Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Bloodlust ❯ Trowa Barton ( Chapter 5 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Early the next night I woke up, and I thought I was alone. When I opened my eyes, there hung from the high ceiling more shrunken heads and corpses pulled into various positions of torture. One androgynous piece of art had its legs tied tightly behind its head, several pairs of of scissors stuck in its genitals. That must of hurt like a son of a bitch; compared to that time I tripped over the roof edge and landed on my hands and knees, I would say that sort of torture would've left me wanting to die.

I crawled over my sea of a bed- if it was in any other house, the red sheets would've been nice- and walked over the plush red carpet. It was the sort of carpet that felt like soft sand and my feet sunk deep and comfortable into it. My room alone could hold five of my old apartment. I had a bar- a real bar full of different wines.

AND BEERS! THERE WERE BEERS!

Ahem. So I made my way to the bar, passing by my huge dressers, the stone fireplace that was already lit like the rest of the hundreds of candles and torches. Everything was just dumped around, so I guessed my servants had put the stuff in without really knowing what to do. Or maybe they dumped it all and ran after seeing the ceiling.

I chose a really expensive brand called Lamian Bait. It would sound like a fish hook, and before it had a different name, but after they changed it, more vampires bought it. The drink is actually very good, but now they've inflated the prices. Who cares now, I can afford it. If only I can open the damn thing. Using all my strength will only break the bottle, and I'm not too fond of my beer laced with glass shards. I started looking through the small drawers on either side of the sink for a bottle opener, finding blood-tipped darts, knives, and scissors. I'm kinky, but not downright insane to use these things during sex.

There was a drawer full of rotten penises. Another of shrunken breasts. After I found the jars full of eyeballs floating around in a reddish liquid with clumps of optical nerves, I lost interest in my beer. Resolved, I went back and settled back on my bed and opted to survey my room. Besides what I already noticed or expected, like the lack of windows, there was a large grandfather clock which hands were- surprise, surprise- the pinky and middle finger.

Then I spied my closet, which had two sets of double doors, the ones that fold when you open them. I'm no flashy almost-transvestite gay man, but I sure as hell love some good clothes. And if you have more than one embellished door to your closet, you're bound to have some cool shit. Granted, there may be a few eccentricies, but hopefully I'll find some good clothes.

As soon as I opened the door I heard a spark, and all the torches lit up in the middle of the walk-in closet. It was practically a whole other room. Thank Fate that there was actually some fantastic outfits. Mostly BDSM sort of stuff, like spiked boots, leather pants, decorated whips, masks, gags, et cetera. When I traveled deeper, I found all sorts of outfits- maid, bunny, ultra-bondage, the works. Just looking at them gave me a powerful erection, and the feeling of being underdressed in my wrinkled jeans and form-fitting T-shirt.

There was one disconcerting notion that I figured out quickly. The stuff was all in pristine condition except with a layer of dust. You would think that the clothes were new until you see the dust, or at least there would be something out of place or covered in blood. I think that ol' dead dad must have never used anything because he was too busy with crazy things like knives and the gadgets in his Fun Room. Even the whips weren't enough.

As I thought about this and left the closet I heard a very, very small noise. At first I thought it was a mouse, but my trusty instinct told me it was something else. Or someone. I got on my hands and knees and snuck a look out my closet towards my bed. My pet, I mean Catherine's brother was making his way from under it, the rustle of the sheets was what I had heard.

I think dad and his kids at least fed the poor slaves, before skinning them or cutting them to pieces, because this boy had an incredible body. He took one look at the closet, didn't see me, and crawled on all fours towards the bar. The muscles under his smooth, scarred skin undulated and wavered like a powerful cat. Again, he checked the closet, and I saw his eyes were bright green, his mouth delicious, and his cinnamon brown hair short but long as a bang over his right eye.

What really got me were the bite marks, all sorts of sizes, covering everywhere from the bottom of his foot to just below his collarbone. Fortunately, even with the scars and bites, everything was still intact, which meant that he was the main slave for a short time.

