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In space, Trowa and Heero move together without a word, the new twin mobile suits perfect counterparts to one another. Sword and shield and space. It isn’t quite like flying a Gundam but it’s powerful in a different way. Trowa can still feel the kickback of the beam cannon.
So when Lady Une says after their third run together, “I’m impressed,” Trowa doesn’t smile but he’d like to. She likes him, and soon, she might even trust him. He isn’t sure if he trusts her yet, or if he wants to -- but it’s better to be here than wondering what OZ is planning.
He hopes Heero feels the same way.
“I think you might be ready for a promotion,” she says, looking at Heero. “What do you think, Barton?”
“That’s up to you, sir,” Trowa says. He wishes the military hierarchy of OZ was less comforting, that the uniform felt more wrong.
“Has he earned your trust, Ensign?”
He looks at Heero, who is still in his shorts and tank top, jaw tight. “Can I trust you?”
Heero blinks. “Do I have a choice?” he asks dryly. But then, he says, “I want to keep piloting.”
Trowa doesn’t know what Une has planned but he knows they’ll get through it. They have to. There’s nowhere else to go.
Lady Une hums to herself. Then she says, “What would you say to another little test?”
-
They both hear the footsteps leading up to their cell door, but Wufei is the one who unfolds gracefully to listen to the conversation outside. Duo opens his eyes but movement feels beyond him -- his bruises are slowly mottling but his head still hurts like a concussion.
It takes about a minute of almost discernable murmuring but Duo finally breaks. “What’s goin’ on out there?” he asks from his place on the cool, steady ground.
Wufei sighs, probably for the 80th time since they’d been left alone in their cell, but it’s the first one that sounds defeated.
“C’mon, just let me know what to brace myself for.”
Duo gets a pitying glance in return. “Une wants them to prove their loyalty.”
“Oh, great, so we’re gonna die?” Duo thinks it’s a shame that he and Deathscythe didn’t manage to at least go out together, but getting killed by the same asshole would have to be enough.
“Not yet, no.”
Duo frowns. Wufei’s been annoyingly calm this whole time, meditating even. Now he’s tense, steeling himself for a hit. Duo tenses up reflexively in response, as though he was in any shape to fight back.
“So who will it be, gentlemen?” Lady Une’s confident voice travels right through the door. “What’s your preference?”
Duo doesn’t like the sound of that, doesn’t like the way her tone opens a plethora of new and horrible options for what she might be asking. He carefully scoots closer, cursing softly as his ribs send sharp pain to the rest of his chest.
“Wufei is less injured,” Trowa finally says, voice calm as ever, and Duo still can’t shake off the idea that maybe he’s really truly flipped sides, if he’s considering which one of them to kill.
Wufei’s face goes ashen and Duo realizes it’s not death they should be worried about.
“I don’t like the sound of this,” he says, because he doesn’t want to say what he’s thinking.
“He’s right. I have the best statistical chance of surviving… whatever they have planned.”
“That’s why it should be me,” Duo says, finally sitting all the way up. His ribs ache, his wrists have been rubbed raw by the magcuffs, he might have a concussion. “Why risk both of us bein’ unable to fight our way out?”
Wufei finally makes eye contact and he looks furious, eyes dark and brows drawn.
“I’m volunteering, man. I don’t want you to get hurt like this.”
“I’m not weak!” Wufei hisses. “I’m perfectly capable of surviving anything OZ wants to throw at me.”
“Whoa, hey buddy, I’m saying you’re strong. Strong enough to get out of here. You won’t be… after whatever this is.” Duo swallows thickly, mouth dry from hours without water.
“You think I’m too weak to survive torture?” Wufei snaps, but the anger is brittle rather than fierce.
This time it’s Duo’s turn to look away. “No, I’m — I’m speaking from experience?”
That shuts him up, at least, and Duo finally feels the fear start creeping in past the adrenaline of planning to do something dangerously reckless. The urge to try to laugh it off is tough to resist.
“I’m not some virgin you need to protect,” Wufei says, then, unexpectedly, “I was even married once.” He’s looking at the ground again.
“You’re only twenty. That’s young even for a colony marriage.”
“We married at 15. She was a pilot.”
The door slides open and Duo’s heart leaps to attention.
