![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kaigouTitle: Koji ma Oshi 22/?
Author: Sol 1056
Rating: NC-17 for sex, violence, and dirty mouths
Warning: BDSM, psychological issues, post-post-EW, edge of dubcon
Pairings: 2x1, 3x5x3, 4xR
Disclaimer: No, don't own 'em... Hey! A sigh of relief from Bandai!
Archived:sweetlysour and gwaddiction ... only here.
Critiques: loved as much as chocolate
NOTE ADDITION TO WARNINGS: If dubcon-almost-there-noncon is a serious squick, this may be a difficult chapter for you. Just FYI.
"That's five," Heero said. The cane whistled once more. I tensed, but no strike came. Bastard.
"I can count," I retorted, flexing my fingers. I pulled at the bindings for a second, just to underscore my annoyance. "This isn't what I agreed to! Let me out of these, I swear, I'll--"
A hand landed on the back of my head, fingers digging into my scalp. It held me still, facing forward, and then I felt the heat of Heero's skin beside mine. Not touching, but his hot breath hit my ear, and I shivered despite myself. If he cut the braid, so help me, I would never forgive him. Never. I growled, and his fingers tightened. Enough of a message. I shut up, and waited, breathing through gritted teeth.
"I know exactly what you agreed to." Heero stood up, and when he released my head, he did it with just the tiniest bit of a shove. "I know why, too. Ten more, and then--"
"What?" I snapped my neck around, catching just a glimpse of him standing at my side, arms crossed. It set his pecs in sharp relief, and I had to look away from the sight of beaded sweat glistening in the single light. Now was so not the time, and I wasn't seventeen anymore. I had priorities. "You don't know shit about me--"
"What I know, I know from watching. Or..." His fingers settled onto my ass, running along the groove of the last cane-strike. "It was something you told me only because you stood to gain from it. You've always been like that, Duo. All the time I've known you. You talk a great deal, but tell me little."
"If you wanted me to talk, this wasn't the way, I assure you," I spat out, arching my back to sink my hips down, away from his touch. "Get the fuck off me!"
"No." His word covered -- almost -- the warning whistle, and I yelled when the cane sliced another ribbon across my ass. More out of shock than pain, certainly, but it wasn't exactly a walk in the park, either. It was a thin, whittling kind of pain, like a bad splinter under a fingernail. "Six."
"I can count!"
"Then count the rest, and I'll make it twelve, not fifteen."
"Fifteen?" I jerked my head around, then back again. Damn it, my neck ached already, my backside throbbed, and I couldn't seem to get my cock to stop responding to the sound of his voice. Damn it, damn it. "This is bullshit!"
He put a hand to my forehead, turning my head away to look straight ahead. "Breathe," he reminded me, gently, like a teacher to a child. I was about to snap out something witty when the cane came down again. I jerked free of his fingers, glaring at the darkness in front of me. Heero murmured, so patiently, "I didn't hear a count."
"Fuck you."
"Not a number." Another strike. What the fuck -- goddamnit, that one laid right over an earlier one, it had to -- the sting nearly brought tears to my eyes. I blinked hard, and hissed at him. Heero's tone was almost a verbal shrug. "Fifteen, then. These, incidentally, are for not leaving me a note of where you were going."
"I didn't need to leave you jack--ow! Fucker!"
"Nine."
"Stop it!"
"No." Again, and he must've moved to my other side. "Ten." The angle started just above my hip and cut diagonally down to the top of my thigh. I writhed, fighting to get away, to hide myself somehow, to angle away from him. Another right after, no pause, just enough time for him to state, clearly, "Eleven."
"Stop it! Whatever you want, look, you don't have to do this, you trying to prove something to yourself?" I snapped my neck around, and the twinge of muscles down my spine reminded me I really needed to stop that. I groaned, letting my head drop, trying to stretch the muscles out of their cramp. My entire ass felt criss-crossed by fire. "Look, I said I'd meet with--"
"Twelve." The cane came down, licking straight across the back of my thighs.
"Ah!" I wasn't expecting it, and I couldn't help it. I thrashed, wishing I could press against something, maybe that'd help. Purely instinct, but I wanted away from the pain, away from that, why the fuck-- Half what I thought, I said outloud, the other half, buried in my desperate panting. "Stop, stop, goddamnit, this isn't how you're supposed to--"
Another strike. "Thirteen. Two more, Duo, you can do it."
"Fuck you! Fuck you!" I tried to shift my weight onto my knees, bring the sawhorse up, but all I did was pull something in my shoulders. Heero's hand landed on my hip, fingers pressing in gently, thumb smoothing the pain flickering like lightening across my sensitized skin. "Get off, damn it, I didn't agree to--"
"But you did." Another strike. "Fourteen. One more."
"I told you, I can fucking count!" I hollered, not caring who heard me, or how humiliating it'd be to have someone come rushing in to see what was going on and find me tied up like some stupid animal about to be slaughtered. "Why the hell are you--"
The final strike came down with a great deal more force than any of the rest. I felt it through my thighs, into my bones, and shooting through my body.
"Ah--" I choked, shaking, and couldn't even try to get away. I just hung there, legs and arms convulsing against the bindings. "You'd better be done already!" Easier to ride anger, safer to be angry.
"That's fifteen." Heero's hand landed on my head again, and then his other hand, soothing along my back. The same long, slow patient motion as before. "You did well."
"I didn't--" I had to laugh, because that was such a stupid... "Don't fucking patronize me," I panted, "on top of the rest of this shit. Anyone worth a rat's ass wouldn't have--" I bit off my words. I didn't know what I was saying.
"Not everyone has to be perfect," he commented.
I wanted to tell him, one more time, to stop touching me. It felt good, though, and I didn't want it to stop -- and I didn't want to feel that cutting shriek of the cane against me, either. I couldn't even really think of it as Heero who'd been doing it; I couldn't handle that, too. It was some disembodied tool, and then him, and if he'd just let me go then that would stop the cane from coming at me again -- but I just... I just couldn't do anything but pant, so relieved that I didn't have to be braced. So what if he was whispering to me to breathe, yeah, well... I was breathing, okay? Deep breaths, in, out, and I didn't even have the energy to tell him to fuck off, not one more time.
"You're doing good." He smoothed down my braid, pulled it up to lay it down my spine. It fell between my ass-cheeks, but he didn't move it. I twitched, did it again, and then he did move the braid. "Ticklish?"
"No." I didn't want to say it, didn't want to help him, but... "The little hairs, scrape. Like--" I shrugged, then tensed for him to lay the bound hair back across my skin. Next thing I knew, he was undoing it. "Wait, you can't-- don't--"
"Halfway, Duo." He was good to his word, and when he pushed the braid over my shoulder, I could see only the last foot was undone. I didn't get why. Or was he reminding me of the first night I'd tied him up? Why?
"You aren't going to--" I thought twice of wherever that question was going, and instead asked, "is that what this is all about? You getting back at me, some stupid shit like that?"
"No." He moved away, but kept talking. I tilted my head, trying to see where he'd gone. "I don't need to."
"You can't tell me you're--" I halted, unable to hide my suprise when he knelt before me with a glass of water and a straw. "What, you going to drug me again?"
"I didn't drug you."
"Like fuck you did, I was right out after that meal, I know you had those assholes put something--"
"Here." He set the straw to my lips, and ran the tip back and forth. "It's just water."
I opened my mouth, accepted the straw -- suddenly I realized, man, I was majorly thirsty, desert-like, even. I sucked, not sure whether to thank him or glare at him. Then I thought of the drugs, and glared at him, but I drank anyway. Sweet, a little cool, damn, that hit the spot.
He held the cup, watching the level, fingers not touching the straw but poised to take it. "In the past eleven days, you haven't ingested more than 400 calories in a twenty-four hour period. I doubt you had a three-course meal in the seventy-two hours before that, either." He nodded. "That's enough for now." He pulled the straw free of my mouth. "You can have more later."