He took a bottle of Lamian Bait, and I heard him fish around below the bar, as if he was scratching around on the floor. When he stood up, a bottle opener in his hand, I decided to make my way out of the closet.

A rabbit. Or maybe even in a deer in headlights. Caught red-handed by a searchlight. That's the way I can sum up his expression. He simply froze there, the cap and bottle opener in one hand and the neck of the bottle in the other. I was wise enough to stop before he hopped off- I mean ran off back under the bed to hide.

Holding my hand out placatingly, I said softly, "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you. I may look like my dad and his kids but I won't hurt you." He began to shake, and I decided to be a bit more honest, "Okay, I might play a little rough, bite you hard, pierce a few crazy places.. but this-" I fanned the ceiling and waved to the drawers. "-I don't like this sort of stuff. I don't think you should kill pets or torture them... to the point of insanity or anything, you understand me?" Unless he was already insane, and I couldn't blame him.
I stepped forward and he backed up, rattling the bottles with enough force to knock a few off so that they hit the wooden counter and broke. His frantic eyes skimmed the mess the shattered wine bottles made. He seemed to hyperventilate, the cords of his neck standing out.

"Easy! Easy, dude, easy," I began to hiss, holding both hands out over the counter. I climbed over and grabbed him by his freezing elbows, a blast of his energy, soaked in fear, hit my senses like a ton of bricks. Each green eye constricted and dilated abnormally, so I stayed still, keeping my face calm, but the awful smell of his fright made me sick. His episode had to pass before I do anything else, but when he just continued to pant I whispered soothing things, rubbing his arms.

"Not.." he gasped in a raspy voice, as if he had spent the last three years screaming. "Not going to hurt me?"

I noted the skeptism, but at least he was regarding me as someone other than the bastard who hurt him.

"Of course not," I said assuredly. "But if you're thirsty you should tell me first. Not nice to dig around in someone else's bar." Finally he had stopped shaking, staring dejectedly at the broken bottles. "Hey, we're men. We can make some girls clean it up."

He looked up at me with a slight tilt of his mouth. "I'll clean it," he said, and he immediately sped to the closet. Of course, he was much more familiar with the room than I was.

And he was naked. I noticed it subconsciously before, but now I was aware that he was completely naked. Thing was, I haven't seen his penis. When you see a naked boy, you expect to see a penis, but I even remembered, in this short amount of time, the way his hips met the curve of his thighs.

"Hey, turn around," I ordered suddenly, not really sure what I was looking for.

I wasn't looking for anything because nothing was there. Nothing but an expanse of more smoothly scarred skin between his legs, like a battered mannequin doll. When he realized I was staring at his lack of genitals, his cheeks bloomed into a red color. He tilted his head so far forward that his bang covered all of his face.

"They cut it off?" I asked incredulously.

He shook his head, lifting his head and showing me his blush. It was cute and arousing.

"You were born without it?" Again, a negative, and I was stumped for a moment, then I asked, "Does it, like, fold into your body? Until you got to pee or something?"

"Y...Y-Yes. Or...O-Or when I'm...a-aroused," he stuttered this embarrassing fact. Then he asked, very calmly now, with a deadpan face, "Should I put on some clothes, Daddy?"

Insert awkward silence.

"Daddy? Is that what you used to call Lord Maxwell?"

His small blush came back. "Sorry. What would you like for me to call you?"

"Hmm.. Nothing so extravagant as 'Daddy', maybe Sir Extremely Awesome, Lord of the Underworld and the Souls of Earth, Ruler of the Universe, or master." He was smiling that small shy smile. "Whichever you prefer....uhh...." Never did catch his name.

Covering himself, he said in that rough baritone of his, "Trowa...Trowa Barton, master." A thrill of energy shot down my spine. This was my personal slave. He wasn't going home to his mother's house, keeping the truth that he just spent half his college savings on an all night charade with a vampire. Whenever I have sex with him, it'll all be mine; when I pierce him, that will all be mine as well. My Trowa Barton.

"Yea, Trowa, pick out some clothes."

