THANKYOU everyone who reviewed, deathorats, gradual decline(and satan!), cobalt princess, dee, katie(you've been to my site?!?! thankyou!), lady pink, and @_@(here's chapter four just for you. don't die!) WARNING this chapter has RAPE, PEDOPHILIA, oh yeah, and some masturbation. ************************** Duo's Pain Chapter Four: LIE ************************* "Okay, I'll start at the beginning. He's mentioned . . . experiments. Something about what Dr J did to him, all those years ago . . ." *** Heero swam up out of a cold sleep, and ran a langorous hand down his side, caressing his sticky cock as though in affirmation. Only then did his cobalt eyes flutter open, searching immediately for his braided lover. Duo was gone, of course. Shinigami rarely stayed the night. He climbed out of bed, pausing to stretch, relishing every pulled muscle and torn bit of flesh; he ached and stung delightfully. Padding into the bathroom, he pulled aside the shower curtain, and leaned forward to turn the faucet to HOT-- --flash--of hands, hands touching him, hhis body, fingers cold and slick inside of him, hot on his skin-- --and then went to stare into the mirrorr as the water heated slowly from ice. At least, it felt like ice if one jumped in right away, as Duo did every morning. Heero stared at his naked body wonderingly, curiously, a hand still innocently trailing over his raised nipple. His cock stirred slowly as he watched-- --flash--of pain like fire, burning, teaaring, pounding into him in a way so totally foreign he'd never even *dreamed* the possibility-- --and his free hand moved to wrap the teender flesh in a loose fist, pumping slowly as the shower began to send out billows of steam. Killing calluses rasped the undervein of his sex, the tiny pain bringing him to full arousal as he stepped into the pounding water-- --flash--of power, of absolute power, off the ability to end life, end suffering. Just . . . not for him.-- *** "Dr. J? The same Dr. J who sent Heero's orders?" Quatre demanded, huddling into Wufei's side. The warrior actually looked disgruntled at the Arab's need for emotional support, but endured the gesture silently. Trowa continued to stare, and Duo chuckled nervously, cringing under the gaze. "Well, I don't know much," Duo began to explain. "He never actually told me what happened. From what I gather, ole Jay-Jay trained him up to enjoy the pain, to keep him from failing a precious mission, I guess." "I'd guessed as much myself," Trowa said. Duo stared at the silent pilot for a moment, violet eyes wide. "What do you mean?" he finally sputtered. "I spent most of my life before Project Meteor with a group of mercenaries," he began. Duo nodded somewhat impatiently when Trowa hesitated. "It wasn't . . . similar techniques were used, in an effort to ensure loyalty and obedience. It never worked very well." "Why not?" Duo demaded, completely drawn into the brief story. "I suppose because the process either broke the man, or made him loyal to the wrong person." "Loyal to his torturer and not the group?" Wufei asked knowingly. Duo winced. "I wish you wouldn't use that word." "What would you call it then, Maxwell?!" the Chinese pilot demanded. "Guys!" Quatre yelled as Wufei lept to his feet and Duo overturned his chair trying to get away; the Arabian pilot had to fling an arm around his lover, but eventually Wufei settled into his chair, scowling blackly. Duo righted himself reluctantly, darting nervous glances in Wufei's direction. "We have to work together on this," the Arabian pilot insisted. "We have got to find a way to help him. Fighting amongst ourselves won't lead to a solution." They were all silent for a long moment; Duo finally looked up, his violet eyes unaccustomedly grave. "Quatre's right. I can't keep seeing him like this." "What about this loyalty theory?" Wufei said, black eyes worried. "Is Heero loyal, or broken?" "I guess that's the million-dollar question, Wu-man." Duo sighed. "We'll just have to find out." *** He stood directly underneath the showerhead, letting the almost too-hot water flow over his battered skin; his head hung loosely, brown hair tangled in his eyes, as he rolled his shoulders and stretched his aching neck. Then his shoulders, rounded to brace his weight against the tiled wall, gave way finally to gravity, and dropped his hands to his sides. --flash--" . . .nd turn him over." Large, rough hands found his tender flesh, and manipulated his struggling body onto a table, where he was spreadeagled and strapped face down. One of the men took a pair of scissors to his clothes, working the heavy blades through the worn, thin fabric, occasionaly scratching him, until he was naked. The air was cold on his exposed flesh, and-- A hand touched his back, very softly. Petal-smooth fingers traced a path up the curve of his spine. Heero arched into the feeling, nearly groaning aloud as his cock stirred. He turned, and the touch found his cock, already erect and hungry in the steam. The hand caressed him familiarly, lovingly, the fingers fluttering quickly around the head. Heero shuddered, and let his head drop back, one hand braced on the soap dish and one braced on the curtain rod; water beat relentlessly onto his face, on the tightly-shut lids of his eyes and into his gaping mouth, but he didn't care. --flash-- "Prepare him." It was the voice again. The voice terrified him. But all thoughts of that grating rasp were driven from his mind as another pair of hands found the cleft of his buttocks. Fingers, great rough fingers worked down between his nervously- clenching muscles; then he felt something very cold and very hard pressing at his flesh. It's edges were almost sharp, and it felt slimy on his skin. He began to squirm frantically, still remaining stubbornly silent, burrowing his face into the cold plastic of the table. Then the fingers were teasing around his asshole, and