"If what?" I asked, suspicious, knowing there was more that he'd left off. There had to be. Oh, yeah, and... "You still drugged me."
"No. I didn't. Your body reacted to carbohydrate overload by demanding sleep." Heero stood up, carrying the waterglass with him. "You were overdue."
"I was fine." I stared at the carpet. It looked rather steel-blue in color, now that I thought about it. A fine weave, like a one-color hand-woven rug. I dug my fingers in, and tried not to snarl. "I don't sleep after meals."
"When you eat past a certain threshold, you do. I can name times and places."
Some childish part of me wanted to tell him not to bother, because he snored, when he slept on his stomach. I ignored that part of me, and tried to focus on the here-and-now. Like, the stop-being-naked part. That'd be a good thing to get to. "Are we done?" I didn't care if that came out petulant. Probably the last gasp of the inner eight-year old, before I kicked its ass.
"No." There were his hands on me, again. For a man who could bend metal -- and knock out my entire oxygen supply with one blow -- I'd never realized just how gently he could touch a person. Light, delicate sweeps of calloused fingertips. "Those fifteen. Tell me again what those were for."
"I don't remember."
A single slap, right across my left buttock.
"Hey!" I bit my lip, angry for revealing my surprise.
"I think you do," he replied, as though he'd not paused to leave a Heero-sized handprint on my ass. I knew this was just revenge, it had to be. Okay. I'd given him maybe six, seven spanks with my hand, just teasing, but... I counted up, trying to remember. Maybe a dozen. Okay. So four down? Something like that. Three, maybe. I'd caned him fifteen times, no, twenty? No, that was with the paddle. Shit, that meant I was in for twenty with the paddle. Heero's fingers trailed up my neck and around to cup my chin. "I can start over, if that would assist your memory."
"No!" Crap, fine, be that way. "They were for leaving without writing you a note." I loaded the words with as much sarcasm as I could manage. "Happy now?"
His fingers caressed my chin, and he must've bent over me. His thumb ran along my lower lip, tugging at it, and I wasn't sure whether I wanted to lick the tip or tilt my head and bite his thumb off. I stayed still, instead. I had a plan, I knew what he was up to, and I just had to keep him talking. Right.
"You keep asking the wrong questions." Heero leaned closer over me, and I felt his chest brush my back, the hint of his nipples when he shrugged. His hand released my face, and my skin felt cool to the air, as though a reverse image of his fingers remained against me. "Let's continue."
Yeah. Okay. I lowered my head, set my jaw, ready for twenty of the paddle. Who cares what excuse he used for this one. I didn't. Just had to get through it, and I'll tell him later just what I really thought of this waste of time. If he was mad at me, wasn't that punch enough for him? If he hadn't really consented, I wasn't responsible for that. Not if he'd lied and pretended to want me dominating him. Fucking asshole. I needed new insults.
"Twenty, for not waking me."
"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding--" My last word became more of a shriek, when something thick, heavy, and flat landed right across my shoulderblades. I coudln't recognize it, I should, I knew all the tools, but my brain didn't seem to want to work. My shoulders kept rolling foward and back, twisting, like flexing the skin could relieve the incredible burning streak across my body. I gasped, choked, heard the slight whoosh, and jerked my body away, trying to angle myself down one side of the sawhorse, if I could just get a wrist free-- I think I was babbling, I'm not sure. "Ow, goddamnit, ow, fuck, please, ow, stop that--"
"Shh." Heero's hand again, soothing the prickled, tortured skin, and I panted, knowing my muscles twitched under his touch. It felt better to have the heat of his palm -- as though he were drawing off the worst of the burn -- but then he'd move his hand, and the pain would come back. He just kept saying, "shhh, shhh," until I wanted to scream.
I didn't, though. I hung my head, shaking, and hoped that counted for two paddle-strikes. I think it might've been a belt. I wasn't sure. Too flexible to be one of the thicker rods. Twenty of these, there wasn't any way, I couldn't--
"Yes, you can. Two down. You can do this."
"No, I fucking can't!" I tried to crane my neck to see him, but everything was too blurry, not enough light, damn it. My eyes couldn't handle it, not after more than a week in nonstop brightness. "I'm not like you, okay? This isn't my idea of fun--"
A hand slid down my thigh, and fingers grazed just a little too close to my balls. I froze, but to my absolute relief, he said nothing. Didn't make a comment about the fact that for some reason my traitorous dick just had to go stiff everytime he touched me. It had absolutely nothing to do with the pain blazing across my skin -- with each strike, I sure as fuck went limp instantly. It was just his touch, his hands, his fingers, that would send me right back to life, and if I didn't want him thinking pain turned me on, I sure as hell didn't want him to realize what he could do to my body. No fucking way. But my mouth just kept right on moving...
"I'm not getting off on this, I think it's-- it's sick! And perverted--"
"Every lie you tell," he said, and that wasn't the sound of a patient, well-humored man, but someone truly pissed-off, if self-controlled about it. "Five, for each lie."
"I'm not lying!"
"That's five."
I refused to look back over my shoulder at him, refused. Instead I said the only thing that came to mind, however unbrilliant it was. "Fuck you!"
"First things first." He took a breath, I heard him, and I guess that was him centering himself, but he didn't need much time-- he'd not even exhaled and the belt came down again, across my back below my shoulder blades. Again I choked back a shout, and again my body seemed to go into its own convulsions, fighting to get away. "Three."
"Fuck, fuck," I said, air catching in the back of my throat. "Stop. Stop."
Another strike.
"Unh!" I threw my head back, yelling outright that time. "Stop! Stop it!"
"Tell me what these are for."
"Leaving--" I wanted to fight him, but maybe if I just told him whatever he wanted, I could-- I could, I didn't know, just stall or something. He'd said twenty-four hours, right? How long had it been? I couldn't see anything, no fucking chance of being so lucky to hear a clock strike or something. "Leaving without waking you--"
The belt came down again, at a greater diagonal, across the middle of my back. Distantly I noted not once had anything remotely touched my spine -- a column of flesh up the middle of my back seemed to be the only place free of pain -- but the rest of the blazing jolt across my skin was plenty, thanks, more than plenty. I shouted, arching my back up, then slamming my chest against the sawhorse. Something, anything, to get away. I said whatever came into my mouth, caught somewhere between wanting to shout and trying to finish what I'd been saying.
"But I didn't have to, there was no reason to wake you up, you were sleeping--"
From a distance, I heard him whisper something, followed by, "six," and another streak of pain, must've laid it down within an inch of the fifth, because now I knew, just knew, half of my back was throbbing red and angry.
"It wasn't your deal, okay?" I twisted in the bindings, trying to see him past the sudden haze of tears. Fuck, I hurt, so bad I think I bit my tongue on that last one, and both his hands were soothing my skin, running back and forth along the strike-line. I shuddered, gasping, caught my breath and kept going. If I could just say the right things, convince him, but I needed to figure out what he wanted, first. "There was no reason to drag you into this--"
"Seven."
"No!" I swung my head away, unable to bear it but the image of his arm raised was almost more painful than the thick slap of leather across my flesh. I screamed, fighting the cuffs, trying to kick my legs, anything, just something. "No, no, no, no, you weren't part of it, it was my--"
"Eight."
"No!" I shook my head, or maybe it was just the shaking running through my entire body, and nothing I did helped.
"Nine."
I wanted to curse him, tell him off, hurt him somehow, but any reason had left, spiraling away by strong fingers on my skin. And oh, fucking space, the burn across my back, it was like if I could just shake it free, it'd fall away. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, so much more than anything I'd ever felt, I didn't get why it hurt, so bad--
"It's supposed to." Heero's hands lifted away from me, and I tensed. "Ten."
