The Backside of an Engineer

Pairing: Heero x Tuberov
Spoilers: Some spoilers for Episode 24
Warnings: Um, it's Heero x Tuberov.


OZ MOON BASE, A.C. 195


"If you breathe a word about this to anyone, Heero, I'm going to have to kill you," Trowa said, unlocking the cuffs that enclosed Heero's forearms.

"If I breathe a word of this, you can use my gun. Did you get the key?"

Trowa reached inside his uniform jacket and held out a keycard. "I'll be back for you in half an hour."

"Make it forty-five minutes."

Trowa hesitated for a moment, suppressing a faint moue of disgust before nodding in agreement. "Forty-five minutes then." He turned and began to walk down the corridor, muttering something under his breath that sounded like, "You sick fucking bastard."


Heero let himself in silently and spent a few minutes tinkering with the security panel by the door before turning to the four-poster bed that dominated the room. It looked out of place in the otherwise austere room, but Heero supposed it suited the man who lay in it.

The great engineer was fast asleep behind those velvet hangings; Heero could hear him snoring. He wondered what his dreams were like.

He turned on an ornate gilded lamp beside the bed and silently pulled the hangings aside. The man did not wake. He lay on his back, his long grey hair spread out on the satin pillow, his mouth slightly open. He seemed to be at peace. Good.

"Gregor Tuberov," Heero said aloud.

At the sound of his name, the man snorted, grunted, and opened his lashless eyes. "What? Who's there?"

"My name isn't important," Heero said. He climbed into the bed and let the hanging fall back. It was warm and slightly humid inside from the man's breath and night sweat, but Heero didn't mind. "You can call me Zero-One."

"What the--" Tuberov tried to scramble away, but Heero clamped a hand on his wrist. That stopped him. Tuberov swallowed. "What do you want?"

"I'm told you're the man who invented the mobile dolls. I wanted to meet you."

Tuberov's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Wait, Zero-One? Aren't you a prisoner?"

"Aren't we all?" Heero reached out and clapped his hand to the man's cheek, feeling the deep wrinkles that bracketed his mouth. The flesh was yielding and slightly rough with stubble. He was pleased that Tuberov seemed too frightened to pull away. He might not have to use physical restraint after all.

"What do you want from me?"

Heero touched the hairless brow ridges over the engineer's sunken eyes, fascinated by their shape and texture. "Tomorrow they're taking me out with one of the junior OZ officers to fight your mobile dolls. I want to know if I'm in for a challenge or a disappointment." His fingers moved to the bulbous tip of the man's nose. "I certainly hope I'm not disappointed."

For a moment, the fear on the man's face was replaced by indignation. "If you think my mobile dolls will be a disappointment, young man, I'll have you know that I designed and built them myself! They're tireless, relentless, and fearless--no mere human can stand up to that!"

Heero licked the pad of his own thumb and drew it across Tuberov's lips. "What makes you think I'm a mere human?"

Tuberov spluttered, "You--I--what are you playing at, boy?"

"I don't like being disappointed." Heero touched the high neck of the engineer's nightshirt. It was fine white cambric with satin embroidery, most likely hand-made and obviously very expensive. It would be a shame to have to tear it. "You can take this off."

Tuberov clutched a fistful of the material at his chest. "Why the hell would I want to do that?"

Heero merely stared at him, and eventually the man seemed to understand. He gave Heero a sheepish look and began pulling the shirt over his head. He got tangled when he tried to get his arms out of the sleeves, but Heero gave him a hand and eventually he was bare. Well, nearly bare. "You can take those off, too," Heero said, pointing to the underpants he could just see under the overhang of Tuberov's belly.

A sound suspiciously like a whimper came from Tuberov's throat as he slipped the garment down his legs. He kicked it off and immediately made a move to cover himself, but Heero stopped him.

"No. I want to see. I need to know what kind of a man you are."

"P-please..."

Heero ignored him. He ran a hand over the slope of the man's belly and was surprised to find that it was not soft. It wasn't as hard as his own, but clearly the man had some power left in him. It was a shame he was such a physical coward.

Lower down, the engineer's penis lurked like a frightened little animal in a parched and greying nest. Heero nudged it out of the way and examined an impressive set of testicles. The scrotal sac went from loose and sagging to tight as he fingered it, the body's involuntary response to a perceived threat. Heero felt satisfaction as he ran his fingertips over the pebbled flesh. He looked into Tuberov's eyes. "The greatest engineering feat of all has to be the living body, don't you think?"

