AN: The rating has been raised from "T" to "M" just in case. To Angel of Mirth, I am so sorry about having to drop off of your C2: Without Deviation. I went there; it's a good collection, and I'm honored that you even considered my story. But the story that's taking shape heads down a different road, and it won't be changed. Perhaps, I might be honored again that a future story I write could make it into your C2. But thank you just the same.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing.

She was standing at the edge of her large four-poster bed, the curtains of which were tied up in such a way as to frame her almost protectively. There was a large glass double-door in the far wall that led to the balcony. It was slightly ajar, and the night breeze that wafted in to caress the room's original occupant carried upon it the fragrance of the night-blooming jasmine and stirred the sheer, gauzy curtains into a delicate dance. The flowing material of her dress rippled around her bare feet, sympathetic to the lonely twirling of the window curtains. The full moon in the sky bathed a patch of the plush carpet and half of the bed with liquid silver. Her face was upturned to the icy maiden, an expression of imploring in her eyes. The tears, shimmering in the light of the moon, clung to her long, soft eyelashes or rolled hastily down first one cheek then the other. It would have made a perfect picture of serenity, if only the elegantly beautiful young woman were not clutching her forearms so tightly as she sobbed quietly.

A shadow that slipped silently into the room approached her from behind. Suddenly, she felt him there and spun around to face the one who intruded on her personal space and her personal sorrow.

In the blink of an eye, he pinned her against the wall, his broad chest and strong arms allowing her no possibility of escape. Relena lifted her tear-stained, still-shimmering face to look at him with wide eyes that betrayed her confusion and alarm. She could neither understand why he was so close to her nor the way her own body was reacting. His close proximity drove all clear thoughts flying out of her head and heated her blood.

"What... are you doing?" She breathed barely audibly, undeniably frightened. He looked down at her with eyes burning intensely and pressed his body against hers. She gasped softly, and his eyes narrowed with a gleam that made him look even more like a predator. She could never have imagined that his body felt like this. Even with their clothes keeping skin from touching skin, it was impossible to miss the hardness of his body and the definition of his muscles. Never, never could she have imagined. It was like some sort of forbidden bliss, the feeling of this body of his. Could he feel me too? The hopeful thought flickered like a candle's flame before she gave in wholly to the sensation that swamped her entire being. However, the flooded consciousness at the back of her mind could not shake the threatening, violent undertone that she could only vaguely detect, but not pinpoint.

In truth he could feel her. And it drove him on. He placed his hands on her minuscule waist, bent his head down, and captured her parted lips possessively. Her second kiss. This time, his mouth was insistent, not gentle. This time, his mouth was passionate, not innocent. This time, his tongue darted out to lick her delicate lips before plunging into her hot, moist mouth. Her eyes flew open and she threw back her head as she gave a cry of surprise at the sudden, intimate intrusion. He took her cry into his mouth, never pausing in his attack, refusing to relinquish his hold on her.

Helpless; she had never felt so helpless, she thought, and she steadied her hands on his chest. Weak; she had never felt so weak, she realized, and her legs gave out beneath her. She would have fallen to the floor in a crumpled heap if it weren't for the two hands on her hips holding her in place and a hard thigh pressing up between – For the third time in seconds, a cry of astonishment ripped uncontrollably out of her mouth.

He broke of the kiss with a feral growl to watch her expression as he thrust his thigh between her legs and pressed up against her intimately. Genuinely terrified now, she trembled at the impropriety, the vulnerability, and tried to push him away, to get off of his leg, but her movements only let her slide a few inches up his thigh.

"Ride it," he growled, and pushed forward so that she slid up its length, almost reaching his crotch. She grabbed his shoulders and whimpered at the strange sensation exploding in her abdomen produced by his action. He pushed again, drawing another small noise and this time a response. He looked down at the expression of helplessness and pleasure on her face as her body moved of its own accord back and forth against his thigh and smirked darkly. There was no way after this that she could deny the effect he had on her. No way in hell.

Up and down. Up and down. He let her ride him for a few more strokes, reveling in her fluttering eyelids and the way she had succumbed to his attack, before he realized that he himself was in danger of losing control. It was almost too late, but the swift, analytical mind of a perfect soldier took the time to wonder for a split second how, in just a few short minutes and with no direct contact at all, she was still managing to bring him right up to the brink.

At the last possible moment he stepped away. She thrust up for what would have been the completing stroke – but met only air. She gave a heart-wrenching cry of frustration at the same moment that her unsteady legs folded beneath her and she collapsed onto the ground. Lying on her side, she drew her legs up closely in the fetal position and moved her arms to hug herself tightly around the waist. The unrelieved tension in her body that had been building so close to Something immediately translated itself into physical pain. The area between her legs throbbed achingly, her body felt empty and numb, and she knew she had been toyed with and humiliated. How could he be so cruel? How?

What she didn't know was that she was not the only victim of his cruel game. Heero stood a few steps away, struggling for control with hands clenched into fists and feet shoulder width apart for stability as his entire body trembled. He hadn't counted on it, wouldn't have believed it if someone had told him beforehand, but her whimpers of pleasure, her closeness to his crotch, and her maddening heat and moisture on his thigh had almost sent him to his own climax.

The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds silently. The room was deathly still; there was no movement from the broken, hurting form on the ground or the rigid, shaken figure a few steps away. The only signs of life were the sounds of his ragged breathing and her soft whimpers, coming from opposite sides of the room.

What's wrong with you! growled a savage voice in his head. Get out! NOW! Angry at himself for almost allowing his body to lose control, that body that was supposed to be wholly and completely under his control as a living weapon, Heero ran swiftly and soundlessly to the open balcony door and launched himself off the railing, slipping out of sight into the thick, black night.

AN: Thank you all readers and reviewers. This chapter was hard for me to write, and I apologize for its shortness.