Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Tension ❯ Tension ( Chapter 1 )

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

Tension

by paxnirvana Rating: NC-17 Fandom: Gundam Wing Characters: Heero x Duo (1x2) Archive: Please ask first. Date Complete: 6/18/03 Website: http://home.attbi.com/~paxnirvana/ (for now - until Comcast changes it, curse them)

Author's Note: Non-con. Might be a squicky concept to some - hey, it is to me. Blame my muses for giving me this idea in a fandom I have absolutely no interest in diving into any further. They're twisted and contrary little bitches lately. *heavy sigh* And Duo's so dang cute too...

Fanfic Disclaimer: Spoilers. Duh. If you're writing a fanfic without series spoilers, then you can probably do a 'search and replace' for names and make it a story for any series, in my humble opinion. So I don't believe in giving a reader spoiler warnings unless something is very, very new. And Gundam Wing certainly ain't new... so read at your own risk.

Disclaimer: Sotsu/Sunrise and a whole lot of other Very Important Companies own these guys... and I'm infringing all over the place here. There, I admitted it. But I certainly ain't making the money - they're the only ones who do.

By the time he cracked the hatch again, the hanger was dark and cold. Empty save for the towering forms of two Gundams other than his own Wing and the scaffolding and equipment that allowed for repairs. Deathscythe. Shenlong.

Wing had not been damaged despite the savagery of this last battle; he had briefly left the suit earlier to confirm visually what his instruments and recall told him. He had warned the repair crews away with curt answers to their inquiries until they had let the great mobile suit be; he was strangely unable to bear the presence of anyone near it for too long. The mission data had been downloaded and sent for analysis; his initial debriefing had been held in the hanger simply because he refused to leave. And he had remained in the hanger when the base commander left. For some reason, it was taking him longer than usual to settle after battle, his blood still running thick and eager in his veins, all his senses still heightened by the intense level of concentration necessary in combat. Every sound made him flinch, if subtly, and every voice raked at his nerves; the sights, scents, motion of the busy hanger were a torment. He controlled himself brutally, not allowing the unexpected violence of the reaction that clawed at him an outlet. There was no reason to wish to strike down a mechanic simply for dropping a wrench behind him, yet his response had been nearly that by the end of the debrief. Once the commander was finished with him, he had returned to the cockpit of Wing to sit in silence and darkness, arms folded over his chest. There he focused on the beat of his own heart, the steady draw and exhale of air into his lungs, the odd, hollow roaring in his ears, determined to eliminate any inappropriate reactions.

The great suit around him made quiet sounds as it slowly cooled, it's power drained away for the moment, it's subtle presence masked by the roaring in his own mind.

Something was wrong.

Unease filtered through the still-coiled tension within him. It should not take him this long to return to resting mode after a battle. Yet it was something that had been building, over time, after every mission's end. Something he didn't understand. It was a waste of his energy, this tension that would not fade. It drained him, he knew, but he did not know how to stop it. Nothing in his training gave him a way to deal with this odd reaction. It was hours past, yet his body still sang with the full intensity of battle and would not be calmed. His heart rate was elevated. His respiration was still too deep, each breath drawn in heavily through his nose and released the same way, slow and deliberate. If he relaxed his control in the slightest, he knew, his lips would part and he would pant, as if he had just finished a fight for his life rather than simply sitting in Wing's pilot seat. He did not relax his control, eyes closed, head back, yet the tension in his body made even the brush of his own hands against his sides with each slowly indrawn breath a nerve-jangling experience.

Why did his skin feel this way? Tight. Flushed. Why was his mouth dry? He'd drunk water as needed on re-entry, tending the physical needs of the pilot much as he would the great suit he rode, as a matter of procedure to keep necessary equipment running smoothly.

Sitting in the cockpit was doing nothing to ease him, he realized at last. Perhaps a workout in the base gym would drain this unwelcome feeling from his body. Or a run around the perimeter of this high-altitude mountain base. Exhaustion might be the only solution.