he flinched, trying to worm away as one was forced inside, then another. The sensation was very uncomfortable, but he refused to scream for them. He wouldn't make a sound; he hadn't, not for days, not when they were beating him or starving him or telling him how it was his fault they'd killed Odin. So he sure as hell wasn't going to scream for them now. The plastic object was suddenly pushed home, jerking him from his thoughts. He continued to squirm, fighting against the feeling of a foreign object invading his body. Then *cold*! Freezing jets of water filled him to cramping. He let out a high-pitched whine, muffling his own cry by biting the curve of his shoulder. It *hurt*, the water hurt, and it just kept coming and they weren't letting it out and-- A tongue softly laved the side of his penis, licking it tentatively; those talented fingers had moved to play with his balls and perineum, and a thumb had breeched his anus. Even with his eyes closed, he could imagine the mischievous gleam of violet eyes. He thrust into the suddenly-opened cavern of a mouth, and actually whined when his lover withdrew quite sharply, removing the teasing fingers to firmly grasp his hips and he looked down finally and-- --flash-- the water finally streamed outt, leaving him feeling as empty as a discarded candy bar wrapper; except there were still fingers, the same torn, calloused fingers pressing into his still-wet skin. That finger was beginning to realy hurt. A lot. And it was moving around down there, in and out with a weird circling motion that made his legs all numb and indifferent. "That's enough," the voice suddenly said, and for an instant he was relieved, thinking that the men would go away now. But then the voice continued. "Take him now. If you prepare him too much, he won't learn from it." He stiffened in fear, sensing a shuffling movement between his legs. More hands, different hands, grasped his buttocks, pulling them apart roughly, and something very big and very hard was pressed up against his so-recently violated entrance. He was almost hyperventilating by now, and had sqeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to even try to look. Then the man moved. The hard length shoved inside him quickly, just a little ways, and he gasped at the sensation. He couldn't feel his legs; he was splitting in two, he was sure of it. It *ached*. Before he could get too used to the feeling, the man began again, this time easing in slowly, forcing his way in with the pain and inevitability of a glacier. He couldn't breathe properly. He was panting against the feeling of being filled, his asshole spasming futilely around the foreign length, trying to force it out. Then the man was pulling out, just as slowly as he'd slid in, and his breathing began to even out. Maybe they were done, now . . . The man slammed his full length in with one stoke; his back arched, and he screamed for the first time since he'd been taken. The man began to thrust roughly, using his grip on the boy's hips to pull his ass up to meet each blow. He screamed again, a smaller sound, as a thrust tore the sensitive skin of his anus. Blood began to flow wet and warm down his thighs; now all he could do was moan. The man finished some time later, spurting something into him as hot as the water had been cold; battered as he was, he felt scalded. The man pulled out of him with a loud, sucking *pop*, and he had just the strength to hope they'd take him back to his cell now. Then the next man stepped between his bruised, blood-streaked legs-- He was alone. His lover, had he ever been present, was missing, and Heero was pumping into the empty air. He was alone. It didn't matter. He wrapped a fist around his cock, frantic now, wishing that his grip on the curtain rod was unnecessary so that he could force a few fingers up his ass. His sphincter spasmed at the thought, closing on emptiness as he desperately worked his aching sex. His knees were trembling, and his grip on the curtain rod was beyond white- knuckled, when he finally thought to bite on his tongue. After so long, even that small pain was enough to send him over the edge; he came with a tiny, muffled whimper, nearly sliding to the floor. The water had turned cold, and his anus was still complaining about being ignored, but overall he felt much better. *** "I just wish we knew what to do for him," Duo complained, chucking a wadded up bit of paper at the plaster wall. Their hours of arguing had gotten them nowhere, and he was anxious to return to his lover. Heero could get antsy when ignored. Ignoring Duo, however, was an entirely different matter; that was the one pasttime, other than sex of course, that Heero enjoyed. "For now, I guess we won't do anything," Quatre admitted with a sigh. They had migrated to the living room, and the blond Arabian was surrounded by piles of books and printouts from various Internet databases, all dealing with sex and pain. It was grim reading. "Nothing?!" Duo jumped to his feet, scattering papers and books everywhere. A highlighter flew across the room, nearly impaling Trowa. Duo towered in his rage; his violet eyes had bulged quite unattractively with anger. "Duo . . . I can't sort through this mess, not even with Trowa's help." Quatre took a deep breath, as though to fortify himself. "We need an expert." "Like who?" Wufei scoffed. "Sally Po?!" "Exactly." ************************** Hehe, on that tense note, I leave you, my dear readers(all 7 of you:) until next time! A/N Yes, the juxtaposition of Heero's pain at and pleasure in certain acts was deliberate, as is the dichotomy between what Duo says and what Heero says. Different perceptions, people! :) Next time, more on Heero's early 'training' and maybe a solution! Um, school-work is piling up here, so I'm holding part five ransom for ten reviews. Thanks! Duo's Pain Chapter Five: Heero by Neccesity (tentative)