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"The Locker Shock Incident "Written By: Asymphototropic
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam wing. Author: Asymphototropic (attracted toward the
light, but never quite arrives there) Email: asymphototropic@aol.com Rating: R Warnings: language, yaoi, violence Summary: Post EW Preventers. Maxwell undertakes a death defying shuttle flight to destroy a killer's alibi on behalf of Yuy's case. Merquise feels an unaccountable urge to protect Duo. When the assassin comes stalking, will the combined skills of Zechs and Heero be enough to save 02 from the deadly blade? Pairings: 1x2, 6+1+2
"The Locker Shock Incident " Part 5. "The powerful aristocrat thrust his throbbing manhood into his wife's maid's moist, willing chamber. She felt..." "What are you doing?" Yuy opened one eye under a pounding headache. He was pleased that his view of Maxwell appeared clearly defined. "Sally had two real books at her desk. Which she most kindly loaned me. The three hundred sixth printing of Netter's Anatomy, and a novel, 'Pretty Maids My Row'. I thought I would translate the passion fic into anatomical correctness, for the benefit of mankind. Listen to this. 'Lord Martan pressed his muscular thoracic surface against Melorinda's yielding softness, crushing her suspensory ligaments of Cooper against his anterior external intercostals. He felt flaming heat pulsing deep within his corpus cavernosum, causing his septum of Buck's fascia to ripple with increasing desire.' How's that sound?" "Ponderous, " Yuy decreed. "Yeah. But its so much less ambiguous than the other way. I mean, sheesh, 'Melorinda's moist chamber' could be just about anything, couldn't it? I mean, it could be a leaking faucet flooding her bedroom floor. Or it could mean her eye socket, for crying out loud." "That would be painful. Highly doubtful she would then be 'willing'," Yuy objected. This brought forth a luridly colored mental image for Duo. Of Lord Martan poking Melorinda in the eye with his throbbing manhood. It was entirely too much for his overheated imagination. He progressed rapidly from grinning to chuckling, laughing loudly to roaring. Then he dropped from his bunk to roll on the uncarpeted floor, causing his new cast to make loud thunking noises. "The personnel on the floor below us may object to this highly audible display of mirth," Yuy stated. "Can't stop, ah ha ha ha, oh," Duo groaned, grasping his quaking sides with both hands. "Besides, its just part of the kitchens," he added from the assurance of having the building's blue prints entirely in his memory. "Do you wish for me to slap your cheeks, to avert further hysterics?" "A display of dominance. Utterly ruined by a request for permission first. Ah ha ha ha. Ha ha ah ha ha! Oh god, oxygen, need oxygen. Must have." "If you persist in rolling that way, you should do it on the mattress. The cast won't be entirely polymerized for a while yet. The partially uncured structure may become distorted by continued impact along its length." "Ah ha ha ha ha," Duo replied. Yuy rose from reclining, pounced upon Maxwell, straddled him and pinned his shoulders to the floor. Grinning widely, Duo stared up at Heero. Then he resumed chortling. "Supplemental oxygen is indicated. Mouth to mouth," Yuy declared. He leaned down, pressed his lips into the other boy's tender mouth, inserted his tongue and probed Duo's moist chamber. He extended his steaming, muscular length toward Maxwell's most sensitive palatopharyngeal arch. Heero strove, but no matter how much he strained his hyoglossus, he could not attain Duo's uvula. However, it was an exciting quest. Heero felt unidentified muscle groups coiling all up and down his anatomy, felt Duo's match his, tension for tension, passion for passion. His filiform papillae rasped in a stimulating manner against the other's steaming frenulum, sending sparks of enjoyment all up Heero's nervus intermedius. Or was it perhaps a branch of his Trigeminal? Regardless, it was extremely pleasant. Heero withdrew his tongue from Maxwell's moist chamber. Then he sat back and regarded the supine form with an analytic eye. "Hysterics averted," he declared. "Thanks buddy. I don't think I could have made it back alone," Duo stated solemnly. "Uh. Ahem. Sirs?" came a hesitant voice from their doorway. A teenager peeked into the room. "I knocked, but guess you didn't hear it." "That is a correct assessment," Yuy informed him calmly, without moving from his position straddling his partner. "Commander Peacecraft wanted you to have this." The youngster opened the door wider and gestured to the dolly, supporting a rolled carpet. "The Commander thought the bare floor would be uncomfortable to walk on. So he sent this up." He eyed Duo's cast in what appeared to be envious admiration. It was deemed an honorable mark of injury sustained in the line of duty. The three of them got the antique Persian carpet unrolled and straightened upon the floor. Duo whistled softly through his teeth. "Wow. Ain't she the beauty though? Straight out of 'One Thousand and One Arabian Nights'. Look at how fine the work is," he added, curling a corner to study the underside of the rug. "Very old. Very, very old. Just magnificent." "This is out of the Commander's office," Yuy declared. "You got that right," the delivery boy agreed. "Usually just in front of his desk." Yuy and Maxwell stared into each other's eyes. Yuy arched his uninjured eyebrow. Maxwell shrugged. "Would you take him back a thank you note?" Duo asked, extracting a small bound sketch book out of his jacket pocket and selecting a clean page upon which to write. "Yeah. Sure," the gopher agreed, smiling widely. "The Commander's a great guy, isn't he?" "Indeed, yes," Yuy responded. From nowhere, a switchblade flickered in Maxwell's grip. He sliced the page out of the book with a dangerous hiss of severed substance. Then as quickly the blade disappeared. The delivery boy's eyes went wide in wonderment as he accepted the scrawled note from the agent. "Thanks man." "No problem," the teenager grinned widely as he backed out of the door.
