Zechs/Wufei. NC-17. ~4600 words. Snowballing. Violence. Futurefic.
During routine training, Wufei encounters a glitch of a different kind.
Darkness and heat. The light from the streetlamp wavered, crackled. Twitching shadows spread across the filthy ground, crept into the black-edged, gaping mouth of the alley. Bricks crumbled, ragged like decaying teeth.
He paused at the alley, filtered out the noise of the mechanical and focused on the human. Footsteps. Breathing. The scrape of clothing against brick. He heard nothing. He held still a moment more, checking the area immediately surrounding him by sight before easing around a building. He held his weapon in an easy grip, relaxed but alert.
Two bins, strewn garbage. Rusted fire escapes. Always the same stench. He flicked his gaze over them. Red-eyed rats skittered through the slime. What had once been a man was stuffed into a doorway, forgotten and tattered and stinking. He moved further into the dark. Instinct told him it was empty. Experience told him to secure. Quickly and efficiently.
He heard the brush of quieted footsteps behind him. Turning, setting his back to a wall covered in grime, he faced the mouth of the alley with weapon raised. Nothing moved except bits of sodden paper caught in the putrid draft. The first twinges of warning danced along his skin.
Habit made him glance up, and he caught sight of a shadow, heard the dull metallic clang. Backed up moments before the shot rang and connected with the sweating brick. He ducked back around the corner, took a steadying breath. Images from years past flooded his mind. His breathing quickened despite his efforts.
Heavy boots slammed down the metal steps, hit pavement. He took several quick, soft steps backward, listening for the scrape of feet. Silence. He frowned, waited. Muffled steps began, slipping away from him. The temptation to follow gnawed. Instead, he backed out of the alley, eyes and ears straining, and sought an alternate route.
Moving down the street, watching the shadows, he checked the next alley and retreated when it came up both empty and a dead end. He went to another, keeping an eye on the street and at his back. The strain began to take its toll. Pride demanded he continue.
This one stretched longer than the last two, splitting off in several places. Minotaur’s lair, and he without a string. Taking note of the branches, the graffiti on the wall, he chose a path and followed. Ignored the fevered eyes burning into his back. The rats didn’t live alone.
Voices, harsh and rasping, sent shivers down his spine. The groans of the damned, the giggles of the mad. There was no comfort in the shades of humanity that lurked just beyond his sight. Like the rats, they stayed to the shadows and the filth.
Seconds later, he became aware of the sound of footsteps carefully timed to his. Pausing, he moved into an alcove and listened. And heard nothing. Still, he waited, stomach tightening with a familiar sensation. Nervousness and uncertainty. Anticipation.
Slow, deliberate steps echoed in the darkness, walking steadily towards him. Turning out of the alcove, towards the sound, he went low with weapon readied. The warning he had been trained to give was forgotten in the heat of memory.
He aimed at nothing but a blank wall, the alley empty.
He held the position for a moment longer, heart pounding in his chest. Took a moment longer than he should to compose himself and regain his footing.
The hit came low, struck him full force in the side and sent him flying into a wall as solid as his attacker. He had enough breath to curse before dropping to the ground and rolling away from the vicious kick aimed at his head. Deflected a punch with the same destination, felt the force of it explode along his arm as he regained his balance. He caught the dull, furious glint of anger hyped by illegals, heard the snarl rumbling deep from the man’s chest before sinking into the familiar rhythm of combat. His opponent’s reach was longer, his skill less. Second by second, he pushed him back, gained ground until finally the heavy brute of a man fell. Several seconds more passed before he remembered time and place, and recited the Miranda while cuffing the user.
Agent Chang Wufei, session complete. Time: 04:41:21. Performance report available upon program termination. Command?
Wufei dragged in a shuddering breath, wiped clammy palms on his jeans. He’d lost himself, forgetting procedure in the rush of adrenaline. He knew he was slipping these last few weeks, drifting further into his past where there were no rules, no modes of conduct or official reprimands.
