TAN (2/2)
And here is that second and last part. It's exceedingly shorter than the Sequel KEI--but then KEI is more psychological than it is about straight-up porn. Love, the Girls of Rainbowfragment
The younger male’s ears perked up when they were instantly greeted with the sound of rich, gravel laughter, emphasized by the strain behind it. “We’ll see how much I please you, sadistic one.” The delicate features winced as if in pain or pleasure so acute, it might as well be pain.
“Meaning?” Heero asked once more, licking the tip of the near-purple cock, but now his tongue lingered, swirling about the tip several times before one slow long lick over and into the slit. His calculated icy blue eyes gazed up at the blonde’s face constantly.
Milliardo threw back his head, sending a wave of liquid gold with him, his groan louder. Even that sort of distraction didn’t cut off his next chirp of a reply.
“That you might want to keep me if I make you happy enough.”
“A pet…?” Heero seemed to consider and weigh the possibility. “I would probably kill it…”
The teenager couldn’t repress the grin that emerged at the idea of Milliardo with a dog collar around his neck. “Sounds as though you want to be my property though, hm?” he half accused, half questioned as his other hand grabbed and squeezed one of the cheeks of the royal ass.
“Or maybe you’re,” the European growled, “hoping too hard and reading too much into what I say.”
Heero finally let out a bark of laughter at the conversation’s turn. “You are one smart bitch, you know that?”
He allowed a finger to slide between the firm globes of flesh, searching lazily for the blonde’s anus. His eyes continued to watch even after the laughter subsided, quickly returning focus to his hand working at the same spot between his legs.
“Are you at all masochistic, Zechs?” he asked, the query itself could be taken as a warning despite its informality.
“Perhaps,” Milliardo returned slyly, spreading his legs wider.
The daring tone only made the Asian assassin laugh harder as he slid a dry finger within the orifice he had sought blindly for. The other finger continued to massage, dulled in intensity, growing softer and slower in its touching. He was quite surprised really that he could manage to enjoy this game, his blue jeans distinctively tighter around his crotch, but he held back the small growl that tickled the back of his throat. It wasn’t time that he introduced his enjoyment of the game just yet.
All of the “submissive” one’s muscles clasped hard on that invading appendage, his teeth gritting together, flashing like pearls.
/No time to give any more sighs yet./ Milliardo mysteriously thought. /The game has only scarcely begun./
Meanwhile, Heero still probed a moment with the one digit, but it took less than a minute to allow a second to join. Despite the brutality of their entrance and movements, he nevertheless scissored the muscle a bit. The entire time, he examined the beautiful face for a reaction of any sort as he stroked absently at the man’s perineum. He watched as the captive visibly forced himself to relax, his resistance melting away like snow on a blazing summer’s day. Instead, the prey drew the fingers in deeper, cutting off, refusing in fact to make another noise, haphazardly experimenting with new methods it seemed.
Eager, sarcastic, twisted, stubborn. Milliardo Peacecraft could play them all so well…
As if needing to hear another shout, Heero pulled his fingers almost all the way out and thrust quickly back inside, now three of them, and with accuracy only akin to the “Perfect Soldier,” he struck hard at the elusive prostate hidden within the man’s body.
The Japanese could begin to slowly feel his patience ebb away as he nearly shifted with need now.
The pale limbs pulled taut as their owner’s body surged upward, teeth sinking hard into his bottom lip. The sharp tang of blood again penetrated the moist cavern of his mouth, invading deeply, sliding down the back of his throat unheeded. Milliardo wished that he could see the younger male smile as the teenager continued to roughly force the fingers in and out of the tight passage without mercy.
The Asian loved every reaction he got out of the tall form beneath him, sending another surge of pleasure to his nether regions.
His hand moved from the rarely known spot of pleasure to cup and fondle, surprisingly gentle at the firm lifting balls. For the assassin, it was all about the captive’s reaction, so he relentlessly scrutinized the elegantly-sculpted man’s face, carefully examining for the slightest movement behind the blindfold.
The soft-skinned globes further tightened and uplifted at the touch, and Milliardo simply lolled his head to the side. The lines in his neck stood out sharply in relief and tension. Heero squeezed experimentally at the organ he held between the European’s legs. He leaned upward as he allowed his fingers to flex about his balls still gentle and pleasing. Once he reached his torso, he took a nipple in his mouth and suckled.
The combined sensations sent a tantalizingly low, rumbling moan from Milliardo’s parted mouth.
