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Kamille's heart throbbed in his chest. A mixture of feelings assaulted his mind, sensations he had no language to express properly. He had dreamed the same dream again last night, and awoke feeling as empty, as needing, as it always left him. He stared from across the bridge, where Captain Bright and Lieutenant Quattro were engaged in a quiet conversation. Kamille knew he hadn't been imagining things. Ever since Bright had assumed his role, the pair had become inseparable. That was all well and good. What bothered him was this . . . monopoly that Bright seemed to have over him. The rest of the crew by now knew they ought not to interrupt the two of them when they were otherwise occupied. Kamille glowered as he watched Quattro laugh at something Bright said, knowing full well that the man had no sense of humor.
Last night, his nightmare was that of a glimmering smile, a face obscured by sunglasses, and red peeling back like the skin of an apple. Perfect body spread before him. Teasing him with its possibility, and then vanishing upon waking. Weeks, no, months, had passed of these terrors. It made him blush to recall it in the daytime, especially when the subject who had so invaded his subconscious was a mere twenty feet away from him. Those tights on those thighs, obscuring nothing. That ass when he bent over. He had to know, didn't he, Kamille thought, he had to know what he was doing to everyone. It was an impossible working environment, Kamille felt, especially for a civilian like himself. When he thought of this, it always came right back to the fact that he had by no means expected to wind up as a mobile suit pilot in the employ of the AEUG. Nevertheless, it had happened. Was it so much to ask, then, to be able to concentrate while working, to not have Quattro's well-endowed chest shoved in his face every time he so much as tried walking down a hallway? To not be forced to imagine what it might be like, how might it feel, to pin the man up against a wall and flip up that stupid skirt, and fill his hands with an ass he knew to be anatomically perfect? A man with full hips, ones that brought to mind memories of his mother. A man with thighs that chafed as he walked. Kamille's eye twitched as he watched Bright whisper something in the Lieutenant's ear, as if they weren't already out of everyone else's earshot. Yes, it was all so entirely unnecessary.
Kamille was also well aware that, aside from himself and Bright, many others were fixated upon Quattro's beauty. The way he had watched Wong Lee manhandle him, while it seemed to go over the other's head, felt targeted. Commodore Blex had treated him like arm candy, yet he had the gall to act all oblivious to that too. And one thing he just couldn't shake, was the thick stabbing of emotion he had felt pouring from Amuro Ray when he bore witness to their reunion. In that moment their eyes met, the energy which flowed from the two of them was so hidden in terms of what relationship it could possibly indicate, and yet it drove into Kamille's mind like a spike. Kamille learned later that those forceful, ephemeral emotions were the outcome of seven years of separation between the two. The fact of this and the questions as to just what transpired between them had begun to make him feel crazy. His nightmares had even started to feature Amuro. Dreams where Amuro held Quattro, held Char, where he pushed him down on his stomach like a base animal. Dreams where Amuro slammed into Char over and over again as blood dripped from a gash in between his eyebrows. But a woman was there too, hidden beneath the two of them. Blood fell in a ceaseless torrent and collected there in her facial features as she lay motionless. Asleep or dead, who was to say? In all of these nightmarish ones, Kamille just watched Quattro be taken, unable to interact. His sheets weren't soiled when he awoke, but this was the least of his worries, as these terrors haunted him all day. He worried that by some trick, Quattro could sense his dysregulation, and so he did his best to couch these disturbing images within a cocoon of teenage angst.
Another thing that bothered him aside from this recurring violence was the fact that Amuro appeared at all. Even thinking of the man in his waking life extinguished any sexual thoughts he may have been having, so much that Kamille became totally convinced of his own heterosexuality. Yes, Kamille had never so much as had a crush on a man before, but Quattro was different. With Quattro, the attraction was surely the result of the openness with which he appeared to treat others, yet the secret scorn and sensitivity he kept buried. It was the girlish length of his hair, his willingness to be used, the provocative proportions of his body, all wrapped up so tight in that uniform he subjected everyone to.
