Author: Chauni

E-mail: ChauniMaxwell@mechpilot.com

Website: www.oocities.org/asukalangley2nd/

Warnings: Yaoi, Yuri, Lemon, BDSM, AU, Language, Mind Control, Wufei POV (prologue), Duo POV (the rest), Slight Dorothy bashing (depending on who’s speaking), NC-17

Pairings: 2x1, 5xSolo, DxR, 4x3/3x4 (maybe?), 1xSolo/Solox1

Disclaimer: No, I don’t own GW or the boys, and I bet they’re glad about it now.

Notes: Okay, I don’t know what made me want to write this fic, but I’m writing it nonetheless. First things first: Dorothy is my favorite female character, so I’m sorry for the slight Dorothy bashing. Eventually, she’ll have her own short little side story with this, but that’s far off right now. This is going to be a long, ongoing fic, where each is in it’s own section. Currently, this will be the 2x1 part of the fic, and shall explore more about the relationship of a BDSM couple in more depth, while the other part, 5xSolo, will talk more about human nature and the wonder it is to be an individual…all expressed through either yelling or sex. Don’t ask >< In either case, read past the prologue before making any judgment calls, pllleeease! Enjoy!

Chapter 2

I have always had a thing for exotic, quiet guys. I don’t know if it’s because they’re mysterious, because I don’t understand them, or because they’re almost always gorgeous, but something inside me wants to figure out what makes them tick. Maybe I’ll find a bit out about human nature; after all, if you find out about that, you find out about yourselves.

This guy would be my downfall; I could just tell.

He was the most gorgeous creature I had ever laid eyes on; I can say this honestly. His hair was this soft, coaxing coffee color that was unruly and tousled and begged me to run my fingers through it in a pointless chance of taming it. His flesh was oiled, yet perfect in it’s own regard, sculpted over tight muscles in his arms and legs. He bore the same ring around the base of his straining cock, mock jewels set among steal, and a pair of sterling silver nippleclamps with a chain connecting them, the colors setting off his skin perfectly. He kneeled there obediently in the doorway, eyes downcast, back straight, not even moving.

See? Total downfall.

The Chinese man in the doorway refused to move for a moment, until Dorothy sighed and said something about him having only an hour, and then his “cocktease” would have to go to bed. I didn’t care, not right now, not with this beautiful boy being offered up to me.

Shit.

“Dorothy, I-”

“Don’t even say you can’t,” she interrupted as the other guy walked away, leaving us three (four if you count the hidden Relena) alone. “Look at him, Duo, truly look at him. Does he look unhappy to you?”

I did as she said, and I noticed he didn’t look like much of anything. He bore this even, blank expression over his face, and as I made my way over to him, lifting up his chin with my palm, I regretted what I said after it.

“Look at me, Heero.”

And I was lost, floating away on the most hypnotic indigo eyes I had ever seen. Colors like this shouldn’t exist! I felt my throat click loudly as I swallowed hard, shaking my head and tried to look at the expression rather than the color. Flat. Completely flat.

“He doesn’t look like anything, Dorothy,” I muttered, never releasing my hold on his chin. In fact, I was lightly stroking it with my thumb, but we don’t need to discuss that.

“Take him, Duo.” I heard her slide out of her chair, walk across the floor, felt her fingers slip around my shoulders and lightly play with them. She was the devil in my ear. “Take him for a week and decide for yourself. This is a wonderful thing, Duo, just open up your mind.”

“I…”

I never had a chance, really, and I realized this as I headed back to our designated room, my naked slave always four feet behind me, following the backs of my boots.

Dorothy always did have this taste for antiques, especially dark wooden pieces. She said it was majestic and added character, or something along those lines, and as I gazed into the assigned room, I could see her point.

The four-posted mahogany bed with a black satin canopy gave the room a sort of regal atmosphere that I couldn’t ignore, along with the nightstand that looked directly from the nineteenth century. The floor was a hard marble, a deep emerald green so dark it almost appeared to be onyx, with a soft Persian rug of intricate design and colors laid over top it. A matching fireplace was set into one cream colored wall, several replica pictures from long-dead painters above it. Straight across from the door I was standing in were a set of French doors surrounded by black curtains, leading out to a wrought iron barred balcony, overlooking several acres of land so lush it was like being in the rainforest. A quick look upwards and I saw a low ceiling, maybe all of seven feet, with several subtle eyehooks in the ceiling.

The marble floor, the eyehooks, the four-poster bed. Hmmm, she knew me all too well.

My boots, high-heeled and leather, clicked against the floor as I made my way in and I didn’t even have to hear the silence to know that Heero awaited a command to enter the room. Clicking bounced off the walls as I made my way to the French doors, my hands grasping the cool metal handles and pulling them open, soft night breeze blowing so gently around me.

“You can come in, Heero.”

There was no hesitation, not another instant of that heavy quiet, as I heard his knees shuffling against the cool marble and hushed slaps his hands made as he crawled over and kneeled behind me. I wondered for a moment why he hadn’t called me “Master” or any other in the way of formality but I realized I hadn’t asked him to. He was nothing more than a robot awaiting orders.

Damnit, Dorothy.

“Stand up, Heero. Put your hands behind your neck, interlock the fingers, back out, head held high, eyes down.”

I hadn’t realized how difficult it was to speak to him, until I turned around and watched the way he moved halfway through my order. Already, he was climbing to his feet in that graceful manner that reminded me so much of panthers, muscles in his arms and thighs defined for one flash of a moment as he pushed himself up. By the few lamps in the room, I could see the way the light caressed the oil covering his chest, the way the silver chain that hung between his nipples glittered, the way that soft dark hair went wherever it pleased.