Nibbling at the skin, Heero caused the numb to harden between his teeth. The smile on his face must have hurt those unused facial muscles.
He was pleased to have forced more sounds out of that formerly willing body. His hand continued its gentle fondling and squeezing below as the fingers moved in and out still. It seemed that the Tallgeese pilot had lucked out in one respect: his Gundam pilot had no nails. Heero moved his hand swift and deep, clearly uncaring if there would be pain or damage caused by his actions.
Milliardo danced on the edge of climax, his cock rigid and ready to explode. The edges no longer blurred, they simply crinkled in blackening spots. He thrust upward as much as his bonds allowed, sweat slicking his body, easing his back and forth movements. His legs snapped apart to the widest degree that his position allowed.
The Japanese boy, however, soon moved away to tease yet a little longer. First, his hands left the inside of the longer body; then his mouth retreated with a final kiss to his sternum. He sat on his heels, looking down at his artwork, bringing his damp fingertip to the tip of the blonde’s erection.
It leaped to action, the nearly purple head bobbing as if to move closer to the tentative touch.
“What are you waiting for?” Milliardo made do with a drawl, a pant accenting the middle of his sentence.
“Patience, tsk tsk,” Heero’s smile brightened as he saw that the man was at last losing composure. He slowly slid his damp hands up the pale thighs, then to the sides of his torso, and over his arms. He moved like viscous fluid. He only permitted the palms of his hands to please the greedy skin with his touch. The hands slid up the slender neck, even pausing to massage there before cupping the pale cheeks. The tan fingers slid beneath the black cloth that hovered over the blue eyes and continued still upward. The fabric, caught beneath his thumb between the appendage and his index finger, slowly lifted up and off the golden head.
Heero threw the cloth to the side carelessly with one hand while the other went on to cover the anxious fluttering eyelids. That wicked smile stayed solidly in place as he persisted in the hunt of reaction. His free hand went on to travel down over the rippled stomach, glazing over each well-formed muscle hidden under a flawless layer of ivory silk. Soon, even that faltering touch disappeared from the nude body. Exactly five minutes later, he also allowed his other hand to retreat from the still bound form.
The eyes of frosted sky focused sharply on his capturer’s face, wide black pupils contracting only slightly when he was allowed to see. After silently eyeing his tormentor, one corner of his mouth quirked up coolly. His composure firmly resided in his grasp again. Those pupils dilated, nearly consuming the blue irises as they adjusted to the poor lighting to take in the smug expression planted neatly on his fellow soldier’s young hardened face.
Somewhere during the time Heero spent torturing his captive, he had managed to unzip the jeans without any noticeable noise. He was already openly stroking himself, the pain of neglecting his arousal having bothered him long enough. His hand moved over the rock hard flesh slow and lazy. It calmed him. Indeed, he didn’t make a single sound as he did so, his own orbs nearly black with desire from watching Zechs.
The blonde licked his lips, his tongue a sharp pink, moistening the plump swollen lips. “I see you actually did enjoy yourself,” he purred.
“Only a little.” Heero smirked at the once more confident blonde and pondered a moment the implied question in the air. His voice remained steady even as he clearly grew harder with each passing moment. He wasn’t ready to allow himself to lose it yet.
“But I’m jealous you’re getting more out of this.” He eyed the man’s crotch. “Selfish to the end, Zechs.” He tsked half-heartedly, pressing his finger into the tip of his erection and cut off his speech short so as not to permit his voice to betray him.
Milliardo liked messing with the little boy. “You haven’t offered me any way to help your condition,” Milliardo persuaded sweetly.
“Am I supposed to?” Heero growled out now, still stroking himself in a vain effort to keep his patience.
The blonde merely leaned his head back and twisted the chain he gripped between his long fingers. “Only if you want to get more out of this exchange, Heero.”
“And how should I allow that?” Heero held back the moan within his throat. He now forced his hand to move from his own pleasure and rest on the other’s thigh, gently caressing the smooth skin.
“You’re prefect, soldier. Be resourceful in the situation,” the former Oz commander suggested and let out a small hiss of breath.
“Resourceful, do you say?” The Gundam laughed, amazed that after all he had done to him he could still be cocky.
Heero leaned upward, reaching out, and his hand captured the blonde’s chin firmly. His lips swiftly descended against his prey’s. The Japanese male took advantage of his restraints and ravaged the warm, moist mouth, his tongue searching and touching every inch of it. He teased the other’s tongue with his own, flicking over and past the muscle. The hand that held Milliardo’s chin was firmly placed so he couldn’t dare close his mouth, the strength near bruising.