"No! Please! No!" To my shock, no strike, just a hand touching down on my upper arm, above the cuff. A warm palm, gripping me, secure. "Please," I said, trying to catch my breath, trying to calm down. "I don't--I just don't get why you're doing this. It was my deal, don't you get that? Hilde was my friend, she was all I had, and she's gone, I was the only one--"
"Breathe, take a deep breath." His fingers tightened on me, and I gasped, nodded, and tried to do as he said. Wouldn't he just listen, if he'd just listen, he'd know I was telling the truth, it wasn't his fight-- then he spoke again, and it took just long enough to filter into my brain, and it was too late. "Ten."
The solid slap across my body seemed to burrow into my bones. I jerked, going nowhere but fighting hard to get there, inarticulate between rage and pain and confusion.
"Shhh. You're halfway there." And then he was crouched before me again, wiping at my eyes with his thumbs, hands cradling my face. He smiled, kissed me lightly on the mouth despite how my lips hung slack, breathing hard. He looked sad, but determined, the tilt of his head a kind of hopefulness. I didn't get it. I wanted to be mad at him, maybe even hate him, but it just didn't make any sense, anymore. All I could do was react, cringing despite myself when he said, "ten more."
"Please," I moaned. "It hurts."
"I know it does."
"I want it to stop hurting." My body sagged, but his hands supported my chin, holding my face up to him.
"It will."
"Not later. Now." I closed my eyes rather than look at him. "You don't have to do this. I'm reasonable, why can't we talk?" I just wanted the pain making a home in my bones to go away. Anger flared up, my oldest and safest defense, and I yanked at my arms, then kicked my legs, thumping my ankles against the cushioned surface. "Just tell me!"
He chuckled. He actually damn well chuckled, a low rolling sound in the base of his throat. I wasn't sure whether to be turned-on again, or shocked, or pissed. I could only stare. His look was downright fond, even, the bastard. "Like that's ever worked for you? Just tell you?"
"Well, yeah." I rallied. "Plenty of times!"
One brow arched, and Heero shook his head, amusement gone. "Two lies, Duo. I don't think you want to keep doing that."
"I'm not lying!" I tried to reach for him, stretch out to catch him. "I'm not!"
"You know the truth as well as I do." Heero dropped his hands, giving me an oddly blank look. "Ten more." He stood up, and I writhed, hands digging into the carpet. I couldn't hold him back, only twist my body in protective protest as he said, so calmly and flatly, "eleven."
The belt came down on my right side, and I arched, no longer making any sense at all. My words jumbled around in my head, tripped over each other and came out as nothing more than abject pain, and he didn't stop, he didn't fucking stop, and I just want it over with--
"Twelve."
I don't get it, I'd left for you, I'd left because it wasn't your fight, Hilde was my best friend, there was no reason to get you involved, you didn't belong there
"Thirteen."
stop, make it stop, why won't you just listen to me, I'm not lying, I'm not lying, if I could, I wouldn't have, I didn't want to leave you there
"Fourteen."
Walking out of there, it was a big gaping hole in my chest, a big fucking hole, don't get pissy at me for doing you first, asshole
A slight hesitation, just the merest, and I was this close to gasping some kind of gratitude, anything, and then: "Fifteen."
goddamn it stop this, I'm not lying, I wanted you so badly, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore, nothing changes
"Sixteen..."
Shit! Don't fucking, ow, goddamnit, look, I had to leave, don't you get that, I had to! I know I'm gonna lose, but for once I wanted to do it on my own terms!
I froze, furious shouts echoing in my ears. No strike had come. Not even a touch on my body. I let my head drop, my chest heaved with every breath, my words were jagged in my throat and I couldn't say anything, only hang there. For even just a second, no more, a reprieve, even if my entire back flamed as sharply as though I'd laid face-up across a hot engine. I shut my eyes and dig my fingers into the carpet and feel the pain shooting through every nerve in my body. All of me vibrated from it, I could feel it, eating through me. I moaned, wishing, hoping, praying that it was over.
"Four more." Still no touch, just the encouragement. "You're almost there."
"I don't want to be there," I managed to say.
"What do you want?"
"For you to--" I almost said, to stop this, but choked on the laughter, verging on hysterical, bubbling up from my gut. Demanding that hadn't gotten me shit. But before, he'd hesitated-- and I went cold inside, trying to piece together what I'd been yelling at him. Had I hit something, found a truth he'd been denying? "Undo me. Please," I said, trying to sound as tired and exhausted and flat -- just plain bored -- as I had that first time we'd been in a moment like this. He had, he'd planned on leaving, eventually. This was one majorly fucked-up way to say goodbye, though.
A long pause, an unconvinced pause, it felt like.
"No, really." I relaxed my shoulders and stared at the floor, trails of hair catching along the sweat on my arm. "I get you put plenty effort into this. But it's not doing anything, okay? We're not getting anywhere. It's not working."
"Four more."
"NO!"
The strike came -- lighter, true, a barely glancing blow. I was halfway through a panicked, angry reaction, and realized the sting was already fading. What? What the hell? That was it? I heard his whispered count, a hollow tone, then another glancing pass and I -- I don't know what I felt right then, too many things at once, but mostly sheer bewilderment. At him, at me.
I twisted around as best I could. He stood beside me, belt hanging loosely from one hand. He stared down at me, that was all I could tell, a glint from the light's reflection in his eyes maybe, or just my imagination. He looked away, raised his arm, but it wasn't nearly the overhead power of before, a slight shrug in the gesture. It felt like... he was mocking me, like he'd turned something off, was just going through the motions. I recalled Quatre's hint of a taunt in his words, that I couldn't take it, and everything else thrown in, I wanted to fucking deck Heero. So Trowa and Wufei could act like they didn't give a damn if I fell off the face of the planet, they only played nice for old times' sake, and if I chose door number one they'd lose no sleep, and Quatre would just carry on playing people and counting his gold, but not Heero, he wasn't allowed to do that, not after everything.
"Don't you fucking dare! Don't you fucking write me off" I lunged in the straps, as best I could, and for the first time, felt the sawhorse shift beneath me. It only made me madder. "You fucking asshole, you can't do that, you can't bloody well fucking do that, I don't need you to take it easy on me, you goddamned bastard, fucking prick, I'm not some fucking pussy civilian, I can take anything you can and don't you fucking treat me like I'm expendable, don't you fucking underestimate me, too! I'll--"
I couldn't see his expression, but I could see his body, tense at my side, arm half-raised. If he was speaking, I drowned it out in mindless indigation, screaming myself hoarse, daring him to strike me again, daring him to give me whatever he had because there wasn't any shit out there that the rest of them could take that I couldn't take, too, just fucking watch me!
Heero seemed to fall back a step, then shifted and forward again, hand raised, as he barked, "twenty!" He brought his arm down with all the force in those muscles, and the blow seared every nerve ending.
I screamed.
One gutteral cry, a release, a freedom to just scream like I hadn't since the depths of space, and my entire body quivered, arched into the pain, and I couldn't even hope to move, recoil, but froze there, trapped. The agony hummed through me, but at the same time a bizarrely smug satisfaction.
I can take it, no matter what you dish out, I can take it and grin and always take more. Don't you underestimate me, don't treat me like I'm nothing, like I'm nobody, I'll make you fucking respect me, I'm not a fucking failure, I'm not a fuck-up, I'm not, I'm not
Hands cradled me, and I wasn't yelling anymore, just... had to explain, somehow. Before he walked away. Before he ever gave me that look again...
Don't even try, I won't take it. I'm sick of it, the way you look, thinking, you're no good, amateur, civilian. Somewhere in there, I was laughing, bitterly, tripping over the words as I fought against the straps, spitting mad even as I laughed and didn't know why. Go away kid, the real soldiers are talking. Well, fuck you! I've put in my time, you can't just dismiss me, not anymore, not again, I'll fucking dismiss you first, you hear me? You got that? You can't hurt me, you can't, you hear me?