Trowa walked backwards to the closet, still holding his hands over his nonexistent privates. I can't believe, actually I can believe, that Trowa, or probably none of the slaves, wore clothes. It's sexier wearing clothes, especially when you are anticipating what they believe would look good for you and take their time choosing, and vice versa.

The wait was worth it. He came out, deadpan again, dressed in a less frilly style of the French maid dress, stockings styled in with roses, and tiny black shoes. He held a broom, dustpan, and a bottle of cleaner, but the other arm he draped another set of clothes.

"Yours, master, if you want. You're about the same size as Lord Maxwell's Callie."

"Hell yea. Hope it is as sexy as what you're wearing." See, that's the kind of kinky stuff I like.

While I got dressed, he cleaned up the mess. What he picked for me was awesome: tight leather jeans, shiny boots, and a long-sleeved shirt that was dark purple to match my eyes. He even had a brush, so I got my hair out of its morning mess and re-braided it with a violet ribbon, made of the smoothest silk. I was finished before he was, so I went over and stood to watch his boxer-brief clad ass work over a spot in the floor with a rag from somewhere. I didn't talk because I didn't want to ruin the view. I was almost sure that he would try to cover himself up.

Somehow, he got the tough wine stain out, and the pieces of the fragile wine bottle out the carpet, sweeping the shards into the dustpan and emptying it out in the trashcan I hadn't noticed was there.

Trowa then stood and looked over to the bed, his face becoming puzzled when he didn't see me. Turning his head, he let out a gasp when he saw me just staring.

"What are you doing?" he asked rigidly.

"Whatever I want," I snapped, that, you know, Dom part getting in, and he took it that way, letting his head fall in a manner of respect.

"Sorry, D- master. Of course you are."

I said softly while walking to him, "Now, I like this obedient side of you." I lifted his face, its beautiful blush gone. "I am your master, and you are my slave. But don't treat me like some sick bastard alright? Don't treat me like my father. I am nothing like my father." Well, at least I don't think so.
"Prove it," Trowa whispered earnestly, leaning forward, the edges of his skirt pressing against my shirt, as he was albeit taller than me. "You won't hurt me like your father, you say? Or like any of my other masters?" Licking his full lips, he leaned further.

His breath has sped up, and I could tell he was recalling painful memories- and getting horny at the same time. He was getting cold again, but I think he had gathered enough strength to fight it. I was proud to know that this was because of me, maybe because I'm hot like that.

"Catherine has done so much for me, but she can't be my master. I know this may sound strange but...B-but I want someone to own me. And when he has his way with me, I want.. I just want to make sure that he still has me in mind, not just thinking he's grinding meat with his dick."

Well, my mind was full of him and his glistening green eyes and I done something that was particularly my way. I kissed him, first gently, softly, lovingly, like I knew he wanted. My lips grazed his and for a few seconds just the tantalizing smooth skin was enough to hold my arousal, and then my tongue moved of its own accord, and the taste of his mouth along with the smell of his desire assaulted my senses. Gripping the counter behind him with all the strength I could muster, I dove deeper into his mouth when he opened it invitingly, as if to coax me to see what he was like.

Fucking heaven. That's what it was like. The sweet taste of his mouth only intensified my desire so I shot out my reserves of power through my pores. Some of it collided with his, and his knees buckled. I grabbed him before he could fall, still steadily pouring my power down his throat and through his skin, and lifted him up to the counter, pulling up his dangerously small skirt to caress the muscular globes of his ass.

I swallowed his gasp when I scraped the tip of my fingernail against the ridges of his sphincter. The muscle twitched once, then set up a rhythm of contracting and loosening. When I took a break to pinch his warm, soft globes and came back to his hole, it was still spasming. I tried not imagining how that flexing ass would feel around my swollen cock. We were moving way too fast already.

"M-Master!" he cried out, and I thought I had unconsciously bitten him, as sometimes happens, like when my tongue moved for a deeper kiss.

I pulled back, expecting a trail of blood somewhere along his jaw close to his neck- my favorite spot to bite. But only his hot grip held onto my arm, encouraging my hand to move over his entrance. I pressed harder there, entering just the tip then to my first knuckle.