Milliardo pushed forward as much as he could, sealing their lips together and played with his tongue, drawing it into his mouth and suckling hard. Heero allowed that privilege before pressing harder to him and the hand below squeezed at his aching penis, finally pumping the organ hard and fast.
Scraping his teeth along the muscle in his possession, the alliance-free man arched up and into the warm body looming over him. A cry of release slipped out as he only increased the pressure in his mouth, and his hips thrust upward, his cock finally exploding in spasms and shudders. His lower half rocked forward, releasing in pulses until his seed covered the entirety of Heero’s hand and arm.
Even as he continued to kiss his torturer, his body relaxed under the relief.
Heero pulled from the kiss a couple of inches from the hot mouth, breathing quite heavily. His hand wiped itself clean by rubbing the bed sheets beneath the tied body.
“Exhausted?” he asked with a small smirk, gazing into the crystalline blue orbs.
“Bring whatever else you have,” the European whispered, his voice husky and thick, starting to lose himself helplessly in the stormy cobalt depths.
With that brash statement out in the open, Heero quickly maneuvered himself in between the bent long legs to give the man everything with one hard deep thrust into his only slightly prepared anus. The tight ring of muscle scrapped across his full hardened arousal; his lack of mercy showed through with the rough ram. A groan on his part finally sounded, though, as he decided to finally sate his hunger. He didn’t bother with allowing the overconfident bastard a moment of adjustment, figuring that if he thought he was so damn good then he could take it. Every thrust was deep and quick-his balls slapped against the smooth well-rounded buttocks he drove between. He held the pale hips in place firmly with one hand and his other arm rested beside the European’s head to support most of his own weight.
With a slight pain, Milliardo started to lift his hips to meet his thrust, soft moans liquefying in the air from his lips. He held the eye contact and leaned up. His tongue snuck out and lapped at a drop of sweat collecting on the caramel throat, soon tracing the outlines.
The stabbing, splitting pain didn’t even begin to faze him; Trieze had done worse to him during his brief rare lapses of control. Instead, it only caused his muscles to clamp even harder on the invading organ, a small trail of blood meandering down to drip inconspicuously onto the white sheets.
Choosing to ignore how his captive enjoyed this turn of events far too much, the Japanese boy continued until he himself spilled into the elder man below with a guttural moan of victory, as if he had conquered the fathomless beast and had taken him down after a hearty chase. Pausing to rest on top of his victim, he took several deep, cleansing breaths, his mind settling from the orgasmic peak he was descending from-a full, conscious thought later and he realized that a hard penis pressed into his stomach. He sat up quickly and pulled out of the man’s anal canal with a pop when the head emerged, and that cruel smile beamed down once more upon the hapless arousal.
“Well…” Heero mockingly laughed, as if he knew how to laugh otherwise, before pressing his thumb to its tip. “What were you getting worked up over?”
“Your pain,” Milliardo responded with a low moan and openly thrust up into his hand. He leaned up again and bit down sharply on the side of the dusky throat, his tongue swiping over it to take away the sting.
“Nice idea for you… but that isn’t very easy here. Considering your… condition.” Heero pulled back from the voracious tongue and moved his hand away to stare at the bare pale form. His self-assured smile still remained as he sat on his heels between the spread legs.
The still cold eyes were half-lidded at the Asian, desire and lust raging within their clear depths.
“Fuck me,” Milliardo repeated from an hour ago, a saucy smirk crossing his lips.
“You ass,” came the almost predictable growl at the sly bastard.
Just before Heero had deliberately started this adventure, he had been prepared to torture the man for information. He had sharpened one of his special occasion knives as he waited for Zechs to awaken. Yet when the older pilot did, the brunette had found himself annoyed when the older male made one of his oh-so-witty comments. He clearly recalled Zechs asking him if he was “some horny terrorist who had for lack of a better way to waste time kidnapped a defenseless man in search in some way of achieving pleasure.” Irritated with the crack and the clear underestimation on Milliardo’s part, he played the boastful man at his game. He went on to work the blonde up until he was clearly aroused. From that hazardous point, he had half-planned to drive him crazy.
And well, that didn’t really happen.
/Damn cocky prick./ The perfect soldier mentally griped, glaring when the same words he heard earlier reached his ears.