A body came down over me, but no weight crushed me. Just a warmth of lean muscles and beating heart, hands slipping under my arms to hold me by the shoulders. My head hung down, chest heaving.
You can't. I won't let you. I know the choices you made, and I know what's most important to you, but that's okay, because I still had this, just this one last thing I needed to do. It was everything, don't you see that? I knew you'd just stop me, you'd tell me I was going to fuck it up, all of you would
"No." He whispered in my ear, and to my astonishment it sounded almost as though he were as broken as I. "You can't--"
I'm not sticking around for that, not one more time, not when it's this important to me. I'm not losing again, never again. Can't you see how much I lost when I lost her? I'm not going through that again, ever
"If you don't ask..." He bent down, and I felt his hair brush the back of my neck, then lips pressing against my spine.
Why? It didn't change anything, anyway, you all did same as always, just like before
His answer was as soft as my bitter whisper, or maybe he said nothing and I only imagined him pressing the words into my skin: when before?
I'm not... I coughed back a whimper at his tongue, tracing along a stripe over my shoulderblades. Belligerence gave my voice strength, finally. "I'm not...an obstacle. Not a fuck-up."
"I've never believed you are."
Like hell! I bucked under him, slammed him as best I could, and got nowhere. Goddamnit. Frustrated, I panted, chin tucked to press against the end of the bench, and glared at the floor. "You were always riding my ass about shit. Always. All of you were. I pulled my weight. I wasn't some fucking weak-ass airhead, chattering on without a thought in my head. Fuck you," I added, just on principle.
"If I rode your ass, it was because I knew you could take it."
I grunted.
"No one ever believed you were..." His voice trailed off, warm kisses were scattered across my shoulders. "A weak-ass airhead."
"You sure acted like it," I grumbled. "All of you did. You always have. Gotta ride in, cavalry come to rescue poor Duo Maxwell, such a fuck-up he can't even self-destruct his own fucking Gundam properly."
Heero froze over me, for a heartbeat, then began moving again, quick tongue flickering out to lick at the back of my neck. "You were one of the only people I knew I could always count on."
"Yeah. To fuck up."
He snorted, then his weight relaxed on top of me. Still not quite crushing, but steady, solid, fully there. "How old are we?"
I mumbled something about being able to count. Stupid-ass question.
"If it takes another fourteen years..." He kissed down my spine, leather and skin slithering across me, catching on the sweat but soothing on the rippling streaks across my back. "Then it does." He kissed at the base of my spine, licked up my tailbone, and then licked down, straight down my ass.
"Don't--" I jerked, flexing instinctively, no, he wasn't going to--
"Shhh," he said, and I could feel him kneeling behind me. His hands massaged my hips, and he pressed his face to that delicate point where skin stretches from tailbone across the ass... and hot breath blew against the skin just above my asshole. I couldn't help it, my asscheeks, hips, thighs, every muscle in the surrounding areas, all convulsed as one, trying to shake him off. I couldn't even articulate, but I wasn't going to-- he wasn't going to-- His tongue flickered at my asshole, running a wet line around it--
"No," I choked out, fingers digging into the carpet. "You can't, you can't--"
"Yes," he said, and his fingernails dug into my skin, forcing a whimper from me. "I can." Then he stabbed his tongue into me, and I bucked again, trying to tear away, but he only pushed deeper, and oh fucking space it felt good, I didn't want it to feel good-- no, no, no--
I kept my head down, eyes squeezed tight. His tongue felt hard, full, wriggling inside me but not far enough, pushing in and withdrawing, flat of his tongue licking up my crack only to dive into me again. Shit, it felt-- I couldn't breathe, and for even the slightest movements I could make, trying to pull away, then push back at him, shake him off, he held on, teasing me. I'd pull away and he'd let me, then follow and if I shoved back at him, how deep could his tongue go, fucking space his tongue felt wet against me and little shivers kept licking up my spine with every stab into me, I pushed my hips at him, and the sounds at the back of my throat turned into words, muttering, chanting in my ears: get off me, get off me, off me, off me, oh, fuck-- get-- oh, space, I can't, I'm--
"Don't," I told him, struggling to keep some last bit of dignity, "I'm not a fucking girl, I'm not a goddamn girl, I'm-- oh fuck!" I shook, twisted, writhed, cursed him with everything I had, poised on the edge of coming, a groan building in my chest with the effort of holding it back. It hadn't crept up on me, it had leapt from out of nowhere but no way was it gonna take me. Bad enough all that other shit, but I drew the line at being humiliated like that. And to think he'd done it all with only his tongue in me, fucking hells, in me! Shit, if he so much as moved, I'd fall right over into it, so close, so fucking close, fucking hells, so close--
His hand grasped my cock, holding it, tight, then too tight.
"Shit!" I cried out at the pressure, startled by his touch and the sharp pinch of his fingers. "Ow, fucker! Watch it!"
"You're not a girl," he said, and kissed the underside of my ass. One of his fingers played at the edge of my asshole, round and round. I couldn't figure out how to get it away, get it to do something, stop teasing me... He just licked up my ass again, along one of the still-flaring streaks from the cane. "Believe me, I've never once been in doubt."
He squeezed my cock again, too much, and I whimpered, half-afraid he was about to use that legendary, too-scary, strength and turn me into a girl right then and there. I might've squeaked, I'm not sure, but his grip did lighten. Curiously, I found the orgasm's edge receding, as well. I stared at the floor, barely able to focus.
"You can't run from this." I thought he might be crawling around me, but then I started to find him lying on the floor beneath me. He'd pushed up between my legs, under the bench. He watched me, eyes hooded. One hand reached up to brush hair from my face. "For once in your life, that alternative is gone."
"You--" I wanted to be angry, really I did, and for some reason it didn't seem to matter anymore just how ignominous a position he had me in. Or that his saliva was cool on my skin, drying slowly in the room's cool air, or that my back had to be a million shades of crimson along with my dignity. "You didn't have to do this," I choked out.
"Did I?" He tapped a finger on my cheek. "You really believe that?"
"Ye--" I started to say, then saw the look in his eyes. He was waiting for me to say yes, and he'd say, five more. I just knew it. "It's not a lie," I protested. "It's not, not if you believe it hard enough..." I must've sounded like I was pleading with him. Maybe I was.
"Do wishes really make it so?" He, in turn, sounded a little sad.
I found one last ounce of fight in me, though it came out half-hearted, I'm sure. "Sometimes that's all you've got."
Author: Sol 1056
Rating: NC-17 for sex, violence, and dirty mouths
Warning: BDSM, psychological issues, post-post-EW, edge of dubcon
Pairings: 2x1, 3x5x3, 4xR
Disclaimer: No, don't own 'em... Hey! A sigh of relief from Bandai!
Archived:
Critiques: loved as much as chocolate
NOTE ADDITION TO WARNINGS: If dubcon-almost-there-noncon is a serious squick, this may be a difficult chapter for you. Just FYI.
"That's five," Heero said. The cane whistled once more. I tensed, but no strike came. Bastard.
"I can count," I retorted, flexing my fingers. I pulled at the bindings for a second, just to underscore my annoyance. "This isn't what I agreed to! Let me out of these, I swear, I'll--"
A hand landed on the back of my head, fingers digging into my scalp. It held me still, facing forward, and then I felt the heat of Heero's skin beside mine. Not touching, but his hot breath hit my ear, and I shivered despite myself. If he cut the braid, so help me, I would never forgive him. Never. I growled, and his fingers tightened. Enough of a message. I shut up, and waited, breathing through gritted teeth.
"I know exactly what you agreed to." Heero stood up, and when he released my head, he did it with just the tiniest bit of a shove. "I know why, too. Ten more, and then--"
"What?" I snapped my neck around, catching just a glimpse of him standing at my side, arms crossed. It set his pecs in sharp relief, and I had to look away from the sight of beaded sweat glistening in the single light. Now was so not the time, and I wasn't seventeen anymore. I had priorities. "You don't know shit about me--"
"What I know, I know from watching. Or..." His fingers settled onto my ass, running along the groove of the last cane-strike. "It was something you told me only because you stood to gain from it. You've always been like that, Duo. All the time I've known you. You talk a great deal, but tell me little."
