Author: Chauni

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!

What We Want

Prologue

The alley was the classic spot between two buildings, boring, clichéd, overdone in every movie that ever existed. Trash blew by on frigid winds; flickering blazing neon lights flooded the shadows with a false security; rats scurried by utterly consumed by the desire to feed. Horribly overdone.

Going on three hours, I had found myself to be a bit bored and, for a moment, cursed the compulsive orders of my employer, but again, that thought was fleeting. After all, the pay was good, and no one could argue with money, not even I, though I loathe admitting such a thing. Everyone had their price, and it seemed mine was a little lower than most peoples.

But the benefits were unbeatable.

Ahh, here was the one I had come to find, getting out of a silver, half-rusted sedan and slamming the door as he walked away, stuffing one money-bulging hand into his pocket. They had been right, with his long legs revealed by a small pair of cut-off shorts and slight muscled torso just barely hidden beneath his mesh shirt, he truly was a pleasing sight. God, those eyes could melt steel and freeze ice all in one tiny second, and that hair, though utterly possessing a mind of its own, looked enticing and desirable, and I found myself needing to smell it.

I did not even realize I was walking to this attractive creature until I was within ten feet of him; he just had that effect on people, which could be both a benefit and a danger. I wondered if the boy even bore any concept of how truly amazing he was, but in the end, such things didn’t matter, for someone noticed his charm, noticed his perplexing existence, and had chosen him out of a million.

My employer always did have superb taste.

“Mr. Yuy, I presume?”

The muscles tensed for a moment as the creature’s proper name was so callously used, and slowly, he turned to face me. The indigo treasures calculated everything, from my guarded walk to my sloe obsidian eyes and concealed expression daunted upon the full lips. Yuy, as I had been told his name, kept himself tight, poised, ready, fight or flight, he wasn’t sure yet, but he had a feeling he would be aware very, very soon.

“I know of him,” he replied, voice hushed and monotone, so wary, so tense. “I might see him as well. Would you like me to give him a message?”

“I’m not here to play games, Mr. Yuy, nor am I hear to harm you in anyway,” I answered, walking another foot or so forward with my arms outstretched in a sign of peace. “So, please, drop both your guard and act.”

Seeing that such a rouse was pointless, he dropped his charade, but never his defense, which was evident by the tight muscles shimmering beneath the mesh shirt. His hard oculars refused to leave my face, watching every move I made and I could see his reactions reflected within his own stance; something had affected him so badly in his life that he trusted no one. After a moment, I just assumed it was his profession; one doesn’t stay alive being a prostitute without being careful.

“I come with an offer from my employer, something that very few will ever have the pleasure to doing.” She had written my speech for me, and whereas I would normally argue such things, as I said before, the benefits with my line of work were just too perfect. “Let’s talk for awhile, shall we?”

I must admit, I was surprised I got him to listen at all to my offer; had I been in his shoes, I would have laughed and told him he was a fool. But here he was, walking along side me into the mansion of my employer, though no sign of awe struck his fine features, not like all the others who had entered this immense, immaculate home. Just that normal, computing look that dripped deep into his gaze and along the barest corners of his lips remained, plastered across his face like a billboard that only I appeared to see.

He shed no reaction when he laid eyes unto the servants; I had cautioned them on their state of…undress.

Up the winding marble staircase, our feet were soft whispers upon the carpet as fingertips slipped along the cold railing. Finally, on the second of four levels, I took him down the shiny, perfectionist hallway, past dozens of dark-grained wooden doors we cared not for in our fast pace. He, unlike I, stared for a moment at the Asian rugs, the fine personal portraits, the occasional suit of armor or sword that graced such a boring hallway, the only spices to a bland scene. I could feel his curiosity about the insides of each room, of the secrets hidden in closets and under beds, of the loud speech that drifted between the slight space where the doors ended and the carpet began.

Reaching the end of the intimidating hallway, there was nowhere else to turn but to pass through the final door implanted so ominously against the wall. Though it looked no different than the others we had passed, something exuded from this room that was both fearful and comforting all in the same moment, and I could see that it was not lost on the stoic person that had accompanied me. We both said nothing, and it took a long moment for me to drag my eyes from Mr. Yuy to the handle I finally grasped and opened.

I knew what to expect upon entering, for this would not be my first entrance: a business office. That’s all such the room was, with bookshelves lining walls and a leather couch some distance away from an antique-looking mahogany desk strewn with paperwork and other such frivolities. A high-backed coffee colored leather chair sat behind the familiar desk, and again, I bore that movie feel, as if I had seen this all before. Clichéd.

My employer cast us both her own calculating, even look, face never changing from that confident smirk that rode high on mauve painted lips. Her elbow rested upon a manila envelope, her chin held up by one manicured hand as her finger lightly tapped her pale cheek repeatedly, a maddening gesture really. The long strands of pure buttery gold slipped down her back and I could imagine it pooling into a lake of sun on the seat behind her; such an offset against the ebony leather corset that covered her top so agonizingly tightly. Her eyes were hungry, slipping along the boy who had followed me, the boy who had never had the moment to change from his cut-off shorts and mesh shirt, the boy who was selling his soul to the devil.

