|
"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: NC 17 A/N: For Maevemauvaise, who requesed #12: I want
to make you bleed, with 2x5 Warnings: edgeplay/knifeplay/bloodplay, so blood,
violence, bondage, language, sex Pairings: 2x5
He'd been practising, at least with his knots. Thinking back, to just a few weeks ago, I remembered the loose hitches he had used to secure me to the bench he used for weightlifting. Oh, how the times had changed. I thought it was interesting, considering how obsessed Wufei was with his own culture, that he had fallen in love with shibari bondage. Interesting, but I couldn't complain. Not after he finally figured out how to tie a proper knot. Not after he figured out that I didn't want to feel like it would be easy to get out. It had started, like most things between us, with a bet and me pushing too far - waiting to see just what would send him over the edge. Turns out, telling Chang he was too much of a coward to ever give me a proper fuck was the exact motivation needed to get him to bend me over his desk and prove just how wrong I was. For a while, that's all it was. Rough sex, angry sex, all of our frustrations with work, with humanity - with each other - poured into marathon sessions that left both of us sore, though usually I was the only one limping. But then he brought home a blindfold. Then handcuffs. Then an ice tray. And then the rope. "Whaddya call this one?" I asked, drawing in an experimental, forcefully-shallow breath. "Haze Harness." His eyebrows were drawn together, his eyes narrowed in concentration, and as much as I wanted to tease him about that - about how focused he was on perfecting this - I knew it would ruin the moment. I could tease him later. "What about my hands?" I waved them, and then choked on a cough as he tightened the ropes around my groin. He smirked and looked down at his handiwork. The rope, which had left my cock free and skirted either side of my scrotum, went right between the cheeks of my ass. So he wouldn't be fucking me, tied up like this. That was disappointing, but not unexpected. A lot of the times, especially the more involved these little sessions became, Chang focused purely on my pain and pleasure, and it wasn't until after, when we'd bathed or I'd at least had the chance to return to my right state of mind, that he did something about his own cock. "I'm leaving them free," he decided, and I frowned, annoyed at that. In my mind, the shibari was a waste of time - it took three times as long to get in and out of the knots - but Wufei liked it. Liked the way the rope pinched into my pale flesh, had even gone so far as to start dying his own jute. And that was fine. It was. Especially when he looked at me like I was a work of art. But my needs were simple. Make me feel wanted. Make me feel completely and utterly at your mercy, and I was a happy camper. I didn't need all of the bells and whistles. So this - tying up my torso and making me ride a rope up the ass, but leaving my hands and feet totally free - didn't meet all of my extremely minimal requirements. "Why?" There had to be a reason. He offered me a soft smile, part question, part promise, and I felt my tongue grow heavy in my mouth. I loved that smile. Feared that smile. He rose to his feet, leaving me alone in our bed, and walked out of the room. When he returned, he was carrying a length of black cloth - the blindfold he preferred to use on me - and a slim, black leather case. He set both down beside me on the bed. Without being asked, I lifted my head so that he could tie the blindfold on. I was rewarded with a smile, with a painful pinch of my left nipple, and I moaned and arched up into his touch. Now that I had darkness wrapped around me, I had to rely on touch and hearing alone, and it heightened everything. He had tried earplugs, once, but that had been a hard no for me. It reminded me too much, way too much, of laying in a cell on the moon and waiting to die, straining to hear the sound of Chang breathing, of the air slowly leaking from the room. I'd had a full freak-out, even after he'd gotten me untied and pulled me close, my body shaking and tears leaking from my eyes in shame as much as fear. There was a whisper of motion, the sheets moving and Chang's weight settling over me. He was sitting on my thighs, trapping my legs at least. "Hands above your head," he instructed. He did that sometimes - insisted on binding me with nothing but his words - and it always frustrated the living hell out of me. But when I managed to do it, managed to hold the position while he had his way with me, I was always well rewarded. Another heartbeat, the sound of something - that leather box - opening. And then something cold and hard and sharp against my neck. I stopped breathing. I stopped thinking. "Do you trust me?" Chang's voice, dark and taunting and close, the words a kiss upon my lips. I forced myself to breathe, even more shallow than the restricting ropes allowed. I was terrified of that blade. A scalpel, it felt like. "Do you trust me?" he repeated. My first instinct was to nod, but I just barely managed to check myself. "Yes," I whispered, and it sounded like a lie. "Duo." "I do," I insisted, a little louder, a little stronger. I did trust him. What I didn't trust was myself - to hold still - to not end up impaling myself. He should have tied my hands. Hell, he should have strapped me down so tightly that I couldn't breathe at all. And I realized, in that moment, why he hadn't. Not just so I could stop him, if I needed to. But because it was a hell of a lot scarier this way - when I could so easily fuck this up. When I wasn't just at his mercy, but at my own as well. "I want to make you bleed." I whimpered, the sound a mix of fear and desire, and I licked my lips. "Please," I begged. He'd left marks on me before, bites and bruises from whips, from ropes tied too tight. Trowa, who usually worked the same shift as me, had raised his eyebrows a few times, but after the first time - after the handprint around my throat, and the rage he'd flown into until I explained that I wanted it - he didn't ask questions. Maybe he understood, maybe he didn't. But he kept quiet about it. Then again, it was Trowa. He kept quiet about everything. "Please?" he echoed, teasing me. Running the scalpel down my throat until he encountered the rope. I could feel it, not cutting, not really, just edging through the top layer of my skin, but not even deep enough to leave a trace, I was sure. "Please," I repeated, and Chang laughed. He lifted the blade, and I held my breath and waited for him to begin. -o-
~ * ~ |
