Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Yes Master, My Master ❯ Part 8 ( Chapter 8 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Spider_Queen 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Hentai / Drama / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 12.20.2001 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.2K | Visits: 603 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Hentai / Drama / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 12.20.2001 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.2K | Visits: 603 | Status: Completed
Warm breath tickled Quatre's pale skin, causing goosebumps to rise uncomfortably, and the young Arabian to stir. For a moment, sleep held him still, and then his dreams were swept away by a harsh and painful reality.
Blue eyes opened, and focused slowly on the pale face that hovered not inches above his own. Gabriel watched him, his dark eyes guarded, his hair still wet and stringy from a shower. As Quatre noticed him, a small smile tugged at his lips and he reached out to run a gentle finger over Quatre's face, pulling strands of golden hair away from the boy's brow. "Good morning, dear pet," he said in a soft, almost kind voice.
Pet....That's what Quatre was now. Pet, or slave, to Gabriel. To his Master.
"How are you this day?" The dark haired demon continued.
Quatre averted his eyes, focusing on the black silk of the sadist's shirt rather than his face. How was he? How did he feel? His body ached from slashes and the night before; his still-broken arm felt like fire and his soul wept because of his deeds...was this how he would feel forever? He would never forgive himself, he would never be free of the pain.
"Fine," he whispered the lie, forcing it past his lips with difficulty. "I feel fine.....Master."
Never his Master! Quatre would never be owned, could never bow to someone....yet he could not endanger Trowa. He would rather bow to a thousand Masters, he would rather die a thousand times than endanger his beloved. But would he be able to take living one life? The only life that was now offered to him?
Innocent eyes flicked back up to Gabriel's face, focusing briefly on the widening smile. "You must truly hate me," he said in a bit louder voice, as he settled his body on the soft bed not far from where Quatre lay.
Hate him? Yes, Quatre hated him....hated him more than anything. Hated how he'd hurt Quatre, how he'd hurt the other boys....how Gabriel'd forced him to do the same.
But did he force Quatre? Quatre could have resisted-it would mean more pain, it might mean pain for others; for the one's he cared for, but Quatre could have resisted. Gabriel hadn't led his hand when striking the child, he'd just provided the weapon.
Quatre raised a hand to gingerly touch his cheek, whimpering quietly, nearly unaware of the hard stare that Gabriel had fixed on him. Gabriel had forced him! Quatre would never have hurt someone....but he had. He had destroyed that boy-spirit and body-just as he'd killed in battle.
The chaotic thoughts swirled through Quatre's mind painfully fast, probing his doubts and fears as deep as any lance. He wanted to curl into a ball, hide his face; hide himself and never face anything again.Never need to face Gabriel; never need to look into another innocent's eyes as they died. He wished that he felt nothing; he wished that he cared about nothing. If he didn't care, then this wouldn't matter. It wouldn't hurt, and he'd not have to worry of Trowa. Perhaps he'd not even be in that situation in the first place...But if he didn't care, he wouldn't be himself..he wouldn't be the Quatre that others knew and loved. It was so confusing, so painful....
"For a time, I too hated my Master," Gabriel spoke again, catching Quatre's attention with a faint gasp. He'd nearly forgotten the other's presence; that the source and cause of the pain he felt was sitting on the bed, chatting amiably to him. Could Quatre overpower the man? He was a pilot, he was a trained soldier....but Gabriel was large, and trained as well-at more than piloting. Gabriel was skilled at giving pain and could take it better than Quatre ever could...Quatre would have no chance against such an opponent. "But it will pass as you change." The dark eyes softened as they watched Quatre, the emotions that flickered over the gentle face a mirror of the conflict that held Quatre's heart and soul in it's throng. "Change is not bad, little one. Everything changes."
No, change wasn't bad-not all change at least. Change was what you made of it...yet Quatre could see no good in the change that Gabriel offered. Where was the good in losing yourself? In becoming some monster that went against the morals you had lived your life by, that you yourself had carefully outlined?