There was a rebellious look in the man's eyes, but he nodded reluctantly, unwilling to disagree with someone who literally had him by the balls.

"But like you implied, the human mind is far from perfect. It can be deceived, tricked...twisted."

Tuberov gasped as Heero did just that. Sweat sprung out on his brow and his mouth opened in a silent scream, but he didn't dare cry out. Not that it would have done him any good if he had. Heero's tampering with the security panel had seen to that.

"Wh-what do you want from me?" he gasped.

"Just a moment." Heero turned his back to the man, feeling perfectly safe in doing so. A coward Tuberov might be, but a fool he wasn't. And anyone who attempted to attack Heero from behind was certainly a fool.

He took his time removing his shoes and socks, and he tumbled them to the floor next to Tuberov's own leather shoes and green silken hose. He was sorry he didn't have time to arrange them more neatly on the Persian rug, but he wasn't going to be staying long. He slipped off his shorts as well. He didn't bother with his top. He was young and Tuberov was on the corpulent side of middle age and there was no need to rub the fact in.

When he turned around, he was slightly concerned by the engineer's reaction. Tuberov was deathly pale and beads of sweat were beginning to roll down from his temples to the deep channels of his cheeks, dripping down into the thick grey mat of hair on his flaccid chest. "Why?" he asked, staring wide-eyed at the fresh, plump flesh rising between Heero's legs. "Why are you doing this?"

Heero looked down below the deceptively soft belly of the engineer and saw that the frightened animal had gained enough courage to peep its eye out of its nest. But only that. "Don't worry. I won't ask you to perform. Roll over."

"What?"

Heero wrapped his hand over Tuberov's bicep, noting the dormant strength under the flabby, unused flesh. "Roll over."

The man rolled, lying flat on his stomach. He pressed his legs together as hard as he could, trembling with effort and fear. His back was very smooth and only lightly furred with salt-and-pepper hairs.

"That won't do," Heero said. "You have to get your knees under your chest. I want to see all of you."

Grunting a bit, and letting out a small fart in the process, Tuberov did so. Heero didn't mind. It was no more offensive than the hydraulic rush of compressed air Wing let out upon re-entering atmosphere.

"Are you happy now?" Tuberov asked, his voice quavering.

Heero put a hand each on the engineer's buttocks and spread them. He fingered some hairs out of the way, circling the sprung, rugose anus as carefully as he could. The sphincter had certainly seen some hard use, but Heero felt certain that was a product of age rather than recreation. "Perhaps the living body isn't as miraculous as it seems," he said quietly.

"What are you doing?"

Heero flicked a hemorrhoid with his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a muffled howl from the prone engineer. "There are many opportunities for pain. Pain can affect the mind. Minds can be warped. Maybe you have something that will relieve the pain?"

"Ointment," Tuberov gasped, pointing to the bedside table. "Drawer."

Heero pushed aside the drapery and took a breath of cool, dry, sterile air. The table was a frivolous-looking piece, a spindle-legged frippery with a single, shallow drawer. Heero pulled on the cut-glass knob and revealed a shallow opening containing a wrinkled aluminum tube of analgesic cream and nothing else. Apparently the great engineer felt in need of no other comforts.

Heero opened the tube and spread a thin ribbon of white ointment on his fingers, which he rubbed around Tuberov's wrinkled anus. "This will help you, I think."

"Yes...yes."

"And here?" Heero slid a finger into the dilating orifice, working it back and forth. It seemed to wink at him.

"Yes."

Tuberov was now rocking gently back and forth against Heero's finger. Heero, smiling, let him do so while he surreptitiously coated his erection with his other hand. "Perhaps you need some other needs seen to?"

"I'm only human, boy!" Tuberov grunted as he thrust himself against Heero's finger.

"Yes. You're only human. As am I." Heero thrust himself into the great engineer with a moan as he worked his way by slow millimeters onward, and then just as he removed his finger, Tuberov cried out and his internal muscles shifted and then Heero cried out...


When Heero exited the suite, Trowa was already waiting for him. He was leaning against the wall in his uniform, bouncing the cuffs in his hand impatiently. "You're nine minutes late," he said, holding out the cuffs.

Heero thrust his hands forward. "There were...complications."

Trowa buckled the cuffs around Heero's forearms. "As long as you got some good intel, I don't care. Hurry."

They hurried down the corridors, keeping their heads down till they reached the cell block. Trowa swiped the keycard, and the door whooshed open.

"You know," Heero said, turning toward his erstwhile guard, but Trowa held his hand out, stopping him.

"I don't want to know, Heero. I just don't want to know."

END


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