Heero rode the cable down from the cockpit, keying the remote that cycled the hatch closed again once he had stepped away onto the hanger floor. He stood by Wing's feet in darkness, hands fisted at his sides, fighting to control the slow tremors that rippled through his body, irritation and frustration and near-rage shifting places endlessly in his mind. What was this? Was he ill?

He came sharply alert when he heard the sound of a door on the far side of the hanger opening and closing. No lights were turned on, but the intruder didn't hesitate, heading straight for the trio of mobile suits. He melted into the shadows behind Wing's right leg, crouching down behind the high curve of the armored foot, eyes narrowed, battle-focus fixed on the sound of the other's approach. An infiltrator? Just a guard? Or… neither. His eyes had long ago adjusted to the low light, but the intruder was dressed all in black, blending into the uncertain shadows of the hanger as if part of them. There was no attempt at stealth, he observed through the flickering heat that rolled through him. The shape simply strode across the hanger until it reached the Gundams, stopping beside Deathscythe. Then a hand reached out and rested against the black mobile suit's leg.

The walk, the form, the posture; he relaxed fractionally from attack mode. He recognized this 'intruder'. Duo Maxwell. A shudder of something… apprehension?… ran through him. His already tight nerves sang in a different way now.

"Hey, buddy," he heard the other pilot say suddenly in an odd tone. He stiffened, thinking himself discovered, then realized, as the words went on without pause, that Duo was speaking to the towering mobile suit before him. "Kept you waitin' didn't I? Sorry."

His concentration narrowed down to the other pilot and he listened to him intently through the odd roaring growing in his ears.

"That was a hard one, eh, 'Scythe?" Duo said, stepping closer to the suit and pressing both hands to the metal leg now. His head lowered, tipping forward until the heavy braid on his back slithered over his shoulder and swung free. "Thought we were gonna buy it in that last bit, but we made it through again. Thanks. I really… owe you again… buddy… oh God..."

There was a raw, husky quality to Duo's voice as it trailed away that he'd never heard before. He stared at the other pilot, trying to decipher that tone from other clues. It wasn't pain. Or anger. Or even careless levity. He had heard all of those before. This was something… else. He examined Duo carefully, aware, suddenly that he knew that form well, despite the brief amount of time they had encountered each other so far in the course of the war; noting now that the lean body was taut, filled with a tension like the one that filled him. He quivered in place, eyes narrowing on the black-clad boy as he slowly leaned forward, one forearm bracing him against the mobile suit's leg as the other dropped down to his waist.

"I wasn't gonna do this again, was I, 'Scythe? But I can't stop… the shakes… damn it…" Duo's voice was shuddering, words breaking free between panting breaths. Duo worked at his own belt, opening it with quick, urgent motions, nimble fingers releasing the button on the pants beneath. He could see his hand shaking as he tugged the zipper down; he watched as Duo paused a moment to fist his hand as if trying to control the tremors, and failed.

Questions spun in his mind, unformed, strangely raw. Duo was rarely disconcerted, rarely anything other than cheerful or focused. This behavior was outside his experience of the other pilot. Unusual. And he couldn't tear his gaze away from the bow of the other boy's back, the sway of the long braid. The sound of Duo's ragged breaths clawed at his own control again, sending the tension raging high within him, sending the blood surging in his veins.

"Why… why this… shit… 'Scythe…" Duo's hand slid inside his pants, pushing the opened fly wide, maneuvering through the tails of his shirt and the underwear beneath to draw his erection out with a shuddering sigh. Heero stared at the sight even as shock slammed through him and he suddenly understood.

He was hard too. Hard like steel within the spandex of his shorts. The tension. The short breathing. The restless ache that wouldn't fade. He understood at last.

Duo's hand was moving over his own erection tightly. Stroking. Pulling. The suck of wetness joined the sound of flesh on flesh as his hand moved faster, his slender body rocking in time to the motion, braid swaying. There was no hesitation, no words now, just urgent motion and a searing need to reach the end as fast as possible. He was gasping quietly, soft exhalations that no one else would have heard. But they fell on Heero's ears like cries of anguish.