Gabriel seemed to be waiting for an answer, staring at Quatre with a request, a demand. But at the same time, understanding lurked in the dark eyes. Gabriel knew what was passing through the blond's head. He knew because he had once been in the same situation.
Gabriel had once a Master, someone who had broken him, just like he had broken Quatre. It was hard to picture the tall, slim, dignified vision that sat near the Arabian crumpled on the floor at someone's feet, sobbing, bleeding. It was hard to picture him shrinking away from a stern gaze, or his head lowered as he repeated the words "yes master" in a soft voice.
"I do not understand you," Quatre whispered, his voice husky with restrained emotion. "I do not see how you can do....what you do."
Gabriel shifted, bringing his legs up beneath him, delaying his answer. Quatre watched him quietly, anxiously. "That I told you, little Quatre," he said, his voice soft and almost father like. Quatre shuddered-he'd prefer the older man to speak in harsher tones, in a colder style. The familiarity; the false kindness....it was designed to break through Quatre's shell, to bare his soul for furtherscrutiny-and against this he had no weapon. He could feel the psudo kindness eating away at his resolve...slowly, like a gentle acid, no matter how he resisted.
"I told you, little one," Gabriel responded at last. "I've grown to like doing what I do. Enjoy it...you will too, one day."
Quatre wanted to shake his head violently...he'd never enjoy it! He could never delight in pain, his own or someone else's...he would never change so much! Gabriel might bury him, but he'd never allow that to happen...never.
Quatre's hand knotted in his lap. His eyes found Gabriel's briefly, then darted away to focus on the pale ceiling. "How.." he started uncertainly, cursing his own mind for the curiosity that was surfacing there. "What were you like...before..."
Gabriel graced him with another soft, becoming smile, from which Quatre quickly turned away. "I was much like you," He said softly, watching Quatre all the while. "Kind, naïve, beautiful..." a wistful smile found his lips. "Happy." He shifted slightly, plucking at his silk shirt. His face was a mask of disillusion that transformed it so that Quatre thought perhaps a different person sat before him...a child rather than the sadist that he knew Gabriel to be.....
Blue eyes opened, and focused slowly on the pale face that hovered not inches above his own. Gabriel watched him, his dark eyes guarded, his hair still wet and stringy from a shower. As Quatre noticed him, a small smile tugged at his lips and he reached out to run a gentle finger over Quatre's face, pulling strands of golden hair away from the boy's brow. "Good morning, dear pet," he said in a soft, almost kind voice.
Pet....That's what Quatre was now. Pet, or slave, to Gabriel. To his Master.
"How are you this day?" The dark haired demon continued.
Quatre averted his eyes, focusing on the black silk of the sadist's shirt rather than his face. How was he? How did he feel? His body ached from slashes and the night before; his still-broken arm felt like fire and his soul wept because of his deeds...was this how he would feel forever? He would never forgive himself, he would never be free of the pain.
"Fine," he whispered the lie, forcing it past his lips with difficulty. "I feel fine.....Master."
Never his Master! Quatre would never be owned, could never bow to someone....yet he could not endanger Trowa. He would rather bow to a thousand Masters, he would rather die a thousand times than endanger his beloved. But would he be able to take living one life? The only life that was now offered to him?
Innocent eyes flicked back up to Gabriel's face, focusing briefly on the widening smile. "You must truly hate me," he said in a bit louder voice, as he settled his body on the soft bed not far from where Quatre lay.
Hate him? Yes, Quatre hated him....hated him more than anything. Hated how he'd hurt Quatre, how he'd hurt the other boys....how Gabriel'd forced him to do the same.
But did he force Quatre? Quatre could have resisted-it would mean more pain, it might mean pain for others; for the one's he cared for, but Quatre could have resisted. Gabriel hadn't led his hand when striking the child, he'd just provided the weapon.
