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"Well, there's good news, and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?"
"The good news," Trowa said, standing at attention as soon as Richmond appeared in the med bay door, his large frame filling it almost completely.
"He's going to be okay. There is some bleeding and swelling, but he isn't going to die and actually woke up just a few minutes ago, if you can believe it.
"Woke up?" Trowa asked, almost forgetting to conceal the panic in his voice. Richmond seemed to interpret the tiny blip of emotion as excitement, though, and shook his head.
"Don't get ahead of yourself. They had to sedate him, since he was fighting the doctors, and need to run some scans and monitor him overnight, so you won't have your fun tonight, unfortunately."
"That's… disappointing. But good that he's doing better." Trowa said. What the hell was the bad news then?
"The bad news is," Richmond sighed, "If he's not in good shape in the morning, they'll have to keep him longer, since we want him fully cognizant for questioning. So our schedule might be pushed out and I might find myself in a little bit of hot water. I was supposed to start questioning him first thing in the morning, so the Lieutenant Colonel might have a fit."
Trowa dropped into a deep bow, doing everything he could to appear as if he were about to burst into tears. "I'm so sorry, Colonel Richmond. This is all my fault. If I hadn't been so reckless—"
"Quiet. I won't hear it." Richmond snapped. "I knew the risks and allowed this, so I'll be taking all the blame when The Lieutenant Colonel finds out."
"Sir, that's not fair. I did—"
"Nuh-uh! Don't argue with me, my pet. I am your superior. Besides, I've gotten myself out of bigger messes. Once, I had the prettiest little Captain in my charge, and he was just so much fun. A little too fun, in fact. I got carried away with the toys and ended up scrambling his lower innards, which, regretfully, killed him."
Trowa's breath caught in his throat, what the...
"He'd had some vital information, and I'd only gotten part way with him. The Lieutenant Colonel was livid, to say the least," Richmond went on, holding out his hands in reference to himself. "But, as you can see, I still stand before you in one piece, so it all turned out just fine. These sorts of incidents happen. It's the nature of what I do."
A silence passed between them as Trowa processed his visceral reaction, working hard to regain his wits. This man was evil. Of course, he already knew that, but hearing how he spoke, so flippant about torturing and murdering another… it was disturbing, even for him. Someone who until now had convinced himself he'd already witnessed the deepest depths of human evil. Clearly, he'd been wrong.
"Okay, well, could I at least make it up to you?" Trowa forced himself to ask, gagging on his own words. Richmond perked up, his eyebrows arching curiously.
"Make it up to me?"
"Yes. Right now, if possible."
"Now?" Richmond frowned, "It's past lights out, and I assume you have an early morning, as usual. Aren't you tired?"
"Surprisingly, no," he lied.
"I see. I'm not really either. I was getting all excited to start my work on that gorgeous blonde, so I'm a little too worked up for sleep. Honestly, a little treat would be nice." He winked and Trowa held back a grimace.
"We can use your quarters, or mine," Trowa said. "Yours would probably be more private."
"Well, don't you need to check in on your cadets? I'm assuming you've been away a long time, since you were with those other commanders, whom I assume you met up with at dinner? Don't you want to ensure they've followed your orders and put themselves to bed?"
Trowa kicked himself for forgetting his squadron. You're getting ahead of yourself, you idiot. Maybe Quatre's predicament was eating at him more than he wanted to admit.
"Yes. Of course. I should have suggested that," he said.
"No worries, I understand the eagerness on your end. Pleasing me gets you what you want, and I fully support the endeavor," he grinned, "Why don't we check on your little brood and then utilize your quarters? We'll just need to be quiet, since they'll be right across the hall, something that's easy for me, but will it be for you?"
"Yes," he said.
"Please, lead the way then, commander."
All the way back, Trowa went over his plan, terrified of all the possible things that could go wrong, especially now that they'd be utilizing his quarters. Killing someone, which was what he planned to do to Richmond, wasn't easy, even for someone trained in combat like he was. Richmond was easily twice his size, for one, and right across from his room was an entire squadron, asleep, but probably not so deep that none of them could hear a scream for help. What if one of them happened to wake up to use the toilet at the exact wrong time? Or what if he couldn't keep Richmond silent throughout the entire ordeal? Yes, he was highly trained in several forms of martial arts, grappling, and other fighting methods, but not in stealth killing, like Maxwell. Things could very very easily go wrong.
As they came to the entrance of his quarters, he noticed someone seated beside the door, hugging his knees, fast asleep. It was Miller. He'd probably been waiting for Trowa to return.
"Is this the little rat?" Richmond whispered, and Trowa gulped, feeling for Miller despite how obnoxious he'd become. Had Treize told Richmond that one of his cadets had complained? Or had Richmond put it together on his own? That day in the Holo Room, he'd seen Miller, so likely the latter. Miller was probably forever on his Richmond's shit list now. Not that it mattered to Trowa, since he'd be out of here, or dead, in just a matter of hours.
Stepping forward, Richmond forcefully nudged Miller with his foot, startling him awake. "What the hell are you doing out of bed, cadet?" he growled. Miller jumped clumsily to his feet and saluted them.