He watched, blood pounding, heart racing, as Duo arched suddenly, head flying back, mouth falling open to release not the shout he'd half braced himself for, but a short, muffled sound that was more sorrow and distress than pleasure. Pale fluid splattered over the black armor of the Gundam's foot, gathering and running in thick, sluggish lines down the shining metal. Duo leaned forward again, pressing his cheek against the leg armor, head turned toward his hiding place, eyes closed. Heero stared at that slow flow, listened to Duo gulp breath, aware of a trembling hand still holding a subsiding erection as words fell scattered between.

"…can't help it. 'Scythe… need you…"

The words faded into silence as Duo's breathing slowly returned to normal. And as if that was some kind of sign, he pushed himself away from his mobile suit, looking up the towering form toward the 'face', somber resignation on his own face.

"Sorry to make you wait so long… I should know better by now," Duo said, tone subdued. "Forgive me?"

Heero glanced up toward the top of the suit too, almost automatically. It was dark and still, powered down. He stared at the grim, impassive mask that adorned Deathscythe's sensor cache and a fearsome, confusing tumble of nameless emotions boiled through him. He swayed where he crouched, splaying a hand over Wing's armored foot to steady himself. When he looked back down, Duo was straightening his clothes, shoulders hunched as he tucked his shirt back in his pants.

Confusion faded away. Something dark and savage won out, raging through him, making him shudder and fist his hands against his thighs tight enough that every joint in them ached. He remembered the sound of Duo's voice in battle, pitched high and eager. The jubilant cries of success when he defeated an enemy; the pain and anger when he took damage. His laughter. His jokes. His outrage. Sound… Duo was sound… noisy… but this… the choked cry… the soft wet splatters… the gasp of completion… things he should never have heard… had tried so long to avoid… the roaring was back in his ears again. Louder. Stronger.

It was conditioning. He recognized it at last. Knew it for what it was even as it ate at his control. What better way to bind a pilot to their chosen mission? To a so very valuable creation? To a difficult ideal? It was ruthless. It was inhumane. It was… inescapable. Professor G had chosen one way to control the pilot of Gundam Deathscythe, while Doctor J had clearly chosen another, more subtle method for the emotion-stripped pilot of Gundam Wing…

If only the self-destruct had worked… if only… he could spare…

He must have made a sound at last himself because when his head snapped up he was looking straight into widened, shocked eyes across the hanger. Duo stumbled back against the foot of his Gundam, a hand reaching behind him for its support. Embarrassed. Exposed. Vulnerable. Heero's eyes narrowed, his face hardening into an impassive mask that part of him feared looked all too much like the one towering above them and for the first time he saw a glimmer of real fright in those too-expressive eyes.

"H-heero?" Duo said, his voice oddly thin, uncertain. "How long have you been there?" He shifted his weight and the long braid slid around his shoulder again.

The roaring reached it's peak, shaking him from within.

"Run, Maxwell," he ground out between clenched teeth with the last illusion of his free will.

Wide eyes flared impossibly wider and, to his swiftly vanishing relief, Duo ran. Fast. Nimble. Agile.

Yet it made no difference to the Perfect Soldier. He caught him beneath Shenlong. Caught him by the braid lashing behind him even as he dodged. Yanked him back hard, indifferent to the cry of angry denial, easily blocking the vicious spin kick Duo tried to deliver to his knee. He spun with the move, wound the silken braid tight around his hand, and sent them both crashing to the metal deck.

Duo fought him. Wildly but in near silence, any questions or even any curses lost to panting, furious breaths sucked in through gritted teeth. A sharp elbow to Heero's face split lip against tooth and blood splattered across them both. A knee to the groin barely deflected into the gut instead sent Heero's breath out of him sharply but did nothing to loosen his implacable grip. Duo writhed and bucked, struggling to keep Heero from pinning him fully, hampered fatally by the vanity of the long hair now wrapped tightly in his attacker's hand. Impatient, Heero resolved the rest of the battle by slamming his captive's head hard once, twice against the metal hanger floor. Duo's eyes glazed and rolled in his head. Deadly skilled hands were reduced to clawing futilely at Heero's wrists; hips bucked feebly as Heero's full weight straddled him, grinding him down into the cold deck.