"If you wanted me to talk, this wasn't the way, I assure you," I spat out, arching my back to sink my hips down, away from his touch. "Get the fuck off me!"
"No." His word covered -- almost -- the warning whistle, and I yelled when the cane sliced another ribbon across my ass. More out of shock than pain, certainly, but it wasn't exactly a walk in the park, either. It was a thin, whittling kind of pain, like a bad splinter under a fingernail. "Six."
"I can count!"
"Then count the rest, and I'll make it twelve, not fifteen."
"Fifteen?" I jerked my head around, then back again. Damn it, my neck ached already, my backside throbbed, and I couldn't seem to get my cock to stop responding to the sound of his voice. Damn it, damn it. "This is bullshit!"
He put a hand to my forehead, turning my head away to look straight ahead. "Breathe," he reminded me, gently, like a teacher to a child. I was about to snap out something witty when the cane came down again. I jerked free of his fingers, glaring at the darkness in front of me. Heero murmured, so patiently, "I didn't hear a count."
"Fuck you."
"Not a number." Another strike. What the fuck -- goddamnit, that one laid right over an earlier one, it had to -- the sting nearly brought tears to my eyes. I blinked hard, and hissed at him. Heero's tone was almost a verbal shrug. "Fifteen, then. These, incidentally, are for not leaving me a note of where you were going."
"I didn't need to leave you jack--ow! Fucker!"
"Nine."
"Stop it!"
"No." Again, and he must've moved to my other side. "Ten." The angle started just above my hip and cut diagonally down to the top of my thigh. I writhed, fighting to get away, to hide myself somehow, to angle away from him. Another right after, no pause, just enough time for him to state, clearly, "Eleven."
"Stop it! Whatever you want, look, you don't have to do this, you trying to prove something to yourself?" I snapped my neck around, and the twinge of muscles down my spine reminded me I really needed to stop that. I groaned, letting my head drop, trying to stretch the muscles out of their cramp. My entire ass felt criss-crossed by fire. "Look, I said I'd meet with--"
"Twelve." The cane came down, licking straight across the back of my thighs.
"Ah!" I wasn't expecting it, and I couldn't help it. I thrashed, wishing I could press against something, maybe that'd help. Purely instinct, but I wanted away from the pain, away from that, why the fuck-- Half what I thought, I said outloud, the other half, buried in my desperate panting. "Stop, stop, goddamnit, this isn't how you're supposed to--"
Another strike. "Thirteen. Two more, Duo, you can do it."
"Fuck you! Fuck you!" I tried to shift my weight onto my knees, bring the sawhorse up, but all I did was pull something in my shoulders. Heero's hand landed on my hip, fingers pressing in gently, thumb smoothing the pain flickering like lightening across my sensitized skin. "Get off, damn it, I didn't agree to--"
"But you did." Another strike. "Fourteen. One more."
"I told you, I can fucking count!" I hollered, not caring who heard me, or how humiliating it'd be to have someone come rushing in to see what was going on and find me tied up like some stupid animal about to be slaughtered. "Why the hell are you--"
The final strike came down with a great deal more force than any of the rest. I felt it through my thighs, into my bones, and shooting through my body.
"Ah--" I choked, shaking, and couldn't even try to get away. I just hung there, legs and arms convulsing against the bindings. "You'd better be done already!" Easier to ride anger, safer to be angry.
"That's fifteen." Heero's hand landed on my head again, and then his other hand, soothing along my back. The same long, slow patient motion as before. "You did well."
"I didn't--" I had to laugh, because that was such a stupid... "Don't fucking patronize me," I panted, "on top of the rest of this shit. Anyone worth a rat's ass wouldn't have--" I bit off my words. I didn't know what I was saying.
"Not everyone has to be perfect," he commented.
I wanted to tell him, one more time, to stop touching me. It felt good, though, and I didn't want it to stop -- and I didn't want to feel that cutting shriek of the cane against me, either. I couldn't even really think of it as Heero who'd been doing it; I couldn't handle that, too. It was some disembodied tool, and then him, and if he'd just let me go then that would stop the cane from coming at me again -- but I just... I just couldn't do anything but pant, so relieved that I didn't have to be braced. So what if he was whispering to me to breathe, yeah, well... I was breathing, okay? Deep breaths, in, out, and I didn't even have the energy to tell him to fuck off, not one more time.
"You're doing good." He smoothed down my braid, pulled it up to lay it down my spine. It fell between my ass-cheeks, but he didn't move it. I twitched, did it again, and then he did move the braid. "Ticklish?"
"No." I didn't want to say it, didn't want to help him, but... "The little hairs, scrape. Like--" I shrugged, then tensed for him to lay the bound hair back across my skin. Next thing I knew, he was undoing it. "Wait, you can't-- don't--"
"Halfway, Duo." He was good to his word, and when he pushed the braid over my shoulder, I could see only the last foot was undone. I didn't get why. Or was he reminding me of the first night I'd tied him up? Why?
"You aren't going to--" I thought twice of wherever that question was going, and instead asked, "is that what this is all about? You getting back at me, some stupid shit like that?"
"No." He moved away, but kept talking. I tilted my head, trying to see where he'd gone. "I don't need to."
"You can't tell me you're--" I halted, unable to hide my suprise when he knelt before me with a glass of water and a straw. "What, you going to drug me again?"
"I didn't drug you."
"Like fuck you did, I was right out after that meal, I know you had those assholes put something--"
"Here." He set the straw to my lips, and ran the tip back and forth. "It's just water."
I opened my mouth, accepted the straw -- suddenly I realized, man, I was majorly thirsty, desert-like, even. I sucked, not sure whether to thank him or glare at him. Then I thought of the drugs, and glared at him, but I drank anyway. Sweet, a little cool, damn, that hit the spot.
He held the cup, watching the level, fingers not touching the straw but poised to take it. "In the past eleven days, you haven't ingested more than 400 calories in a twenty-four hour period. I doubt you had a three-course meal in the seventy-two hours before that, either." He nodded. "That's enough for now." He pulled the straw free of my mouth. "You can have more later."
"If what?" I asked, suspicious, knowing there was more that he'd left off. There had to be. Oh, yeah, and... "You still drugged me."
"No. I didn't. Your body reacted to carbohydrate overload by demanding sleep." Heero stood up, carrying the waterglass with him. "You were overdue."
"I was fine." I stared at the carpet. It looked rather steel-blue in color, now that I thought about it. A fine weave, like a one-color hand-woven rug. I dug my fingers in, and tried not to snarl. "I don't sleep after meals."
"When you eat past a certain threshold, you do. I can name times and places."
Some childish part of me wanted to tell him not to bother, because he snored, when he slept on his stomach. I ignored that part of me, and tried to focus on the here-and-now. Like, the stop-being-naked part. That'd be a good thing to get to. "Are we done?" I didn't care if that came out petulant. Probably the last gasp of the inner eight-year old, before I kicked its ass.
"No." There were his hands on me, again. For a man who could bend metal -- and knock out my entire oxygen supply with one blow -- I'd never realized just how gently he could touch a person. Light, delicate sweeps of calloused fingertips. "Those fifteen. Tell me again what those were for."
"I don't remember."
A single slap, right across my left buttock.
"Hey!" I bit my lip, angry for revealing my surprise.
"I think you do," he replied, as though he'd not paused to leave a Heero-sized handprint on my ass. I knew this was just revenge, it had to be. Okay. I'd given him maybe six, seven spanks with my hand, just teasing, but... I counted up, trying to remember. Maybe a dozen. Okay. So four down? Something like that. Three, maybe. I'd caned him fifteen times, no, twenty? No, that was with the paddle. Shit, that meant I was in for twenty with the paddle. Heero's fingers trailed up my neck and around to cup my chin. "I can start over, if that would assist your memory."