"I'm sorry sir. I was waiting for the commander before lights out and must have fallen asleep."
"That doesn't excuse you. This sort of behavior is unacceptable. I want you back in your barracks immediately," Richmond barked.
Miller saluted and rushed across the hall to his barracks, closing the door loudly behind him. Trowa opened the door for Richmond to enter his quarters to 'freshen up,' then went after Miller, finding him already lying in his bed with the blanket pulled up to his chin.
"Cadet, what were you doing? I told you I'd be late," Trowa hissed.
"I just wanted to tell you something, sir. I was afraid you'd get into trouble."
"Trouble?"
"I reported what I saw in the Holo Room. I'm so sorry, but I thought, based on how you seemed that day, that you didn't appreciate what was happening. Now I realize I might have been wrong."
This kid was observant. Too observant. "Don't worry about it, alright? You need to stay out of it."
"Was I wrong, then?"
Trowa hesitated, immediately cursing himself for doing so. "Just stay out of it. Alright?"
"Is he forcing you into something now?"
"That's none of your goddamn business," he snapped, aghast. This kid was relentless. "Go to sleep. Now!"
Miller stared at him, clearly unconvinced, and Trowa stormed out. Why the hell hadn't he just lied? Or come down harder, screaming Miller into submission? Could it be those wide, blue eyes of his? Eyes that reminded him of Quatre, where all he saw was kindness and genuine care? Stop it… he's not kind, he's the enemy. He's OZ, he thought, stopping in front of the door to his room to take a moment to breathe, pushing Miller and every other distraction out of his mind, including the constant gnawing worry at the back of his mind that Quatre was damaged now, forever, because of him.
I have to get through this, then I can worry about all that. Hopefully things didn't end up going too far, or going wrong, before he found a good opening. Because this was it, the moment he'd been prepping himself for ever since Quatre had crashed in on him unannounced and ruined all his plans to destroy OZ from the inside.
The beginning of the end.
The room was warm with humidity, the bathroom across the tiny space issuing the quiet hiss of the shower. Anxious to get moving, Trowa considered taking this moment to attack, while Richmond was naked and vulnerable. If he did, he wouldn't have to let the man touch him again and more of his "firsts" wouldn't be with such a twisted and awful person. But… he was getting ahead of himself. That wasn't how he'd envisioned things when he'd sent Quatre to the med bay and deviating just to avoid another sexual encounter was a terrible reason. Especially since it could very likely go wrong. The shower was slippery, opening him up to a multitude of potential issues and mistakes. Even though the man's guard was down, it wasn't opportune, and he needed to chill the hell out. Stop letting your emotions interfere. Bide your time, he coached himself, taking a deep breath as he hung his commander's jacket on the wall and loosened his shirt cuffs and top button. Crossing the room, he sat at the end of the bed to unzip his black knee-high boots, a dreadful tension growing in his stomach as he imagined what lie ahead, praying things didn't go further than he could handle. All his short life, he'd envisioned these moments, if he'd ever gone that far, to be with someone he loved, not with some psychotic murderer. But, this is for someone you love, Trowa, get over yourself.
The wait felt like an eternity, and when the shower finally shut off, his heart skipped a beat, the sounds of Richmond exiting and drying himself emanating from the cracked door. A thick plume of steam billowed out as Richmond appeared, his bottom-half wrapped in a white towel.
"Well then, I hope all is well across the hall?"
"Yes sir." Trowa said, bracing himself. Richmond smiled and dropped the towel onto the floor, Trowa's insides going ridged as he fought to keep his mask of indifference situated firmly on his face. I need more than that, though. I need to appear interested, he thought, allowing his eyes to roam Richmond's form, a thrill of discomfort rousing him into a more alert position. This was going to be more difficult than he'd imagined.
"I will admit one thing, Commander Barton," Richmond said, clearly reveling in this moment. "Something about your background check I discovered. Something I know you hoped desperately no one would figure out."
What the hell was he talking about? His tone was teasing, so it had to be something of no real consequence. Trowa played along, raising his eyebrows to appear anxious with interest.
"I found that you lied about your age. You're not quite as old as you claimed to be, are you?"
Oh, that. Trowa released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. That detail, the fact that he wasn't technically the age OZ required their new recruits to be, had been something he'd allowed to be dug up, since he looked young for his age and knew most OZ officials would gladly overlook since they were always in need of more bodies. Clearly Richmond didn't disapprove, since he never acted, but was he bringing it up to try and lord it over him?
"I'm just letting you know that I don't mind. Not in the least. In fact, it's part of the reason you caught my eye. I thought you looked young the moment I met you, and I was happy to find I was spot on."
"You're very perceptive," Trowa said, hiding his disgust. Man, this guy was a real piece of work. "I'm glad you don't mind."
"Like I said, it's alluring," Richmond crossed the room, holding out a hand, and Trowa grasped it, allowing himself to be pulled into a standing position. Rough lips caught his in a hungry kiss and he stiffened as an onslaught overtook him, each kiss and caress more unpleasant than the last. Chill out, Trowa. This is part of the plan, get the hell over it. If he didn't play along, things could turn sour, so he forced himself to kiss back and faked as much passion as he could.
