The Lost Soldiers Series #7 (cont)
Picking Locks

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Zechs wished that life moved as quickly as his thoughts. The decision to go had been spontaneous. The reality was slower, more detailed, more mired in preparation. Servants had scrambled for clothing and luggage. Ground crews had scrambled to prep his shuttle. So much scrambling, but very little actual speed. Now Zechs had to wait until a crew was assigned and amenities loaded. Zechs was not expected to travel in anything, but first class. His people wouldn't allow it.

Duo, stretched out on a couch in an opulent waiting room, was still unconscious, his doctor just finishing checking his vitals. The doctor had bristled at Zech's order not to administer medication or fluids, but he was a good soldier. He followed orders. Unable to do one thing though, he contented himself with doing another, hovering, checking, and rechecking Duo's vitals. The constant, repetitive motions grated on Zech's nerves.

"He'll be fine for now," Zech said at last, trying not to snap. "We still have a half hour before take off. Why don't you go and relax until then? I'll stay with Duo and watch over him."

"Thank you sir. I would like to check to make certain that all of my medical supplies are on hand," the doctor agreed and then, still resentful, "I do hope you will allow me to administer medical attention if the young man should go critical? He is very close to that, you realize, sir?"

Zechs was quick to reply, "Doctor, I will not allow anyone to die out of sheer stubbornness. I'm certain that Duo didn't mean to have treatment withheld if he was near death."

The doctor nodded grimly, accepting Zechs' assurances. "I hope not, sir. His chart-"

"Borderline suicidal, I know," Zechs replied. "I begin to doubt that diagnosis."

"On what grounds?" The doctor was openly curious, yet skeptical too.

Zechs smiled tightly, replying even though he knew the man wouldn't understand. "A feeling, doctor, and only that, but, remember, I've spent my life in command. I know how to judge men."

"Yes, sir." The doctor turned towards the door. "Call me if there is any change, sir."

"I shall."

The doctor paused half way out of the door. "I was always in awe of the Gundam pilots, sir. They were so young yet so willing to sacrifice themselves to help others."

"You're a colonist, then?" Zechs wondered.

"Yes, sir," the doctor replied with a smile. "But I don't think only the colonists looked on them as heroes."

"I think you are right about that."

The doctor nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Zechs went to the bed and looked down at Duo. The boy was pale. The binding agent on his ribs was catching him painfully , even in his sleep, his breathing shallow and lacking rhythm.

"You should have been awake to hear that," Zechs murmured. "We don't get to hear it too often anymore. Everyone wants to forget about us, about the war, about what gave them the peace they are wallowing in. I suppose I should be grateful. Short memories give me a longer life. At the end of the war, many people called for my blood, including you, I remember."

Zech was drawn to that handsome, pixie like face. His hand went involuntarily to touch it, lightly smoothing fingertips over one cheek. It was so soft for a man's face, lacking even stubble. Zech's hand smoothed the tangle of Duo's chestnut bangs and then followed the long braid, a hopeless knot draped over his chest, until he reached Duo's narrow chest and pink nipples. He should stop, he thought, anyone could walk in, yet he didn't. His fingers gently squeezed one shell pink bud. It went hard. So did Zechs.

This is what he had wanted from Duo from the beginning, Zechs thought as he kneeled down by the bed. Only sex. A distraction. A chance to use Duo up and then toss him aside when he stopped being amusing. In that hotel room, with a gun to his head, things had changed. Zechs had a strong urge to change them back. He didn't want to feel. He had been trying for years to stop feeling. He didn't want to care so much about Duo that he was now taking him to his Winter estate, promising him his own bungalow, making room for him in his life, making room for him on his staff when all common sense, and his life time of military training, screamed that Duo Maxwell was an irresponsible, half mad, lose cannon.

He was feeling too much and it was too painful and unwanted, Zechs thought, and too confusing. He didn't understand why Duo was generating such feelings in him and making him do such unprecedented things. All that Zechs knew was that he wanted it to stop. Curing his lust was the first step and he had a perfect opportunity right then and there.

"That's all it is," Zechs murmured as he slipped the blankets down and slowly untied the front of Duo's medical gown. "Just lust and a fascination for Duo's personality. One can be gotten rid of and the other can be ignored."

There was a mirror on the wall. The couch was flat, without a back, meant to let a person rest in comfort while waiting. Zechs could see himself clearly in the mirror and he watched himself, feeling himself grow harder, as he closed his lips over Duo's nipple and suckled it. Keeping the blanket up around Duo's waist to keep him from getting chilled, Zechs let his hand rove underneath until he found Duo's penis. He closed his hand around it, fondled it, cherished it, and then cupped it and Duo's balls, holding them possessively as he continued to suckle and lap at the sweet nipple. His free hand unzipped his own pants, took out his weeping erection, and began pumping it.

He needed more. Daring, Zechs went into a crouch, bringing his penis level with Duo's mouth. He touched it to those warm lips, teased them with precum, and then began to slide inside Duo's mouth. He paused, staring down at the sight, feeling Duo's tongue reflexively touch and rasp over the head of his cock.

It should have been a fulfillment of sexual need and fantasy, Zechs thought with sudden panic. A quick fuck and Duo would never know. Afterwards, he could order the boy to be taken to the nearest hospital with some credits in his hand, never to be seen again. A flawless plan. A way to shut off the feelings. A way to go back to his old life of not facing the pain of the past or thinking about a future he didn't think he deserved.

Duo's mouth worked a little and his tongue rasped once more, but Zechs was going flaccid. He pulled out of Duo and fell to his knees as he zipped up his pants. His hands, trembling, pulled the blankets up and under Duo's chin, tucking them in with exaggerated care as his mind fell into turmoil. Why couldn't he do it? Zechs wondered. Why couldn't he treat Duo Maxwell like he had treated so many before him? What made him so different? What was there about him that dusted off the decency and honor that Zechs had placed up high on a mental shelf and forgotten about?

Zechs looked up at the mirror, at the reflection of himself, at his long white hair and sad, confused, blue eyes, trying to see the change that had come over him. Instead, he saw Yates in the reflection, teeth clamped hard on his cigar and face red with disgust as he raised his gun and aimed, not at Zechs first, but at Duo.

"Stinking fags!" Yates bellowed. "I'll give you something to put up your asses; a bunch of hot lead!"

Zechs rolled and pulled out his own gun in one smooth motion. As he had hoped, Yates tracked towards him, but it was already too late for the man. Zechs' gun went off first and Yates was suddenly stunned by a bullet hole appearing in the center of his forehead. Blood and gore splattered over Zechs and Duo as the man fell over dead, nerves still twitching. Yates' gun hit the floor and it went off. Zechs felt the sting of the bullet as it grazed his cheek and went into the wall.

Men burst into the room, alerted to danger by the gunshots. Voices rose and fell as the men demanded to know what had happened. Zechs shouted for quiet.

"I cashiered Yates earlier today," Zechs explained. "It seems that it made him mentally unstable. Please see to his body and call in the doctor for me. We'll be moving to another room."

Zechs watched Yate's body being carried out. Men still wanted to hover and scratch their heads in horror and confusion at the violent turn of events. Zechs knew that he had to allow it. He knew that they needed to talk and get it out of their systems. He suffered it, sitting gingerly on the couch beside Duo, staring down at the young man who hadn't stirred through everything that had just happened. How could such a small, wayward, irresponsible, and irritating human being have so completely turned his world upside down? Once at his Winter estate, Zechs was suddenly determined to find out.

[part 6] [back] [part 8] [back to Kracken's fic]