“I’m glad you could make it, Mr. Yuy,” she purred, as her free hand slipped down under her desk. I could just imagine in my mind’s eye the other girl to the side of her, could see those painted nails slipping through her slave’s wheat-colored locks in the most idle fashion, her personal treasure, that Relena something-or-other. Frankly, I didn’t like either of them, but my employer had me in such a spot that I couldn’t leave; not yet, anyway. “I trust you had a pleasant ride over and that Mr. Chang here was the proper host.”

“Yes.” He really was a man of few words, something that I had found almost comforting, considering how much the blonde liked to ramble.

“My name is Dorothy Catalonia,” she stated, slowly rising to her feet and walking around the desk. The miniskirt I had expected did not exist; instead, she wore a long leather skirt with a slit up one side, revealing the top of a milk thigh before the stiletto-heeled boots took over. Golden hair streamed out behind her, falling well past her rear in a waterfall of shimmering color. She held out on hand, expecting the poor boy to take it most likely, and kiss the back of it.

I wanted to laugh when he did nothing but stare at her in that calculating way.

After a moment, she pulled that hand back and let it rest at her side with a look of subdued insult in her eyes. I could see the cornflower oculars of her slave slipping out around the edge of the desk, as if to see what was going on. I contemplated telling Dorothy of such a thing, but chose against it. After all, this whole lifestyle thing wasn’t my concern. I shifted from foot to foot anxiously, waiting impatiently to be told where my benefit was; it was so odd, since I never got antsy until something like this occurred.

The heels clicked against the floor as she made her way back to her desk, leaning against it as those eyes of hers glanced him up and down. One hand blindly opened the manila envelope upon the desk, and within a second, she was holding out a three-page contract with a pen. “This is for the legality of the matters; just something to state that you know what you’re doing, what this entails, and you hold neither me, Mr. Chang, nor my…business to any liabilities or hardships that may occur for the next five years.”

Without even looking at the professional legal type, he retrieved the pen and signed it in a quick, small script, handing it back to her.

Damnit, why did I have to be present for this matter? Stupid woman.

She looked a bit put off at his willingness to accept, but that quickly changed to a sort of mangled delight as she returned the contract and pen to her desk. She pushed herself away from the wood and made her way to him, hips swaying back and forth. I don’t understand why it seemed like she was constantly trying to seduce him; it was plain knowledge to everyone which orientation she bore.

“Come along, Mr. Chang,” she purred, leading him from the room. I followed, cursing them both as we went.

We walked through countless corridors, down several flights of stairs, past paintings older than the mansion itself, and past more nude slaves than I care to count, with her rambling mouth all the time. She explained herself, who she was, how she came to be here, and her fullest intentions; all things I had heard before on several other occasions. I clutched at several quarters inside my pocket, just wanting to be rid of them both.

Finally, we stopped before a steel door inside the basement, one that reminded me of an old twentieth century bomb shelter. Glaring red fingernails pushed in seven random numbers on a keypad off to the side, and the door slipped open with a quiet hush.

Only once had I seen this room, so upon entering, I was in a silent awe again, one not of admiration, but a sort of demented horror. Computers lined one wall with several seats before them, their monitors bleeping with maze screensavers that would render me ill if I looked on much longer. The walls were a hospital white; that blazing color that was like looking into the center of the sun on a merciless summer day. The floor was a tile, causing the sound of those stilettos’s to reverberate and bounce back to our ears a hundred times over. In the center of the room was a chair, not unlike an electric chair aside from the cushions, with Velcro straps on the armrests and a helmet resting atop it, waiting to be pulled downwards.

“I will ask you one more time, Mr. Yuy, are you sure you wish to go through with this?” I was honestly surprised she was so thorough on this, but then again, I suppose one would have to be, considering…

He nodded once, heading over to the chair to stare it up and down once before taking a seat. Sighing softly under my breath, I locked him in and pulled the helmet down over his face. I hated this…but what could I do?

The heels clicked their way over the to computers and I saw that smirk riding high once again, so cocky and arrogant. Sometimes, I really wanted to smack her. Fingers tapped along the keys and I could see the colorful lights begin and seep through just under the confining headpiece on him. Damnit.

She rested back in her own chair, just idly watching him, even as one hand drifted upwards and waved me away. Smack her? I wanted to kill her.

“He’s waiting in the fourth room on the left on the third floor. Thank you for your trouble, and the money for your efforts is in the nightstand,” she said with a slight titter in her voice.

“It’s not the money that I do this for,” I muttered, heading for the doorway.

“I know,” she replied, eyes attached to the poor, slightly squirming silent boy in the chair. “That’s what makes it that much sweeter. You’d do anything for him, wouldn’t you?”

“I would kill you for him,” I growled, my feet stopping at the doorway.

“Tsk, tsk, Mr. Chang,” she taunted. “If you keep that up, I may forfeit your rights to him for the time being. Trust me, he has gained quite the following here.”

I couldn’t tolerate her mocking tone and I wanted nothing more than to rip the tongue right from those painted tiers and stomp on it until it would never move again. Instead, I stormed out of the room, even as Yuy whimpered softly from his captivity.

“Go and run to your cocktease, Wufei!” she laughed. “Go and have fun only because I make him want you!”

I hate that bitch.