DISCLAIMER: Bandai and Sunrise own all. I?m just borrowing the boys and their world. The story, however, is mine.
PAIRING: 2x1, 2x2, implied 3x4
RATING: NC-17
CATEGORY: yaoi, angst, kink [rough sex], lemon, drama
WARNING: ANGST, dark subject matter [cutting], references to OC NCS (not GW boys). This is NOT your typical 2x1.
NOTES: Part of this fic takes place during the series, but I'm not perfectly true to the timeline. My attempt is to be somewhat vague so as not to annoy my own canon sensibilities. That said, I will note that the fansub script I have implies that the school we actually *see* Heero and Duo at together is not the only one they attended together - actually more like one after a string of them. I thought I'd run with that ^_^
AUTHOR NOTES: I broke my own rule about during-series fics - most specifically, lemons in during-series fics. But, at the same time, for me, I feel like I explained it [read: justified it] well enough and... oh, hell, just ignore me and go read the fic.
SUMMARY: Heero's unique up-bringing and training has instilled in him a special need, with Duo's help he tries to manage it.
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When It Hurts
Part One: Prelude
by Dev-Aki Basaa
He wanted pain. He needed it. The agony that came
with training instilled in him a need for the
sensation - that eye-opening, body-jarring feeling of
sharp, stinging pain. He was always looking for new
sources, new ways to break through his growing
tolerance level. New ways to assure himself he really
was alive. Because that was the root of it - pain
made him feel alive and if he didn't feel alive, if he
didn't see the blood leak from his skin, then he found
himself wondering if he was merely a pre-programmed
machine, unable to be more than a fleshy robot doing
someone else's bidding. So pain became reassurance.
He reacted to pain in an unplanned, non-programmed
way. The unpredictability excited him. The sensation
relaxed him.
As long as he breached his tolerance level. That part
was the trick.
So, he was always looking for new sources of pain.
He remembered, from the latter days of traveling with
Odin Lowe, of turning down an alleyway, walking
aimless, killing time while Odin killed. He'd seen a
young man, small of stature and build, shoved, face
first, up against the filthy brick wall, his legs
flailing, knocking over trash bins and struggling in
vain as the grip of a large, burly man tightened
around his neck. The large man held him in place
against the wall with just one large paw of a hand.
The other hand he busied with pushing down his
captive's trousers and then his own.
Heero saw the large man's penis stiff and upright, as
he'd once or twice seen Odin's, first thing in the
morning. He'd thought at first that the large man
meant to pee, but after some fumbling at where their
bodies made contact, the hip and groin area, the large
man began rutting against the smaller one. His grunts
and groans had made Heero's stomach turn, but it was
the smaller man's pain that had kept him riveted in
his spot, watching it all take place. Not his
emotional pain - that flowed off him in horrible,
desolate waves that were so strong Heero could sense
them as if they were corporeal, physical currents
flooding past him. He did his best to ignore those.
But, it was the blood staining the pale flesh of the
man's inner thighs that told him there was physical
pain. That existed as well and it was that which
intrigued him.
It wasn't until years later that he understood the
incident for what it really was, but the memory never
left him. The memory of that man's pain.
A new source of pain.
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