“Wufei,” Heero says, and Duo watches Wufei try to stand up with pride, his head high, and it makes him feel sick.
“Hey, what am I, a ghost here? First 01 gets to pilot a brand new mobile suit, and now 05?”
The look Heero shoots him could melt steel, the irritation there almost enough to make him want to back down.
“This isn’t a game, Duo,” Trowa says, one hand on Wufei’s arm.
“You’re injured,” Heero says, deadpan, and wow is he a terrible actor, Duo thinks. Une must be desperate for pilots.
“You should give me a shot.” He doesn’t groan as he stands up. “I don’t need to be 100% to kick your asses out there.”
Heero and Trowa silently communicate and Duo can’t help tapping his foot, impatient. “I’m the one you want,” he says even though it twists up his gut. Flirting with Heero was fun but this is something ugly.
“If you can’t make up your minds then I’ll have you take them both,” Une says from the cell doorway. It’s not a bluff.
“Fine,” Heero snaps, and he grabs Duo roughly by the arm. The contact sends a jolt up his spine — it’s the first skin-to-skin touch he’s felt in days.
He ignores it, instead saying, “I promise to make it worth your while,” and winking. He gets a shove for his effort, making him stumble out into the hallway. The cell door loudly slams shut behind him, and if he does die at least he knows Wufei’s alive.
Now he needs to worry about himself.
“You need to understand: this isn’t a joke,” Trowa says firmly, but he’s not looking at Duo when he says it, falling back behind him and Heero. Their footsteps ring out, echoing down the hallways of Lunar Base.
“I wouldn’t have chosen this,” Heero says, but he can’t quite make it sound regretful.
Duo laughs. He knows.
-
“This is a lot of pomp and circumstance for such an ugly mission,” Duo says conversationally. They’re on hallway seventeen — he’s pretty sure Une is leading them in a circle to keep him from getting his bearings, and he thinks it might be working. Heero’s definitely holding on to him tight enough to bruise. It’d be enough to swoon over in some other galaxy.
“You’re still a high priority prisoner, pilot. Don’t underestimate yourself.” Une has been leading the way this whole time, Heero pulling him along and jumping further out of his skin with every turn.
“Only if I defect.” Heero squeezes his arm, presumably some kind of warning. A reminder to shut the fuck up.
“Oh, you’re quite valuable as a bargaining tool. Or even some target practice, ” she says, sparing a glance behind her. He grins and wishes he could spit.
They finally stop in front of a door that Une has to key them into, and Trowa grabs his other arm when they get into the room.
“This is nicer than I expected,” Duo says, looking around. It’s clearly someone’s personal quarters, but perhaps not Une’s. It doesn’t look very lived in, so maybe it’s for visiting officers.
He doesn’t feel great about the room’s focal point — a surprisingly large bed — but it’s a better place to be assaulted than his cell. And better him than Wufei. Better here than in front of Wufei.
Duo bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing and says, “So, if I do defect, do I get my own digs?”
Trowa throws him face-first on the bed and he bounces in the lower grav, forcing Trowa to pin him down. The fabric is soft under his cheek. He hurts in a new and different way in this position, ribs aching under Trowa’s hand, his own hands stuck underneath him.
There’s shuffling behind him but no one’s talking, so he keeps going because the reality of the situation is too much to look at right now and what he really needs to do is not panic.
“Seriously, whose room is this?”
Une purses her lips as she settles in a plush chair, angled just right to be seen out of the corner of Duo’s eye. “I’m not here to answer questions.”
“So are you gonna interrogate me? I thought we were just having some fun,” Duo says, mostly into the comforter underneath him, but Trowa yanks hard on his braid, pulling his head up sharply.
“Respect your betters, pilot,” he says. Duo still can’t tell if his heart is in it, but it really doesn’t make the sudden flood of humiliation any less sharp or real.
Duo squirms under his hand, his scalp tingling, face burning. He reminds himself that this isn’t actually the humiliating part -- this is just the foreplay.
“You do this, you convince me that you’re ready to leave the brig,” Une says. It’s not her pacifist voice.
“Is this how you get your rocks off?” Duo asks and to his surprise, she laughs, loud and throaty.
“Let’s just get this over with.” Trowa, unfortunately, is absolutely not laughing, and he shoves Duo’s face back into the mattress. “Get his shoes off.”