In the end, that was the source, wasn't it? Those damnable flashes of red.
Before he knew it, Kamille felt himself making his way across the room with no idea just what he was doing but, nonetheless, drawing closer and closer to the source of his nightmares. With intent still unsure, he spoke. "Lieutenant Quattro?"
The blond turned his head, clearly in that pliant, practical mode he typically adopted in order to solve issues aboard the Argama. Kamille did admire at least this personality trait in the lieutenant, so unlike himself, so mature. He always detected a persistent concealment of the lieutenant's true emotions, though, which created a barrier between the two of them that he had grown to detest. The sunglasses certainly didn't help, not by any means. "Yes, Kamille?"
"I don't feel . . . I feel something, something weird. Can you . . . Can you come with me? To talk?" Quattro's mouth quirked downwards in a slight frown of concern. Bright feigned disinterest but had to acknowledge within himself in that moment the unusual nature of someone as stubborn as Kamille coming to them with a problem of his, as opposed to allowing issues to ferment as they often did.
Quattro shot Bright a look, and Kamille let his mask slip for a moment as he recognized the meaning of the look with disgust. Asking permission to leave. Bright gave a slight head nod, the older men both oblivious to the disdain their younger counterpart held for their queer dynamic. "I'll go take Kamille to his quarters, then." He attempted to place a gloved hand upon Kamille's shoulder to guide him, but the hand was shrugged away. Instead, Quattro followed the boy from a few feet behind, wondering as they progressed through the ship just what was the matter with him today.
Kamille let Quattro into his bedroom and shut the door behind them, instantly sinking into the center of his mattress, looking positively defeated. He held his head in his hands, wondering just what to do, just what to say.
Quattro placed his hands on his hips in dismay as he took in the sad sight. "Kamille. What's wrong?"
No answer.
Quattro sighed, adopting a sweeter voice as opposed to the one of authority he had begun with. "You can tell me, Kamille."
Still no answer, but Kamille took his hands away from his face to stare Quattro down. His gaze was positively penetrating, and for reasons he could not identify, Quattro felt his heart racing. That look of his lasted for agonizing moments, until finally, Kamille looked down and quietly asked, "Will you sit with me?"
Looking with curiosity at the place which Kamille gently patted, Quattro obediently sat just inches away. Still clueless, he was about to ask just what was going on, before Kamille lifted his head up to face him with yet another request.
"And . . . Can I hug you?" A soft smile spread across Quattro's lips, as he greatly appreciated the sensitivity of Kamille's youth and the honesty with which he appeared to be baring himself at this moment. Without saying a word and, still smiling, he wrapped his arms around Kamille.
Kamille took a sharp inhale as he felt those muscular arms close around him. It wasn't a tight embrace by any means. In fact, he would have preferred it much tighter. However, he enjoyed the initial satisfaction. The closeness. After some prolonged moments of Kamille not-so-subtly inhaling the scent of cologne straight off of Quattro's neck, the lieutenant began to feel somewhat smothered. Is this his grief, finally, he wondered, banishing the thought almost instantly for what it threatened to remind him of. Instead of thinking, he placed a hand on the top of Kamille's head and gently stroked him in a soothing manner. "There, there," he said, not really knowing why but feeling that it was what was supposed to be said when comforting another.
Then, unexpectedly, one of Kamille's hands released itself from embracing the lieutenant and, saying nothing, he placed it on the lower abdomen of the other man. Quattro shivered at the feeling of the hand upon his waist, clearly losing some of his composure at the stimulation.
"Ka . . . mille . . ." That barely vocal moaning out of his name made Kamille's stomach flip, but he slowly slid his palm up the flat surface, feeling the cold of the fabric between his fingers. His other arm remained embracing the man's slender waist, pressing them together in a manner which amplified the heat of their bodies. Unbidden, Kamille found his voice too, albeit to now ask the man more things he had been holding back.