"Don't make me hurt you more, Shinigami…" Heero heard the hissing words fall from his own lips even as he wound another loop of braid in his hand and slammed Duo's head back on the floor once more. The blow made Duo's eyes flare wide in pain and shock then lose focus again. His head lolled loosely in Heero's hold, eyelids fluttering uncontrollably, his clawing hands falling away, spasming uselessly.

Something untwisted slightly inside him then when the wiry form went slack beneath him. A crack in a seal. A whisper of reason through the roar of reaction.

"…Duo…" he breathed, one hand hovering trembling over the pale face below even as the other took yet another wrap on the braid. It felt like exotic rope in his hand. Silken and strong. So strong, like Duo… Then the roaring took over his head again, swallowing the brief flare of something… regret?… was that what it had been?

He lifted his head, free hand dropping down to fist in the sturdy fabric of Duo's dark shirt as his gaze swept the hanger, searching. Scaffolding loomed nearby, behind Shenlong. He rose to his feet and dragged his prize there, anchoring Duo in place by his own hair, knotting the heavy length firmly around the sturdy aluminum frame. Duo groaned softly even as a fragment of Heero's former detachment struggled within him.

No. Doctor J hadn't intended this. Not this... savagery... and not for him to go this long without fixating… it explained why the communications between them had become strained… it explained why he had always felt the Doctor was holding something back from him. Operation Meteor: his re-entry course… on the same track as Minister Darlian's shuttle… the shuttleport near the sea where he had crashed… the school… the beach… the girl…

Relena.

J had intended him to fixate on Relena. That was why, despite being off balance from losing his Gundam so soon, so easily, he hadn't been able to shoot her, his temporary programming had been in conflict with the deeper one to prevent the Gundam from falling into enemy hands at all costs. Still, the conflict had shoved aside the compulsion to seduce her and trigger his own deeper programming regarding her... It had all gone so wrong and now it had been too long… his emotions, his loyalties had been suppressed for far too long… this fixation…

The dregs of reason struggling with conjecture vanished as Duo groaned beneath him. He didn't remember straddling him, yet Heero found himself looming over Duo's body again, hands braced outside slender shoulders, staring down into the too-pale face splattered with his own blood. His lip curled in a savage grimace, the sting of parted flesh unheeded.

"W-what the hell is the matter with you, Yuy?" Duo gasped, a shaking hand reaching up toward his own hair. He could feel the tug on it, clearly. Eyes snapped open when he encountered the knot. "Bastard! My hair…" Duo snarled.

Heero slapped him silent. Not at full strength but still hard enough to snap Duo's head around.

"The hair is the least of your problems, Shinigami," he said tightly, the roaring in his ears subsiding briefly. Seduce… protect… or destroy. The jumbled impulses struggled within him, each seeking dominance, amplified by long months of denial. The keys to the fixation were there… the hair… the eyes. Yet the wrong trigger had been struck… the sound of release… white splatters on armor. This was Duo and not Relena. Months too late, twisted and changed… teetering on the edge… the pressure… the tension. Once freed, it couldn't be stopped…

Duo glared at him from the corner of his eyes, not turning to face him as he reared back enough to strip his tank top off over his head. The struggle in his own head went on even as he reached for Duo's wrists, body twisting to take a sharp punch in the ribs rather than the solar plexus from the right hand as he captured the left. He swiftly double-looped one tank top armhole around Duo's wrist, then caught the right hand and did the same with the other armhole, reaching up and hooking the neck of the shirt over a protruding bolt on the scaffolding above. The bolt was high enough that it lifted Duo's upper body off the floor, arching his head and neck back against the pull of his tied-off braid.

Some of the clawing pressure faded once he had secured him. Only some. He slid down Duo's body, careful to keep his weight on Duo's thighs and control his legs. One did not underestimate the self-proclaimed God of Death. He reached behind himself and started to unlace Duo's boots.

"Heero! What the hell?!" Duo snapped, voice constricted by the harsh arc of his neck. He could see only one eye around Duo's upraised arms - it was rolling wildly beneath tumbled bangs.