The older pilot stretched lazily and purred. A trace of laughter emerged and mingled in his new smile.
“No sense of humor at all, Heero?”
The said young man zipped his jeans up and turned. He went to a small duffel bag and retrieved something. He held the object at an angle that the man couldn’t see.
The twisted smile had faded momentarily but rapidly returned when he stared down at the far too pretty man. He brought out the toy, sliding the sharp edge of the pocket knife up the underside of the hard cock.
“You like to fuck around, don’t you?” he stated, blank expression suddenly on his face with the action.
“Perhaps,” Milliardo flippantly returned, tilting his head up to peer down playfully at the young teenager. “Depends on the player, or the fuckee.”
“Really?” Heero asked. “How you feel about eunuchs?”
The young Japanese tone was cold and vacant. This particular nuance meant business-nothing more, nothing less. Milliardo could feel the sharp edge beginning to dig into soft unsuspecting flesh so valuable to his “manliness”. Heero hated to be played with.
The victim’s teasing smile gained a more spiteful edge.
“Fuck, cut off, and run, no? Quite impressive. Too bad, you could have made a better pawn of war if you hadn’t messed up, cut off someone you shouldn’t have, and ruined much of your career. I was hoping to see more, but if you’re simply a coward, then I’ll be disappointed.”
Heero’s rusty laughter followed those contemptuous words. It was then that he made his final decision and he did it in exactly four slashes. Each cut were only deep enough to leave a scar for a good few years at least on the pale thigh where the blade connected.
“Just want to be able to let you remember me.” That strange hint of a smile flashed down before he wiped the blood off his blade with a couple swipes on the opposite thigh.
/Always leave the blood on the victim when possible./
He returned to his bag without another word and dropped the weapon in after closing it. He lifted his bag and observed his work a moment
Droplets of blood oozed placidly from the wounds; underneath the muscle twitched minutely.
“I wonder what you wrote,” the man of many names mused almost conversationally. His voice did not give away his internal struggle.
“Do you?” And when Heero laughed again, it was the same laugh he had when first defeating the man in the beginning of Operation Meteor.
With that eerie sound, the Gundam pilot was gone, out of his sight, and took a stage left.
It wasn’t but moments after the pilot’s exit that the deserted blonde began to realize the faintness and sudden dizzy spell that came over his body. Never did he expect for Heero Yuy, Pilot of the Wing Gundam 01, to be one to poison or drug his enemies. He was too precise, too particular about the appearance of death-he was leaning toward the latter rather than the former because of that trait. The drug was on the blade that he cut him with.
It was the only effective method that Milliardo could come up with as he fought to keep his eyes open.
Besides, if the Heero Yuy truly wanted him dead, then it would have been a clean shot in the middle of the forehead amongst the seagulls. Poison was too personal and inefficient; he wanted Milliardo to live.
With these last thoughts flowing through his tired mind, the prince went limp and fell into unconsciousness. Exactly one hundred and twenty minutes later, the young pilot returned from his departure only to gather up his minuscule belongings and dispose of his latest mission objective. On his way into the room, he turned on the light and approached the venerable and vulnerable figure. Not a single sound reached above the difference threshold.
He stood over the pale form and watched the gentle and even rise and fall of the chest that indicated he was currently unconscious. Then, moving quickly, he freed him from the iron bar, unraveling the chair that held the handcuffs there.
He opted to leave the cuffs on so as not to cause any problems.
Once he had cleaned up the remains of the mission, he proceeded to drop off the load with the Sweepers Group that 02 had once been associated with because it was frankly one of the safer places he knew about. He had recalled the ship from when the pilot of the Deathscythe Gundam had tried so hard to help him escape a military medical facility.
***
The next morning Howard would be informed of the gift in a plastic garbage bag, still handcuffed and nude. There was a note attached, skillfully typed rather than handwritten, that had told Howard he could “do whatever you see fit” with the present.
The old man saw no reason to do any harm as after all a Gundam had already gotten a hold of him; the poor man didn’t need any more damage. So, instead, he only clothed and fed him. Once the soldier awakened, he naturally planned to talk with the man, a little chitchat, but nothing more-and he wouldn’t question the sliced symbol carved into the man’s leg. None of his business, he said to himself. And after a little bit of talking, he would give him a fair chance to do whatever it was that he pleased to do with his life.
If a Gundam had set him free, then surely he wasn’t done with life yet.
***
Footnotes:
1-TAN is the name of a Japanese symbol (done in four strokes) meaning red, cinnabar, or elixir of life.