"N-no, wait."

That was one my favorite phases from a Sub. The self-denying command. Now, usually I would ease up because that person would have to pay me for a good job. But all I needed from Trowa was his trust, and I believe I have that already- he moved in on me. Now, all I had to do was try not to betray that trust and own him. His words, not mine.

I shoved my finger in deeper, going too fast. He froze, then continued the panting he started. Through half-lidded lusty green eyes, he watched me, slowly lifting his skirt to reveal his erection poking from his skin. This put a whole new meaning to balls drop. He held the red tip with his pretty fingers and pulled, a trail of saliva falling onto his hand. Trowa let out a strangled moan, smiling.

"This is my first hard-on in twelve years." Since the war started. "I have to warn...warn you, master-"

"You come like a girl?" I asked, knowing this plight plagued many vampires of different bloods. It was sort of a heredity disorder for some males, especially those with self-descending testicles. An oddity for most people- especially those not used to girls who, for lack of a better word, squirt. For me, it's hot.

"Oh, gods, master, so much comes out," he gasped, so totally taken in with his every sensation, I doubt he even realized what he was saying. His cock in full view, he now used his hands to hold my arms again, little whimpers escaping that wet mouth of his. He seemed about to faint, but I don't think even that would have stopped me.

I was aware that I had two fingers fucking him; my appendages were addicted to the twitching feeling. He was self-lubricating- a rare talent that I had hoped was present in my real first slave- so it was easy to move. It was impossible to remember when my hand began fisting his cock. I repositioned him over the sink, on his hands and knees, thrusting harder with my fingers, shallowly so that I didn't hit his prostate. I wriggled back and forth in his ass, relishing in his whimpers, feeding on his desire in tiny bits.

"I-I'm going to come," he warned, his voice was husky with want.

I abruptly pulled out my fingers and let go of his cock. My heavy lust had stained my pants, I noticed when I unbuttoned them, pulling out my own cock. Trowa, whimpering at his lost stimulation, looking at me with those big green eyes, took one glance at my cock and tried to jump over the other side of the counter. I grasped his hand, which was rapidly losing its heat.

Hell no. This was just getting good. Any normal person would have been more excited, seeing my thick eight-inch cock, unless they were new to good sex. I hurriedly mounted the counter to the space behind him, even when he began to kick and nearly slide off himself.

He hissed, "No. I don't want this anymore." Now that he had come to his senses, or back to his normal self, he was becoming feral- using his vampire strength, so I had to use mine. I took him by the shoulders and forced his head down onto the counter.

Fire fueled my veins. I gave myself time to calm down so my voice didn't sound scary as I moved my mouth close to his ear, my cock nestling snug beetween his cheeks. I forced some of his desire back into him, and he shuddered anew, warming up.

"Calm down, Trowa. You've been a good pet." I licked the shell of his ear, then suckled his earlobe. His asshole began to twitch again, moving against my cock with an agonizing ryhthmic pressure. "It's not just about me doing what I want. It's about you wanting me to do what I want. Trust me."

"I-I-I'm sorry, master," he apologized, making it up by grinding back. "But you're so big, you'll break me. Like...like he did."

I smacked him hard across his ass, then another one for good measure. For sure, I believe he would become all cold again, but his desire erupted.... so he liked pain then.

"What did I say? Don't treat me like my father!" I spanked him some more, then clenched his burning skin, spreading him open, his already moist entrance glistening and clenching. "Now I'm going to fuck you good, you understand me?" He nodded eagerly, groaning when I pressed the tip of me inside. "Relax, pet, relax." Now I had to relax, his twitching only sped up once I entered him. We were both shaking with the sensation of our combination.

Each time his pulsing slowed down, I moved in another inch, really wanting to just shove it all in like a beast. When I finally got all of it in, and what a sight that was, he was gasping so loud I thought he would start hyperventilating again.

"Move," he growled, trying to thrust back by himself.