“End program,” he said, jerking away from his thoughts and searching for focus while he waited for the simulated environment to fade.
Coal black eyes flashed in annoyance. “Voice identification, Agent Chang Wufei. ZERO, end program.”
His anger spiked, fuelled in part by his own frustrations with his performance. “Requesting manual override, code 114a.”
Access denied, session in progress.
“What the hell?” he demanded. He expected no answer and received none. Feeling the harsh bite of unease, he scanned the area again. Another agent could have begun a simulation, though the system regularly guarded against running parallel programs for exactly that reason. Weighing his options, he chose to simply wait out the second session. The computer’s refusal to acknowledge his identity lay heavily on his mind. He turned and began to backtrack through the alley maze to pass the time, trusting in the automatic time-out to end the program if he were wrong about the second agent.
Only a moment had passed when his steps slowed, hesitated. He knew this sensation, the cold slide of fear down his back and through his belly. The request for session status died on his lips, silenced by instinct and dread.
Someone else, no simulation but alive and human, was moving through the holographic world, and he was their target. The footsteps again, matching his. He halted, and they continued; the sharp, measured step of booted feet on asphalt.
The rush of anticipation quickly followed, tainted with apprehension. Heightened by it. He focused on the sound and tried to pinpoint a direction. The steps echoed between the dank walls, making his efforts useless. And then, they stopped.
Breathing hard, he stayed frozen for moments more. Muscles bunched with readiness eased slowly, forced to relax before mobility was compromised. He could feel a gaze resting on him, felt his skin burn under the scrutiny.
Agent experiencing above-average stress levels. End program?
“No,” the quiet command slid out of the darkness, soft and confident of obedience. Familiar.
There was the sound of shifting cloth, a low chuckle as his eyes narrowed. “Skulking like a rat in the shadows.” His pulse still pounded in his ears, betraying him.
“Why do you pit yourself against these illusions, Chang? Do you miss it that much?” A pause, then, “You’ve been slipping.”
Irritation rose again with the truth of the statement, but he remained still.
“Your silence is as much an answer. Despite endless training, you’re losing your edge. Have already lost it.”
Provoked, he let out a sharp snort. “Life must be boring you, Merquise, if you’ve taken to tampering with training sessions.”
The steps echoed again, purposefully loud as the figure moved into the dull light. Clad in casual dress, his stance was easy and relaxed. Wufei watched indifferently as frosted blue eyes took his measure. “I’ll admit that it is, but ZERO’s refusal to acknowledge you is not my design.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Watching you lose yourself. Day in and day out you train here.”
“And that is my business. Not yours.”
A brow arched, lips curved. “Isn’t it?”
“Say what you want and leave me be.”
The response was a slight shake of the head and a darker smile.
“What fool games are you playing at now, Merquise?” The expectancy of the moment before had faded, but rushed back quickly, and just as fierce. Wary, aware of the taste of eagerness in his blood, he made no effort to hide the shift in his stance. And he waited.
Zechs’s voice was low, tinged with the edge of enjoyment and expectation. “No games.”
Stubborn, he held his ground as Zechs closed the distance between them, began stalking around him in a tight circle. Flesh burned stronger, blood heating. Pride and prudence met in conflict, and pride demanded he remain silent and still as the other slipped out of his line of sight. And that stubborn pride allowed him to conceal the shiver that threatened to dance along his skin when the close, hushed rhythm of Zechs’s voice reached his ears.
It was more than curiosity that made him tolerate the scrutiny.
“Always the proud warrior,” Zechs continued, “in an age that has no need of you.” The sound of his steps halted. Wufei felt more than heard the slight intake of breath, jerked his head away when he felt the ghost glide of fingers on his jaw. At the echo of a low laugh, he questioned if he had felt them at all.
“They’re wrong.” He came into the light again, cool blue eyes focused on smouldering black. “I was wrong; there will always be a need.”
“Is that why you’re here, Merquise?” he said, voice sharp. “To discuss philosophy and politics?”
