9-Apr-2002
Title: Gods and Monsters
Author: bonnejeanne (bonnejeanne@yahoo.com) and Cassiopeia (cassiopeia@gundamwing.net)
Category: Uh, weird...
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: 13 x 1
Spoilers: Series
WARNINGS: Lemon. Implications of possible Non-Consentual sex. Possible shota overtones. This is a very weird fic, not the slightest bit warm and fuzzy, so beware. Oh yes, possible bastardizing of Treize. Possible OOC.
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing characters and universe are the property of the copyright owners. Our stuff is ours. No money being made here.
As with all our fics, while our goal is to stay as in character as possible, any discrepancies are our mistakes.
Feedback: Any and all comments welcome, be they short or long.
NOTES: This takes place after the end of Episode 34: Its Name is Epyon. Heero collapses on the ground in front of Treize after piloting Epyon for the first (but not the last) time.
The title is taken from the 1998 movie about the last days of Frankenstein director James Whale.
Treize has one line that is a lot like a line from "Interview With the Vampire" but the similarity is unintentional.
Dreams of blood and violence stained the edges of Heero's consciousness as he struggled out of the deep faint of exhaustion and stress. He remembered a series of events in quick flashes as he tried to orient. A battle, a small number of fighters outmatched, helping them... not because he felt like saving them but because he always picked the side that was weakest so he could face the strongest opposition. A dying soldier's fanatic loyalty to a man. His own curiosity leading him into the dark mansion. The meeting. Then the suit. Epyon. More fighting. The machine showing him every threat, all of them, all around him, on every side. To survive, he had to destroy them. All of them. The machine showing him... ultimate peace. An empty world filled with the silence of rotting corpses. Uncounted numbers of corpses. Soldiers, civilians, women, children... and himself. Surviving with no further threats left to destroy...
The house, the man, and the grass. The kindly grass that received his exhausted body and fractured mind.
The air was cool on his skin, that was one of the first sensations that brought consciousness to a return. Something hard supporting him - he was sitting, on some kind of chair. A thin, barely padded seat, no arms, his own upper limbs drawn behind him. Something cold, metal around his wrists, threaded through some kind of crossbar that made part of the back of the chair. As these perceptions clarified and were catalogued, his heartbeat increased and his breathing deepened as his body automatically prepared for peril. Opening his eyes, Heero lifted his head and looked around the room.
Across the wide, open space, beyond an antique desk and bookcase-lined walls, a tall figure stirred, sensing his captive's awakening. Laying aside the book he'd been fingering rather than reading, its rich leather cover dark with age and his habit of frequent handling, the man stood, abandoning the low, brick hard couch. His eyes cruised along the thin, dusty rug covering the cold stone floor, finally coming to the boy seated behind his desk.
Taking a few slow steps in that direction, emerging from a thin shadow, Treize spoke, his voice sprawling through the space, echoing off the walls. "Welcome to my home, Heero Yuy."
Heero stared at Treize uncomprehendingly for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and looked around, noting the size of the room, the furniture, the few sources of illumination. His wrists flexed against the binding of the handcuffs, testing. They seemed quite solid.
I should have killed him when I had the chance, Heero thought.
"What do you want, Treize?" he said out loud.
Treize moved closer, walking on the rug's edge, one boot heel muffled, one sounding regularly on the hard stone. He smiled, the boy's purity of thought refreshing. 'What he wanted' was not easily comprehensible and tedious to communicate to most people. But that the boy thought it was so simple... he found that worthy of an answer. "You would not give me what I wanted, you will recall. I thought it best to retrieve you from the front lawn. There may be hostile forces nearby." He finished with an ironic undercurrent to his voice, having reached the desk.
"I'd as soon take my chances," Heero muttered. He watched Treize closely. He disliked being helpless, not that he truly felt completely helpless, if the man came a bit closer, but he was certain there was something more to Treize's agenda than keeping him from getting killed outside or tidying the lawn. He was fairly certain that the man was insane. He didn't give it a lot of thought because he was often of the opinion that he himself might not be entirely sane, but he didn't dwell on it. He certainly hadn't been sane inside Epyon. A near invisible shudder ran through his body at that thought. Or maybe he was insane because once freed, he knew he would probably get back in the suit and go back to fighting. It was all he knew.
"If you want to die, put the gun in your mouth and pull the trigger," he said aloud to the former Earth Forces commander. "You don't need my help, you can do it yourself."