"It's too late…" Heero muttered, making short work of the first boot, the long laces eventually coming free in his hand as well. He yanked the boot off Duo's foot and tossed it away into darkness. "Don't fight anymore… I might kill you… Duo…"

The narrow hips bucked beneath his own. The steel-hard erection he'd been trying to ignore throbbed against the pressure of his spandex shorts. "What is this shit? Heero! Get off me!"

"I can't… I can't Duo… I have to… possess you… or kill you…"

"What are you talking about?" Anger now, tinted with a touch of panic. "Get off!"

"I can't Duo… J… J did this… I'm… not…"

At mention of the scientist, Duo's body jerked up. He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes squeezing shut, face a mask of anguished dread. "Oh god… oh god… no… not you too…"

Duo understood the roaring compulsion then… understood the drive filling Heero even through his own torment. The words tore at him, but his hands still kept up their work. His soldier's training whispered the most expedient ways to render his prisoner helpless. To lay him open. Soon both sets of boot laces dangled from his hands. Duo was tense beneath him, his breathing ragged, eyes still closed.

"Don't fight… maybe I won't hurt you… Duo…" Heero muttered, sliding down Duo's legs, pinning knees under his thighs as he reached for the belt of Duo's pants.

"Are you going to… fuck me?" Duo asked, his voice thready, his face deathly pale. Too many things swirled in Heero's mind; unbearable pressure, screaming white noise, the throbbing ache in his groin.

"Yes." Duo shuddered at the single word, bitten out sharply. Heero forced out more even as first the belt yielded then the zipper and he started to tug Duo's pants down over narrow hips. "Relena… it was supposed to be Relena…"

"Relena?" Duo's eyes flew open and he tried to jerk his head up, grunting sharply at the yank on his braid.

He paused for a moment, shuddering at the sound of Duo's pain; Duo's pants were already down around the knees. He shifted to strip them fully away, putting all his weight on one leg then the other as he yanked them off over Duo's feet. "It went wrong… it didn't work then… but I saw you… masturbating… heard you… something broke… in my head…"

"But… you're talking to me, Heero." A hint of hope in his voice. "Can't you fight it?"

Heero lunged forward, slamming his hands down hard on the deck beside Duo's head, making him flinch and twist defensively beneath him. His hands clenched into fists, arms shuddering, jaw clamped tightly shut as he leaned over his captive, breath coming fast and hard, heart thundering in his chest. The wide eyes looked back into his narrowed ones, shadowed with alarm and confusion and a touch of fear.

"No," he snarled, eyes savage, teeth gritted. "I can barely keep from breaking your legs… just… just don't fight me. But I can't… promise… anything…"

Duo swallowed hard, slowly nodding his understanding, gaze steady. His hands twitched, he shifted them within the loops of cloth, turning his wrists and grabbing the fabric. Holding himself up now rather than just hanging from his bonds. He was a Gundam pilot, after all. He understood mission demands… the ever-present risks of capture… what it could take to stay alive. Duo's hushed voice broke the tense silence. "G made me… I can't get it up for anyone but… 'Scythe," he swallowed hard again, flushing even like this, but not looking away from Heero's narrow gaze. "You don't need me… to… help…" He trailed off, unable to complete the question. Jumbled heat and long-buried emotion burned inside Heero. Anger. Grief. The ache of longing. Self-loathing. Clawing need. Compulsion.

"No," Heero ground out, rising up, shifting back, unable to deny the fierce impulse any longer. His hands ran hard down Duo's body, raking over him through his shirt. Moving lower. "Just… have to get… inside you…"

Duo swallowed a third time, arched throat bobbing hard, and this time he did close his eyes. Heero's hands were stripping Duo's underwear away, hauling it ungently down in harsh jerks.

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit..." The soft litany made his gaze flicker over the grimly resigned face. Duo shuddered beneath him as his hands settled on pale, taut thighs. The laces of Duo's boots were still caught between his fingers as he slid his hands down toward Duo's feet.