"Why wear this in space?" The silky fabric of the red tunic began to tent slightly between Quattro's legs, but it seemed Kamille barely noticed as he began questioning despite himself. He murmured with his cheek now pressed into Quattro's breasts, rolling the silky material of the costume in his roving hands. "Isn't it cumbersome?"
"It's just my style." Quattro seemed accustomed to answering that question, so much so that it sobered him from their embrace. As he placed his hands on Kamille's shoulders in a manner befitting of a senior officer, (of a surrogate parental figure, he reminded himself) he stood and found a weak excuse to leave this situation which threatened to ignite an unbelievable amount of repression within him. "We'll talk later. They're likely looking for me on the bridge."
"That's a lie, Lieutenant Quattro. Why do all adults lie to me?" Before he could egress from the doorway, Quattro felt Kamille approach him, hugging him again, this time from behind. His small head weighed on his spine. The feeling made his heart ache.
"Kamille . . ."
"I want to touch you, Lieutenant Quattro. Is that so wrong?" Before Quattro could even formulate a thought in response to that, Kamille relaxed his grip around him and moved his hands instead to his asscheeks, squeezing them both, his cheekbone pressed against the back of Quattro's shoulder blade. Quattro moaned involuntarily as the pressure did not relax, but instead, Kamille kept his hands firmly there, kneading subtly. "You look soft, Lieutenant Quattro. And you feel soft."
"You shouldn't, Kamille, please . . ."
"Why, it doesn't feel good when I touch you?" Kamille was moving his fingertips up and down between the hot flesh of Quattro's muscular inner thighs, squeezing them mercilessly now. He moved his right hand to the lieutenant's pelvis, causing the other man to shudder. "Can you sit on my lap?"
Quattro was incapable of uttering a response, he had been so blindsided by Kamille's hands, which even now, clutched his body with an eagerness even Quattro's currently addled mind had to attribute to puberty. He had allowed himself to be swept away by this child, and cursed himself internally for his body's utter lack of resistance even in the face of such wanton molestation. He felt like a virgin-- laughable-- as the boy gripped his fleshy hips and guided him to sit face forward on his lap.
Kamille had lifted Quattro's tunic to fully cup his behind, which he massaged excitedly, something the Red Comet could by no means say he had experienced before. Sure, he'd had his fair share of lovers, not to mention experiences of sexual harassment, but he had never been treated as such a complete and total object, as an assemblage of parts to play with. He could feel the boy's erection pressing against the thin layer of fabric which covered his entrance and almost let out a moan from the stimulation. His own dick had been made erect nigh instantly upon being hugged (dry spells aren't anything to play with), and now ached, neglected, straining against the confines of his tights. He tried to force his mind to come up with cogent protests as one of the boy's hands reached up to play with his right breast, brushing his nipple lightly and earning an involuntary whine. "Kamille, stop, please. If it weren't enough that I'm older than you, and your superior as well, you seem to be forgetting I am a man." He was impressed at the way the words, so lacking in any real genuineness, spilled from his lips. Of course, he reminded himself. If it weren't for falsities, would I have made it even this far?
Kamille smiled into the lieutenant's shoulder. Those huge thighs completely smothering his slender adolescent legs felt better than he could have dreamed of. And he had dreamed. This ridiculous red fetish get-up had long wrested him from sexual nightmares with sheets and tighty-whiteys dripping, and now he got to punish the one responsible. It felt so extremely good. "Has anyone told you're a lot like a girl, Lieutenant? Your ass is bigger than Fa's anyways. As for being older than me . . ." He trailed off, seemingly filled again with an inexpressible emotion. "I fail to see what separates you, or anybody else in the AEUG, from me."
Guilt filled Quattro, mixed with the arousal. How sour. How bitter. Everything about this youth was jaded, and why not? He suddenly couldn't find words. Which was all the better for Kamille, who used the awkward silence to his advantage. Standing suddenly without releasing Quattro from his embrace, he pinned him down onto his bed with a shove and began grinding his foot against the older man's crotch. He looked down at him with a burning resentment in his eyes.