Authors’ Notes:
There’s a sequel! Please read!
The younger male’s ears perked up when they were instantly greeted with the sound of rich, gravel laughter, emphasized by the strain behind it. “We’ll see how much I please you, sadistic one.” The delicate features winced as if in pain or pleasure so acute, it might as well be pain.
“Meaning?” Heero asked once more, licking the tip of the near-purple cock, but now his tongue lingered, swirling about the tip several times before one slow long lick over and into the slit. His calculated icy blue eyes gazed up at the blonde’s face constantly.
Milliardo threw back his head, sending a wave of liquid gold with him, his groan louder. Even that sort of distraction didn’t cut off his next chirp of a reply.
“That you might want to keep me if I make you happy enough.”
“A pet…?” Heero seemed to consider and weigh the possibility. “I would probably kill it…”
The teenager couldn’t repress the grin that emerged at the idea of Milliardo with a dog collar around his neck. “Sounds as though you want to be my property though, hm?” he half accused, half questioned as his other hand grabbed and squeezed one of the cheeks of the royal ass.
“Or maybe you’re,” the European growled, “hoping too hard and reading too much into what I say.”
Heero finally let out a bark of laughter at the conversation’s turn. “You are one smart bitch, you know that?”
He allowed a finger to slide between the firm globes of flesh, searching lazily for the blonde’s anus. His eyes continued to watch even after the laughter subsided, quickly returning focus to his hand working at the same spot between his legs.
“Are you at all masochistic, Zechs?” he asked, the query itself could be taken as a warning despite its informality.
“Perhaps,” Milliardo returned slyly, spreading his legs wider.
The daring tone only made the Asian assassin laugh harder as he slid a dry finger within the orifice he had sought blindly for. The other finger continued to massage, dulled in intensity, growing softer and slower in its touching. He was quite surprised really that he could manage to enjoy this game, his blue jeans distinctively tighter around his crotch, but he held back the small growl that tickled the back of his throat. It wasn’t time that he introduced his enjoyment of the game just yet.
All of the “submissive” one’s muscles clasped hard on that invading appendage, his teeth gritting together, flashing like pearls.
/No time to give any more sighs yet./ Milliardo mysteriously thought. /The game has only scarcely begun./
Meanwhile, Heero still probed a moment with the one digit, but it took less than a minute to allow a second to join. Despite the brutality of their entrance and movements, he nevertheless scissored the muscle a bit. The entire time, he examined the beautiful face for a reaction of any sort as he stroked absently at the man’s perineum. He watched as the captive visibly forced himself to relax, his resistance melting away like snow on a blazing summer’s day. Instead, the prey drew the fingers in deeper, cutting off, refusing in fact to make another noise, haphazardly experimenting with new methods it seemed.
Eager, sarcastic, twisted, stubborn. Milliardo Peacecraft could play them all so well…
As if needing to hear another shout, Heero pulled his fingers almost all the way out and thrust quickly back inside, now three of them, and with accuracy only akin to the “Perfect Soldier,” he struck hard at the elusive prostate hidden within the man’s body.
The Japanese could begin to slowly feel his patience ebb away as he nearly shifted with need now.
The pale limbs pulled taut as their owner’s body surged upward, teeth sinking hard into his bottom lip. The sharp tang of blood again penetrated the moist cavern of his mouth, invading deeply, sliding down the back of his throat unheeded. Milliardo wished that he could see the younger male smile as the teenager continued to roughly force the fingers in and out of the tight passage without mercy.
The Asian loved every reaction he got out of the tall form beneath him, sending another surge of pleasure to his nether regions.
His hand moved from the rarely known spot of pleasure to cup and fondle, surprisingly gentle at the firm lifting balls. For the assassin, it was all about the captive’s reaction, so he relentlessly scrutinized the elegantly-sculpted man’s face, carefully examining for the slightest movement behind the blindfold.
The soft-skinned globes further tightened and uplifted at the touch, and Milliardo simply lolled his head to the side. The lines in his neck stood out sharply in relief and tension. Heero squeezed experimentally at the organ he held between the European’s legs. He leaned upward as he allowed his fingers to flex about his balls still gentle and pleasing. Once he reached his torso, he took a nipple in his mouth and suckled.
The combined sensations sent a tantalizingly low, rumbling moan from Milliardo’s parted mouth.
Nibbling at the skin, Heero caused the numb to harden between his teeth. The smile on his face must have hurt those unused facial muscles.