Wide eyes flashed open again and Duo jerked slightly, legs trembling as he forced them to stay still, his breathing wild and ragged. "No… Heero… I won't fight… you don't have to…"

"Yes, I do." The pressure in his head grew worse. His own hands were starting to tremble. "If you… struggle… I can't be sure…" He caught Duo's ankle, wound the heavy leather bootlace around it, able only, at the last, to make certain not to use a slip knot. He shoved Duo's knee up and swiftly bound ankle to quivering thigh. Duo was sucking in deep, sobbing breaths now, stomach jerking beneath his disheveled shirt. Heero reached for the other ankle.

"God! Heero! Stop!"

Despite his words, the bitter anguish in his voice, Duo didn't fight him. Knowing, maybe, that it would only shatter what tiny thread of control Heero had left. He sensed Duo's rising fear. Felt it. Tasted it. But it didn't free him of the driving need.

The little corner of his own self that was still calm, still sane, could only watch, vaguely horrified, as he eagerly wound thin black leather around lean white flesh, caught up in momentary fascination by the way the skin yielded, rounding around it. He drew it tighter, just to test the resilience of another's flesh, and heard Duo give a muffled grunt of pain. He relaxed the strap and reddened skin and muscle flexed beneath when hips shifted, tendons standing out stark on the back of the lean thigh as he bound ankle to thigh again no tighter than he had on the other side. Sitting back when done, he placed his trembling hands on Duo's bent knees to keep them spread wide. He looked up then, over the pale flesh striped by black leather, up the heaving chest and stomach still covered by tumbled black and red shirts, up to the washed-out skin of Duo's face smeared with Heero's own blood.

He could feel the throb in his split lip then, almost in time with the throb of his aching erection. Both pulsed with the heady flow of blood through his veins on circuit from his racing heart. Duo had blooded him. Injured him. It was… a minor wound… he'd endured far worse… yet… He licked his own lip slowly, feeling the break in the skin, the sting of saliva in torn flesh.

"Heero, can you… find something… a lubricant…"

Duo was staring at him, head lifted as high as he could against the tether of his own hair, some kind of plea in his eyes. Not for mercy, because he knew there would be none... could be none, now. But for a touch of compassion…

His hands flexed on Duo's knees. He leaned forward slightly, staring into Duo's eyes, entranced by the rapid shifts within, still licking his split lip. Fear. Determination. Resignation. Anger, but buried carefully deep. Duo's eyes… like windows into possibility… a glimmer of hope…

"It'll… hurt both of us… if you don't, Heero…"

He knelt between Duo's spread thighs for an endless, shaking while, struggling to reach that tiny flare of reason beneath the pressure, the drive to take… to conquer… He knew Duo spoke the truth. He understood exactly what kind of damage he would do to Duo if he didn't, yet… Fingers flexed tight into the pale, pale flesh of Duo's leg. Red marks grew around his fingers. One fingernail, slightly longer than the others, split flesh and a thin trickle of blood inched down the inside of Duo's quivering thigh. He was strong. Strong enough to twist joints apart if he wished. Strong enough to rend flesh with his bare hands. Duo stayed silent, only the teeth sinking into his lower lip a sign of the pain Heero was causing him, eyes steady, watching him intently.

"Don't. Move. Don't make a sound… I can't… just don't move, Duo…" The words were torn from the depths of his frayed control. He saw relief flood those eyes, rewarding him. Saw the single, tight nod of Duo's head in confirmation. He forced his fingers to release, one at a time, drawing in sharp, sucking breaths the while, body trembling with the effort of will it took. He inched away, gaze locked on Duo's frozen form.

"Don't move… stay still… Duo…" The wide eyes tracked him. Followed him as closely as he kept watch on his captive. His inadvertent fixation.

He backed up slowly. Remembered the row of lockers nearby, the work crew station beyond the Gundam repair bays. There had to be something in one of them. A lotion. A cream. Someone's shampoo.

He froze at the edge of the armored floor that supported the heavy Gundams. He looked back over his shoulder at Duo where he lay beneath Shenlong, exposed skin gleaming in the shadows. No motion, other than breath. No attempt at escape. He would have to trust… Duo knew how good his hearing was… how fast he was… how… strong. He could do this much for Duo… he would, despite J's twisted programming… His blood throbbed in his ears as he forced himself to step off the half-meter high edge to the storage area below. In a blur of speed, he was at the lockers. Metal shrieked and groaned as he caught a door handle and simply ripped the door away, lock, hinges and all. He pawed through it, scattering the contents heedlessly on the floor around him, letting out a sound like a snarl when he found nothing useful. It was in the second locker that he found something that would have to do; a bottle of aloe vera gel.