Duo doesn’t make it easy, kicking until he feels Heero grab an ankle.
“It would have been polite to feed me first,” he mumbles into the bed.
“Shut him up, Barton,” Une snaps.
Duo expects a gag, then feels like an idiot as Trowa yanks him further up the bed by his braid. Heero then grabs both his calves, pinning him half down.
Heero’s hands are hot, and broad. His calluses probably match the ones on Duo’s own fingers.
Une seems pleased.
"Hold him down," Trowa says, and he unzips his uniform trousers, disrobing quickly. Duo has a minute to admire his broad shoulders, and marvels at his own brain’s capacity. Trowa, at least, is an enemy, no matter how large his hand is when he grabs Duo by the jaw.
-
Heero feels frozen, felt frozen in the hallways, isn’t sure what to do once they get Duo into the bedroom. Relief rushes through him when Trowa takes the lead, like maybe he'll be less culpable in this. He needs this to be a mission, himself as a soldier. But now he’s watching Trowa stripping down, down to a tank and boxer briefs, clambering onto the bed, and it feels horrible and familiar.
They’d slept together in Italy, and this isn't how he imagined their reunion going. But there he is, body still long and broad and muscled like a gymnast's. Heero ignores the tug in his gut, takes a deep breath.
Duo’s leg jerks again and Heero tightens his grip. His muscles are lean, stronger than the priest gear lets on. He thought he was willing to shoot the other pilot before, the last time he was in OZ custody. He was weak then but this feels like another weakness, or another mission turning into casualties.
Heero can only stare at Trowa as he gets back on the bed, yanking Duo up by his hair. It feels like it’s happening on another planet, like the hands holding Duo’s legs belong to someone else. Duo can’t be real because this could never happen.
Heero wonders what his hair would feel like under his fingers. He also wants to vomit, tries to remember this is just another mission he has to survive.
Duo bucks, almost dislodging a hand, and Trowa pets his shoulder like he’s a spooked animal. Heero doesn’t think Duo is going to forgive them.
“Pilot 01, are you getting cold feet?” Une addressing him is like a slap to the face.
“No, sir,” he says, and Trowa nods at him as he manhandles Duo into place, hauling him up on his hands. He almost can’t believe what’s happening in front of him, what he’s helping with, just staring as Trowa’s dick disappears into Duo’s mouth. He can’t even see it clearly past Duo’s hair and shoulders and his ears are full of static.
It’s really happening, he thinks, the choice made for him. He crashes back into his body like being knocked down by an ocean wave. His dick is hard, throbbing at the very thought of this whole hideous tableau. Duo’s stopped fighting, struggling to stay upright while Trowa holds him in place, balancing precariously on his bound hands and knees.
Heero's heart is pounding. He starts with Duo’s left boot.
-
Trowa’s hands are cold on his face and Duo wonders if biting him would be worth it.
But he doesn’t want to be dead and no one’s even threatened to kill him — he opens his mouth. The shame isn't quite enough to make him self destruct, not yet. So he balances on his hands, wrists aching, his mouth just the right height. He doesn’t even protest when Trowa adjusts his grip on the thickest part of his braid, right at the nape of his neck. It makes him shiver, though, body jerking automatically.
Trowa pats his shoulder like he’s a dog, like there’s any chance of comfort here.
“Just get it over with,” he mutters, but anticipation zings through him.
It's a rush of arousal and disgust — at Trowa, at Une, at himself as he licks his lips without thinking, staring at the outline of Trowa’s dick. He wonders what it would be like to do this willingly, if Trowa is a gentle lover with people he likes.
He’s not very gentle with Duo, which could be part of the ruse or could be how he actually feels. He pops a thumb into his mouth and Duo tries his best to tongue at it, but his mouth is almost bone dry after hours of dehydration.
“Sorry,” he rasps, attempting a shrug. Trowa doesn’t say anything, just shoves two fingers in his mouth and keeps shoving until they’re in his throat. His gag reflex is pretty good but this hurts, his throat spasming and his mouth filling with spit and mucus.
Trowa pulls his fingers out almost as fast as he then pulls his briefs down — not even getting naked — and pulls out a mostly flaccid cock.
