Author: pyrzm
see ch. 1 for warnings, notes, disclaimer

Broken Warriors + Chapter 43
Unruly Flesh

Wufei woke before dawn with a throbbing headache and the front of his sweats stuck to his skin by a large patch of cold, sticky semen. Disgusted and irrationally alarmed, he pulled gingerly at the mess, peeling the pants off, and hurried to the bathroom. Turning the water on full stream and as hot as he could bear, he stepped under the spray and just stood there for a while, groggy and disoriented. Guilty fragments of the dream haunted him, mingled with the night's actual events. He pushed his face into the spray and groaned softly. Perhaps Sally had been right; perhaps this assignment was becoming more than he could handle.

The headache receded but in its wake more memories flooded in of Zechs's touch, both in reality and the dream. To Wufei's horror, his unruly body reacted as it had before, growing aroused and suffused by erotic sensations he had no wish to associate with the man he was tasked to guard. Or any man, he amended angrily, but his body was not listening. His cock stiffened and sprang upright against his flat belly, sensitive to every stinging drop of spray, every waft of steam. He had erections some mornings, like any normal young male, but this one was more intense, and the sensations, usually so localized, spread to his entire body, making his breath shallow and his legs feel hot and weak. He braced a hand against the wet tiles and reached for the control knob, intending to crank it the coldest setting like he always did, but this time he stopped. It had occurred to him last night that this whole terrible, uncontrolled series of physical reactions could be a signal that his body had gone too long without release. Like it or not, he must take action now.

Turning his back to the pounding spray, he gripped his erection with his right hand and squeezed gently, then gasped again at the sharp stab of need that erupted through his balls and down his legs. Yes, it had been far too long; the need had never felt this intense before.

He began to stroke himself slowly and the sensations escalated. He stopped fighting them, resigned to this course of action. Soon he was panting harder, caught in a rising storm of sensation and need, but nowhere near the climax he so badly needed. He dropped his left hand to cup his balls, rolling them //the way Sally used to// and letting himself finger that hard ridge of flesh just behind them. He was shaking now, hard enough that he had to lean his shoulder against the side of the shower stall. That deep animal part of his brain he kept on such a short leash was growling in the darkness like a dragon, filling him with a fiery heat that only made him crave more.

This felt good, so good! He was going to lose control /to regain it!/ and he was so ready, so willing /why don't I do this more often?/ to take that leap but it still eluded him, growing instead to an almost painful intensity.

He stifled a whimper and tightened his grip on his cock, pulling the loose outer skin up and down the hard shaft, pulling the tight ring of his fingers over the flared edges of the swollen weeping head. Preejaculate slicked his hand, adding to the pleasure. So good, but not there yet, don't stop, can't stop . . . He pictured himself pushing his cock into Sally, which was a little difficult, since he'd always insisted on having sex with the lights out. But he closed his eyes and tried to capture how it had felt, pressing his hard cock through the soft, hot, yielding folds of her vulva /pussy!/ and how that slick passage had closed around it, tugging and slipping against his sensitive flesh as he had thrust in and out, holding his breath and biting his lip to maintain silence and control. But this didn't help. He tried to remember what it had felt like when she gave him a blowjob that time, but that had been uncomfortable and embarrassing for both of them. She had tried to be spontaneous and he had reacted badly. She had called him a prude and cried . . . Oh gods, this wasn't helping!

He let out another whimper and turned back into the hot spray, panting for release. He wanted to come. He wanted to find some memory that would drive him over the edge . . . Like a car off a cliff. Like the Porsche last night, rocketing around the turns with his own side of the car nearly over the edge, so close to death he could already feel himself falling, and all he'd been able to do was steal glances at the man gripping the wheel one handed, mouth drawn back in a snarl as he jerked the car around another turn, jerked it hard, jerked . . . Wufei whimpered louder, unable to stop the swift progression of that man behind the wheel to that man, the Zechs in his dream, naked behind him in the shower now, reaching around him to take over, body pressed behind him like he had been pressed up behind that boy in the sleazy, shadowed, too-public cubicle, thighs corded with muscle, pale, hard rounded ass clenching and unclenching with the effort as he'd pounded into . . .

"Oh, god!" Wufei tried to bite back the cry and couldn't. He couldn't seal his lips or bite his knuckle because he couldn't let of his own genitals, not if the house blew up. Any more than he could stop himself from picturing a wet, naked Zechs holding him and pumping his cock for him while he fondled his own balls with one hand and reached back to . . .

"OH GOD!" He came with a strangled cry, still pumping madly as white ropes of semen spurted across the shower stall and splattered against the tile, three, four, five times, then he was sliding down the wall to his knees, his own harsh breath loud in his ears. He braced both hands on the bottom of the tub, letting the water wash away the fluids and the last of his erection, streaming through the black hair hanging in a wet curtain around his face. But it could not wash away the warring states of shame and confusion, and warm sexual afterglow of satisfaction. He had never in his life come so hard.