"None of us does," Une agreed. Her desk seemed like a battle line drawn between the two officers. "Maxwell does," Zechs countered. "He is quite delighted with the situation." "Yes, well," Une smiled indulgently at the image of Duo, as if she were contemplating a beloved but naughty child. "We would be willingly, knowingly ordering our man into extreme jeopardy, just to make a point." "I would be the one ordering," Une retorted. "The decision is mine to make." "I strongly recommend against it. Consider the proposed flight plan. This wont have the desired effect in court if we allow flight control to suppress other shuttle traffic. Maelaport didn't file a terminal to terminal flight plan. Ergo, if he did accomplish this insane maneuver, he did it through the usual density of shuttle traffic. Both terminals, 437 and 586 are extremely busy. Maxwell proposes to rocket out of 437 at the usual escape velocity, slam into a low level reversal, plummet, attempt to dodge other shuttles rocketing out of 437, then descend, flying against the flow of 437's landing pattern. Then he has to make his way through 586's departing launchers, and make his landing approach to 586 from an unheard-of angle, again from the wrong direction, all the while dodging incoming traffic. You're a pilot. Do you think you could accomplish it?" "Possibly," Une looked thoughtful. "The same answer for me. The same answer for Yuy. We all think we might be able to do it. Heavy emphasis on 'maybe'. The only one who seems positive is Maxwell." "He is the best pilot I've ever seen." "Granted. But are you ready to trust the boy's judgment in this?" "Its not his intellect I'm relying upon here. Not his head but his heart. I cannot imagine his putting the civilian flyers in jeopardy. He would not undertake this flight if he thought he might take out innocent bystanders. He is truly convinced he can accomplish this." Zechs was suddenly taken aback, speechless. Une persisted. "Every time you wear a weapon, with the possibility of drawing it, firing it. Every time you get into a car. You take a risk you might unintentionally kill someone. It is a calculated risk based upon rating your abilities. What Maxwell proposes is no different." "Surely L2 flight control will refuse to allow this," Peacecraft shifted his battle plan. "Or the trial judge." "On the contrary. When pressed for an answer they approved. We've got the go-ahead. This is L2 we are talking about, after all. They have plenty of illegal shuttle traffic as it is. Life is cheap there, as they say. I have heard that the bookmakers are doing a brisk business. Betting on the street actually seems to favor Maxwell's success in this venture. He is quite the popular folk hero there." "Damn the vultures!" Zechs licked his lips. "I really cannot refrain in this. Today's hit and run attempt against Yuy and Maxwell has forced my hand. Even had I considered refusing prior to that. Now it would appear we were backing down from the flight demonstration in response to a violent threat. We would be placing all our Preventers, everywhere, in jeopardy. If we were perceived as cowering, changing course in response to a death threat. You do see that, don't you?" Une demanded earnestly. Peacecraft sighed. "Yes. Yes I do." His mind's eye lingered upon the image of the kid, jewel-like eyes sparkling, the persistent adrenaline rush painting his round cheeks a rosy flush. The cloud of his mussed hair highlighted amber under the harsh glow of the examination room lamps. His bruised and swollen ankle, the congealing blood exposed like butchered offerings upon his youthful flesh. The old scars revealed upon his body. Zechs longed to wrap a satin edged blanket around the boy, and escape with him to someplace distant and sheltered. He shook his head, in negation, in regret, in resolution. At length, when Peacecraft stood, his features and bearing
revealed nothing but military resolve. ~ * ~
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