"So let me get my frustrations out, and then act like nothing happened. Like all of you always do." He palmed his own crotch while stepping, albeit delicately, on Quattro's. "Show me your breasts, lieutenant."
Quattro had to laugh at that command despite his clear state of disarray. "I'm very much a man, Kamille. Just like yourself." His tone abruptly turned serious (something which he was aware always made Kamille's eyes roll, but he ignored that). "Which is why you should focus on some nice young woman your own age. Like Fa or Emma. Don't you think-"
"I'm sick of your talk." He stomped his foot and Quattro let out a cry, one of pleasure entwined with pain. The pathetic mewling sound sent a shudder through Kamille's entire body. He found it almost comical how subdued the other man had become, yet couldn't deny his pleasure at the progressive unraveling which had occurred. Sweat covered Quattro's brow, and his eyebrows were furrowed where that dark pink scar ruined his pale skin. His face was flushed bright red, his heaving breaths making the already strained confines of his uniform around his chest appear even tighter. His hardened nipples showed through the thin fabric easily. The whole of his body was an obscenity. Smiling, Kamille asked him, "No way . . . You don't actually like a feeling like having your dick get stepped on, do you, lieutenant?"
Quattro had no response to the question. Nothing was cohering. There was only sensation and the matter of his position in that moment.
Kamille took the opportunity to repeat his earlier command more gently, the tip of his foot delicately brushing the area it had offended. "Lieutenant, please show me your breasts." He held himself in the palm of his hand over the top of his jumpsuit while he observed the older man slowly accept those instructions. Awkwardly, pinned there like he was, Quattro removed the satiny red vest, leaving only the sleeveless white tank top along with his gloves. He languidly started to remove those as well, but blushing, Kamille suddenly, and politely, stammered, "You can leave on the gloves, lieutenant." Wordlessly Quattro obeyed, momentarily amused by that command. He finds these erotic? Very well. He could feel himself starting to acquiesce, which he intellectually recognized was suboptimal, but it had been so long since he had been touched by another in any capacity. He pushed those unpleasant memories from his mind, however, and with trembling hands, slowly pulled off the thin white turtleneck and revealed his body to Kamille. He gazed demurely over the top of his dark glasses with a shaky smile, before reaching up with the still-gloved hand and holding his left pec invitingly.
"Well?" He could hardly believe the lasciviousness his speech suddenly dripped with. In spite of Kamille being his direct subordinate, the situation brought to his mind scenarios from the past in which someone in charge of him had reduced his abilities, his identity, his ego to nothing. Gihren. Wong Lee. Most of all . . . Garma. In those times, he took a sick pleasure in besting them, in vainly squirming in order to justify his own existence. Now here he was, prostituting himself to this adolescent novice, and he himself couldn't believe how turned on he felt. Nor could he believe his own behavior. "Do you like what you see?"
Kamille was on him in seconds, like ants on birthday cake. He placed his cheek to the thick muscular surface and felt how it was moist with nervous sweat, felt how the heart beneath it was beating so quickly. He placed a hand upon Quattro's naked, skinny waist, and the other upon his nipple, slowly rolling it underneath his thumb and forefinger and gauging the reaction. Quattro was clearly beside himself with the stimulation, and allowed Kamille to slowly push him down as he played with his breasts. Kamille watched him like a hawk as Quattro held back his voice when he began sucking and biting his chest mercilessly, those stupid sunglasses hiding eyes closed tight in arousal. Kamille beheld Quattro's hard dick beneath the tights and took the opportunity to grind his own against it, between those widely spread legs, drawing great satisfaction from the weak cry which escaped from between Quattro's lips as he again squeezed that obscenely thick, erotic limb which was his thigh. He held their bodies together, eyebrows knitting in frustration at the feeling, at the heat produced as they combined even without penetration. Pressing himself against him, so that he would lose his own body to this fevered lust. So that together, we might melt, he thought.
