Fragrant trickles of night jasmine scented waters wound down about the pale skin of Quatre as a washcloth roamed about the rest of him, scrubbing away what seemed to be a lifetime accumulation of dirt. Patient strokes brought the layers of dirt off of him, letting them fall away to the tub's waters to be swept away. A pause finally came as Heero sat it aside, turning his new toy around to study him. Long fingers curled about Quatre's chin, nails that seemed to be made of jaggedly broken glass sliding thoughtfully along his cheek.
Eyes the blue shade of skies possessed by storms lowered to gaze into his own, studying as if seeking something to rip out from him. It was once said that the eyes were the windows to the soul. If that was true, then Quatre was convinced that this dark angel had no soul. There was nothing within those cold eyes. No spark lit his irises or pupils. They could have been a pair of mirrors he was gazing into for all that was there, his own reflection staring back at him looking small and frightened. The chuckle that crept out of the dark angel's throat brought a chill across his nude backside, the sound that of fragile glass shattered carelessly on a cruelly hard floor. Tears tried to rise in his aqua eyes, prickles of salt water that he tried to conquer, not wanting to show weakness before the other even as he felt the trails of liquid warmth move down his cheeks.
---------------------
Heero tilted his head in birdlike fascination as he watched his pet. Beautiful yes, enough to make him almost want to weep, but beauty often accompanied a weak will and empty headedness. A glitter of candlelight across a tear tracing its way down the boy's face captured his attention, watching it sparkle and move as he would a rare jewel. The tip of his blackened, ribbon like tongue flicked out, rasping its way across the boy's cheek to gather up the wetness there and bring it back to be savoured. His other hand rose up as well to fully encase Quatre's face within a cage of his fingers, the razor sharp edges of his fingernails sliding across the delicate skin, flesh that he could easily rend to bloody pieces with a downward stroke. A hunger burned within him, wondering if Quatre's blood was as sweet as it smelled and how his soul would taste as it was rolled across his tongue like an exotic chocolate. A purr accompanied that thought as he continued to study the soft eyes of the boy before him.
The decision of how to begin training was an interesting one for a creature such as himself. He was the master and could easily take what he wanted, however, that would mean that he would have to use force every night from then on. There were times when he did enjoy the conquest, forcing someone into submission. More often as of late, he wanted someone to willingly curl to his side. Lacking the mind controlling ability of Treize and his right-hand-man, Zechs that did complicate things. So how to proceed now? How did he make a street rat picked up on a whim into a courtesan that would be compliant and warm in bed yet retain a mind of his own? A simpering fool would bore him quickly, something that fueled his worry on the boy being too pretty. How much damage did the streets of UnderCity with their violence already do to Quatre? How many others had forced their wills upon him or willingly had their demands met?
One of the fingertips wound itself about a lock of the silvery gold hair crowning the boy's head, turning it through it gently. Patience would have to be the watchword for this. If he took his time... perhaps. Better to wait and gain what he wanted than force it to happen and end up with another broken toy to lock away and forget. Seduction would be best. That alone spread Heero's lips in a rictus grin of delight, his whip like tongue flowing out once more to wash over them.
Arms that were slender yet filled with a steel-like hardness beneath them wrapped under Quatre's knees, the other running behind his back. A snapping sound like that of a leather whip cracking boomed in the washroom as Heero rose, his wings unfurling to throw the water off of them. Stepping out carefully, he slowly lowered his captive's feet to the warmth of the blood-shaded towels, another of their fuzzy softness wrapped about him gently. Yet another was taken up to dry his hair with quick movements, rubbing them free of the water. A ruby set comb was drawn through the hair, Quatre himself pulled into Heero's bare lap for a seat. Now was when it began.
---------------------------
Quatre himself was still in a daze, sure that this was all a nightmare and that he would wake up in the dumpster in which he usually slept with Trowa and Duo, two other teens that he often ran with. It was Hell's own bad luck that they hadn't been together tonight. Duo had dragged Trowa off before Quatre was fully awake to one of the whorehouses to get lucky. There was some girl there named Hilde that he had a thing for. Trowa hadn't wanted to go for the most part, but he was interested in seeing if they could hit the place later for some food, perhaps some coin as well. Anything to survive in the place without having to sell their bodies for food.
The feel of a comb going through his hair brought his attention back to the here and now. His head twisted, trying to discover just what was being taken across his locks, never having had his hair combed before beyond what he could do with his fingers after being dunked in the public fountain when Trowa decided that he and Duo smelled too bad to be stood. Small fingers wrapped about the comb as he brought it down to his level, the sharp curiosity of a cat looking over the instrument before releasing it with a blush up at Heero for stopping him.
