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"Iron Fists "Written By: ELLE and Miss Murdered Disclaimer: If Gundam Wing was ours, there'd be ONE damned cannon kiss. All for fun, fun for all! :D Rating: NC 17 Warnings: post EW, physical violence, m/m sexual
relations, cursing, you know – the typical angsty stuff! Pairings: 1x2x1, Summary: In the world of illegal cage fighting there are no rules and only the strongest survive. It is a world that Duo has been undercover in for over a year and when the Preventers fear he may have gone rogue unexpected back up arrives... Author's Notes: Miss Murdered mentioned this little
inkling to ELLE one day and several weeks later after ELLE's desire
to get into a fight peeked, ELLE asked if they might team up and write
some delicious, sexy fight scenes. All Duo's chapters are Miss Murdered's,
all Heero's are ELLE's. Enjoy! "Iron Fists "
18. Heero wasted no fucking time. He might've fucked Duo over by coming here when he knew he damn well wasn't needed, but he wasn't going to let Duo go down without a fight. Rescued him from worse places without a fucking plan - he'd get him out of this, too. He told the chick to get damn well away from him - told her he'd make no such promise, that he didn't have time to deal with her shit. Her offer to testify meant nothing to him - the only thing he wanted was Duo, safe, and fuck the mission and fuck the colony and fuck every other fucking thing. Duo was the priority. Duo was his mission. In his mind, he'd already quit, and Preventer, Une, whoever the fuck wanted to could levy whatever goddamned sanctions they wanted against him - he would just take Duo and they'd disappear - just like during the war. They'd fucking disappear. Although he wasn't completely sure how Duo relayed messages back to HQ other than the vague comment from Milliardo about Duo breaking into his room, Heero did the only thing he knew how to do. He slithered through the ventilation system to the long abandoned main computer server and rigged a distress signal to all Preventer frequencies. He might have quit, sure, but he needed them now and he intended to give them a full report and whatever they needed to arrest every motherfucker here, that was for damned sure. Frankly, he didn't want it to come down to his arrest, but if it did, he wasn't worried. The only thing he was worried about was making sure Duo was still alive. He didn't know how long he'd been compromised for, but he knew every minute could be one minute closer to Kerrigan putting a bullet in his head. So he was far more than displeased when he felt the ceiling underneath the shaft he was escaping back through rip out from under him and the way twisted metal tore his skin in long gashes down his abdomen as he hit the floor hard was less than ideal. He blinked to clear his disorientation and looked up, not even bringing a hand to the wounds quickly soaking his tattered clothes in blood, relegating the pain to a space in the back of his mind where he could manage it. Milliardo stood there with the goddamned chick - bitch probably sold him out, probably just verifying their fucking connection earlier, though fuck if Milliardo didn't already know that - and two dudes with some kind of industrial metal cutters that must've been used to slice through the ceiling and he wondered how they knew where he was but then it didn't really matter. They probably had some fucking heat scanning device or something. "MJ, get Jim or someone down here, we can't have him bleeding out. And Colt, Harrison, you're dismissed." The three other people were quick of follow Milliardo's orders, leaving them alone. Heero pressed his hands into the floor, ground his feet into the steel underneath him and lifted himself to standing. His head swam a little, but fuck if he was going to face Milliardo lying down. He wasn't quite sure what the hell was going on, but obviously Milliardo wasn't here as legitimately as it had once appeared. "We need to talk." Milliardo's smooth voice made Heero grit his teeth. "Fuck," Heero spat out, eyes furious, fists shaking, even angrier now than when he'd seen him from the cage. Confusion always made him angry. He fucking hated being played. "I have always respected you," Milliardo started and Heero balked at the words. They meant nothing now. He'd fucking respected him once too but that was before this - before he had to kill for him, before he watched his sleazy hands feel up his lover, before he cut him out of a goddamned ceiling. "You have to know you can't keep doing this, playing this game of good boy soldier hanging up his rifle and retiring to a world of peace." Heero's eyebrows narrowed. Milliardo smirked. "You have never felt more alive than you did in the cage, right? The ability to choose whether a man lives or dies, knowing you have that power over him - it's like a drug, isn't it?" Heero felt bile rise in the back of his throat and he tried to maintain his stance despite his quickening blood loss. Milliardo was wrong - so fucking wrong. He never wanted to kill anyone here. He didn't even want to fucking be here. It made him sick to realize what he'd done. It disgusted him. It made him loathe himself to know he killed again. There was no power in that - no feeling of being 'alive.' The power was in choosing not to kill. The power was in compromise, in living with the flaws of others, in - in... Fuck, but that was it, wasn't it? The same way Relena worked to bring people together on a global scale through compromise and patience and understanding - that was they had to