"It was not my decision," Treize began, tracing the elegant curve of the desk's front edge with two gloved fingers. "We all have a destiny to fulfill, and mine has been laid before me." He paused, looking down at his hand to find that the desktop had been unclean. Frowning, he went on. "Can you say the same?"
Heero unconsciously flinched as the vision Epyon showed him of a dead world with himself the last survivor flashed into his mind. Is that my destiny? Consciously rejecting it with some effort, he looked up at Treize with dislike. "I don't have much use for the idea of destiny," he answered. "That's for people like you... and Relena."
The General felt something in the back of his mind stir, shift, and he held deep blue eyes with his own. "You are wrong," he said, then broke the gaze, chuckling a bit. "But I did not expect comprehension. Not yet." He let their line's of sight intersect again, then drew his eyes downward along the boy's body in a subtle caress. "There are an adequate number of roles available in this final drama... for everyone."
Something about the way Treize's eyes moved over him made Heero slightly uneasy. The man's words might have been gibberish for all he made of them. In spite of his ambiguous answer to Heero's direct question, the Gundam pilot had no doubt in his mind that Treize did in fact want something. Otherwise it made no sense to bring him to this room and handcuff him to a chair. He was prepared to be killed at any time, prepared to be captured by the enemy and tortured for whatever they thought he might know. However the game Treize was playing was unclear.
Without making any comment, he simply concentrated on testing the metal around his wrists again. The things were well made. It would take some effort and possibly a bit of time.
Treize watched the muscles beneath the boy's skin as they flexed against the handcuffs, and half of his mouth climbed upwards in a smirk. "Those will neither bend nor break, I have found. They were my father's."
Heero's head jerked up at the remark. His eyes narrowed at the subtle phrasing. For a moment he felt suddenly saturated with something that seemed to adhere to him from the atmosphere of the room, the building, perhaps the very planet. Something quite alien to his colony upbringing. Then some layer of his conditioning slipped and he had a flash of Odin Lowe. It caused a strange shift in his perceptions. As if he could see a mental image of a man and a boy, discipline being meted out, but the faces and figures shifted between ones he knew and others with a different cast.
He stared at Treize nonplused for several heartbeats before his own nature asserted itself again, as it always did. "Eventually," he said evenly, "Something always gives." The look that flashed behind indigo eyes was pure, unadulterated 'animal prepared to gnaw off leg to escape trap'.
"How right you are," Treize replied, coming around to Heero's side of the desk, his gaze predatory. He laid a hand across the back of the boy's chair, gripping the wood tightly, and brought his face within a few inches of Heero's. "If you will permit the question," he began, obviously requesting no permission, "What does a Gundam pilot like yourself do for enjoyment? For... pleasure?" The General's voice had grown dark, slipping into the tones of his father, and he felt a warm hand traveling down his own spine.
Heero stiffened and his eyes widened. The tone was lost on the boy, but the words had to be run through his mind more than once to sift any meaning from them. Gundam pilots... pleasure...
"Destroy the enemy," Heero growled out an answer. With Treize almost on top of him he ceased his efforts against the handcuffs so he could concentrate on being ready for an opportunity to strike at the man. Treize had been careful to stay to the side or behind him, out of range of his legs. The man wasn't stupid, just insane.
Treize looked as if he might say something further from where he was, his mouth shifting slightly, but then he removed his hand, straightening, and moved to the left, to lean against the edge of the desk. "A pastime of great import," he said with a smile that faded slowly to a frown. "It hardly seems a leisure activity, however. A shame. Your body... you have pushed it to its limits in battles of beauty and glory. You have shown God that you are alive. But you were made for more." His voice fell away for a moment, then returned with force, a decision that he'd made earlier finally acknowledged. "I will show you the hospitality the Khushrenada family is known for."
With that he leaned away from the desk and went to stand next to Heero's chair again. Grabbing the top rung with a single hand, he lifted it just enough to rotate, and made the boy face him. "You barely weigh anything at all," he said softly, addressing someone other than Heero, and then he smiled again, his moods seeming to drift freely. Placing his lips to Heero's ear, he made his voice a whisper, propriety indicating he should say the words in an undertone. "Do you like to fuck?" He did not put his hands on the boy. Not yet...
Heero blinked and his eyes cut sharply to the face next to his. An odd feeling slithered down his back. "Omae o korosu," he said in a flat tone.