---------------------------
Surprised had been a way to describe Heero's reaction to his wrist being seized by the boy. The hand supporting Quatre's back had sprung open like a switchblade, the sharpened nails readying to plunge into Quatre's side and rip out his spleen if he tried something. The suspicion that the boy was really a telepath of something of the like had been in his mind before and burst to full, ugly life now. If that was so, it would be a shame to lose him, but he was taking no chances. Watching the face before him as Quatre examined the comb with a child's puzzlement, he burst into laughter, a full rich sound unlike the earlier ones that hurt the ears and mind. This was a sound that had perhaps rang in heaven long ago before he was cast down with his brothers. It was something new even to him after so long.
"It is a comb, little one. It's used to get the tangles out of your hair and keep it straight," he murmured, shifting Quatre on his lap to place the boy's back to his chest. He offered the comb up to the cherubic male's hands, letting him have a try with it as if it were a new toy. With the smaller fingers threading through his own, Heero felt his groin tighten. Quatre's touch was like that of a feather, teasing innocently even as they somehow seemed wanton. Watching the boy comb his hair for the first time, his chin lowered to rest upon the bare shoulder before him, arms curling about the slender waist.
The jagged fingernails rose slowly, drawing across Quatre's stomache as a low purr of a giant cat began in Heero's throat. Lips that were surprisingly soft began to brush against the slender throat of the Arabian, kisses as light as the brush of a butterfly's wing placed in a line. Flicking his eyes up to the mirror he saw that surprise was in the boy's light eyes, his motion with the comb stopping. Now it became critical to turn the new slave to his side with gentleness, avoiding force or putting fear into him.
The forked tip of his tongue flicked out like a snake's, teasing around Quatre's ear. The body within the dark angel's arms trembled. A hot rush of air ran along behind the wet trail, bringing a soft moan and an increase in the quivering. The nails of his fingers traced along the boy's stomache still, turning the backs of his fingers to touch the delicate skin to keep from harming him. *Gentle, gentle* he kept repeating in his mind like a mantra, keeping himself from merely throwing the boy to the floor and taking what he wanted.
Quatre moaned softly, turning his head to the side and exposing more of his throat to Heero, the boy's arms lowering to his lap with the comb clutched tightly within his fingers. The dark angel's wings curled inwards, the leathery lengths joining in like another set of hands as they stroked against the boy's legs, caressing the inside of his calves and ankles. To Heero's surprise, Quatre's arms lifted up to wrap about his neck, the slender body writhing against him in an undulation, the snake brought to the celestial. A brief flicker of distaste wound through his mind, sensing some experience here that he'd rather not know the source of. Like all of his kind, he was insanely jealous of what he considered to be his own. Someone else had already educated this one in the dances done between the winding sheets.
The wingtips tracing their archaic paths along Quatre's ankles tightened, urging the boy's legs to spread slowly. Tenseness spread up the boy's body, his scent changing quickly from one of passive enjoyment to mounting fear. It was enough to stop Heero cold as if he had been slapped. Forcing the wings to slowly release, he was thrown into puzzlement; rather sure that he new toy had already had experience in this area. A tilt of his head brought the tender tortures of his tongue back into play, slowly urging Quatre to turn in his lap to face him. Within those too wide gemmed eyes, he was vaguely shocked to see fear and unease, the two things he had wanted to put aside more than anything. The inner sense of upset with himself unnerved him more as he watched the apprehension on the face of the being in his lap. Raising his purring more, his advances slowed down, nuzzling his cheek along the boy's, "Don't be afraid, little one. I won't force you into it."
A bitter tone answered him, something too hardened and adult like to come from the tender lips of the cherubic figure seated before him. "Everyone else done..."
That same rush of acidic anger lashed through Heero's veins as he took that in, his head resting to keep his lips against the tender throat before him. "I won't. It doesn't have to hurt or be something you fear. I swear to you that I will not before you're ready, not until you ask me to will I consider it."
The rest of the warm nest of his wings slid about Quatre, holding him within their pulsing warmth, giving the sensation of being encased in heated leather. Heero's head lowered slightly, that lengthened tongue flickering out like a whip to stroke across the darkened nipple, teasing its forked edge against the centre. Quatre's breath caught, the arms still about the dark angel's neck tightening. Lips soon followed, caressing the very outer edge as he panted his breath upon the newly wettened skin. Teeth were held back and in check, his tongue sweeping across the hardening nub.