"Please," Quattro begged now, weakly, like a little kid, as Kamille bit down on his jugular. "Please, ah, please, touch me . . . Let me . . . Kamille . . ." His voice trailed off as Kamille pulled back, the sudden absence between their two burning bodies causing Quattro to sit up, his abused chest reddened and covered with spit, bites, and suck marks. Behind his sunglasses was the intoxicating emotion of despair and need. Something evil lurched inside Kamille's psyche upon observing the blatant lack present in his superior. Smiling, he stood up, positioning his hips in front of the lieutenant. He sweetly grabbed those gloved hands. He kept smiling as he watched a clueless expression overshadow the submissive rapture under which he had placed the older man. He gently pulled Quattro's arms, compelling him to stand, reminding them both once again of the great disparity in size between the two of them.
"Get down on your knees, Lieutenant." Quattro sank down in an instant, immediately aware of the fact that his knees and shins would quickly become bruised from the cold hard floor beneath him. Kamille gripped a handful of Quattro's silky blond hair and yanked his face right against his crotch, so that the man's cheek was right upon the inside of his slender leg. His sunglasses clattered to the ground with the sudden force and Quattro could see the hinge on the left lens was now bent backwards. He had liked that pair. More importantly, he could hardly inhale in this position. "You made me like this." Fucking red tights, he thought. Huge ass in my face all day. How could I . . . How could anyone . . . Kamille groaned as the lieutenant's face pressed right against his shaft. He swore he could feel the flutter of blond eyelashes even through the fabric. "Get it wet." Refusing to elaborate, he gripped the nape of Quattro's neck, positioning his mouth right above his balls.
No longer in any fit state to be asking questions, Quattro obeyed, wetting the outside of Kamille's normal suit with all the drool in his mouth. He whined imagining how he must look at the moment, squirming at the thought of his own dick dripping with precum, at the thought of how he positively ached to be filled. Mouth still sucking the fabric which separated him from Kamille's genitalia, he unthinkingly reached a hand down to stroke himself. However, through pinpoint eyes, Kamille quickly reprimanded him with another push on the back of his head and a vice grip upon his bicep, to keep the lieutenant from extracting any satisfaction from the service he was currently providing.
Sufficiently corrected, Quattro looked up at him. Kamille was rocking his hips ever so slightly against the slight moisture and stimulation that his lips and tongue were imparting through the separating barrier formed by his jumpsuit. It seemed as though he was attempting to extend having Quattro under his control for as long as possible, eyes occasionally fluttering as he rode the borderline of sensitivity he had created. With a long strand of saliva, Quattro pulled back, blinking up at Kamille with moist, teary eyes, holding his legs lovingly. "Let me finish you, Kamille. I'll make you feel so much better." He nuzzled against the bulge he had been forced to worship, and as Kamille somewhat lovingly stroked Quattro's bangs, watched as the young man gave in and unzipped his jumpsuit to the waistband of his jeans.
As soon as Kamille managed to present his erect penis, Quattro's lips were on it, drenching it in his saliva as he slowly took it to the hilt with a mind-blowing amount of pressure. Kamille sucked in a breath and would have let out a moan, but no sound escaped. Fuck. Kamille wondered for a moment as to why it was now abundantly clear that Lieutenant Quattro was no stranger to giving head, but then aggravatedly remembered the very source of this situation was the skanky manner in which he clothed himself. It was an utter impossibility, the notion that countless others hadn't been ensnared in his trap before. The thought filled him with both lust and a jealous rage he couldn't account for, and he gripped him roughly by the skull as he watched him go to work.
Over the course of their intimacy, Quattro's tights had slowly ridden down on his pelvis, revealing the base of his cock and his asscrack, the curvature of his backside arched tantalizingly. Kamille realized at that moment that Lieutenant Quattro had gone commando, clearly having been relying on that scant length of fabric which was his tunic in order to ensure his modesty. Slut. He gripped fistfuls of golden hair as Quattro's tongue slid lightly along the veins of his penis, the slight stimulation being overwhelming when in contrast with the intensity of force he had initially been swallowed with. He could feel his hips shake, could feel he was already on the edge of ejaculation, but couldn't close his eyes, for the sight of the succubus below him.