Quatre raised a hand to gingerly touch his cheek, whimpering quietly, nearly unaware of the hard stare that Gabriel had fixed on him. Gabriel had forced him! Quatre would never have hurt someone....but he had. He had destroyed that boy-spirit and body-just as he'd killed in battle.
The chaotic thoughts swirled through Quatre's mind painfully fast, probing his doubts and fears as deep as any lance. He wanted to curl into a ball, hide his face; hide himself and never face anything again.Never need to face Gabriel; never need to look into another innocent's eyes as they died. He wished that he felt nothing; he wished that he cared about nothing. If he didn't care, then this wouldn't matter. It wouldn't hurt, and he'd not have to worry of Trowa. Perhaps he'd not even be in that situation in the first place...But if he didn't care, he wouldn't be himself..he wouldn't be the Quatre that others knew and loved. It was so confusing, so painful....
"For a time, I too hated my Master," Gabriel spoke again, catching Quatre's attention with a faint gasp. He'd nearly forgotten the other's presence; that the source and cause of the pain he felt was sitting on the bed, chatting amiably to him. Could Quatre overpower the man? He was a pilot, he was a trained soldier....but Gabriel was large, and trained as well-at more than piloting. Gabriel was skilled at giving pain and could take it better than Quatre ever could...Quatre would have no chance against such an opponent. "But it will pass as you change." The dark eyes softened as they watched Quatre, the emotions that flickered over the gentle face a mirror of the conflict that held Quatre's heart and soul in it's throng. "Change is not bad, little one. Everything changes."
No, change wasn't bad-not all change at least. Change was what you made of it...yet Quatre could see no good in the change that Gabriel offered. Where was the good in losing yourself? In becoming some monster that went against the morals you had lived your life by, that you yourself had carefully outlined?
Gabriel seemed to be waiting for an answer, staring at Quatre with a request, a demand. But at the same time, understanding lurked in the dark eyes. Gabriel knew what was passing through the blond's head. He knew because he had once been in the same situation.
Gabriel had once a Master, someone who had broken him, just like he had broken Quatre. It was hard to picture the tall, slim, dignified vision that sat near the Arabian crumpled on the floor at someone's feet, sobbing, bleeding. It was hard to picture him shrinking away from a stern gaze, or his head lowered as he repeated the words "yes master" in a soft voice.
"I do not understand you," Quatre whispered, his voice husky with restrained emotion. "I do not see how you can do....what you do."
Gabriel shifted, bringing his legs up beneath him, delaying his answer. Quatre watched him quietly, anxiously. "That I told you, little Quatre," he said, his voice soft and almost father like. Quatre shuddered-he'd prefer the older man to speak in harsher tones, in a colder style. The familiarity; the false kindness....it was designed to break through Quatre's shell, to bare his soul for furtherscrutiny-and against this he had no weapon. He could feel the psudo kindness eating away at his resolve...slowly, like a gentle acid, no matter how he resisted.
"I told you, little one," Gabriel responded at last. "I've grown to like doing what I do. Enjoy it...you will too, one day."
Quatre wanted to shake his head violently...he'd never enjoy it! He could never delight in pain, his own or someone else's...he would never change so much! Gabriel might bury him, but he'd never allow that to happen...never.
Quatre's hand knotted in his lap. His eyes found Gabriel's briefly, then darted away to focus on the pale ceiling. "How.." he started uncertainly, cursing his own mind for the curiosity that was surfacing there. "What were you like...before..."
Gabriel graced him with another soft, becoming smile, from which Quatre quickly turned away. "I was much like you," He said softly, watching Quatre all the while. "Kind, naïve, beautiful..." a wistful smile found his lips. "Happy." He shifted slightly, plucking at his silk shirt. His face was a mask of disillusion that transformed it so that Quatre thought perhaps a different person sat before him...a child rather than the sadist that he knew Gabriel to be.....