"I hope so," Treize breathed against the boy's skin, his tongue coming out to briefly trace the edge of Heero's ear. He moved a single gloved hand to the collar of the boy's shirt, undoing buttons, then went to Heero's mouth, running a finger across the soft skin there. "I'd prefer it if you'd resist," Treize said, then brought his mouth down on the boy's, giving him no chance to respond.
Heero tasted sweet, innocent, a flavor Treize well loved, and he began opening the fly of the boy's pants as he worked his way deeply inside that warm mouth.
Heero stiffened at the touch of Treize's gloved hand, but he froze in near complete shock when the older man's mouth covered his and his tongue pushed its way inside. His pulse skipped up, beating twice the previous rate, pounding against his chest like a triphammer. /I'd prefer it if you'd resist,/ the man had said, but Heero was momentarily unable to do anything, whether resistance or compliance. He felt the man's fingers deftly undoing his clothing, a second shock that kept him frozen a few moments longer. /Do you like to fuck?/ It should have been, Heero realized with another jerk of raw adrenaline, do you like to get fucked. Now he knew what the man wanted.
The problem was he had no training to deal with this scenario. None recent, anyway. Flashes of other times, before Dr. J, threatened to win past the barriers he'd built against them. His hands balled into fists but he was still frozen, heart hammering and body tense but letting... letting it... /I'd prefer.../
Treize pulled back, his tongue coming out to lick the last traces of the boy from his lips, but he stopped it from finishing, using the back of his glove instead. There was not one look in his eyes but many, and he knew he was not alone in his mind. He was never alone when he did this...
His own blue eyes met Heero's, then moved downwards to the boy's open pants, his hand traveling inside to grasp tender flesh. Hardening flesh. Treize brought his gaze back to the boy's, one eyebrow drawn up in a mildly amused arch. "That's not quite what I meant," he said, stroking Heero for emphasis.
Heero had an impulse to close his eyes but before he could act on it, another flash of memory responded to the thought. A brief shake. /Don't close your eyes. Look. When you want to look away it means there's something you need to learn. Learn it. I don't have time for a boy who won't learn.../
Heero's eyes directed themselves to meet Treize's look. He felt the man's gloved hand stroking him and his body responded. In the absence of his direction, it always seemed to have its own reactions. "So this is what Earth aristocrats do for pleasure," Heero said, his lips and tongue feeling like they were not a part of him as they shaped the words. His tone wasn't sarcastic, it was in fact fairly devoid of judgment or emotion, but the edges of his voice were rough.
"All of the ones I am acquainted with," Treize replied, his head inclining a bit in the beginnings of a brief nod. He enjoyed the sound of the boy's voice. The child's voice, for surely, that was what he was. Treize did not delude himself into thinking this was anything other than what it was. Grossly illegal. And highly immoral. But beautiful, nonetheless. A beautiful struggle between good and evil, neither half without its own faint blurring around the edges.
The General felt a quickening in his blood, and he made the movements of his hand more firm. It had been a long time since he'd had one like this to enjoy. None of the men he knew could excite him like this. Zechs had his uses, it was true, but not even he had the soft angles, the roundness of feature he found most appealing.
Having faced Treize, Heero let his gaze drop, feeling an odd fuzziness, feeling his body responded to the experienced touch. He never gave it what it wanted. He ignored it as much as he could, fed it when he had to, rested when he couldn't continue, patched it when it was compromised, but never wasted time giving it, giving himself pleasure. Torture he could endure. This....
Suddenly he found he was pressing his legs together, at the same time hoping the man's hand would move faster, pull at his erect flesh harder. He felt the beginnings of something. Even though he didn't allow himself this kind of indulgence, he'd felt it a few times before. He wanted to come.
Treize knew the boy's actions, had learned them himself long ago, and his face was neutral as he pulled the boy's legs back apart with his other hand. "There are two things I do not tolerate from... growing young men. Bad manners and disobedience." Then he looked down at the pulsating flesh in his hand and released it.
Going to stand behind the chair, Treize considered the ornate handcuffs holding the boy's wrists. Considered removing them, that perhaps they were making everything too easy for him. And he most certainly did not want that. This should never be easy. "I believe I told you to resist," he said, pulling the chair back on two legs, staring down into the boy's face, across which passed a number of different emotions. And Treize recognized and catalogued each one, for they were precious to him.