The boy's fingers wound into his hair, pulling the Heero's lips firmer against his chest, breath rasping in and out of his lungs. Never before had it felt like this, not even knowing something that felt like this could go along with the act that usually left him feeling pained and dirty, done in back alleys to get the three of them enough food to make it through the night. As the dark angel's lips moved to his other nipple, he felt a foreign stirring between his legs, wanting to press harder against the creature holding him to relieve that pressure. "Heero..." he whispered softly.
Eyes the blue shade of skies possessed by storms lowered to gaze into his own, studying as if seeking something to rip out from him. It was once said that the eyes were the windows to the soul. If that was true, then Quatre was convinced that this dark angel had no soul. There was nothing within those cold eyes. No spark lit his irises or pupils. They could have been a pair of mirrors he was gazing into for all that was there, his own reflection staring back at him looking small and frightened. The chuckle that crept out of the dark angel's throat brought a chill across his nude backside, the sound that of fragile glass shattered carelessly on a cruelly hard floor. Tears tried to rise in his aqua eyes, prickles of salt water that he tried to conquer, not wanting to show weakness before the other even as he felt the trails of liquid warmth move down his cheeks.
---------------------
Heero tilted his head in birdlike fascination as he watched his pet. Beautiful yes, enough to make him almost want to weep, but beauty often accompanied a weak will and empty headedness. A glitter of candlelight across a tear tracing its way down the boy's face captured his attention, watching it sparkle and move as he would a rare jewel. The tip of his blackened, ribbon like tongue flicked out, rasping its way across the boy's cheek to gather up the wetness there and bring it back to be savoured. His other hand rose up as well to fully encase Quatre's face within a cage of his fingers, the razor sharp edges of his fingernails sliding across the delicate skin, flesh that he could easily rend to bloody pieces with a downward stroke. A hunger burned within him, wondering if Quatre's blood was as sweet as it smelled and how his soul would taste as it was rolled across his tongue like an exotic chocolate. A purr accompanied that thought as he continued to study the soft eyes of the boy before him.
The decision of how to begin training was an interesting one for a creature such as himself. He was the master and could easily take what he wanted, however, that would mean that he would have to use force every night from then on. There were times when he did enjoy the conquest, forcing someone into submission. More often as of late, he wanted someone to willingly curl to his side. Lacking the mind controlling ability of Treize and his right-hand-man, Zechs that did complicate things. So how to proceed now? How did he make a street rat picked up on a whim into a courtesan that would be compliant and warm in bed yet retain a mind of his own? A simpering fool would bore him quickly, something that fueled his worry on the boy being too pretty. How much damage did the streets of UnderCity with their violence already do to Quatre? How many others had forced their wills upon him or willingly had their demands met?
One of the fingertips wound itself about a lock of the silvery gold hair crowning the boy's head, turning it through it gently. Patience would have to be the watchword for this. If he took his time... perhaps. Better to wait and gain what he wanted than force it to happen and end up with another broken toy to lock away and forget. Seduction would be best. That alone spread Heero's lips in a rictus grin of delight, his whip like tongue flowing out once more to wash over them.
Arms that were slender yet filled with a steel-like hardness beneath them wrapped under Quatre's knees, the other running behind his back. A snapping sound like that of a leather whip cracking boomed in the washroom as Heero rose, his wings unfurling to throw the water off of them. Stepping out carefully, he slowly lowered his captive's feet to the warmth of the blood-shaded towels, another of their fuzzy softness wrapped about him gently. Yet another was taken up to dry his hair with quick movements, rubbing them free of the water. A ruby set comb was drawn through the hair, Quatre himself pulled into Heero's bare lap for a seat. Now was when it began.
---------------------------
Quatre himself was still in a daze, sure that this was all a nightmare and that he would wake up in the dumpster in which he usually slept with Trowa and Duo, two other teens that he often ran with. It was Hell's own bad luck that they hadn't been together tonight. Duo had dragged Trowa off before Quatre was fully awake to one of the whorehouses to get lucky. There was some girl there named Hilde that he had a thing for. Trowa hadn't wanted to go for the most part, but he was interested in seeing if they could hit the place later for some food, perhaps some coin as well. Anything to survive in the place without having to sell their bodies for food.
The feel of a comb going through his hair brought his attention back to the here and now. His head twisted, trying to discover just what was being taken across his locks, never having had his hair combed before beyond what he could do with his fingers after being dunked in the public fountain when Trowa decided that he and Duo smelled too bad to be stood. Small fingers wrapped about the comb as he brought it down to his level, the sharp curiosity of a cat looking over the instrument before releasing it with a blush up at Heero for stopping him.
