want him. But she has never had him, really.
He sighs, watching her expressive face as she thinks, and she knows he understands. It is over, this... whatever it is. She is no longer going to be there as a comfort, a substitute. If he wants to get some, he's going to have to go and get it where he really wants it. She knows too, in the back of her mind, that he is sorry he has hurt her.
"Don't," she whispers fiercely. "Just... don't. This was my choice, my decision, remember? I knew what it was. Don't you dare pity me."
"Aa." He sinks to the floor beside her, and reaches out, gently, to touch her cheek. "I am... sorry." I would do anything for you, princess... anything but that.
She closes her eyes, leaning into the touch, and reaches out blindly. He pulls her awkwardly into his arms, leaning forward to rest his head against her shoulder. She shudders once, then goes still, laying her cheek on his hair. "Promise me something?"
"Anything," he says softly, the immediate response triggering a rush of a mixed emotions in her breast. Pride, and respect, and affection, that he trusts her enough to promise anything, trusts her not to break that trust by asking something he can't give.
A bitter angry voice in her head taunts her, telling her that if he is that naive, she could at least take advantage of it. That it is the only way she will ever have anything more than a taste of him, of his body. She knows, having promised, that he would honor his word... and hate her for it.
She struggles for a moment, knowing that all she has to do is ask...but no, she could not do that to him. He can't help who he fell in love with, just as she can't help loving him. Her heart aches. Just once, I want to see...
She hesitates, choosing her words carefully. If... no... "When you get to be with him, that first time when you take him... let me watch."
He freezes, then his head comes up, eyes wide with shock. He searches her face, his eyes narrowing, thoughtfully. Finally, he nods his head once, a brief, sharp gesture. "If I can, I will." He leaves it at that, the implications clear -- it might not be up to him, and he would not risk losing the man he loved for her, if he had any objections.
Knowing that it is the best she is going to get, she relaxes slightly, giving him a tiny smile. She knows that if at all possible, he will keep his word. She can watch him, with the one he loves, the one he truly wants, and just once she will see him completely lose himself to that blinding whiteness. She feels small and shameful asking it of him, but she has to, she needs to see him like that, to know beyond a doubt that the man he loves can give him something that is simply not in her power.
And just once, she wants, needs to see the expression on his beautiful face as he comes for the one he loves, the one who makes him burn with passion and devotion beyond any other. Even if it isn't her, she has to see it.