He was back up on the armored floor in a flash, lungs heaving, ears ringing, nerves raw. He stalked back to Duo, bottle clenched in his hand. Stopping beside him, he stared down into Duo's face again. A line of moisture had leaked from the corners of tightly closed eyes. He was silent and still, but a fine tremor ran through the tense form.

"I'm here," he said, sinking into a crouch beside the bound form. Staring at the dark green fabric tight around Duo's wrists, the thin leather around his legs. Somehow entranced by that evidence of restraint on this normally unrestrained individual. Restraint he had put in place. A new feeling entered the whirl in his mind, confusing him for a moment, making him blink and frown.

"Heero… Heero… I don't think I can…" Duo whispered, swallowing hard, eyes squeezing tight, body shuddering again. "Don't… please…"

His attention snapped back. He laid a hand over that arched neck, the hard knob of Adam's apple filling his palm and the soft words vanished. He felt Duo's frantic pulse pounding beneath his fingertips. His thumb brushed gently down the ridged side of Duo's trachea; he knew exactly how much pressure he would have to exert to crush it completely. Not much. Not much at all…

"Don't beg," he said shortly, lifting his hand away with reluctance. Duo's skin was surprisingly soft… warm… He moved, leaning over, knee dropping down, his thigh brushing against a bound leg. Pressed forward until his hot, hard erection was against the seam of calf and thigh, pulsing. His breath came in short puffs, faster now. Electric sensation rippled through him from his groin, undulled by the layer of thin fabric still covering him.

He stared down at the inside of spread thighs, heavy-lidded gaze tracing the stark lines of black leather on white flesh, the faint reddish marks left from where his fingers had gripped before, the thin line of dark blood. Duo's blood… Muscle flexed under his view, knees wavering, closing slightly. He reached over, pressing the other knee wide again, bending down to stroke the side of his face against tender inner skin, tongue emerging to lick that tiny smear of red away. Scents threatened to overwhelm him. The coppery-sweet tang of blood, the musky-rich remnant of arousal, the faintly acrid sting of nervous sweat, all merging into one indefinable scent that was heady and distracting. Turning his nose into quivering flesh, he breathed deep.

Captive hips jerked back, involuntarily he knew, but his tenuous hold against compulsion snapped, sending twisted need ripping through him again. Possess or destroy… The bottle of gel thumped to the floor, unheeded. He stripped the tight fabric away from his own body at last, shoving it roughly down over his aching erection as he crawled between those spread thighs. Duo made a choked sound, body shuddering and he looked up at his face for one searing instant, their eyes locking. No room for compassion left. He clamped implacable hands on narrow hips, lifting them to slide his own knees beneath, the blood-dark tip of his penis brushing against the pale inner flesh of Duo's thighs. He was staring down at the join of Duo's body, at the shadowed lines, the sharp curves, the scattering of golden-brown hair around a flaccid penis, the slack sac below concealing the place he knew he had to be soon.

The scent of his goal, of Duo, rose around him, hot and enticing. One hand released it's grip on hipbone to slide beneath, cupping the tight curve of muscle below, seeking the crease that led to the tight opening. The way inside… A single fingertip found the flinching flesh amid slick sweat, circled it slowly. He flexed his knees, lifting himself, slanting the body below him so that the obscuring scrotum shifted forward. Moving so that he could see… A tight pucker. A tiny hole with his own finger brushing across it. He felt the quiver, the automatic tightening of the center and pressed against it. Duo's body jerked and he heard a gasp of shock as he drove a sweat-slick finger inside of him to the second knuckle. Tight. Hot. A ring of muscle spasmed around his finger, holding it in place, stopping further penetration. So tight… He groaned, startling himself.