Quattro's dick was standing straight up, red at the top, weeping, but his hands needily grasped Kamille's legs for stability, as he by this point knew he was forbidden to touch himself. The sheer emotion induced in Kamille by viewing such a scene amplified the pleasure he was taking in the feeling of the lieutenant's skilled mouth perfectly taking his member. Streams of tears were leaking from Quattro's eyes from the sheer effort. He had little sense mentally of what he felt, other than the need to please another, to please Kamille in particular. To grovel beneath a heel, and to be desired, to be punished-- he whined, his mouth stuffed full of Kamille's swollen cock, his nostrils burning from breathing only through his nose, pressed as it was into Kamille's bush hair, which carried within it the distinct fragrance of Kamille's sweat and, faintly, pine scented shower gel. He sank his nails forcefully into Kamille's hips, with an intensity that couldn't be dulled by the thickness of the gloves Kamille had insisted Quattro remain wearing. This pressure, the sounds of choking and desperation, and the relentless nature of Quattro's execution were Kamille's death sentence.
"Lieutenant, I . . . I'm about to--" Quattro paid him no mind. "Please--"
As they made eye contact, Kamille looking down and viewing the demonic passion which was glowing in those at-last-unhidden blue eyes, Quattro admiring the total success of his techniques as they brought shades of ruin over the youthful countenance above him, Kamille cried out pitifully, ejaculating directly down the throat of his superior. Quattro pulled his sore mouth off of Kamille's cock, only to feel his face and hair become covered with semen as Kamille finished cumming, before sinking to his knees in front of Quattro.
They sat in silence for a moment, the two of them breathing heavily, each refusing to look at the other. Kamille fixed his bangs before looking down, at which point he tucked himself back into his underwear and zipped up his jeans. Turning at last to the other man, whose head was bowed in what seemed like embarrassment, he thoughtlessly reached out a hand to run it through Quattro's hair once again, quickly realizing it was wet with his own cum. Nevertheless, he combed through the damp strands and watched an almost pouty expression form, a blush reddening Quattro's cheeks as, Kamille supposed, the reality of their shared experience was looming. A great sense of pity overcame him all at once as he watched the object of his sexual fantasies struggling to wriggle himself back into his tights, looking just as lost as Kamille felt. Quattro was still erect, albeit trying to cross his legs or will it away in vain. His pectorals were covered in bites and kiss marks. Cum, tears, snot, and drool collected in a shiny film upon his face. Still in somewhat of a daze himself, Kamille staggered to his feet, his legs like jelly.
He did not wait for the fog of what they had done to lift. There was no point in that. In perpetrating this sex act against his senior, he had realized what he owed him in return. To be kind. To be merciful. And to, in his own way, impart the honest truth of what he had sensed all of those nights trapped in dreams with those three.
Looking down at the desperate mess he now felt a sense of responsibility for, Kamille spoke. That's right, he told himself, one kindness. ". . . You have an effect on people, lieutenant. It isn't just the way you dress or behave. No. It's you. And you're ignorant to it." Quattro faced Kamille with an incomprehensible expression, before turning his gaze back once more to the ground. He appeared dumbfounded to hear those words from Kamille, especially after what they had just done, so much so that he seemed as if he may have been gearing up to meet them with reproach. But Kamille couldn't allow that and so, kept talking. "And in particular . . . Amuro Ray." The name. The name had an instant, palpable effect upon the already unbearable atmosphere in this room. "He will . . . If you let him, Char, he will destroy you." Quattro said nothing, just stared at the ground and sat rigid, gloved hands gripping his still-bare thighs. Kamille sighed. Like always, he felt he had failed to reach someone, and now, that person was going to suffer for it. But it was out of his hands now. He changed topics abruptly. "You should clean up. You can use my bathroom." With one last look at the stupefied dread on Quattro's face, he exited his bedroom.
Kamille had left, and Char Aznable was alone again.