“Not at all.” Face to face, slender, roughened fingertips touched his chin and tipped his head back. Wicked pleasure danced across pale features, and dark eyes flashed and lips tightened. “You’re ready to bolt.”
Pushed beyond endurance, Wufei slapped the hand away, shoving the heel of his own hard against the other’s chest and forcing him to stumble back. He felt the rush of satisfaction as surprise flowed behind the blue; grudging respect when elbow against vulnerable throat was met with an unblinking stare.
“You enjoy walking fine lines,” Wufei said quietly, voice even despite the quickened pace of his breath.
“A guilty pleasure,” was the only answer. Zechs jerked his head back, the heel of a boot slamming into Wufei’s ankle in an attempt to knock him off balance. Elated, he sank into memory; needed no regulations here. There was no place for them, only the contest existed. Strangling the snarl that rose in his throat, he landed a solid punch to the other man’s stomach at the same time vice-like fingers clamped around his wrist and wrenched him forward.
Twisting his hand in Zechs’s shirt, he used the momentum, bringing his extra weight to bear against his opponent. Turning quickly, he rammed his shoulder into Zechs’s chest and swept a foot around to trip him. The move anticipated, he instead found himself slammed back against the brick, pinned by a hard body, an arm against his own throat now. Hot breath rushed across his skin, his lips, invaded his mouth Soft white and cold blue filled his vision. He dragged in a shared breath. The wall behind him blurred, letting out an angry electronic fizzle as it scrambled. It blinked once and was suddenly solid, glossy black.
The alleys had vanished, the stench and dirt reverting back to the sterile reflective plates that covered walls, floor and ceiling. Low light flooded the room, source hidden from view. The sound of breathing was rushed and shallow in the emptiness. And all he could smell was the scent of warm wind, the trace of fresh air that always followed Zechs. A growl rose and escaped him, giving a voice to his frustration. He broke the hold, put only a small distance between them.
“Enough, Merquise,” he said, breath coming fast. The edges of his control, already tattered by remembrance, began to shred faster.
He didn’t bother to speak again. He could see the blue waver and slowly heat. Frost melting under fire. Searching for an opening, an advantage, he pressed forward and drove the other back. His fist connected with Zechs’s arm, and he heard the sharp hissing breath, saw teeth clench and the ice finally shatter. Suddenly, he was retreating, dodging the furious strikes aimed at well-known weaknesses. Blood surged molten hot and he felt his mouth twist in a tight smile. This was where he belonged. Hair freed from its tie caught on his lips, and he ignored it.
Dropping low, seeing the feint too late, he felt his breath leave him in a rush as his vision blackened. Hit the black tile hard and relished the cold against his cheek. He lay panting, dazed; felt weight settle against his back, heat burning into his hip. Everything was disjointed, hazed. He tried to slow his breathing and again drew in the scent of outside. Strong fingers gripped his hair, turning his head. Warm breath brushed his cheek. He felt the dark rush of pleasure, buried and fervent; groaned low at the touch of damp lips against his own, the insistent thrust of tongue into his mouth. Zechs’s tongue teased his, traced the hard line of his teeth and dipped deeper. He tried to draw in air and the grip tightened. Adrenaline still flowed fiercely through his veins, and the focus abruptly shifted into heady arousal.
Teeth pressed against the soft flesh of his lips, followed by the slick glide of tongue. A second groan echoed deep in his chest and was greedily, eagerly, swallowed. There was the soft brush of hair; he seized a handful and tugged roughly. He felt a sharp scrape along his jaw in response before his head was jerked back, teeth and tongue travelling down his throat in hot, wet lines. Lungs burned as he panted for breath. The touch suddenly vanished, and he opened his eyes slowly to see Zechs leaning over him, passion-lazy eyes riddled with sin.
“Lucky fucking shot,” he ground out between breaths, and Zechs’s reply was a dark, quiet laugh.