Heero made a soft sound, part growl, part suppressed groan. His body ached, the cool air teasing his exposed skin. They always did that. Said you were disobedient when they hadn't clearly outlined the rules. He stared into Treize's face as the chair was tilted back. You're just like them, he thought, but he also knew it wasn't entirely correct. There was a sophistication to this man's game that he had never encountered before. It escaped him, which made him feel stupid. Not something he liked.
His balls ached with unreleased tension. Did the man think this would break him? Did he think Heero wasn't resisting? Then *he* didn't understand. It was too late for him to change now. His resistance was to endure. They wouldn't let him die, after all. So he'd endure. But there were many ways of fighting.
"I don't take my orders from you," he said. "Don't expect me to help you get what you want. I don't care what you want."
Treize closed his eyes and lowered his head, a smile running across his lips. "I was trying to help you get what *you* want," he said, then removed an intricately designed key from his pocket and placed it with precision to the keyhole to unlock the cuffs, never once opening his eyes. "I'm going to let you go," he began, as he lowered the chair back to four legs, his blue eyes opening slowly as he finished. "If you can get away. The house will prove problematic, but for someone of your abilities, not much cause for concern. I, on the other hand, do not intend to let you leave."
He took the handcuffs away, laying them on the desk, and stood back a little, waiting to see what the boy would do. Most did not warrant this, but the boy... Heero... had the potential for true beauty, both on the battlefield, and here. A thought passed idly through his mind, and Treize wondered if Heero knew the first rule of his father's... *his* game. 'If you run, I'll catch you.'
Breathing deeply, Heero rose from the chair, almost-cramping muscles stretching out gratefully. He glanced at the ornate cuffs, quelling a momentary urge to twist them into scrap. Save your resources, he thought. Casting a dark look at Treize under his hair, he turned, and surveyed the areas of the room he hadn't been able to see from the seated position. Then he found a corner that was free of clutter, backed into it, and reached down, taking his still-erect shaft into his hand. Watching Treize like a man would watch a snake, he began stroking himself. His motions weren't practiced, but he mimicked what the man had been doing to him, adapting the tightness of his grip and the speed of his movements, seeking a direct release.
"I see," Treize said, allowing himself a moment of mild surprise which quickly fell into understanding. Heero did not play like any of the others. But Treize had not expected him to. He followed the boy into the corner, after prey that refused to run and only retreated to its cave, coming close enough to still Heero's hand, though he did nothing else. "No," he said with quiet authority, and crushed the boy further into the corner, his gloved hands tearing at Heero's school uniform with experience, without hurry, letting each piece fall to the floor on its own, save the lace collar from the boy's throat. This he held between snow white covered fingers, examining, and for a moment, raised it to his face and inhaled deeply. How it reminded him of... of his youth. Of pain.
Treize opened his hand, ignoring the collar's nearly choreographed descent, and let his eyes roam over the bare, soft planes of the boy's chest. No desire to stroke or kiss presented itself, but to teach Heero's flesh... the beautiful ache, a wisdom passed down from generation to generation.
Heero froze and stiffened as the man advanced, pinning him into the corner with his physical presence. His brows drew together in a scowl but he did not struggle overtly as Treize's hands skillfully disrobed him. The man had a look in his blue eyes that was disturbing - if Heero was capable of being disturbed by such things. His body continued to ache for resolution, the nakedness adding an odd edge to it. Stopped from relieving himself, Heero looked at the man. He was pretty sure now that Treize wanted a fuck-toy. His own frustration was growing and he knew in the back of his mind that if it continued he was going to start smashing things.
Pressing his back against the cool paneling of the wall, the scowl became a glare, accented with a wordless growl that stayed in his throat like an angry animal.
The boy's anger was a pleasure to the General, a small sound escaping his throat, and only now did he find himself truly excited, heat radiating throughout him, centering low on his body. For a bare second, he pressed against the boy, holding him against the wall, letting him feel his erection beneath the pristine clothing of his uniform. Then he pulled away from the wall, bringing Heero with him, turning the boy in his arms to twist one of his thin arms behind his back. Bending slightly, taking great care to keep their two bodies in constant contact, Treize breathed into the skin at the back of Heero's neck. "Do you want to kill me now?" making it quite clear that he knew the answer. "Then we will go together," he added, his words preceding the steps he began to take as he moved them both back to the antique desk.
