Anomaly
by Blue Soaring
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.
/ Access denied. /
Coal black eyes flashed in annoyance. "Voice identification, Agent Chang
Wufei. ZERO, end program."
/ Access denied. /
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.
/ Acknowledged. /
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 sake 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' 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' 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' shirt, he used the momentum, bringing his extra
weight to bear against his opponent. Turning quickly, he rammed his
shoulder into Zechs' 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.
"Not yet."
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'
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' 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' 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'
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' 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' 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' 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' 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' 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' 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' 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' cock was heavy in his hand, tip already slick with precome.
He pumped slowly, listening to the ragged breaths heaving from Zechs' 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' 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' 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' clothing, groans
reverberating through his chest as the other began to shallowly thrust.
Zechs' 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' 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' 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' 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' 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'
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' 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' 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' 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' 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' 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' 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' 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'
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' 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.
"Perhaps."
"ZERO," Wufei said, meeting and holding the other's gaze, "end all sessions;
release locks."
/ Acknowledged. /
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."
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