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"Drabbles"Written By: Clara Barton Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following
is an intellectual exercise with no intention of profit. That said,
these characterizations, words, and situations are mine. Please ask
before reprinting. Rating: R A/N: For
Crown of Winterthorne, who requested 6x2 for #23: I want you to tie
me up so I can't get away." Warnings:angst,
language, sex Pairings: 6x2
It was the moment just before that Zechs loved the most. He enjoyed all of it, of course, appreciated the nuance of each and every moment. Their eyes meeting, holding, and the swift kick of lust that hit his nerves, the tingle of danger and anticipation that reminded him, more than a little, of the ZERO system. The way Duo's face transformed, turned on that look as his lips curved and his eyes darkened. Duo's whole body would become almost boneless, the affected languor hiding the strength and power in his lithe form. And he would stand, slowly, taking his precious damn time, and stretch, one hand running over his torso to keep his shirt in check while the other reached high, and Zechs was never the only one watching him, at that point. But he was the only one following him, out of whatever dive bar they happened to be in, onto the dark streets, down narrow alleys and through shabby, worn lobbies and hallways with flickering lights. Crowding Duo against the door as he reached for his key, leaning down to breathe in his scent, just above his pulse point, and feeling Duo shudder as he fought the urge to lean back, to touch him. And then, door locked and windows secured, Duo stripping out of his clothes, not even needed to be asked or told, not even the first time, and Zechs sitting on a bed or a chair, legs sprawled wide, watching. Until, naked, Duo stepped close, just out of reach unless Zechs leaned forward and grabbed him, and their eyes met again. It was that moment that Zechs loved the most. The moment before it all began. The moment when Duo seemed to be fighting a battle, against himself, against Zechs. Everything hinged on that moment - everything that followed depended on Duo's decision in those taut heartbeats. He would give in, going down to his knees like a supplicant and beg to be fucked. Or he would fight, would tease and torment and lash out, knowing all of the triggers, all of the ways to make Zechs react and fight back, and even then, eventually, he would beg too, usually when he was bruised, usually when Zechs could taste blood in their kisses, Duo would close his eyes and beg. It was the moment of supreme tension and uncertainty, like being called to the hangar to report to his mobile suit and sitting in the cockpit, running through the startup sequence and waiting to see who his enemy was. Waiting to see how outnumbered, how challenging, how deadly the battle would be. There was no way to predict Duo's moods. Zechs had tried, for a while, but he hadn't been able to establish a pattern and, frankly, he wasn't all that interested in diminishing the risk associated with taking Death to bed. This time, tonight, it was different. The whole dance so dramatically different that Zechs really didn't know what to expect, however. He didn't track Duo down in some bar this time. It was Relena's birthday, and they were in Sanc, Zechs in full court dress, and Duo- Duo should not have been there. He was invited, of course. He was invited every year, but he never came. Not until this year. When Zechs saw him, when their eyes met and held across the ballroom. Duo wasn't in his spacer clothes - the rough and just barely patched enough to stay in one piece jacket, thermal shirt and stained canvas pants tucked into even more worn boots. He was dressed in clothes he had to have borrowed, or, Zechs realized as he looked at how well the white breeches, cut-away frock coat and the embroidered waistcoat fit him, Duo had had them made. The boots that came up past his knees, the expensive riding boots that were polished to be as reflective as the marble floor under his feet, made Duo's legs somehow look endless. The blood red cravat wrapped around his neck, wound tight and fluffed over the top of his vest, was practically an insult. Everyone else in the entire ballroom wore a white cravat. But not Duo. Zechs stalked across the floor, barely bothered to apologize to the dancers he collided with, and he grabbed Duo's arm. "What the hell are you doing here?" Duo just grinned, wide and empty, and his eyes went that dangerous shade of violet that meant pain was imminent. "I was invited," he said, his tone so deceptively neutral. His eyes went to Zechs' hand on his wrist. They never touched, not in public, not until Duo was naked and not until after that moment - until Duo had made his choice. Zechs dropped his hand, knowing he had overstepped, had broken those rules, and he felt humiliated. Another weakness, another trigger Duo had pulled. "You should ask me to dance," Duo suggested. He waved a hand. "Maybe everyone will stop staring at us then." Zechs sincerely doubted that, but he held out his hand and smoothed his face into the neutral, patrician mask he had perfected after the