Heero's eyes narrowed, his teeth gritting slightly at the pain shooting up through his arm. He felt the tight bulge in the man's pants pressing against him and understood that something that was happening was turning Treize on, exciting him. He had no real idea what but it could have been anything. He had his own reactions to deal with. He had his own secret. He felt no fear. But the threat... excited him. If Heero Yuy had a vice, it was the adrenaline rush that accompanied peril. The greater the odds that were against him, the cleaner that excitement seemed to slice into his soul and the further he wanted it to penetrate. Coupled with the unresolved physical reaction that had already commenced and been suspended, it tore through his body like electricity across raw nerve endings.
His free hand shot up and twisted a grip into Treize's collar, his unusual strength pulling the heavy material as if it were of much lighter weight.
Taking a measure of delight in the boy's inhuman physical ability, Treize tried to smile, but the action was made difficult, Heero's grip choking him, cutting off much of the flow of blood to his head. "That's... better," he said without much breath, and had to continue the rest of the thought in his mind. 'You can not kill me now. Not right now. After I have shown you...'
He did not loosen his grip on the boy's arm, nor did he stop their path towards the desk. After a time, the lack of blood flow would cause a blackout, he knew, but it would take a while. He had been taught how to stand so much more...
Still holding tightly to Heero's arm with one hand, Treize used the other to attempt to pry away the boy's grip, but found it firmly set. The child really was stronger than himself. True, Treize was heavier, larger, and in the right situation, he would use this to his advantage. But now... a force of a different kind was his answer. With a final tug at the boy's chokehold, Treize then moved his hand down the front of Heero's body, roughly grasping the boy's taut flesh. Through a disturbingly tenacious haze, Treize heard his own voice from far away. Or was it his voice? "I'm trying... to help you..."
The sudden grip around his erection certainly got Heero's attention. His mind split into two possible accomplishments. The idea of jerking off over Treize's dead body didn't actually end up exciting him much. He could always kill the man later. Concentrating on the feel of that rough hand, he allowed his grip to slacken. The words coming from Treize's lips in that gasping voice sounded odd. The idea of people helping him was odd. It was also unlikely. The man's psychosis kept getting weirder and weirder. It had actually gotten to the stage where it was starting to fascinate him.
"Sure," he growled his disbelief, his eyelids dropping briefly as he concentrated on the sensations coming from his groin. He'd gone from not caring about it to becoming more and more fixated on finding some satisfaction for once in his admittedly stark existence.
As the flow of blood to Treize's head began to resume, a painful rush of returning sensation, he stroked the boy a few times, perhaps rewarding him, perhaps merely because it crossed his mind to do so. But then he quickly left Heero's cock, taking the opportunity of the boy's loosened grip to wrench his hand away and twist it behind his back along with the other.
They had reached the desk, and Treize stopped, holding the boy between himself and the edge. He caught his breath, slowly, and his eyes fixed on the silver handcuffs still lying on the desktop. His blue gaze ran over every curve of the intricate design, into every valley and peak that raced around the polished circles, the same way his hands used to travel, around and around... around and around... searching for the meaning in them. It had not been the best of ideas to release the boy from the confining metal he thought, as the urge to press a hand to his own throat, stroke the skin there, shot to the surface.
Pushing the boy forward, bending him over the desk, Treize held him there with a sharp knee to his back as he reached for the cuffs with one hand. "I'm going to help you reach a place of great beauty," he began, enclosing one wrist and then the other in the cold metal. "Its brilliance may even cast the satisfaction you have known on the battlefield into shadow."
A guttural profanity emerged from Heero's lips as he felt the cuffs snap back around his wrists. They didn't intimidate him - they were an annoyance, an obstacle. Changing the rules again, they always did that too. A place of great beauty... right. Frustration mounting as he was denied physical satisfaction yet again, Heero did something extremely rare for him - he vented. Pulling the language from the streets of his most distant memories, he cursed Treize in Japanese, calling him everything but a child of god. He didn't believe for one minute that the elegant (and obviously depraved) OZ leader could ever understand what he really felt when fighting. It settled him. Cleared his mind. Gave him purpose and meaning. Provided an outlet for every suppressed emotion. Gave him an incomparable feeling of being alive. When it was time to stop fighting.... Heero knew that if that time did indeed ever come, he would have nothing to live for, but that wasn't as traumatic as it might seem, because he had nothing to live for now. He didn't live for battle. He lived *in* battle. It was a subtle difference he could never have communicated or explained.