He was pleased to have forced more sounds out of that formerly willing body. His hand continued its gentle fondling and squeezing below as the fingers moved in and out still. It seemed that the Tallgeese pilot had lucked out in one respect: his Gundam pilot had no nails. Heero moved his hand swift and deep, clearly uncaring if there would be pain or damage caused by his actions.
Milliardo danced on the edge of climax, his cock rigid and ready to explode. The edges no longer blurred, they simply crinkled in blackening spots. He thrust upward as much as his bonds allowed, sweat slicking his body, easing his back and forth movements. His legs snapped apart to the widest degree that his position allowed.
The Japanese boy, however, soon moved away to tease yet a little longer. First, his hands left the inside of the longer body; then his mouth retreated with a final kiss to his sternum. He sat on his heels, looking down at his artwork, bringing his damp fingertip to the tip of the blonde’s erection.
It leaped to action, the nearly purple head bobbing as if to move closer to the tentative touch.
“What are you waiting for?” Milliardo made do with a drawl, a pant accenting the middle of his sentence.
“Patience, tsk tsk,” Heero’s smile brightened as he saw that the man was at last losing composure. He slowly slid his damp hands up the pale thighs, then to the sides of his torso, and over his arms. He moved like viscous fluid. He only permitted the palms of his hands to please the greedy skin with his touch. The hands slid up the slender neck, even pausing to massage there before cupping the pale cheeks. The tan fingers slid beneath the black cloth that hovered over the blue eyes and continued still upward. The fabric, caught beneath his thumb between the appendage and his index finger, slowly lifted up and off the golden head.
Heero threw the cloth to the side carelessly with one hand while the other went on to cover the anxious fluttering eyelids. That wicked smile stayed solidly in place as he persisted in the hunt of reaction. His free hand went on to travel down over the rippled stomach, glazing over each well-formed muscle hidden under a flawless layer of ivory silk. Soon, even that faltering touch disappeared from the nude body. Exactly five minutes later, he also allowed his other hand to retreat from the still bound form.
The eyes of frosted sky focused sharply on his capturer’s face, wide black pupils contracting only slightly when he was allowed to see. After silently eyeing his tormentor, one corner of his mouth quirked up coolly. His composure firmly resided in his grasp again. Those pupils dilated, nearly consuming the blue irises as they adjusted to the poor lighting to take in the smug expression planted neatly on his fellow soldier’s young hardened face.
Somewhere during the time Heero spent torturing his captive, he had managed to unzip the jeans without any noticeable noise. He was already openly stroking himself, the pain of neglecting his arousal having bothered him long enough. His hand moved over the rock hard flesh slow and lazy. It calmed him. Indeed, he didn’t make a single sound as he did so, his own orbs nearly black with desire from watching Zechs.
The blonde licked his lips, his tongue a sharp pink, moistening the plump swollen lips. “I see you actually did enjoy yourself,” he purred.
“Only a little.” Heero smirked at the once more confident blonde and pondered a moment the implied question in the air. His voice remained steady even as he clearly grew harder with each passing moment. He wasn’t ready to allow himself to lose it yet.
“But I’m jealous you’re getting more out of this.” He eyed the man’s crotch. “Selfish to the end, Zechs.” He tsked half-heartedly, pressing his finger into the tip of his erection and cut off his speech short so as not to permit his voice to betray him.
Milliardo liked messing with the little boy. “You haven’t offered me any way to help your condition,” Milliardo persuaded sweetly.
“Am I supposed to?” Heero growled out now, still stroking himself in a vain effort to keep his patience.
The blonde merely leaned his head back and twisted the chain he gripped between his long fingers. “Only if you want to get more out of this exchange, Heero.”
“And how should I allow that?” Heero held back the moan within his throat. He now forced his hand to move from his own pleasure and rest on the other’s thigh, gently caressing the smooth skin.
“You’re prefect, soldier. Be resourceful in the situation,” the former Oz commander suggested and let out a small hiss of breath.
“Resourceful, do you say?” The Gundam laughed, amazed that after all he had done to him he could still be cocky.
Heero leaned upward, reaching out, and his hand captured the blonde’s chin firmly. His lips swiftly descended against his prey’s. The Japanese male took advantage of his restraints and ravaged the warm, moist mouth, his tongue searching and touching every inch of it. He teased the other’s tongue with his own, flicking over and past the muscle. The hand that held Milliardo’s chin was firmly placed so he couldn’t dare close his mouth, the strength near bruising.