“Not happy to see me?” Duo asks, voice cracking. He's not sure if he's relieved or insulted.
Trowa yanks his braid. Duo’s getting sick of it, really, but he doesn’t have time to complain before Trowa has his dick in his face. Duo is good and even wraps his lips around his teeth. Trowa’s cock is a hot weight scraping over his tongue, but his cock is proportionate — long like he is. Duo tongues at his cock as best he can and then sucks, drawing a surprised grunt out of the other pilot.
He keeps sucking, and Trowa doesn’t let him pull back, doesn’t let him do anything. Duo gets a split-second of readjustment and then Trowa has both hands in his hair, holding him still so he can thrust deep every time.
He’s crying, he thinks, and that makes him angrier than Trowa fucking his mouth like this, no concern at all. It takes a lot of concentration to keep himself from choking, sucking air through his nose and swallowing around the head of his cock. That makes him moan, which Duo can barely hear over the static in his ears. He has to hold on to the ache in his jaw, the bright pain in his wrists, the way his ribs feel like shrapnel to keep from dissociating, and it’s awful. He doesn’t want to be aware of the spit running down his chin or the way Trowa hasn’t looked him in the eye or what’s going to happen next.
A hand tightens on his leg and panic sparks straight up his spine, his aching arms shaking. Trowa would probably keep him upright if his arms gave out but it’s not a comforting thought.
The one hope he had left disappears the second Heero gets his boot off. There was a minute when it seemed like maybe he, at least, would keep fighting the inevitable — it was the one thing he thought he could rely on Heero Yuy to do.
Instead, he feels Heero’s hard cock press up against his ass, a few layers of fabric the only thing standing in the way of fulfilling Duo’s most egregious fantasies about his fellow pilot.
It feels good, to his body at least, to the part of his brain that’s thrilled to be used and loves cock especially. He would love nothing more than to actually blow Trowa, to lick up the silky skin of his dick, to nudge the ridge of his frenulum and hear him moan. Getting pounded into the mattress by Heero Yuy would have been at the top of his wishlist just a week ago. The heavy reality of Heero’s actual dick doesn’t make his own less hard and he makes a sound around Trowa’s cock, balls hitting his chin.
He wonders how healthy it would be to try to fantasize about the whole thing being consensual, that he’s asked Heero to bring over his mystery hookup Trowa over to his place for a good old fashioned spitroast.
Heero’s fingers fumble at his waistband, finding their way to his zipper and pulling his pants off his hips as Trowa keeps up a steady pace. He’s finally to full hardness, popping into his throat more often than not, but Heero says something that sounds like radio static.
“Duo,” he hears, and Trowa pulls all the way out of his mouth with a wet noise. His face is damp, and he's pretty sure his bottom lip has split from Trowa’s enthusiasm.
He grunts, staring up at Trowa through his tangled bangs and putting as much weight as he can on his knees.
“Will you behave?” Trowa asks and Duo nods. What else is he supposed to do? He takes a look at Une, facilities coming back online with every deep lungful of air he can take. Heero finishes stripping him, pants off, boxers off. He's spared his shirt only because he's still handcuffed.
“Haven’t you had enough?” Duo asks as this happens. His voice is hoarse and his ribs light up with pain every time he coughs.
“Have you?” she asks. “Don’t be a selfish sacrifice, Pilot 02 — Pilot 01 still needs to take a turn.”
Duo looks over at Heero, who is staring right past him at Trowa. If he had any self-esteem left it would’ve hurt.
“My arms are gonna go out,” he says. “You maybe wanna try out a different position?”
Une tilts her head in acquiescence, barely an acknowledgement, and he feels Trowa grab his shoulders and suddenly he’s on his back, staring up at the industrial ceiling of the Lunar Base.
Trowa pulls him til his head’s off the bed and he’s staring at Trowa’s upside down cock and legs.
“Disorienting,” he says to no one in particular, and watches Trowa get a hand on his dick.
“Wait,” and there’s Heero again, and if this was how Trowa fucks then Heero’s going to kill him, probably.
He can't see what’s happening on the bed anymore, which is why he kicks out when Heero gets his hand back on his ankle, almost encircling it. This time the grip is strong and assured.
“Can’t we keep it to mouth stuff?” Duo isn’t sure he’s actually saying anything because no one even blinks in response. “Colonel, surely you don’t need to take it this far.”