Treize did not understand most of the curses, but he did get the intended message. He loved the boy's expression... in his anger, Heero was already moving towards Treize's ultimate goal. To show the boy his own true nature, to let Heero see himself without all of life's everyday filters. From the first moment he'd seen the boy, he'd known... he was just like him. All of the boys were just like Treize had been at that age. Their eyes begged for it... begged to be...
They were just like him. How could Treize do the things he did if they were not?
"I'll give you a choice that was never presented to me," he began, pressing further into the boy, "Flat on your back or on your hands and knees?" He waited, his hands already moving upwards on the boy's body in preparation to move him onto the surface of the desk. He fully expected to get an answer.
The question sent a hard thrill of something almost resembling fear, but with too many overtones of anticipation, through Heero's nerves. The aching in his groin increased to something truly painful. The answer screamed in his head immediately, but nothing including a bullet in his flesh would have pried it from his lips. As long as the man stayed behind him... if Treize tried to turn him around, made him look at the man... But that was his game, wasn't it? He wanted resistance. The question was a trick, part of the game. But Heero was not a game player. The rush of blood to his groin almost made him lightheaded for a moment. "The... second one," he forced the words through stiff lips, doubting it would make any difference. His arms flexed against the cuffs automatically, a reaction to the building tension in his body more than anything else.
The man had known what the boy's answer would be, which was the only reason he had asked. "I'll give you what you want," he said, his eyes narrowing for a moment in the slightest bit of confusion. He always gave them what they wanted. Always.
He left the thought, and in a rush of movement, lifted Heero to the desktop, rolling the boy onto his back where he hovered over him, looking into deep blue eyes. Eyes where he could watch himself. Always... he gave them... always what they wanted. Around and around, he remembered the movements of his fingers, searching... for the meaning. There was a meaning, but Father had never told him... but there was a meaning. He just had not discovered it completely.
Treize began to remove bits of his clothing while holding Heero pinned to the desk with his body, the sight of the boy beneath him, hands held firmly behind his back, causing his pace to quicken. He was drawn to Heero's mouth and bent to take it with his own. His bare chest came into contact with the boy's to send a small charge to Treize's cock, which pressed solidly into Heero's thigh. The skin was so smooth, and so new. Treize's kiss grew, became almost urgent, and he took everything he could from the boy, gave the boy everything.
Placing an arm beneath Heero's body, Treize lifted him into a deeper embrace, using a knee for leverage, his tongue continuing its riot through the boy's mouth. With his other hand, he entered Heero, one finger stroking its way inside, not a single movement wasted.
Heero did not respond to the kiss other than trying to move his head from side to side to escape, causing Treize to have to work for it. He didn't want the man's mouth. He didn't like the man's expression. Knowing someone is mad and having to look it in the face are two different things. But he had issues of his own to contend with. He found he did want something else, and every irritating, annoying, frustrating play of this stupid game was only making him more fixed on it. With the intrusion into his very tight opening, an intrusion that felt *wrong*, that hurt, but what was pain to him? Nothing at all... with that deft intrusion, his body tensed, back arched over the arm supporting him, and he gave Treize a decent bite, freeing him from the man's mouth. He didn't want it distracting him from *that*. Baring his teeth, his eyes snapped closed for a moment as the man brushed against something inside.
The bite did not surprise Treize, was nothing so unusual to him, and though he released the boy's mouth, he compensated for the loss by moving another finger into his tight opening. Treize was not trying to give the boy pleasure. He'd be doing that soon enough. He was not trying to stretch the boy. It was better when he did not. But this would help give Heero the meaning. The meaning that Treize had never found for himself, but could give to others.
Heero was oblivious to anything resembling meaning. He was concentrating on physical sensations and reactions. If Treize was not trying to give pleasure, Heero was not really seeking pleasure either, or he'd have done more than bite the man. He was seeking something else. People seemed to think it was the same as pleasure but in his experience, no. Some things felt good, some things hurt, most were just sensations. But the right combination of things in the right order, he thought, could bring about a reaction in his body that would leave him momentarily blind. That was what he wanted.
The second finger intruding seemed to push it along a bit. Opening his eyes, he glared at Treize. His respiration was more rapid than usual, internal temperature building along with that damn, throbbing, slowly growing unbearable ache.