"…Heero… lube… use the lube… please… Heero…"

The words had been repeating steadily, an anxious chant that the roaring in his ears had almost drowned out. He looked up into Duo's eyes again, saw the desperation, the discomfort, the apprehension. He became aware, then, that he was panting, his mouth open, chest heaving as he drew quick, short breaths. He was almost out of control… could feel the compulsion clawing against his normally adamant will… if he didn't finish this soon…

He moved his other hand, searching for the bottle he had dropped before, and Duo's hips slipped on his knees, the muscles around his finger squeezing impossibly tighter in reaction. He groaned, his erection jumping, thin fluid dripping across them both. Duo's bound thighs pressed in against his ribs to brace him. His groping hand found the bottle at last. He flipped open the cap and squeezed a generous glob of clear gel over the seam of Duo's groin. The bottle clattered to the floor beside them as he reached for the already-melting gel, spreading it down, feeling the cool slickness around his finger, slipping over the tight ring of flesh. He touched himself then, slicking the head of his erection even as he leaned forward.

Duo had closed his eyes. His head was arched back, throat working, jaw clenched. Heero spared him no more than a single glance before his intent gaze was drawn back down to his goal. He drew his finger free, feeling the dry pull in sharp contrast to the slickness around. Gathered up some of the already drying gel and pushed it inside. He noted that slickness intensified the sensation, sending rolling tremors of need through him. Now. It had to be now. Inside… heat… pressure… a wild roaring in his ears… white noise almost blanking out his mind… He pulled his finger away even as he positioned the angry red head of his erection against that glistening hole and pushed.

Duo cried out, arching up and away so that he almost slipped back out as soon as he had breached that incredible ring. Heero's hands clamped tight on angular hips and drew them back to his, pushing past that denial, surging deep into Duo's heat. Duo's arms were flexing and quivering as he tried to surge away, an odd keening sound coming from his throat. He knew his hold on the other boy's hips was brutal; he could feel his fingernails gouging skin. He could do nothing to ease it as he paused, quivering, holding deep and still inside Duo's arching body, and was suddenly lost in a wash of unanticipated pleasure.

Normal responses had been denied him before this. Erections gained in the course of battle or, less often, in other ways had been ignored until they subsided - his programming had forced him to overlook the sexual response of his own body without the proper trigger. But it had not been intended to go this long… J's miscalculation… a mission gone wrong… the wait far too long… the pressure shifting, focusing on the tight place that surrounded him… Inside… he was inside at last… The cracked seal in his mind shattered and he knew only slick heat and relief. The muscles in his thighs and buttocks contracted without conscious thought, driving him even deeper into the incredible place that had freed him at last.

He was inside the one he had been designed to fixate upon… to protect, to shield with all the skill and training at his disposal… inside… hot… tight… slick…

The sensations assaulting him were new, overwhelming him with their intensity. He needed. He wanted. His body craved satisfaction after months of unnatural denial. Instinct took over and he began to move. Driving in deep, aware of nothing but the slide of heat over him, the hard clench of flesh around his own, the rapid climb toward something desperately desired… a twisting of already raw nerves… a lightning-like surge… a shattering and his hips were jerking uncontrollably as fluid pumped out of him, deep into the heat that surrounded him. Release… relief… Mission Complete…

He slumped forward, body drained and shuddering even as his mind snapped back into full focus for the first time in months.

Heero slowly opened his eyes, horrified.

Duo. He was fucking Duo. His cock was buried to the hilt in Maxwell's ass. He'd tied him up and raped him… his fellow Gundam pilot.

Shame and revulsion tried to come, failed. Something possessive and alarming came in their place. This was where he belonged now. This was his and nothing and no one would take it away from him as long as he lived… The furious thought raged through his mind even as his reason tried to reassert itself. No… this was Duo… a Gundam pilot… a soldier like him... not Relena… not someone he needed to protect… it was a waste… But the possessive feeling refused to fade. He cursed Doctor J silently for his blundered manipulation. What the hell were they supposed to do now?

He loosened his grip on lean hips, noticing with a wince that dark bruises were already rising on pale flesh.

"Are you done?" The question was a thin thread of sound, raw and bitter and resigned.

He raised his eyes and met Duo's wary gaze.

"No."

- - fin - -