Milliardo pushed forward as much as he could, sealing their lips together and played with his tongue, drawing it into his mouth and suckling hard. Heero allowed that privilege before pressing harder to him and the hand below squeezed at his aching penis, finally pumping the organ hard and fast.
Scraping his teeth along the muscle in his possession, the alliance-free man arched up and into the warm body looming over him. A cry of release slipped out as he only increased the pressure in his mouth, and his hips thrust upward, his cock finally exploding in spasms and shudders. His lower half rocked forward, releasing in pulses until his seed covered the entirety of Heero’s hand and arm.
Even as he continued to kiss his torturer, his body relaxed under the relief.
Heero pulled from the kiss a couple of inches from the hot mouth, breathing quite heavily. His hand wiped itself clean by rubbing the bed sheets beneath the tied body.
“Exhausted?” he asked with a small smirk, gazing into the crystalline blue orbs.
“Bring whatever else you have,” the European whispered, his voice husky and thick, starting to lose himself helplessly in the stormy cobalt depths.
With that brash statement out in the open, Heero quickly maneuvered himself in between the bent long legs to give the man everything with one hard deep thrust into his only slightly prepared anus. The tight ring of muscle scrapped across his full hardened arousal; his lack of mercy showed through with the rough ram. A groan on his part finally sounded, though, as he decided to finally sate his hunger. He didn’t bother with allowing the overconfident bastard a moment of adjustment, figuring that if he thought he was so damn good then he could take it. Every thrust was deep and quick-his balls slapped against the smooth well-rounded buttocks he drove between. He held the pale hips in place firmly with one hand and his other arm rested beside the European’s head to support most of his own weight.
With a slight pain, Milliardo started to lift his hips to meet his thrust, soft moans liquefying in the air from his lips. He held the eye contact and leaned up. His tongue snuck out and lapped at a drop of sweat collecting on the caramel throat, soon tracing the outlines.
The stabbing, splitting pain didn’t even begin to faze him; Trieze had done worse to him during his brief rare lapses of control. Instead, it only caused his muscles to clamp even harder on the invading organ, a small trail of blood meandering down to drip inconspicuously onto the white sheets.
Choosing to ignore how his captive enjoyed this turn of events far too much, the Japanese boy continued until he himself spilled into the elder man below with a guttural moan of victory, as if he had conquered the fathomless beast and had taken him down after a hearty chase. Pausing to rest on top of his victim, he took several deep, cleansing breaths, his mind settling from the orgasmic peak he was descending from-a full, conscious thought later and he realized that a hard penis pressed into his stomach. He sat up quickly and pulled out of the man’s anal canal with a pop when the head emerged, and that cruel smile beamed down once more upon the hapless arousal.
“Well…” Heero mockingly laughed, as if he knew how to laugh otherwise, before pressing his thumb to its tip. “What were you getting worked up over?”
“Your pain,” Milliardo responded with a low moan and openly thrust up into his hand. He leaned up again and bit down sharply on the side of the dusky throat, his tongue swiping over it to take away the sting.
“Nice idea for you… but that isn’t very easy here. Considering your… condition.” Heero pulled back from the voracious tongue and moved his hand away to stare at the bare pale form. His self-assured smile still remained as he sat on his heels between the spread legs.
The still cold eyes were half-lidded at the Asian, desire and lust raging within their clear depths.
“Fuck me,” Milliardo repeated from an hour ago, a saucy smirk crossing his lips.
“You ass,” came the almost predictable growl at the sly bastard.
Just before Heero had deliberately started this adventure, he had been prepared to torture the man for information. He had sharpened one of his special occasion knives as he waited for Zechs to awaken. Yet when the older pilot did, the brunette had found himself annoyed when the older male made one of his oh-so-witty comments. He clearly recalled Zechs asking him if he was “some horny terrorist who had for lack of a better way to waste time kidnapped a defenseless man in search in some way of achieving pleasure.” Irritated with the crack and the clear underestimation on Milliardo’s part, he played the boastful man at his game. He went on to work the blonde up until he was clearly aroused. From that hazardous point, he had half-planned to drive him crazy.
And well, that didn’t really happen.
/Damn cocky prick./ The perfect soldier mentally griped, glaring when the same words he heard earlier reached his ears.
The older pilot stretched lazily and purred. A trace of laughter emerged and mingled in his new smile.
“No sense of humor at all, Heero?”