Treize brought them both back down flat on the surface of the desk, fingers still deeply embedded in the boy, and he finally acknowledged, in some small part of his brain, that he wanted to be inside that body, a perfection of youth. That he wanted to penetrate it, bury himself in it, hear it cry out in pleasure-spiked pain as he took it. Acknowledged that he did this for himself, that everything he had ever done had been, ultimately, for himself.
But they were all things he could only see, could only realize, in that one small part of his mind. The rest of him knew that this was all for the boy, all for the roles they'd both been fated to play in life. All to answer the question... why...
Treize removed his fingers from the boy, running them like a whisper along Heero's straining erection as he drew his hand back to his own body, repeating the action. With a soft sound, part breath, part groan, he entered the boy slowly, having to use quite a bit of force. The space was tight, and he could not breathe at first. It was an exquisite feeling.
Heero grit his teeth as the man forced a way into his body. His cock was large and the opening small and unused to the invasion, the touch moments ago doing little to prepare his body for the amount it would be forced to stretch. It hurt, but what was pain? Just another sensation. It might even help... Heero's body shifted, adjusting to what was happening to it. Short, rapid breaths worked through the discomfort. Panting, he looked up at the man through half closed eyes. He didn't like looking at Treize. The man's handsome and cultured face, now reflecting emotions Heero couldn't begin to understand, didn't repel him, but it did bother him. He closed his eyes for a moment, and let his mind supply random images, blinking open in surprise when other faces appeared in his mind's eye, four of them, in succession. That disturbed him more than looking at Treize did, while at the same time his body acknowledged the images in a way that he'd never have expected. No, that was wrong... at least one of them was dead... probably...
Looking down into the boy's eyes as they opened and closed, Treize pushed the rest of the way into Heero's body, burying himself completely. The resistance he met with made him want to withdraw and then come crashing back in, to move so deeply inside that there would no longer be anything left to either of them. He wanted resistance, it was the thing that excited him, but it also brought up another emotion, something that he knew it was quite beneath him to feel. Anger... that the boy's body did not accept him, did not yield to him. He did not want it to, and yet... the anger was there. Inefficient, ineffective, but his. Maybe this had something to do with the meaning he'd never found.
The man moved his hands to Heero's legs, pulling them further apart, around himself, and pulled partway out of the boy only to thrust back inside in a long-practiced deep angle. He did not mean to make the encounter last very long, everything that had led to this point making up a large part of his enjoyment. Now that they had reached the culmination, so close to the point where it would end, he felt no need to prolong anything. He made his movements faster and hard enough to punish the boy's body for its disobedience.
Extraneous thoughts vanished as the man leaned over him, thrusting. Heero flexed his hips, seeking, seeking... there, finding the angle he needed and focusing on it fiercely. This time he was going to ride the wave to its completion. Wrong time, wrong place, wrong situation, but he was unlikely to live long enough to find a right situation within this war. Handcuffed or not, he was using the man who used him. The internal friction built and pushed the ache in him up to the edge and suddenly past it. A hard gasp and the release of his seed betrayed the achievement of his goal.
Feeling the boy's release, Treize thrust a couple of more times and found his own. He focused on Heero's eyes, watching the child find his satisfaction, seeing himself, somehow not being able to separate the two for a moment.
Heero felt the man release inside him, but it was crowded at the edge of his own climax. He concentrated on feeling the sensations, almost unable to help himself from memorizing and even in some manner cataloguing them, but the feeling was enough, for the moment. It wasn't as overwhelming as he would have liked, but it was good, and it was enough to tell him there could be more. He let his eyes close most of the way, watching Treize through small slits and under dark lashes. Let his body relax a little. In a few moments he'd have to gather himself and act but for now he just drifted.
Treize's entire attitude began to change after the completion of their act, and he did not let much time pass before he climbed off the top of the desk. The boy did not look like he was going to move, for a few minutes, at least, and that was all the time he needed.
The General searched his clothes out from the floor, dressing himself with precision, frowning here and there at the few wrinkles he could not shake out or dust away. His hand went into a pocket and came out with the key to the handcuffs, having remained dutifully where he'd left it. He also found another key there, and this one was to the desk.
Approaching Heero, Treize pulled the boy up into a seated position, planning to unlock the cuffs.
Before he could complete the action, Heero's eyes opened, the habitual faint scowl back on his face. There was a brief jerk and then Heero moved his hands around in front of him. The cuffs dangled from one wrist. Bringing his hands together in front of him, he used his left hand to reseat his now dislocated right thumb back into the socket with an audible sound.