He can’t even shy away without falling off the bed.
Lady Une laughs again. “I could ask him to shoot you. But he’d also have to kill Pilot 05, I think. I would be quite sure of his loyalty then.”
Duo closes his eyes when he hears Heero spit.
-
Trowa runs the wet head of his cock over Duo’s lips and feels a jump of arousal watching them part around his cockhead. Duo licks at it, his eyes shut tight, and Trowa thinks maybe should try to be gentle; from this angle they were mostly out of Une’s direct field of vision.
He watches Heero pull open Duo’s legs and settle between them, Duo’s dick bouncing, surprisingly hard. Trowa isn’t sure if it would make it better or worse to reach out and help him along, make him cum the way he’s going to make Trowa cum.
It would probably be worse, he thinks, and Duo would certainly not be grateful. Instead he puts a hand on Duo’s face and watches him open his mouth wide, shockingly obedient. His dick slides in, slick, in and out, steady.
Trowa has to close his eyes, count backward in his head -- Duo is skilled with his tongue and throat, trying to get him off fast. But he can’t blow until Heero gets inside him and they can’t rush it, can’t afford for Duo to be too injured to fight. He tries to block how good it feels to fuck deep into his mouth, the hot slide and press of his tongue, concentrating on slow rhythmic thrusts. It takes him a minute to realize he’s lightly resting a hand on Duo’s pale throat until it bulges with the length of his cock.
He squeezes, automatic, and Duo groans, back arching for just a minute, and Trowa feels flush with a wave of intense lust, watching as Heero carefully, carefully stretches his hole as Duo chokes. As Duo likes it.
It’s a mission, he reminds himself, pulling his hand away.
“He won’t break, 01,” Une says.
--
Heero has a firm hold on Duo's thigh, holding him open. He feels more awkward than exposed, his shirt riding up his stomach, cock wet, another cock in his mouth. He's already a prop for their psychosexual drama, a hole to be used.
Heero probes him carefully, spit-wet fingers slowly, slowly pressing inside. He doesn’t match Trowa’s now-gentler rhythm, barely has a rhythm, just a press, pressing in, opening him up.
The sensation is almost overwhelming without lube — it hurts but it doesn’t, just enough glide that his muscles want to give in more than they want to lock up. He hears Heero spit once again and feels Trowa’s hand resting lightly on his throat, an erotic and dangerous warning.
Trowa has the foresight to pull all the way out when Heero presses in, leaving his head free to thrash at the intensity. He hisses at the intrusion. Push, push, push, his legs trembling. Duo isn’t sure he can open any wider but Heero is relentless, determined to breach.
It takes an eternity, more spit, more blunt pain, and Duo makes so much noise he wants to die, grunting and groaning and arching his back as Heero pushes his thighs closer to his shoulders, driving slow and steady and determined. Heero’s cock pops in, his muscles giving up and it’s too fast, a radiating pain that aches in his center. He tries to breathe but he only can in shaky gulps.
“Heero,” he says, a sigh. Is it worse to pretend that Heero would ever actually want this, that he wants this now? That Duo wants this now? His dick certainly does, still erect even though he now hurts everywhere.
Heero keeps pressing, opening Duo up more and more until he can barely breathe. He shakes his head and says, “please,” before he can help himself.
“Pitiful,” Une says, and apparently that’s Trowa’s cue to resume his position. He’s dependable, all right, Duo thinks. Maybe Trowa volunteered to help Heero out with this particular mission. Just a great friend all around.
Duo’s jaw hurts, hurts to open his mouth, hurts to accomodate Trowa’s cock. He's wide open, cored open to be filled.
Heero grunts, the slide out inexorably intimate, the slide in so close to good. Without a condom or lube it’s just skin, skin against skin, the rough drag and the delicious, awful stretch. Duo would’ve gladly given himself over to be hurt like this, he thinks somewhere outside his overwhelmed body. He would have begged for this.
Heero pushes into him as Trowa slides out, Trowa pushes into his throat as Heero slides out, just a few inches. They saw him back and forth and he can’t do anything but be fucked. Collateral damage.
Duo can’t hold that thought long as Trowa thrusts hard, hands on his chest holding him down. Duo gags a little, erratic thrusts interrupting his carefully timed breathing.