do, wasn't it? He and Duo. To make things work. Because Duo made him feel alive. It wasn't killing or being here, working undercover, all those things only forced him to shut down, turn off his emotions, hide inside himself for protection. Fuck. No. It was Duo who made him feel alive. Duo's touch, Duo's love. Milliardo was so, so fucking wrong. "No," he whispered, his eyes dangerous and wild as he stared at the other man, a man who did get off on killing, a man who paired him up in a cage, forced him to kill, enjoyed every fucking moment of it. Milliardo laughed cruelly. "I know you don't want to admit it to yourself - you've been twisted around my little sister's finger too long, that's okay. But you and I, we're the same, you said so yourself." "No." The statement was more firm. He shook his head curtly, anger snapping across him like electricity. He evaluated his condition and knew if he was going to strike, he was going to have to strike soon before blood loss made him too weak to combat Milliardo equally. But he didn't want to have to fucking fight him. This wasn't right. It shouldn't be like this. He was a fucking Peacecraft - he should be better than this. "You don't have to justify your lack of morality to me," he continued, almost... sympathetically? Heero paused, confused, unsure what exactly it was Milliardo wanted from him. Heero didn't want to fucking kill for him. "I understand the weight of the expectations on you. It's okay - you can escape that here." Heero's body trembled. He felt so fucking weak but he had to combat this. He didn't want to kill any more. He didn't want to be Milliardo's pawn. He didn't want to be anyone's fucking pawn any more. He remembered the feeling of betrayal at being used by Doctor J during the war - remembered how he swore to believe in himself, to fight for himself, to do what was fucking right and this wasn't right. What was right was what he felt when he was with Duo and he steeled himself against Milliardo, locked his heart around the only one thing he knew to be true - he loved Duo and fuck if he was going to forget it. "You don't have to go back to my sister and her lofty expectations of what you are." Milliardo's voice was kind, now, friendly even, and it made Heero's skin crawl even as his knees tried to buckle but he forced himself to stay standing. "You can stay here, with me." He stepped forward then, stepping so close he could reach out and stroke Heero's hair. The touch shocked him and he stared at the other man with something akin to horror roiling in his gut. Milliardo had never touched him like that before. Fuck, no one had. No one but Duo. "We can run this operation together - escape those people who don't understand us. I'll even let you have him, if that's what you really want." Heero's vision darkened momentarily and he felt himself sway though he fought it and Milliardo caught him, helped steady him. What he was saying didn't make any sense. Run this operation together? Run the fights? Why would he want to fucking do that? It was like being king of the rats or something - fucking disgusting. "No," he stated for the third time. He felt tired and weak but he resisted it, struggled to keep his eyes locked on Milliardo's. "No. We can't do this. We have to be better than that. Soldiers - we have to be better. Show people how to be better." Heero saw rage building deep in Milliardo's eyes and he felt a hand on his throat as he was shoved back into the wall. Part of him felt a sense of relief that he didn't have to try to stand any more; it made thinking clearly easier as he could focus purely on that. "She's wrong," he growled, their noses almost touching and Heero couldn't bite back the smirk that started spreading across his face in his quickening delirium. "It's human nature to fight. Peace means nothing in the absence of war." "This is your personal war, Zechs," Heero returned around a laugh. "A pathetic testament to a lost little boy." Milliardo lifted him by his throat and slammed him back into the wall and he coughed out a ridiculous chuckle, feeling thick fingers bruising his windpipe. "I was wrong, we aren't the same. I can justify killing a man to stop a genocide - you can justify a genocide to stop from killing yourself." Milliardo threw him on the floor in disgust and Heero's maniacal laughter bounced through the room until it descended into a fit of brutally painful coughing. He heard the door open and he saw Jim walk in, shocked and cursing at the sight of him. "Fucking move him where?" Jim was asking as he felt himself lifted off the floor and drug out of the room. There was no answer and it seemed a long time but also not that long at all until he was being laid down in a dark room and left with Jim to tend to him. "Hey, kid, your shirt's a fucking goner, not my fucking fault, okay?" Heero nodded weakly, unable to remember what exactly it was about his shirt... "Don't come kill me when this shit is over," Jim muttered and his hands began assessing the damage, cool cloth pressing to his wounds, stinging them, but it was okay, because he knew those hands and he knew how they could take the pain away, knew how they could reach into his heart and eek out some small remnant of pure emotion not buried beneath the cold walls of his training. He felt those hands grasp his, twisting their fingers together almost painfully and he gasped and glared at the braided boy. Stupid to be so close like this. Stupid - fucking OZies might see, Wufei might be brought back any minute. Fuck but he didn't want to watch this guy die but if he had to