Zechs shifted above him, allowed Wufei to roll over onto his back before settling on his knees and straddling his hips. He lowered his mouth to Wufei’s again, trailed tongue across dampened lips. Burying his hand in the near-white strands, Wufei pressed forward and plunged his tongue into the other’s mouth, drinking down the low groan that rumbled from deep in Zechs’s chest. He shifted again and pressed heat to heat, Wufei’s back arching as he teased with shallow thrusts.
He drew back as Zechs pushed forward, teased tongue out to meet and twine with his own in the small, heated space between their mouths. Zechs made an impatient sound low in his throat and jerked Wufei’s hand from his hair, pinning it to the floor beside his head. Reached for and held down the other as he took Wufei’s mouth again, the pace of his kiss turning fevered and frantic. Another groan was torn from Wufei’s throat, the hard thrust of Zechs’s tongue in his mouth sending a searing line of fire straight to his groin. Wufei’s hands flexed in the firm grip, clenching tight. His cock ached, the muffled heat of Zechs against him doing nothing but making him want, driving him slowly mad.
Wufei broke the kiss, panting hard. Hands released his wrists, turned to the task of lifting his shirt out of the way, lips hot and swollen pressing open-mouthed kisses to his stomach. Muscles quivered under the touch, nerves tingling when cool air met wet skin. His lips parted with a hiss as teeth dug sharply into his skin, the quick flash of pain singing through him. He reached for Zechs’s hair again, let out a frustrated sound as his wrist was caught and forced back to the floor. A growled warning was on his lips, and died as Zechs pressed his cheek to his groin, breath blistering his skin through the rough material. Fingers flexed with the need to touch, his body tensed with anticipation.
Soft blond hair drifted across his stomach, brushed lightly as Zechs moved his head, mouthing the thick length beneath his lips. Wufei dropped his head back against the floor and struggled for breath as he felt the button release, followed by the slow glide of the zipper as Zechs lowered it. Large hands grasped his hips, urged them up and slipped inside, pushing his clothing down.
Wufei’s tongue darted out to wet his lips as he leaned up on his elbow again, eyes dark and heavy. Zechs bent his head again, ran lips and tongue quickly down Wufei’s cock, passed it by to set his mouth against the juncture of hip and thigh. Hands gripped the inside of Wufei’s thighs and pushed them apart, biting hard at the soft skin. Muscles clenched, trembled under his lips, and he bit harder. Wufei jerked, sucking in air and releasing it in a long, low moan as Zechs nipped a trail down his thigh, raising small, reddened welts. His fingers dug into Wufei’s skin, pushing his legs up and holding them there.
Wufei’s hand pressed palm flat against the floor, fingertips white and sliding uselessly over the black gloss. Zechs had moved lower, breath teasing and teeth sharp against the firm curve of his ass. Knuckles grazed his skin, shifted to hands gripping and tugging his hips up. Zechs’s tongue traced scorching trails over him, fingers pressing into the cleft and spreading him open. Skimming by the sensitive skin, then rubbing slow circles against it. The heat of his tongue followed, licking roughly, stopping just short of pressing inside. Wufei’s mouth fell open with a gasp, and he scraped blunt nails down his own stomach, wrapping a hand firmly around his erection.
“No,” Zechs growled, drawing his tongue away, closing his mouth over soft skin and biting hard enough to leave marks. He repeated the command and pressed a finger against the slick, tight muscle. Forced it inside, pushing against the heat. Wufei’s stomach muscles clenched, body shaking as the sharp pressure sent tremors surging through him. His hand jerked, tugged hard on his cock, and a choked sound echoed in the air.
Zechs’s hand was impatient as he pulled Wufei’s away. He thrust his finger deep, drew away and rubbed the twitching muscle with his thumb before pressing forward again. Wufei groaned at the sudden thickness of two fingers inside him, couldn’t stop his body from shying away, from squirming as he was thrust into again and again. He bit hard on the corner of his lip, his eyes closed tight. He was panting, gasping when Zechs dragged him up so he was half-sitting, half-reclining on his side, with the other man kneeling in front of him.