“Fuck,” Trowa groans, his hands gripping firmly. Duo bucks his hips once — if Trowa needs something to do he should put his hands to better use.
Trowa doesn’t though, just thrusts shallowly into his spasming throat, bringing more and more tears to his eyes until he finally, finally cums.
--
Trowa’s thrusts grow more erratic and Heero recognizes the flush crawling up his chest. But most of his mind is burning up. He’s never fucked bareback, never fucked someone so tight.
Duo is overwhelming, a hot steady pressure around his dick, muscles milking him as he squirms under the onslaught, trapped hands opening and closing as Trowa shoots down his throat, his head thrown back.
Everything goes uneasily still. Duo's still hot under his hand and all around him.
So it's less of a thought than an impulse, an animal instinct that makes Heero take the opportunity to pull out and yank Duo back on the bed. He’s flexible — they’re all flexible, probably, peak physical fitness required to handle a Gundam — and it doesn’t take much maneuvering to fold him over so Heero can get deep inside him, hard and faster than Trowa took it.
Duo lets it happen, or more accurately, has stopped fighting. Doesn’t push him away with his manacled hands. He just moans when Heero thrusts sharply, his eyelashes fluttering. He’s scorching inside, pulling Heero further in.
“Fuck,” he says, he’s been saying, muttering. He presses his whole body down and there’s Duo’s dick -- Heero is supposed to be a master of his surroundings, aware of everything, but it shocks him, his hips stuttering. Duo’s cock is silky and hot and dripping, jerking everytime Heero angles his thrust.
“Heero,” Duo says, rasps, urgently. He is urgently asking something and Heero’s mind is automatic now, his hand moving without a conscious command to wrap around it. His cock feels good in his hand, velvet skin hot and he squeezes lightly. Duo jerks like he’s been shocked. “Please!”
Heero can hear Une chuckle but he dismisses it — not important. He has a mission now and he and Duo rock together, Duo trying to fuck his hand and Heero fucking him, pounding him. Duo's body is a lean arc but it isn't enough, he's not deep enough.
He pulls all the way out, Duo yelping, eyes wide, and flips him. The lunar gravity is forgiving and he only encounters a brief resistance upon thrusting back in. Duo’s back is a beautiful curve in front of him, shirt shoved up in disarray. Ass high, face down on the mattress.
-
Heero flips him into the mattress in a one smooth motion and then shoves his cock immediately back in. It hurts enough that Duo whimpers into the blanket but even this is less humiliating than hearing himself beg.
Heero feels like a bruise inside him, but every time he hits his prostate Duo can't contain his groans of pleasure. He wants Heero to finish but he can’t do anything but take it now, Heero’s hands tight around his hips, Heero’s hips flush against his ass. He’s covered in his fingerprints.
Duo feels overheated and for a few wonderful moments all he can feel is want, pain and want and a crushing, burning need that Heero is so eagerly filling up. It rolls up his spine, fills his chest but empties his lungs.
Heero is going to explode him, turn him into space dust, Duo's secret desires ripping him apart
It's a red heartbeat behind his eyelids, all rhythm now until Heero snakes his hand to Duo’s dick, dripping and ready. He snarls into the mattress under him, pinned with Heero still battering him into nothing. It feels like a ripcord when he cums, the panic of falling still there even as he groans with pleasure. Heero doesn’t stop, doesn’t even let go of his dick, just follows after an eternity of continued hammering.
Heero doesn’t slump over when he shoots hot into him, but it takes a moment for him to relax his hands, to let Duo sink into the bed. His head hurts, his ribs hurt, the lower quadrant of his body is a constellation of ache.
“Sorry,” Heero says, quietly, and Duo laughs and laughs.
-
Trowa shoves something in his hand as he shoves him back in the cell. Duo lands on his back, the wind knocked out of him, but he holds it up anyway.
“Welcome back,” Wufei says from his left side, kneeling down and taking it from him, hands brushing. It's the first gentle touch he's had in years, eons.
“Hey,” he tries to say. “What’s on the datastick?”
He hears clicking, his eyes already closed. He’s exhausted, but he can hear Wufei when he says, “These are plans for new Gundams. Our new Gundams.” He lets himself sleep after that.