he would, it was that simple. "Feel like shit," Duo muttered and Heero supposed that was an obvious enough statement - he'd been beaten pretty damn good, Heero'd assessed the wounds himself and though they weren't gonna kill him, the bruising was deep, there were some fractured bones, it wasn't really the best position to be in but then this guy was always getting himself fucked by OZies so he could come to expect he was going to feel like shit from time to time. "Make it better?" Heero didn't understand how he could even do that shit. Put that cute little infliction in his voice that instantly made him half hard despite being in a goddamned prison with his hands bound and no plan and every defensive wall he had erected against that very thing. "You're crazy," he spat back callously, hoping to dissuade the other boy but Duo just chuckled. "Yeah, probably." Those fingers tightened. Heero tried to shift away but Duo leaned his head into his neck before he could manage an escape and bit down on the flesh there, suckling it, tonguing it in a way that made Heero fight back a moan. "You'd do this with Wufei," he accused instead, trying to distance himself now before he capitulated completely. But there was just another little chuckle as the biting became more insistent and he gasped. "Never. Only you. Only want you." Want? The whole idea seemed foreign to Heero but then he did want Duo - at least physically, it was undeniable - so maybe not. But want was something he refused to acknowledge, refused to allow himself the pleasure of. As soon as you wanted something, it could be taken away from you. As soon as you wanted something, it could be used against you. "You're hurt," Heero pointed out and Duo pulled back then to appraise him, those big blue eyes studying him with a tenderness Heero'd never seen until he met him. It was eyes like that, which got you in trouble. Eyes that showed you cared about something. Eyes that proved you felt something. Heero hardened his own eyes as he stared back. He didn't want to look like that - but fuck what an asshole he was in retrospect. Duo's hands came up and cupped his chin, fingering the smooth skin of his jaw line and Heero clenched his teeth together hard, fighting that touch with every damned piece of him he had to fight with. Couldn't fucking want him. Not here for fucks sake, not fucking here. "Just want you to kiss me," Duo breathed out. "Take me away for one damn moment if this is gonna be my grave." What the fuck was it about this guy that made his heart pound in his chest like this? All poetic words and shit that he fucking hated yet all he could do was stare at those lips, think about how they felt on his mouth, how they looked on his dick. Remember rolling together under the sheets of that stupid fucking twin bed at that stupid fucking school every single night, every touch electric, and he'd never felt so damn good. They'd just met but the attraction was painful, undeniable, and now it was like he was Eve and Duo's lips the apple and fuck if his tongue wasn't the snake, pressing him with clever words for just one taste to seal his fate. Those nimble fingers felt his jaw slacken, his defences torn apart, and Duo pressed forward, lips eagerly meeting lips, tongue flicking out to loosen them and sneak it's way through barred and gritted teeth to find it's reluctant partner. Heero groaned into that hot mouth, twisted his neck, and pain lanced through him like lightening and he gasped, eyes shooting open to meet brown ones and he froze, confused, locked in place in his agony though he wanted to lash out, attack, disable and ask questions later. "Kid, fuck kid, it's me." He recognized the voice. The doctor. Jim. Whatever. He relaxed marginally, felt the disconcerting sensation of fuzziness in his brain, remembered he'd lost quite a bit of blood. Fuck. "I'm gonna give you some shit to knock you out for a few hours, help you relax -" "No," Heero argued back weakly, trying to shake his head. Jim didn't even pause. "- I'm fucking losing you and you're gonna hurt yourself thrashing like that." He heard Jim riffling around through his things and he closed his eyes. On the back of his eyelids he saw Duo still, saw how he bruised those perfect lips with his passion, saw the lust in those eyes - a lust that mimicked his own, drove him mad with his own desire. "Better fuckin' got a message out," he heard Jim grumble as he prepped the syringe, dragging him from his fantasy. "No damned good in a jail cell..." Heero tried to jerk away, tried to respond, tried to fight it because fuck if he was in a cell then Duo was good as dead anyway if Kerrigan - fuck, no, if Milliardo - fuck but he broke all the fucking rules...! He wanted to sob but he couldn't, wanted to scream but his throat wouldn't open. Milliardo knew he wanted him, knew it, he'd said it, he'd fucking said it - I'll even let you have him, if that's what you really want - and if Milliardo knew that then he knew how to hurt him. His heart ached and he felt the needle inserted under his skin and he was too fucking weak to fight it. Too fucking weak for this whole damned mission. Too fucking weak to protect the only thing that mattered to him in this whole damn world precisely because it was the only fucking thing that mattered to him. The feeling of desolation and hopelessness that slammed through him was more than he could bear and he felt totally useless, totally worthless - a total fucking failure. Never was fucking good enough for Duo. Let him down again.
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