Slave to Dreams: Tokyo Blue
Duo had never expected to see him naked. And never in a place like this.
However, there is no way, the braided boy tells himself, as he runs his hands over acres of tanned skin, that the bindings hold anyone other than his former fellow pilot. Two distinctive scars attest to the naked youth's identity. A night like this is customarily anonymous but...
The boy he had chosen, Tokyo Blue, was Heero. Enthralled, Duo repeats the words like a mantra over and over in his head and he smiles to himself as he traces the scar on on Heero's arm. It is a tiny white mark that resembles a tiny streak of lightning; a permanent reminder of the day they had first crossed paths.
Eventually, he tears his eyes away from the sculpted flesh of the other boy's upper body and studies instead, the velvet curves of Heero's mouth. It is the only facial feature visible; a formfitting mask of supple black leather is fastened over Heero's head and obscures everything else. Duo isn't entirely pleased about the barrier... initially he's thrilled with the thought that Heero has no idea who stands before him, then disappointment hovers, reminding Duo that he can't lose himself in the other's lake blue eyes.
He's staring at the tiny cleft in the center of Heero's lower lip, when the Japanese boy speaks. Flashing tongue and teeth, Heero poses a quiet question, "Am I to your liking?"
There is no fear, no hesitation, that full lower lip doesn't tremble. It's a calm inquiry, and not the sort of passionless calm that would make Duo uncomfortable, but a genuinely submissive calm that makes his skin prickle with tiny needles of desire.
He doesn't answer right away. He lets the tension build and allows Heero to wonder if there is something about himself that displeases the person to whom he belongs for the night. The two tiny scars, that his master's fingers have touched upon, are they enough to make him undesirable? Duo keeps silent for agonizingly long seconds, until those combine into minutes that stretch, and stretch, until holding back approval is as much torture for him as it is for the boy waiting before him.
And still he holds his tongue.
Instead of freeing the "Yes!" that screams inside his brain and tightens his groin, he focuses on the scene before him: Heero with his hands pulled above his head and bound by a simple pair of handcuffs to the center of a T-bar pole. One bare foot is flat on the ground and Heero's other leg, his left, is bent and pulled up and to the side. At the ankle, a thin harness of leather is attached to a chain dangling halfway along the arm of the T.
To describe what his eyes are drinking up in one word, Duo thinks to himself, fuckable. In two...deliciously fuckable.
Finally, when he can't take it a moment longer, Duo steps close. He puts himself in such a position, that were he to bend his knees slightly, the bulge in his pants would brush against Heero's hip; and the temptation to do so is nearly overwhelming. He prides himself on control, however, and instead of sliding himself along the naked curve of Heero's thigh, he drags his lips down the tight mask that covers Heero's skull. He draws in a deep breath and almost moans as he picks up the faint traces of Heero's shampoo that still lingers in the hair trapped beneath the buttery leather.
"God yes. You're perfect," he answers in a groaning rush that expels all the air in his lungs. Duo turns his head to the side and sanctions the words with a delicate lick that grazes the fine hairs on Heero's bicep.
The chains clink softly as the Japanese boy's body jolts. Duo imagines that it might be from recognition of his owner's voice or a wash of arousal; perhaps even, and he hopes it is so, the violent shiver stemmed from a bit of both.
The idea that Heero would submit to him, knowing who he is, is far more exciting than any mere one night encounter under this pseudo-identity. And if those few initial words wouldn't be enough for his friend to recognize him, Duo chooses to speak in a more normal tone, "What kind of game shall we play tonight?"
There is no pause in Heero's response. "Whatever you desire."
The American steps back as he considers what he wants, and in his mind he visualizes the profile of the boy he chose. There had been very few restrictions. Tokyo Blue, was very accommodating.
Duo puts his right hand to his mouth and coats his middle two fingers with saliva until it drips down to his knuckles. As he reaches down and searches between Heero's forcibly spread legs, his other fingers are busy, unfastening the fly of his pants, and stroking himself lightly. "What if," he says, sliding his fingers along the cleft of the other boy's ass, "I desired to just take you immediately?"
"I am yours," Heero replies as fingertips flutter around his ring.
Duo withdraws his hand and unsnaps the restraint on Heero's ankle without warning. Heero's leg drops down suddenly, then his reflexes kick in and he lowers his foot to the floor with feline grace. The Japanese boy then finds his arms similarly freed from the pole, and as he draws his elbows downward, he feels his owner take hold of the six inch length of chain that runs from wrist to wrist.
"And, if I want you down on your knees and begging for me to piss on you?"
"I'm yours to use."
Very few restrictions indeed, the braided boy muses, but what he really wants, is to lose the fašade of anonymity. He wants _Heero_ to submit to him; not the persona that stands before him hooded and handcuffed.
"And if I ask that you take off the mask?"
"That's against the rules," Heero answers.
That isn't what he wants to hear, but Duo nods to himself. To be granted the pleasure of a night like this, you must always play by the rules.
"On your knees," he says, releasing his hold on Heero's handcuffs.
Heero kneels slowly. He claspes his hands together and holds them poised inches above his jutting erection as Duo pushes aside the flaps of his fly to pull free his own straining cock.