He was completely shaved, every part of him, and something about that was very erotic. His hands found their way to the back of his neck, long fingers interlocking as his eyes found my boots. His chest was pushed out slightly as his shoulders slid back, every piece of him tight and attentive.

All for me.

I wasn’t sure how long I could take it, just walking idly around him, inspecting him like the FDA in a meat factory, but I had self-control above all else…at least some. My fingers found the small line of his straight spine, lightly riding it down like a rollercoaster, until they reaching the beginning of the slope of his tight ass. It was like steel, tough and not even quivering under my touch, which I found odd in the smallest of senses. Most of my subs and slaves, I’ve found, have at least trembled slightly on the initial meeting. This was…odd.

I made my way to the front of him again, trailing my nails along his waist and dipping low against his abdomen. The jewels from that ring caught the moonlight and shimmered like icebergs in the water. Taking a few steps backwards, my eyes leveled coolly, I lowered my hands to my sides.

“Down and kiss my boots.”

My voice sounded colder than I had wanted, but I was flustered a bit and had no clue how to act around something like this. But I wasn’t disappointed as he lowered his hands from the back of his neck and those muscles rippled once again as he dropped down in a liquid way that was hypnotizing to say the least.

Soft pads echoed the room as he moved towards me on his hands and knees, just five feet, and I watched as his head ducked down, that mass of mangled dark slipping forward as his lips pursed and pressed against my boots. The smooth oiled back moved slightly as he turned and the tiers met leather, and I couldn’t help but noticed the way his ass was up in the air. Yum.

“You can sleep on the foot of my bed; I’ll give you blankets so you don’t get cold.” After all, I loved to leave the window open and freeze during the nights, cuddling under the blankets and closer to the flesh beside me. “However, that doesn’t leave out the option of you sleeping on the marble floor if I’m displeased one night.” Though, from what Dorothy said, that supposedly wouldn’t be happening any time soon. “Understood?”

And for the first time, I heard him spoke, a low, subdued, almost nasally voice, with the soft hint of a Japanese accent. If I wasn’t lost before, I was now.

“Yes, Master.”

I could feel my eye twitch ever so slightly, and I tried to ignore it, thanking God that his head was down and he couldn’t see me. Small favors, I suppose. Stooping down at the waist, I watched helplessly as my fingers threaded themselves through that springy dark mass of hair, lightly kneading the scalp beneath it in little circles.

“Come to bed,” I whispered, figuring I could at least hold out until tomorrow, even though he was looking haunting under the silver moonlight, the way his skin just ate it up and reflected it completely. And the way the dark shadows of the floor crept up like tendrils over his hands, between his fingers, along his knees…and the way his hair smelled and the jewels glittered and….

Damnit, I was beginning to think I was a masochist here.

Making my way over to the bed, I felt it shift just barely beneath me; after all, I am pretty thin. I could hear the soft pads of his flesh against the floor and then there he was at my feet, kneeling, with his head down. Knowing exactly what he wanted, I stuck one foot out, and immediately he went to work untying the laces with expert, trained fingers, digits so skilled that not even my exceedingly anal complex knots stood a chance.

Hm, not bad.

Slipping my right leather boot off, he set it off to the side, with the second quick to follow. I nodded once he was finished, climbing back to my feet, feeling the entire three inches height difference my footwear had given me gone. Like a cat stretching, he moved up to his knees, those maddening fingers going at the buttons of my pants and the zipper, only to get them finished by the time I counted to three, and then the pants were slid down over my narrow hips. Raising one foot after the other, I stepped out of the puddle they had become, and he quickly folded them and set them off to the side. For a second, I wondered if he noticed the consequences of…well, of him, and then I realized he had to; there was no way you could miss it, not even through the damn thin silken boxers I had picked for today.

But he didn’t even spare it a second glance as he climbed the rest of the way to his feet, the soft sound of the chain between the clamps caressing my ears. He worked the buttons open, going straight down the line, and then those fingers slipped against the skin of my shoulders as he pushed the shirt down over my arms. Did he see me shiver? Probably, but again, it wouldn’t matter.

Somehow, I was beginning to feel cheated.

The shirt was folded with this precise, exact manner, as if he had taken a college course in laundry or something, and it was placed off to the side with the others. He didn’t try for my boxers, and for that, I’m glad. I was really trying to wait until tomorrow for what would happen if he did.

The muscles in his legs rippled smoothly as he made his way to the bed and grabbed the top several layers of the blankets, pulling them away from the mattress and folding them down, waiting to cover me. My eyes fell onto him, as he made his decent to kneel and wait for me to climb into the cocoon of the sheets, and he didn’t wait long, as I quickly made my way over and slid in. The curtains billowed in the wind still, and the room itself had already dropped at least ten degrees since I had opened those French doors.

“Come up.” Like a cat again, he crawled up onto the bed, lying down by my feet in a small, curled ball that reminded me of kid’s after they have nightmares. I could feel the smile at that thought, and grabbing the top blanket, I moved to my knees, braid slipping over my shoulder as I did and pooling on the bed as I leaned over, tucking the folded over bedspread around him.

“Goodnight, Heero,” I whispered, pulling that messy hair away from one of his temples and pressing my lips to it. I could feel the tension leave his body for one fleeting instant, although once my lips were gone, he had gone rigid again.

I would think about it tomorrow.