"No!" Crap, fine, be that way. "They were for leaving without writing you a note." I loaded the words with as much sarcasm as I could manage. "Happy now?"
His fingers caressed my chin, and he must've bent over me. His thumb ran along my lower lip, tugging at it, and I wasn't sure whether I wanted to lick the tip or tilt my head and bite his thumb off. I stayed still, instead. I had a plan, I knew what he was up to, and I just had to keep him talking. Right.
"You keep asking the wrong questions." Heero leaned closer over me, and I felt his chest brush my back, the hint of his nipples when he shrugged. His hand released my face, and my skin felt cool to the air, as though a reverse image of his fingers remained against me. "Let's continue."
Yeah. Okay. I lowered my head, set my jaw, ready for twenty of the paddle. Who cares what excuse he used for this one. I didn't. Just had to get through it, and I'll tell him later just what I really thought of this waste of time. If he was mad at me, wasn't that punch enough for him? If he hadn't really consented, I wasn't responsible for that. Not if he'd lied and pretended to want me dominating him. Fucking asshole. I needed new insults.
"Twenty, for not waking me."
"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding--" My last word became more of a shriek, when something thick, heavy, and flat landed right across my shoulderblades. I coudln't recognize it, I should, I knew all the tools, but my brain didn't seem to want to work. My shoulders kept rolling foward and back, twisting, like flexing the skin could relieve the incredible burning streak across my body. I gasped, choked, heard the slight whoosh, and jerked my body away, trying to angle myself down one side of the sawhorse, if I could just get a wrist free-- I think I was babbling, I'm not sure. "Ow, goddamnit, ow, fuck, please, ow, stop that--"
"Shh." Heero's hand again, soothing the prickled, tortured skin, and I panted, knowing my muscles twitched under his touch. It felt better to have the heat of his palm -- as though he were drawing off the worst of the burn -- but then he'd move his hand, and the pain would come back. He just kept saying, "shhh, shhh," until I wanted to scream.
I didn't, though. I hung my head, shaking, and hoped that counted for two paddle-strikes. I think it might've been a belt. I wasn't sure. Too flexible to be one of the thicker rods. Twenty of these, there wasn't any way, I couldn't--
"Yes, you can. Two down. You can do this."
"No, I fucking can't!" I tried to crane my neck to see him, but everything was too blurry, not enough light, damn it. My eyes couldn't handle it, not after more than a week in nonstop brightness. "I'm not like you, okay? This isn't my idea of fun--"
A hand slid down my thigh, and fingers grazed just a little too close to my balls. I froze, but to my absolute relief, he said nothing. Didn't make a comment about the fact that for some reason my traitorous dick just had to go stiff everytime he touched me. It had absolutely nothing to do with the pain blazing across my skin -- with each strike, I sure as fuck went limp instantly. It was just his touch, his hands, his fingers, that would send me right back to life, and if I didn't want him thinking pain turned me on, I sure as hell didn't want him to realize what he could do to my body. No fucking way. But my mouth just kept right on moving...
"I'm not getting off on this, I think it's-- it's sick! And perverted--"
"Every lie you tell," he said, and that wasn't the sound of a patient, well-humored man, but someone truly pissed-off, if self-controlled about it. "Five, for each lie."
"I'm not lying!"
"That's five."
I refused to look back over my shoulder at him, refused. Instead I said the only thing that came to mind, however unbrilliant it was. "Fuck you!"
"First things first." He took a breath, I heard him, and I guess that was him centering himself, but he didn't need much time-- he'd not even exhaled and the belt came down again, across my back below my shoulder blades. Again I choked back a shout, and again my body seemed to go into its own convulsions, fighting to get away. "Three."
"Fuck, fuck," I said, air catching in the back of my throat. "Stop. Stop."
Another strike.
"Unh!" I threw my head back, yelling outright that time. "Stop! Stop it!"
"Tell me what these are for."
"Leaving--" I wanted to fight him, but maybe if I just told him whatever he wanted, I could-- I could, I didn't know, just stall or something. He'd said twenty-four hours, right? How long had it been? I couldn't see anything, no fucking chance of being so lucky to hear a clock strike or something. "Leaving without waking you--"
The belt came down again, at a greater diagonal, across the middle of my back. Distantly I noted not once had anything remotely touched my spine -- a column of flesh up the middle of my back seemed to be the only place free of pain -- but the rest of the blazing jolt across my skin was plenty, thanks, more than plenty. I shouted, arching my back up, then slamming my chest against the sawhorse. Something, anything, to get away. I said whatever came into my mouth, caught somewhere between wanting to shout and trying to finish what I'd been saying.
"But I didn't have to, there was no reason to wake you up, you were sleeping--"
From a distance, I heard him whisper something, followed by, "six," and another streak of pain, must've laid it down within an inch of the fifth, because now I knew, just knew, half of my back was throbbing red and angry.
"It wasn't your deal, okay?" I twisted in the bindings, trying to see him past the sudden haze of tears. Fuck, I hurt, so bad I think I bit my tongue on that last one, and both his hands were soothing my skin, running back and forth along the strike-line. I shuddered, gasping, caught my breath and kept going. If I could just say the right things, convince him, but I needed to figure out what he wanted, first. "There was no reason to drag you into this--"
"Seven."
"No!" I swung my head away, unable to bear it but the image of his arm raised was almost more painful than the thick slap of leather across my flesh. I screamed, fighting the cuffs, trying to kick my legs, anything, just something. "No, no, no, no, you weren't part of it, it was my--"
"Eight."
"No!" I shook my head, or maybe it was just the shaking running through my entire body, and nothing I did helped.
"Nine."
I wanted to curse him, tell him off, hurt him somehow, but any reason had left, spiraling away by strong fingers on my skin. And oh, fucking space, the burn across my back, it was like if I could just shake it free, it'd fall away. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, so much more than anything I'd ever felt, I didn't get why it hurt, so bad--
"It's supposed to." Heero's hands lifted away from me, and I tensed. "Ten."
"No! Please! No!" To my shock, no strike, just a hand touching down on my upper arm, above the cuff. A warm palm, gripping me, secure. "Please," I said, trying to catch my breath, trying to calm down. "I don't--I just don't get why you're doing this. It was my deal, don't you get that? Hilde was my friend, she was all I had, and she's gone, I was the only one--"
"Breathe, take a deep breath." His fingers tightened on me, and I gasped, nodded, and tried to do as he said. Wouldn't he just listen, if he'd just listen, he'd know I was telling the truth, it wasn't his fight-- then he spoke again, and it took just long enough to filter into my brain, and it was too late. "Ten."
The solid slap across my body seemed to burrow into my bones. I jerked, going nowhere but fighting hard to get there, inarticulate between rage and pain and confusion.
"Shhh. You're halfway there." And then he was crouched before me again, wiping at my eyes with his thumbs, hands cradling my face. He smiled, kissed me lightly on the mouth despite how my lips hung slack, breathing hard. He looked sad, but determined, the tilt of his head a kind of hopefulness. I didn't get it. I wanted to be mad at him, maybe even hate him, but it just didn't make any sense, anymore. All I could do was react, cringing despite myself when he said, "ten more."
"Please," I moaned. "It hurts."
"I know it does."
"I want it to stop hurting." My body sagged, but his hands supported my chin, holding my face up to him.
"It will."
"Not later. Now." I closed my eyes rather than look at him. "You don't have to do this. I'm reasonable, why can't we talk?" I just wanted the pain making a home in my bones to go away. Anger flared up, my oldest and safest defense, and I yanked at my arms, then kicked my legs, thumping my ankles against the cushioned surface. "Just tell me!"