"Keep your mouth closed," Duo says. He places a hand atop other boy's head, and positiones it so the seam that splits the taut leather prison, is right where he wants it. The head of his arousal bobs a fraction of an inch away from the dusky pink of Heero's lips.
With fingers trembling with excitement, he takes hold of the base of his rigid cock and rubs himself against Heero's lips. Friction tugs the soft skin from side to side until a glistening smear of precum erases the resistance and the very tip of his cock slides inside to bump against a barrior of ivory.
"Suck me," Duo whispers. His eyes are closed and his breath is coming a bit faster now.
The barrior vanishes and wetness engulfs him. He's drawn deep inside the moist cavern of Heero's mouth and his hand presses eagerly against the back of the Japanese boy's head as he strives to force himself further still. Heero's tongue rolls against the underside of the cock that fills his mouth. Wet sucking sounds and swift nasal inhalations accompany the soft hissing grunts that escape Duo's throat.
After a dozen slow thrusts, Duo withdraws just enough to allow Heero's tongue to run expertly around the senstive head of his cock. He pulls away as the warm glow of climax is first beginning to build in his groin, and he curls his hand just below Heero's jaw, at the base of the mask, and hooks a finger into the built in ring that nestles there.
Duo leads Heero to the small cot in the corner of the room. "Ankles wide, hands on the mattress," he says.
Heero does as he's asked, and Duo frees himself of the burden of his pants and coats himself with lube. He is, for a moment, stunned by the beauty of the creature that waits, bent and willing. Duo's highly valued control is rapidly diminishing and it takes all his willpower to slide a digit into Heero's tight entrance in preparation.
He's never wanted anyone so badly before in his life.
Initially resistant muscles ease and loosen as he works his finger inside Heero's ass. The barely concealed moans that are drawn out by each surging disappearance of his knuckles, are rapidly becoming too much to bear, and Duo fights the loss of his control. Then he remembers the restrictions listed in Tokyo Blue's profile, and Duo forgoes a second digit. The splitting pain and resulting pleasure will not be argued against.
A ragged cry is drawn from both boys as Duo's cock forces its way into Heero's body. Once inside the heated channel that pulses and strains to accommodate his size, Duo stays motionless for a dozen heartbeats.
He grips Heero's ass, forcing the cheeks apart with his thumbs so he can see just how tightly his cock is held. He begins to move. Duo goes slowly at first, pulling out as far as he can without fear of Heero's muscles forcing him out and then sliding in with a low groan. The thrusts that follow are delivered with increasing speed and force that buries him just a little deeper each time. When his cock is in to the hilt and the slap of his body against Heero's is sending tiny rippling shockwaves through the fleshy hemispheres he grips, Duo is lost; he thinks of nothing but the pleasure that each powerful thrust brings.
He doesn't mean to, but he shouts Heero's name as he reaches his peak. He stiffens as hot waves of cum erupts from his cock to fill the body of the boy prostrate before him.
Duo withdraws slowly. He is reluctant to leave the heat and return to reality.
He wipes himself off with the towel left at the foot of the cot for exactly that purpose and thinks that this is the first time he's ever been with someone that so closely fit his desired fantasy.
Duo watches out of the corner of his eye as the whore moves and sits on the edge of the cot. The boy's cock is hard and points desperately upward, he raises a hand to unbuckle the mask and Duo turns away abruptly.
"Wait until I leave, please," he says, but its too late. The illusion is gone; its no longer Heero sitting there masquerading as Tokyo Blue. It's Tokyo Blue masquerading as Heero. The rush of desire is similarly gone and the familiar throb of guilt and heartache tightens his throat.
Duo zips up his pants in frustration, with how much he was paying - more than ever before - and how well everything had been set up, down to Heero's scars even...
"Did I fail to please you?" Tokyo Blue asks. He does as he's asked and leaves the mask in place. His head turns towards the direction that Duo's voice came from and he folds his hands together in his lap. The chain of his handcuffs pools in the fold between his knees and despite that he hasn't heard the door, he worries that Duo has already walked away.
"No," Duo answers.
"May I see you?" Tokyo Blue asks.
Duo turns on his heel and looks down at the smooth black of the mask and for once, he's stricken with curiosity. With uncertain fingers he undoes the simple fasteners beneath the chin and loosens the short zipper at the nape of Tokyo Blue's neck. What will he find? Will the boy's face be as beautiful as his body? Will he look like Heero at all? Is he even Asian?
Duo's anticipation grows as he peels back the leather to reveal fine cheekbones, but he stops before he can see the other boy's downswept lashes; Tokyo Blue takes hold of his hand before he can pull away.
"Please," the boy implores softly.
Duo swallows and does the task swiftly. He pulls the mask off and flings it aside, knowing as it lands that he will be inevitable disappointed no matter how beautiful the boy may be. The whore he has paid for shakes free his hair and opens his lake blue eyes.
"Am I to your liking?" Tokyo Blue asks in a calm, quiet voice.
Duo's heart swells into his throat and there is no room for disappointment.
Duo had never expected to see him naked. And never in a place like this.
Quick little A/N in part because Sharon and I were discussing it and thought I'd put a little comment about my view on Heero being Tokyo Blue. I imagine that he's there only for Duo after having discovered Duo's recreational fantasies, but um, take the ending however you like. ^_^