murder of his parents and the destruction of the life he had known. Duo fit his gloved hand into Zechs' palm, and they moved to the center of the floor, sharks parting the water around them and the prey scattering, giving them a wide berth as Zechs took Duo into his arms. They were silent, Zechs swallowed up in the mockery of this moment, of having Duo smirking up at him as though he were a careless, pretty suitor with nothing on his mind except for winning the heart of a prince. It felt wrong, felt like some elaborate game, some plot that Zechs wouldn't be able to foil, and it felt like losing. It made Zechs furious, made him a little afraid, and brought back that old worry - that old insult. Coward. Was he? Would Duo see it now? Would he sense it in Zechs' posture? In his eyes? In his taste - if Duo bothered to let things go that far? The dance ended, mercifully, and Duo stepped away, his eyes shining and his mouth curved, and Zechs followed him. He didn't trust it, the semblance of restored order as Duo led the way and Zechs stalked him, through palace corridors, through hidden corridors that Duo should have no knowledge of, until they arrived in an all-too-familiar wing. Until Duo stopped and leaned back against the door, leaning against the frame opposite the door latch, and folded his arms and lifted his eyebrows in a challenge that felt more like a duel than anything else between them ever had. Would opening the door mean surrender? Or would it mean acceptance of the challenge? Zechs stepped forward, close enough that he loomed over Duo and the other man sucked in a breath, straightened and stared up at him, and Zechs saw it then, in his eyes. The fear and uncertainty that were blinked away an instant late. And he smirked, cold and cruel, the expression he wore when Duo tried his best to fight him, to push him off or break him. He reached for the door, opened it, and let it swing open. Duo swallowed hard, seemed suddenly off balance, and Zechs felt equilibrium come back to him, felt the world start to reorder itself, and he made an eloquent gesture with his hand. Duo glared, but he slipped under Zechs' arm and into the room. Zechs closed the door and locked it. They shouldn't be disturbed, but then again, this wasn't a dilapidated travelodge on a backwater colony. If someone heard two men screaming in agony and ecstasy, they might be tempted to intervene. Zechs sat down on his bed, leaning against one solid oak bedpost and letting his gaze lazily sweep over Duo. "Nice costume." He wanted the words to sting, and he could see them hit home, could see the shame color Duo's cheeks. He had tried, had made an effort to be part of Zechs' world, and Zechs didn't understand why and he wanted to punish Duo for the uncertainty, for his earlier self doubt. Wordlessly, his fingers fumbling in uncharacteristic clumsiness, Duo started to strip. He unwound the yards of red from his neck, but he left it, long ends hanging down either side of his neck, as he shrugged out of the frock coat. It dropped to the floor, Duo discarding it carelessly. The waistcoat joined it, the full-sleeved linen shirt and simple cotton undershirt next. And then Duo was just in the boots, the pure white breeches, and the dangling cravat. "You don't belong in those," Zechs said, indicating the boots. "In any of it. You haven't earned it." Duo's back stiffened at that, and Zechs could feel the past, the war, thousands of deaths and battlefields stretched between them. Duo pulled off the boots, managing to make it look effortless, and Zechs wondered if he had had to practice. The breeches were next, then the simple white briefs that Zechs knew were not Duo's. White wasn't a color Duo ever wore - it showed wear too easily, and besides, it was offensively virginal. At least to Zechs. Naked, his pale flesh glowing in the fractured, amber light from the chandelier above the bed, Duo stood still and furious. Zechs looked him over, letting a sneer curl his lips. A new scar, across Duo's left shoulder, looked like it might have been recent and very nearly deadly. No new tattoos, though. Nothing added to the L2 constellation on his right side or the solar map on his left. His cock was erect, the tip glistening already, and the shaft an angry red that matched the flush on Duo's face and chest. Zechs let his sneer become a smirk, and he gave a short, derisive laugh. He saw Duo's body curve, saw him lean closer before he could stop himself, and Zechs met his gaze again. His favorite moment, the thrill of anticipation, the danger of the unknown. Duo took one cautious step closer, then another, until he was between Zechs' legs. He picked up the loose ends of the cravat and put them into Zechs' hands. "I want you to tie me up so I can't get away." Zechs laughed, and he saw it cut through Duo's body, saw him hesitate and think to step back. But Zechs wrapped his hands around the fabric, looped it around Duo's neck so that it trapped him fully, and pulled him closer. "It's almost pathetic, that you thought you could get away before," he whispered into Duo's ear. "Please," Duo moaned, his lips wet and red. "Please keep me."
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