He blinked dazed eyes, didn’t hear the small almost-whimper that escaped him. The move had put Zechs’s groin level with his face, close enough that a shiver would have the heated length under his clothes against Wufei’s mouth. Biting back the low sound that built in his throat, Wufei reached up and slid his palm over the bulge, gripped Zechs’s cock through the material and was rewarded with the sharp thrust of fingers still inside him, the soft grunt of breath.
Taking a moment to gather up enough pieces of his mind to move, Wufei shifted forward, pushed Zechs until he leaned back only slightly, angling his hips up. A second’s debate, and Wufei ignored the zip, instead dragging his fingers over the hard muscle of Zechs’s stomach. Over and down to worm his fingers under the band of his pants, curling around the hard length hidden from his view. The other man groaned louder, thrust his hips forward. Zechs’s cock was heavy in his hand, tip already slick with precome. He pumped slowly, listening to the ragged breaths heaving from Zechs’s lungs, and felt a staggering urge to feel the thick heat pulsing in his mouth, pushing inside him. A shudder ran over him at the thought, and he drew his hand back, quickly releasing the button and zip, shoving the material out of the way.
Zechs’s other hand found its way to his hair, fingers winding and gripping the deep black strands. Wufei glanced up with eyes darker than night, and brushed his lips across the head of Zechs’s cock. He closed his eyes, licked the fluid from his lip before Zechs lost patience and pushed forward, forcing himself into Wufei’s mouth as he forced his fingers into his body.
Wufei automatically tried to jerk back from the double penetration, the hand in his hair halting him, forcing his head to remain in place as Zechs pushed deep. His own hand twisted in the material of Zechs’s clothing, groans reverberating through his chest as the other began to shallowly thrust. Zechs’s cock pushed further into the wetness of his mouth, bumped against the soft tissues of his throat. His body rocked with the rhythm, and he found himself unable to do anything but give muffled voice to his moans, accepting the steady thrust of cock and fingers.
The muscles of Zechs’s thighs tensed, and with a low grunt he pulled himself from the other man’s mouth. Dropping his head down, Wufei gasped harshly for breath, flicked his tongue out to touch the thumb that traced his swollen lips. He felt a hand on his shoulder and was urged, unresisting, up on his hands and knees.
Hot breath touched his ear, followed by the sharp nip of teeth and wet glide of tongue. “Down on your arms,” was Zechs’s strained whisper.
Wufei dully heard the slip of clothing as he dropped down to rest on his forearms, neck bent as he fought to steady his breathing. Rough hands gripped his ass, spread the cheeks again as Zechs’s dampened cock rubbed against his entrance. Fingers followed, hand slipping down to jerk his length quickly before slipping up again, pushing inside him without pause. Wufei fisted one hand in his hair, sucked breath in through gritted teeth as Zechs spread his fingers, opening him and nudging the head of his cock past the muscle. Fingers clenching and unclenching in his hair, body writhing with the slow invasion, Wufei was helpless to stop himself.
One of Zechs’s hands slid away to grasp his hip tightly. Wufei’s eyes snapped open a mere moment before that grip turned painful and Zechs drove himself fully into the shuddering body beneath him. A sharp cry slipped from Wufei’s lips faster than he could silence it, back arched and shuddering under the quick onslaught of sensation. Thick and long, Zechs’s erection filled him and pushed deep. He hadn’t yet drawn another breath when Zechs pulled away, used both hands to grip and shove him back hard onto his cock.
Wufei’s lips parted with a low, quiet moan as he felt the other draw away again, the sound echoing louder in his ears as Zechs slammed forward. A hand rubbed the length of his spine, pushed his chest low to the floor even as the hand at his hips lifted him higher, nudged his legs further apart. Zechs’s cock dragged slowly from him, stroked against his prostate and made his vision dance. And then he was driving forward again, thrusts fast and frantic. Inside him, the burning length throbbed, forced continuous sounds out of his throat. Groans mixed with words, a harsh curse as pleasure built and coiled low in his stomach. Built and built and stayed.
