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"Agglomeration"Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Slight D/s, Pain Kink, A little gore,
Perverse ideals, but then again, it's Treize/Une so of course there
is. xD Pairings: Treize/Une Summary: Une will protect her boss' secret at
all costs. " Secrets" Une blew the smoke away from the smoldering muzzle of her pistol and holstered it, walking away from the still twitching body of the insolent soldier and his gobsmacked friends with a sharp click of her heels. It wasn't like it was a big loss. The little pissant was as sexist as he was stupid. He honestly didn't think she would overhear him mumbling obscene remarks to the other soldiers about her relationship with Treize? About Treize himself? That he'd somehow found out about Treize's penchant for submissiveness in the bedroom was unforgivable. The nerve of that sniveling little lowlife. It had taken only an ounce of effort and a fuck load of satisfaction to pull her gun from her holster and place the cold muzzle against his forehead. The look in his eyes when he realized he'd fucked up in a way that had just cost him his life was exquisite. His mouth gaped and trembled in shock and fear, but no words came out. There was a curl of her lip and then she pulled the trigger. His snickering buddies were now on brain detail, cleaning up the remnants of their friend's head off the floor and walls. It was a bit of a disappointment that he hadn't begged for his life. She knew he wanted to. He was just too frozen in terror and she simply didn't have the patience to wait, nor the will to listen to any ridiculous, or disingenuous excuses. No one could ever know and live to talk about it. The Treize they saw, the Treize who was cold, calculated, malicious, and always in command, became a completely different person behind the privacy of closed and tightly locked doors. He became a mewling, needy, worshipful boy. He was all eager hands and sloppy kisses. He needed her firm hand to quell him, to show him his place. He learned. Oh, yes. He learned how to please his Mistress, even when it took the spiked point of her heel pressing into the sensitive flesh of his balls, he learned. And he loved every second of it. Begged for it with eyes, upturned in pleading desperation, soft words imploring for more pain. He was always hungry to be hurt in some way and he thanked her through his tears when she felt generous enough to oblige him. The pain made him ravenous for sex, burying his face between her thighs like a man starved. She would grip and pull that golden brown hair, wrapping the short strands around her fingers as he pleasured her with his mouth. When she had enough, her sharp commands would break him from his stupor. He knew not to go right for it. He had to earn his right to sink his manhood into her body. He would suckle at her inner thighs, kiss his way up her belly, fondle and make love to her breasts with hands and lips. He would wait for her to hook a leg around him, knowing that was his cue, and then plunge inside. He would shudder and groan with his mouth clamped around her nipple and fuck into her with wild abandon which she always allowed, loving it as much as he did. She loved how desperate he became when he fucked her. He fucked her like he needed it to live, like it would kill him if he didn't. She coveted the strong fingers that would dig into her hips, the hot breath against her neck, the sweet sound of slapping skin. He moaned and bleated, helpless to sensation as he sought his climax within her. The repeated press of his cock would inevitably lead to her own, throwing her head back as her pussy flushed with warmth and lubrication. Satisfied, she would lie back and let him lift her legs into the air, pounding into her until his muscles went rigid and he roared through his orgasm. The sex was hot, heady, incredible, but afterwards was always her favorite. The times when he would lower himself on top of her and kiss the soft skin of her breasts with reverence. Grateful that he was permitted to sate his desires inside her. Grateful that she knew him so intimately and didn't judge. That she indulged him. That she protected his secret. In public, he was the boss, the tyrant, the regal dictator, but alone with her, he could be anything and everything he ever wanted to be. It was his Achilles' Heel, his weakness, and the only one he entrusted it with was her. It was her honor, as his subordinate, his trusted confidant, his lover, to guard that secret with not only her life, but the lives of everyone around them. And she knew, there was no greater love, or trust than that.
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