The said young man zipped his jeans up and turned. He went to a small duffel bag and retrieved something. He held the object at an angle that the man couldn’t see.
The twisted smile had faded momentarily but rapidly returned when he stared down at the far too pretty man. He brought out the toy, sliding the sharp edge of the pocket knife up the underside of the hard cock.
“You like to fuck around, don’t you?” he stated, blank expression suddenly on his face with the action.
“Perhaps,” Milliardo flippantly returned, tilting his head up to peer down playfully at the young teenager. “Depends on the player, or the fuckee.”
“Really?” Heero asked. “How you feel about eunuchs?”
The young Japanese tone was cold and vacant. This particular nuance meant business-nothing more, nothing less. Milliardo could feel the sharp edge beginning to dig into soft unsuspecting flesh so valuable to his “manliness”. Heero hated to be played with.
The victim’s teasing smile gained a more spiteful edge.
“Fuck, cut off, and run, no? Quite impressive. Too bad, you could have made a better pawn of war if you hadn’t messed up, cut off someone you shouldn’t have, and ruined much of your career. I was hoping to see more, but if you’re simply a coward, then I’ll be disappointed.”
Heero’s rusty laughter followed those contemptuous words. It was then that he made his final decision and he did it in exactly four slashes. Each cut were only deep enough to leave a scar for a good few years at least on the pale thigh where the blade connected.
“Just want to be able to let you remember me.” That strange hint of a smile flashed down before he wiped the blood off his blade with a couple swipes on the opposite thigh.
/Always leave the blood on the victim when possible./
He returned to his bag without another word and dropped the weapon in after closing it. He lifted his bag and observed his work a moment
Droplets of blood oozed placidly from the wounds; underneath the muscle twitched minutely.
“I wonder what you wrote,” the man of many names mused almost conversationally. His voice did not give away his internal struggle.
“Do you?” And when Heero laughed again, it was the same laugh he had when first defeating the man in the beginning of Operation Meteor.
With that eerie sound, the Gundam pilot was gone, out of his sight, and took a stage left.
It wasn’t but moments after the pilot’s exit that the deserted blonde began to realize the faintness and sudden dizzy spell that came over his body. Never did he expect for Heero Yuy, Pilot of the Wing Gundam 01, to be one to poison or drug his enemies. He was too precise, too particular about the appearance of death-he was leaning toward the latter rather than the former because of that trait. The drug was on the blade that he cut him with.
It was the only effective method that Milliardo could come up with as he fought to keep his eyes open.
Besides, if the Heero Yuy truly wanted him dead, then it would have been a clean shot in the middle of the forehead amongst the seagulls. Poison was too personal and inefficient; he wanted Milliardo to live.
With these last thoughts flowing through his tired mind, the prince went limp and fell into unconsciousness. Exactly one hundred and twenty minutes later, the young pilot returned from his departure only to gather up his minuscule belongings and dispose of his latest mission objective. On his way into the room, he turned on the light and approached the venerable and vulnerable figure. Not a single sound reached above the difference threshold.
He stood over the pale form and watched the gentle and even rise and fall of the chest that indicated he was currently unconscious. Then, moving quickly, he freed him from the iron bar, unraveling the chair that held the handcuffs there.
He opted to leave the cuffs on so as not to cause any problems.
Once he had cleaned up the remains of the mission, he proceeded to drop off the load with the Sweepers Group that 02 had once been associated with because it was frankly one of the safer places he knew about. He had recalled the ship from when the pilot of the Deathscythe Gundam had tried so hard to help him escape a military medical facility.
***
The next morning Howard would be informed of the gift in a plastic garbage bag, still handcuffed and nude. There was a note attached, skillfully typed rather than handwritten, that had told Howard he could “do whatever you see fit” with the present.
The old man saw no reason to do any harm as after all a Gundam had already gotten a hold of him; the poor man didn’t need any more damage. So, instead, he only clothed and fed him. Once the soldier awakened, he naturally planned to talk with the man, a little chitchat, but nothing more-and he wouldn’t question the sliced symbol carved into the man’s leg. None of his business, he said to himself. And after a little bit of talking, he would give him a fair chance to do whatever it was that he pleased to do with his life.
If a Gundam had set him free, then surely he wasn’t done with life yet.
***
Footnotes:
1-TAN is the name of a Japanese symbol (done in four strokes) meaning red, cinnabar, or elixir of life.
Authors’ Notes:
There’s a sequel! Please read!