He chuckled. He actually damn well chuckled, a low rolling sound in the base of his throat. I wasn't sure whether to be turned-on again, or shocked, or pissed. I could only stare. His look was downright fond, even, the bastard. "Like that's ever worked for you? Just tell you?"
"Well, yeah." I rallied. "Plenty of times!"
One brow arched, and Heero shook his head, amusement gone. "Two lies, Duo. I don't think you want to keep doing that."
"I'm not lying!" I tried to reach for him, stretch out to catch him. "I'm not!"
"You know the truth as well as I do." Heero dropped his hands, giving me an oddly blank look. "Ten more." He stood up, and I writhed, hands digging into the carpet. I couldn't hold him back, only twist my body in protective protest as he said, so calmly and flatly, "eleven."
The belt came down on my right side, and I arched, no longer making any sense at all. My words jumbled around in my head, tripped over each other and came out as nothing more than abject pain, and he didn't stop, he didn't fucking stop, and I just want it over with--
"Twelve."
I don't get it, I'd left for you, I'd left because it wasn't your fight, Hilde was my best friend, there was no reason to get you involved, you didn't belong there
"Thirteen."
stop, make it stop, why won't you just listen to me, I'm not lying, I'm not lying, if I could, I wouldn't have, I didn't want to leave you there
"Fourteen."
Walking out of there, it was a big gaping hole in my chest, a big fucking hole, don't get pissy at me for doing you first, asshole
A slight hesitation, just the merest, and I was this close to gasping some kind of gratitude, anything, and then: "Fifteen."
goddamn it stop this, I'm not lying, I wanted you so badly, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore, nothing changes
"Sixteen..."
Shit! Don't fucking, ow, goddamnit, look, I had to leave, don't you get that, I had to! I know I'm gonna lose, but for once I wanted to do it on my own terms!
I froze, furious shouts echoing in my ears. No strike had come. Not even a touch on my body. I let my head drop, my chest heaved with every breath, my words were jagged in my throat and I couldn't say anything, only hang there. For even just a second, no more, a reprieve, even if my entire back flamed as sharply as though I'd laid face-up across a hot engine. I shut my eyes and dig my fingers into the carpet and feel the pain shooting through every nerve in my body. All of me vibrated from it, I could feel it, eating through me. I moaned, wishing, hoping, praying that it was over.
"Four more." Still no touch, just the encouragement. "You're almost there."
"I don't want to be there," I managed to say.
"What do you want?"
"For you to--" I almost said, to stop this, but choked on the laughter, verging on hysterical, bubbling up from my gut. Demanding that hadn't gotten me shit. But before, he'd hesitated-- and I went cold inside, trying to piece together what I'd been yelling at him. Had I hit something, found a truth he'd been denying? "Undo me. Please," I said, trying to sound as tired and exhausted and flat -- just plain bored -- as I had that first time we'd been in a moment like this. He had, he'd planned on leaving, eventually. This was one majorly fucked-up way to say goodbye, though.
A long pause, an unconvinced pause, it felt like.
"No, really." I relaxed my shoulders and stared at the floor, trails of hair catching along the sweat on my arm. "I get you put plenty effort into this. But it's not doing anything, okay? We're not getting anywhere. It's not working."
"Four more."
"NO!"
The strike came -- lighter, true, a barely glancing blow. I was halfway through a panicked, angry reaction, and realized the sting was already fading. What? What the hell? That was it? I heard his whispered count, a hollow tone, then another glancing pass and I -- I don't know what I felt right then, too many things at once, but mostly sheer bewilderment. At him, at me.
I twisted around as best I could. He stood beside me, belt hanging loosely from one hand. He stared down at me, that was all I could tell, a glint from the light's reflection in his eyes maybe, or just my imagination. He looked away, raised his arm, but it wasn't nearly the overhead power of before, a slight shrug in the gesture. It felt like... he was mocking me, like he'd turned something off, was just going through the motions. I recalled Quatre's hint of a taunt in his words, that I couldn't take it, and everything else thrown in, I wanted to fucking deck Heero. So Trowa and Wufei could act like they didn't give a damn if I fell off the face of the planet, they only played nice for old times' sake, and if I chose door number one they'd lose no sleep, and Quatre would just carry on playing people and counting his gold, but not Heero, he wasn't allowed to do that, not after everything.
"Don't you fucking dare! Don't you fucking write me off" I lunged in the straps, as best I could, and for the first time, felt the sawhorse shift beneath me. It only made me madder. "You fucking asshole, you can't do that, you can't bloody well fucking do that, I don't need you to take it easy on me, you goddamned bastard, fucking prick, I'm not some fucking pussy civilian, I can take anything you can and don't you fucking treat me like I'm expendable, don't you fucking underestimate me, too! I'll--"
I couldn't see his expression, but I could see his body, tense at my side, arm half-raised. If he was speaking, I drowned it out in mindless indigation, screaming myself hoarse, daring him to strike me again, daring him to give me whatever he had because there wasn't any shit out there that the rest of them could take that I couldn't take, too, just fucking watch me!
Heero seemed to fall back a step, then shifted and forward again, hand raised, as he barked, "twenty!" He brought his arm down with all the force in those muscles, and the blow seared every nerve ending.
I screamed.
One gutteral cry, a release, a freedom to just scream like I hadn't since the depths of space, and my entire body quivered, arched into the pain, and I couldn't even hope to move, recoil, but froze there, trapped. The agony hummed through me, but at the same time a bizarrely smug satisfaction.
I can take it, no matter what you dish out, I can take it and grin and always take more. Don't you underestimate me, don't treat me like I'm nothing, like I'm nobody, I'll make you fucking respect me, I'm not a fucking failure, I'm not a fuck-up, I'm not, I'm not
Hands cradled me, and I wasn't yelling anymore, just... had to explain, somehow. Before he walked away. Before he ever gave me that look again...
Don't even try, I won't take it. I'm sick of it, the way you look, thinking, you're no good, amateur, civilian. Somewhere in there, I was laughing, bitterly, tripping over the words as I fought against the straps, spitting mad even as I laughed and didn't know why. Go away kid, the real soldiers are talking. Well, fuck you! I've put in my time, you can't just dismiss me, not anymore, not again, I'll fucking dismiss you first, you hear me? You got that? You can't hurt me, you can't, you hear me?
A body came down over me, but no weight crushed me. Just a warmth of lean muscles and beating heart, hands slipping under my arms to hold me by the shoulders. My head hung down, chest heaving.
You can't. I won't let you. I know the choices you made, and I know what's most important to you, but that's okay, because I still had this, just this one last thing I needed to do. It was everything, don't you see that? I knew you'd just stop me, you'd tell me I was going to fuck it up, all of you would
"No." He whispered in my ear, and to my astonishment it sounded almost as though he were as broken as I. "You can't--"
I'm not sticking around for that, not one more time, not when it's this important to me. I'm not losing again, never again. Can't you see how much I lost when I lost her? I'm not going through that again, ever
"If you don't ask..." He bent down, and I felt his hair brush the back of my neck, then lips pressing against my spine.
Why? It didn't change anything, anyway, you all did same as always, just like before
His answer was as soft as my bitter whisper, or maybe he said nothing and I only imagined him pressing the words into my skin: when before?
I'm not... I coughed back a whimper at his tongue, tracing along a stripe over my shoulderblades. Belligerence gave my voice strength, finally. "I'm not...an obstacle. Not a fuck-up."
"I've never believed you are."
Like hell! I bucked under him, slammed him as best I could, and got nowhere. Goddamnit. Frustrated, I panted, chin tucked to press against the end of the bench, and glared at the floor. "You were always riding my ass about shit. Always. All of you were. I pulled my weight. I wasn't some fucking weak-ass airhead, chattering on without a thought in my head. Fuck you," I added, just on principle.
"If I rode your ass, it was because I knew you could take it."
I grunted.
"No one ever believed you were..." His voice trailed off, warm kisses were scattered across my shoulders. "A weak-ass airhead."