---------------------------
Surprised had been a way to describe Heero's reaction to his wrist being seized by the boy. The hand supporting Quatre's back had sprung open like a switchblade, the sharpened nails readying to plunge into Quatre's side and rip out his spleen if he tried something. The suspicion that the boy was really a telepath of something of the like had been in his mind before and burst to full, ugly life now. If that was so, it would be a shame to lose him, but he was taking no chances. Watching the face before him as Quatre examined the comb with a child's puzzlement, he burst into laughter, a full rich sound unlike the earlier ones that hurt the ears and mind. This was a sound that had perhaps rang in heaven long ago before he was cast down with his brothers. It was something new even to him after so long.
"It is a comb, little one. It's used to get the tangles out of your hair and keep it straight," he murmured, shifting Quatre on his lap to place the boy's back to his chest. He offered the comb up to the cherubic male's hands, letting him have a try with it as if it were a new toy. With the smaller fingers threading through his own, Heero felt his groin tighten. Quatre's touch was like that of a feather, teasing innocently even as they somehow seemed wanton. Watching the boy comb his hair for the first time, his chin lowered to rest upon the bare shoulder before him, arms curling about the slender waist.
The jagged fingernails rose slowly, drawing across Quatre's stomache as a low purr of a giant cat began in Heero's throat. Lips that were surprisingly soft began to brush against the slender throat of the Arabian, kisses as light as the brush of a butterfly's wing placed in a line. Flicking his eyes up to the mirror he saw that surprise was in the boy's light eyes, his motion with the comb stopping. Now it became critical to turn the new slave to his side with gentleness, avoiding force or putting fear into him.
The forked tip of his tongue flicked out like a snake's, teasing around Quatre's ear. The body within the dark angel's arms trembled. A hot rush of air ran along behind the wet trail, bringing a soft moan and an increase in the quivering. The nails of his fingers traced along the boy's stomache still, turning the backs of his fingers to touch the delicate skin to keep from harming him. *Gentle, gentle* he kept repeating in his mind like a mantra, keeping himself from merely throwing the boy to the floor and taking what he wanted.
Quatre moaned softly, turning his head to the side and exposing more of his throat to Heero, the boy's arms lowering to his lap with the comb clutched tightly within his fingers. The dark angel's wings curled inwards, the leathery lengths joining in like another set of hands as they stroked against the boy's legs, caressing the inside of his calves and ankles. To Heero's surprise, Quatre's arms lifted up to wrap about his neck, the slender body writhing against him in an undulation, the snake brought to the celestial. A brief flicker of distaste wound through his mind, sensing some experience here that he'd rather not know the source of. Like all of his kind, he was insanely jealous of what he considered to be his own. Someone else had already educated this one in the dances done between the winding sheets.
The wingtips tracing their archaic paths along Quatre's ankles tightened, urging the boy's legs to spread slowly. Tenseness spread up the boy's body, his scent changing quickly from one of passive enjoyment to mounting fear. It was enough to stop Heero cold as if he had been slapped. Forcing the wings to slowly release, he was thrown into puzzlement; rather sure that he new toy had already had experience in this area. A tilt of his head brought the tender tortures of his tongue back into play, slowly urging Quatre to turn in his lap to face him. Within those too wide gemmed eyes, he was vaguely shocked to see fear and unease, the two things he had wanted to put aside more than anything. The inner sense of upset with himself unnerved him more as he watched the apprehension on the face of the being in his lap. Raising his purring more, his advances slowed down, nuzzling his cheek along the boy's, "Don't be afraid, little one. I won't force you into it."
A bitter tone answered him, something too hardened and adult like to come from the tender lips of the cherubic figure seated before him. "Everyone else done..."
That same rush of acidic anger lashed through Heero's veins as he took that in, his head resting to keep his lips against the tender throat before him. "I won't. It doesn't have to hurt or be something you fear. I swear to you that I will not before you're ready, not until you ask me to will I consider it."
The rest of the warm nest of his wings slid about Quatre, holding him within their pulsing warmth, giving the sensation of being encased in heated leather. Heero's head lowered slightly, that lengthened tongue flickering out like a whip to stroke across the darkened nipple, teasing its forked edge against the centre. Quatre's breath caught, the arms still about the dark angel's neck tightening. Lips soon followed, caressing the very outer edge as he panted his breath upon the newly wettened skin. Teeth were held back and in check, his tongue sweeping across the hardening nub.
The boy's fingers wound into his hair, pulling the Heero's lips firmer against his chest, breath rasping in and out of his lungs. Never before had it felt like this, not even knowing something that felt like this could go along with the act that usually left him feeling pained and dirty, done in back alleys to get the three of them enough food to make it through the night. As the dark angel's lips moved to his other nipple, he felt a foreign stirring between his legs, wanting to press harder against the creature holding him to relieve that pressure. "Heero..." he whispered softly.