Treize did not wince at the sound, but inwardly, he felt a slight discomfort in his stomach. Meeting Heero's eyes, he gave no sign that he was either surprised or disturbed by the boy's feat. Though, truth be told, he was a bit of both. "That was not necessary in the slightest," he said calmly, and it was unclear exactly what the man might be referring to.
He placed the key to the handcuffs down on the desktop next to Heero, and began to unlock the top desk drawer with the other.
"I prefer not to leave things to other people that I can take care of myself," Heero growled softly. He watched the man's actions, wondering what the man had in mind now. As his urgency abated, at least somewhat satisfied, his mind returned to what was going on outside. He didn't have time to stay here. Sanc might have fallen. His place was out there.
His head bent over the now open desk drawer, Treize spoke, his voice and body well within his control once again. "You'll want to leave now, Heero Yuy," he said, and removed the boy's weapon from the drawer, holding it in the palm of his hand. This was his game, not his father's. His game... not Romefeller's. The war was his game, and it would end as he had planned.
"One thing before you go," he said, presenting the gun to Heero. "I believe you said before that you didn't have the right to kill me. Now you do."
Heero took the weapon with a quick, sure, graceful movement and pointed it between Treize's eyes. But the trigger remained still.
"I don't know what happened to you, Treize," Heero said, his voice as level as bedrock. "But whatever it was, get over it." He lowered the gun. "Maybe I have the right to kill you, but you don't have the right to die, not yet. What's going on out there... a lot of it's your doing. I guess it got away from you, or something. But that's no reason to quit. Relena's trying to fix things... but you and I both know she won't be able to. What's going to happen when she fails? More destruction? Stop ducking your responsibilities and do what you have to do."
Without waiting to see what the former OZ commander's reaction to his words would be, he found his clothes and began dressing quickly, tucking the gun in the back of his pants.
Making a soft sound of contemplation, Treize moved one of his hands further into the desk, searching. The boy did not understand. "People like to follow a strong leader, and if I have made one mistake, perhaps it is that I have been too strong. If you are so certain that Relena Peacecraft will not be successful in her efforts for peace, why do you defend her? Those soldiers outside, they fight and die in my name. When I am gone, there will be nothing left to fight over, and Relena Peacecraft may be able to attain her goal." Catching a glimpse of Heero out of the corner of his eye, Treize added, "The war will end with my death."
Heero turned and faced Treize. He saw the man lifting something in his hand. "What if you're wrong?" he said. "I fight for Relena because I have to fight, and her ideas are better than Romefeller's. But ideas alone won't stop the fighting - even yours. You didn't create the war. You just manipulated it. When you did that, you made yourself responsible for part of it, but it won't end when you die. It won't end until people stop trying to make everyone else do what they want." He didn't make any moves to stop the man from what it looked like he might do. "If you really want the fighting to stop, you'd better wait until it's clearer. She's going to need more help than I can give her."
The General let the cool metal of his ornately designed revolver lay in his hand, the gun's temperature seeping through his thin white gloves to his skin, and looked away from Heero. He did not want to admit that the boy's thoughts gave him pause. They were uncluttered and simple, and, most importantly, the boy believed them. But Epyon had shown him the path to the future... the path Treize had to follow. It was his duty. Though perhaps he had misunderstood part of the machine god's message. Perhaps Heero was not the one...
"Go," he said simply, replacing his revolver to the desk drawer. "Back to your battlefield. Where you belong."
"Hn," Heero remarked. He turned to go, and stopped, pausing in the door. "I'm taking the machine. Wing's in pieces." He paused one more moment. "If you were trying to make me want to kill you... you could have picked a simpler method. It was... weird. But it wasn't all ... bad. Whoever it was, and whatever they did to you... you don't have to let it be the last word. They did things to me too. But I'm not going to let it control my path, not any more."
Then he left, his words falling into the silence in the room behind him.
Treize allowed his mouth to turn up a little at the boy's words, then his thoughts fell back to Epyon. He had wanted one of them to take it, if not Heero, then one of the others. "I don't need it anymore," he said to the silent room, and sat in the chair behind the desk, trying to reinterpret Epyon's message. If not Heero, then who?
As his eyelids fell shut momentarily, a pair of black onyx eyes appeared in his mind, and he smiled in a slow movement of his mouth. No, he would not go against the will of God.
~owari~
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