"On the bed," Richmond demanded, and Trowa complied, scooting backward to the middle, allowing the man to crawl over him to continue his incursion as he imagined different scenarios to kill him. None of this had been a part of his original plan and he hadn't stashed anything nearby that might be use as a weapon, which meant he'd have to get the man into an optimal physical position for grappling and wrestling techniques. Not an easy task, considering their size differential. Also, if he failed and lost the element of surprise, Richmond would probably be able to overpower him. He was huge.
Biding his time was difficult, since pretending to burn with passion seemed to require, from him at least, some actual passion. Passion he wasn't certain the origin of and that was truly screwing with his mind. Each passing moment of hot skin to hot skin forced him to consciously yank his body back from the edge. After removing his shirt, a thumb began to tease his nipple, and a tongue found its way into his ear, each step sending him further and further into an agonizing tug-of-war between resistance and ecstasy. A hand found its way to his belt, unclasping it and tugging at the waistband of his pants. Damn it, were they there already? He'd just begun to wrap his head around the kissing and now he was supposed to expose himself? Reaching down, he unbuckled his pants to remove them and only them, at a lazy pace. Richmond watched with an amused impatience.
"You tease, you," he chuckled,
Trowa forced a smile, hoping it would come off as seductive, and kissed him again, racking his brain for an excuse to shift things around so that he was on top, his stream of thought interrupted by Richmond's hips grinding up against his own, the rocking and rubbing forcing a breathy moan from his lips. Reeling, he struggled to remain focused as his heart slammed against his ribs and his breath hitched. Richmond grunted in return, pressing so firmly it hurt, but in a good way, which was just too much. Way too much. He pulled out of the kiss and shook his head.
"I… I haven't done this in a while," he gasped, but Richmond hushed him with another kiss, his tongue forcing itself inside, sending an electric shock through him. A hand snaked down between his legs, groping and squeezing through his underwear, a moan escaping as shockwaves of pleasure ransacked him.
He needed to get ahold of himself. Now. Gripping the man's wrist, he pushed it away and Richmond laughed, his expression one of belligerent defiance as the caressing continued with gentle flicks. It took everything to keep from socking him in the nose.
"Let me try something." Trowa whispered in his ear, wincing with each burst of pleasure, terrified he might lose himself. Richmond's steely blue eyes searched his for a moment, finally releasing him and sliding onto the bed.
Rolling on top, Trowa took in a recovery breath. This was it. His one and only chance. A knee to Richmond's chest, he pressed down hard enough to cause discomfort which forced Richmond to reflexively push him off, exactly what Trowa had hoped for. The force of the shove gave him the torque he needed to turn Richmond onto his side, using his own weight against him and simultaneously slipping an arm around his neck, centering himself at the man's head and pressing in his shoulder in to cut off his airway.
Instantly, a struggle ensued, their weight difference obvious now, Trowa using all his effort to keep himself centered. Richmond's legs flew up in a panic but quickly moved into a strategic attempt to gain leverage. Trowa shifted onto his side and utilized his own legs to try and restrain Richmond's, the struggle evolving into a frenzied death match as Richmond kicked at Trowa's stomach, shins, & knees, the pain almost knocking him out of the hold and loosening his grip just enough to allow Richmond a panicked moan. Sweat slid down Trowa's temple as he fought to regain control, first of Richmond's legs, then doubling down on the chokehold to stop the noise, muscles burning with effort and endurance waning, but he held fast as his own heaving breath echoed through the silent room.
Richmond's head had been pressing desperately against his locked arms the entire ordeal and now his sweating palms were beginning to lose their grip on one another. If he failed now, Richmond would quickly gain the advantage, or at the very least, call out, potentially resulting in Trowa's downfall. If they were discovered, the ensuing carnage would be devastating, with Quatre alone and defenseless against an unimaginably painful end and his secrets enough to cause the same for thousands more.
It couldn't happen. It just couldn't. If he didn't suck it up and get this done, he'd be done.
Taking in a sharp breath, he directed all his strength into his grip, a grunt of effort escaping his throat as he held on for dear life, muscles burning so badly he was certain he'd lose hold as the seconds passed like eons. Richmond's movements finally began to diminish and a wave of relief washed over him, followed immediately by a startlingly loud banging from across the room, his mind flying into a whirling panic.
What the hell?
BANG BANG BANG.
It was someone knocking on the door.
A rush of horror overtook him. Had someone heard them and was checking in? Had he locked the door? Or had he forgotten? Was this Miller meddling again? Or someone else entirely? As his mind raced, Richmond's fading struggle burst with renewed zeal and his muscles nearly gave out. If he didn't answer whoever was waiting on the other side of that thin metal door, they might become suspicious, but if he sacrificed any of his precious exertion to call out, Richmond could take advantage and overpower him.
This might be it, for him and Quatre, if he didn't figure something out fast.
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