His legs where trembling, shaking with the effort of holding himself up. Zechs’s cock was buried deep, hips grinding against his ass as he tried to shove himself deeper still. Wufei heard the strangled sound of his groan, felt himself rocking back hard in a desperate search to feel the hard shaft penetrating him over and over again. He felt Zechs shudder behind him, drive forward and lean low over him as the hot rush of his orgasm spilled inside Wufei’s body. He ground his hips in small, tight circles, slicking the quivering muscles clamped tightly around his cock with come. Zechs lay against him a moment longer, breathing harsh, and then he straightened, fixing his gaze to where his length remained buried in Wufei. He watched with sated eyes as he drew out, ran his palm over the sweat-dampened skin of Wufei’s ass.
Slumping against the floor, Wufei swallowed several times, trying to wet his dry throat. He could feel the heat of Zechs’s release inside him, his own cock still hard and slick. His body was wound painfully tight, the burning coiled low in his belly unsatisfied. Zechs’s mouth pressed high on his back, tongue licking the salt from his skin. He moved lower, tracing the line of shoulder blade, up his side, the curve of his arm. Wufei groaned a curse as he was pushed once more onto his back.
Zechs’s colour was high, the iris of his eyes almost swallowed by the dark pupil. Wufei groaned again as the other licked his lips, knelt between his spread legs. One hand wrapped tightly around the base of his cock, the other dipped lower, fingers once again pressing into him. His body still aching perfectly, the sensation came too soon, was painfully sharp. He jerked away, moaned loudly as the movement sent Zechs’s hand pumping over his cock. He could feel the other’s fingers twisting inside him, pulling out to slick warm come over his entrance before pushing in again. Then hot breath kissed the tip of his erection, lips closed over the head and drew him deep into tight, wet heat. Zechs’s finger-fucking roughened, became quick thrusts as he sucked fervently on Wufei’s cock.
Coiled pleasure burst along Wufei’s nerves, the sharp counter of Zechs’s mouth on him slamming up against the shy edge of pain caused by his fingers, and he came with a hoarse, half-strangled shout. His body snapped taut as he shoved a hand in Zechs’s hair, gripped hard and drove his cock as deeply as he could. Zechs jerked his head away, fingers tearing through his hair, and clamped his lips tightly around the head.
As Wufei sagged against the blackness, the other man crawled over him, took his head in both hands and rubbed closed lips across Wufei’s. Pliant, exhausted, his lips parted as Zechs tipped his head back. Opening his own mouth, Zechs let the come slip from his lips, dripping down to slide over Wufei’s bottom lip and into his mouth. Dazed coffee-black eyes widened as his own warm release pooled on his tongue. Zechs fingers tightened slightly in his hair, and he swallowed at the unspoken command. Licked the remainder from his lips, and swallowed again, mouth filled with the taste of himself.
Zechs watched him a moment longer, then took advantage of Wufei’s exhaustion, plunging his tongue into the other’s mouth again. Mind still hazed, Wufei made the attempt to return the kiss, but Zechs was content to taste and take as he liked. Always.
When he finally drew away, Wufei’s question was already on his lips. “How long were you in the sim?” he asked, shifting under Zechs to stretch used and wonderfully aching muscles.
“Since the beginning,” the other replied, familiar satisfaction in his voice.
Wufei grunted, leaning up on his hands. “This is why my damned training is doing me no good.” The accusation was weak, tainted by the husked voice that made it.
“ZERO,” Wufei said, meeting and holding the other’s gaze, “end all sessions; release locks.”
The quiet tick of the training room doors releasing sounded as Zechs merely raised an eyebrow at Wufei’s pointed look. “I am not the one that programmed her.”
“It’s a wonder, Merquise, given the thing’s got your bloody sense of humour.”