"You sure acted like it," I grumbled. "All of you did. You always have. Gotta ride in, cavalry come to rescue poor Duo Maxwell, such a fuck-up he can't even self-destruct his own fucking Gundam properly."
Heero froze over me, for a heartbeat, then began moving again, quick tongue flickering out to lick at the back of my neck. "You were one of the only people I knew I could always count on."
"Yeah. To fuck up."
He snorted, then his weight relaxed on top of me. Still not quite crushing, but steady, solid, fully there. "How old are we?"
I mumbled something about being able to count. Stupid-ass question.
"If it takes another fourteen years..." He kissed down my spine, leather and skin slithering across me, catching on the sweat but soothing on the rippling streaks across my back. "Then it does." He kissed at the base of my spine, licked up my tailbone, and then licked down, straight down my ass.
"Don't--" I jerked, flexing instinctively, no, he wasn't going to--
"Shhh," he said, and I could feel him kneeling behind me. His hands massaged my hips, and he pressed his face to that delicate point where skin stretches from tailbone across the ass... and hot breath blew against the skin just above my asshole. I couldn't help it, my asscheeks, hips, thighs, every muscle in the surrounding areas, all convulsed as one, trying to shake him off. I couldn't even articulate, but I wasn't going to-- he wasn't going to-- His tongue flickered at my asshole, running a wet line around it--
"No," I choked out, fingers digging into the carpet. "You can't, you can't--"
"Yes," he said, and his fingernails dug into my skin, forcing a whimper from me. "I can." Then he stabbed his tongue into me, and I bucked again, trying to tear away, but he only pushed deeper, and oh fucking space it felt good, I didn't want it to feel good-- no, no, no--
I kept my head down, eyes squeezed tight. His tongue felt hard, full, wriggling inside me but not far enough, pushing in and withdrawing, flat of his tongue licking up my crack only to dive into me again. Shit, it felt-- I couldn't breathe, and for even the slightest movements I could make, trying to pull away, then push back at him, shake him off, he held on, teasing me. I'd pull away and he'd let me, then follow and if I shoved back at him, how deep could his tongue go, fucking space his tongue felt wet against me and little shivers kept licking up my spine with every stab into me, I pushed my hips at him, and the sounds at the back of my throat turned into words, muttering, chanting in my ears: get off me, get off me, off me, off me, oh, fuck-- get-- oh, space, I can't, I'm--
"Don't," I told him, struggling to keep some last bit of dignity, "I'm not a fucking girl, I'm not a goddamn girl, I'm-- oh fuck!" I shook, twisted, writhed, cursed him with everything I had, poised on the edge of coming, a groan building in my chest with the effort of holding it back. It hadn't crept up on me, it had leapt from out of nowhere but no way was it gonna take me. Bad enough all that other shit, but I drew the line at being humiliated like that. And to think he'd done it all with only his tongue in me, fucking hells, in me! Shit, if he so much as moved, I'd fall right over into it, so close, so fucking close, fucking hells, so close--
His hand grasped my cock, holding it, tight, then too tight.
"Shit!" I cried out at the pressure, startled by his touch and the sharp pinch of his fingers. "Ow, fucker! Watch it!"
"You're not a girl," he said, and kissed the underside of my ass. One of his fingers played at the edge of my asshole, round and round. I couldn't figure out how to get it away, get it to do something, stop teasing me... He just licked up my ass again, along one of the still-flaring streaks from the cane. "Believe me, I've never once been in doubt."
He squeezed my cock again, too much, and I whimpered, half-afraid he was about to use that legendary, too-scary, strength and turn me into a girl right then and there. I might've squeaked, I'm not sure, but his grip did lighten. Curiously, I found the orgasm's edge receding, as well. I stared at the floor, barely able to focus.
"You can't run from this." I thought he might be crawling around me, but then I started to find him lying on the floor beneath me. He'd pushed up between my legs, under the bench. He watched me, eyes hooded. One hand reached up to brush hair from my face. "For once in your life, that alternative is gone."
"You--" I wanted to be angry, really I did, and for some reason it didn't seem to matter anymore just how ignominous a position he had me in. Or that his saliva was cool on my skin, drying slowly in the room's cool air, or that my back had to be a million shades of crimson along with my dignity. "You didn't have to do this," I choked out.
"Did I?" He tapped a finger on my cheek. "You really believe that?"
"Ye--" I started to say, then saw the look in his eyes. He was waiting for me to say yes, and he'd say, five more. I just knew it. "It's not a lie," I protested. "It's not, not if you believe it hard enough..." I must've sounded like I was pleading with him. Maybe I was.
"Do wishes really make it so?" He, in turn, sounded a little sad.
I found one last ounce of fight in me, though it came out half-hearted, I'm sure. "Sometimes that's all you've got."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 19 Jul 2007 12:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 21 Jul 2007 06:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 21 Jul 2007 12:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 31 Jul 2007 06:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 31 Jul 2007 11:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 31 Jul 2007 05:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 1 Aug 2007 02:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 19 Jul 2007 01:59 pm (UTC)More KmO. And long enough for at *least* two cups of tea. ^^
Ok. Read the other parts, too. It's definitely rounder now. It flows well, while still keeping Duo's snarky voice.
I think that loosing his purpose, he's also lost his personal path. He doesn't really see any future for himself. And on the other hand, he's not willing to look at the present, or the past, either. I *think* I know what Heero's trying to do.
Duo never really took a good look at himself and what drives him in life. He just bottled it all up and put a smiley face on the outside. He never confronted himself, or his goals and motivations. Not even when he started to get into the scene because of Heero.
I'm *very* much looking forward to seeing if Heero can reach his goal.
Very powerful chapter!
no subject
Date: 27 Jul 2007 09:56 pm (UTC)Heero is walking a fine line here. He doesn't want to be dominant, but says he's good at it. Will he be satisfied with the results of this session even if he gets the answers he is pushing for? If Duo breaks in this situation, will he be 'broken'?
Can't wait for the next chapter. I think I'll friend you if you don't mind just so I don't miss it.
no subject
Date: 31 Jul 2007 05:56 pm (UTC)Don't know if you saw, but I did post Kmo23 -- working on 24 currently, between working on renovating my kitchen and, erm, actual work-work.
No problem friending, glad to have you. ;-)
no subject
Date: 31 Jul 2007 06:33 pm (UTC)Just in case you really did forget these author's notes:
"This story grew out of my wish to respond to the seemingly endless number of stories revolving around the topic of slavery, especially those that focus on breaking or torturing a person past their point of resistance. Sometimes reading those becomes excruciating, since so many seem to revel in a concept that I find personally abhorrent, when put into reality: removing all free will from a person, and destroying their spark of individuality. And worse, few investigate the process involved in surviving (let alone healing from) such an experience. So I decided I would.
Part of the bleakness will be as the back-story becomes clear. Expect physical abuse, violence, torture, and possible squick situations. Also expect gallows humor, surprising light-hearted moments, and behaviors that make no sense from a rational point of view.
It is not a pretty picture. And the simple fact is that I can't necessarily promise a happy ending in the traditional sense, where everything ends up back to 'normal,' because I can't find anything in the medical or psychological information that indicates that a person – after surviving such an intense psychological breakdown – will ever be truly 'normal' again. You're also going to read a lot of questions raised by performing such a horror, and the two main characters will also be raising ethical questions about their own roles in the recreation of an individual. Some of their positions and conclusions may surprise you, and some may upset you.
I've done a great deal of research for this story, and I'm trying to stick to as realistic an extrapolation as possible. Now that you're braced for impact, I will assure you that I believe in the strength of a human being to come up with a way to fight even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. To paraphrase Trowa's words in the first chapter, none of the characters in this story are going to go gently into any damn night."
See, still impressive. I did find #23. That's the nice thing about friending - you don't have to hunt and peck. Looking forward to #24.