I kept one hand on his hip and struck each cheek. "I'll do what I want," I asserted, "And you'll take it, my sexy wench." I expected him to like dirty talk; I sure as hell loved it. In response, he twitched sporadically. My climax was fast approaching, so I began to move in and out, swallowing the build-up of saliva. One of these days, I'm going to look up the reason why some people drool when they have sex.

Soon, he didn't have the strength to hold himself on his hands, collapsing forward every time I hit his sweet spot so that we would disconnect and I constantly had to reinsert myself. I leaned forward once more and grabbed his arms, pulling him back onto my cock, on my lap, while I sat on my heels. He groaned loudly over the new position before I even started moving again. Over his shoulder, I could see his stark red erection.

"Hey, my little wench?" From the way he subtly twitched, I knew he was listening; he just didn't have the power to answer. "I want you to jerk yourself off until you come. Would you do that for me?" I loved to watch my Sub masturbate, and nothing is better than that person's ass around you. Trowa used both hands to pull and squeeze his cock, whimpering incesstantly. Then we ran into a little problem. He was horny enough to come soon, but he seemed afraid to do so.

"Does it hurt? Are you so tight and hot you can't do it by yourself?" He bobbed his head. I slowly fucked him, both of us on edge. I was thinking I could train him into thinking like a good pet, and he would soon think of something.

Beg me, beg me, beg me.

"W-Would you help me, master? Please?" He tentatively took my hand and pulled so I was barely touching his hardness. That's what a good pet does.

"Sure I can," I growled, grasping him with brutal strength and pumping him quickly, and my hips began to snap deep inside him.

"O-Oh...W-wait!" But that was the last he spoke because then I mercilessly shoved him down, again, pinning the upper half of his body with my own. I made sure to angle his cock towards the sink. If he came like a girl squirts, it would be a bitch to clean up.

I yanked, thrusted, and finally bit him- but not hard enough to puncture the skin. I thought at the last minute to leave that for later. All the energy built up into one swirling spot at the base of my cock, ready to spend my seed into my first slave. But I waited a bit longer, waiting for...

His voice broke and shot up an octave instantly, clamping down more tightly than I could even believe, I couldn't even move. Luckily my orgasm came at the same time. I clenched my teeth, shooting up that moist, tight heaven, all of it more intense as I felt the energetic spurts from Trowa's cock. It sounded like he accidentally turned on the faucet, but really was his cum splashing the sides of the sink as his orgasm ripped through him.

I rose when the shocks of my orgasm subsided, letting him free, and then braced myself as I pulled out. His ass still gripped me like a glove, tempting me to have another go at it. But I put my libido in check and soon my still hard cock was out of him.

Trowa still hadn't moved up. I brushed my fingers through his soft hair, but he didn't move, except the shallow up and down movements of his chest. He was unconscious. That meant I was awesome in bed, figuratively speaking. A large amount of cum drained its way down the side of the sink, the pretty thick strands of silvery white fluid moving like molasses.

Peeling off his adorable outfit, hope we didn't ruin it, I stuffed him naked into my bed. Trowa moaned once, then went back to sleep.

I looked around. There was just one other door, and I believe it lead to the hall.

"It is the bath."

Heero's voice suddenly coming from the middle of the room nearly sent me to the wall and my heart jumping out of my chest.

"Gosh, Heero. Why don't you just whack me on the back?"

"Already done that, and you passed out." His face was stone, and he didn't seem interested or fazed that I was naked and still horny. Heero's face was more blank than a wall.

"I'm going to pretend that was a joke and go take a bath." I got up to rummage around in my closet, or explore, which was more like it. I got what looked most similar to the clothes Trowa gave me earlier. Then I found a Turkish towel. "Wanna' join me, Heero?" I called after me as I opened the door.

"Just hurry and take a bath. You have a lot to do today, Duo."

I gagged and decided I was going to take my time in the large bathtub- which was more like a pool, already filled with hot water and bubbles- before I saw that Heero sat on a stool at the edge, in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors. He moved damn fast.

"You have seven minutes," he said, looking determinedly at his watch.

As I took my bath I realized that I didn't have a sexy bodyguard that I'll someday fuck, I had a freaking nanny, and I wished Trowa Barton was in here with me!