"Oh no!" he groaned and began to cry. "Oh gods, no!"

+

He was spared the indignity of having to face Zechs. The man sent word that he wasn't feeling well and kept to his room. Sally played chess with Wufei in the library, went for a short ride around the grounds, and sparred with him in the gym. The rest of the time he spent reading and idly rearranging his room. The club clothes were sent out to be cleaned. The necklace in its box went into the drawer of his nightstand, next to the Tao Te Ching he kept there.

He spent hours meditating on nothing before bed that night and slept deeply, with no dreams.

Zechs did not appear the following day, either. Wufei spent most of the morning at his katas, keeping his mind and body occupied. He showered and changed into his uniform, then retired to the gazebo with the copy of T.S. Eliot Zechs had lent him. Most of the other poems were less accessible than "The Hollow Men," many of them completely incomprehensible, with their references to Christianity and Western classical literature. He wasn't quite sure what the man was trying to say. But in one called "Preludes" he found another verse that gave voice to his own growing inner desolation.

You tossed a blanket from the bed,
You lay upon your back, and waited;
You dozed, and watched the night revealing
The thousand sordid images
Of which your soul was constituted;
They flickered against the ceiling
And when all the world came back
And the light crept in between the shutters
And you heard the sparrows in the gutters,
You had such a vision of the street
As the street hardly understands;

He read this passage several times, then set the book aside, striving to fight back the muddled mess of images and physical sensations building again in his head and blood. When that didn't work he found himself frantically trying to imagine a series of faceless, nameless female bodies in place of the one image that would not be denied.

He was obsessed, obsessed with a suicidal maniac who fucked strangers in public. After all his years of training, self discipline and physical denial how was such a thing possible? It wasn't fair! He had never considered himself a particularly sexual person at all, and Sally had certainly agreed with the assessment. He'd taken pride in that! This all seemed like some horrible karmic joke, or maybe a punishment. But for what?

Sally found him sweating through another bout of katas at mid afternoon. It wasn't by accident; she had a plate of sandwiches and a thermos of ice tea to share with him. He tried not to grimace at the choice of beverage-one which summoned unwelcome memories of his misunderstanding with Joey, and the man's admiring comments--gorgeous, pretty eyes, looking good!-- but she must have caught something, because she was giving him that concerned look again.

"I visited Zechs just now," she told him.

"What's wrong with him?" He tried to sound only professionally interested, but suspected he failed. She was still watching him.

"He's more depressed than sick, I think. Did your report cover all the details of what happened the other night?"

"Yes." It was true, though he had not included more than the barest facts. They'd gone to the club, left after a few hours, been accosted by drunks, there had been a slight scuffle, and they left to walk on the beach below the estate. End of story.

Sally wasn't buying it. "Anything else? You said he was upset."

"He couldn't fight back," Wufei admitted. "If he'd seen them coming, or had a weapon, he probably could have held them off, but it was dark and they jumped us."

"You didn't draw your weapon."

"There was no need. I didn't wish to create a worse incident by shooting anyone."

"So why was he driving so fast, afterwards?"

"Put yourself in his place, Sally. You said it yourself; he's in pain. I thought he was getting past it, but the fight brought it all right back up in his face, how crippled he is. He's nowhere near accepting and seems to have no philosophy for doing so."

She considered this, then nodded. "You look tired, Wufei. Are you sleeping all right?"

"Yes!" True again, if you only counted last night.

+

He spent a few extra hours in the gym that night, doing his best to exhaust himself and burn off the restless energy building up inside him. But the dreams came back anyway, stronger than before and fueled by his moment of weakness in the shower. He woke at 3 am and had to shower again, then again at 5:30 with another erection that demanded attention. Almost weeping with frustration, he lay in bed and jerked off, letting his mind go where it would. It went to Zechs, to that hand and those eyes and that rough, amused voice calling him 'little Chang' and urging him to come for him. He even found himself wondering what it would be like in that dim cubicle, held against the wall, being taken like that, and came with a silent scream, hips jack hammering against the mattress as he soaked himself and the sheets. Spent and limp, he turned his face into the pillow and wept again, caught between satisfaction and shame. More disgusted with himself than ever, he changed the sheets and showered, then wandered the halls as the sun slowly rose outside.

The day that followed was no better. No Zechs. No relief. No escape from the madness slowly eroding his spirit. He was going to have to ask to be reassigned; but the thought caused him more anxiety, not less.

That night the library remained empty, the fire unlit. The gym was dark, and no light showed down at the stables. More disconsolate by the moment, but having no idea what the hell it was he needed to feel better, he escaped to the darkened garden and found him feet leading him back to the shelter of the gazebo. There was no moon tonight. The pale gravel of the path caught the starlight, guiding him down the slope to the ornate structure above the dark mirror of the pond.

Zechs was there. Wufei froze in the doorway as he spotted the dark figure silhouetted against the starlit garden beyond, leaning on the railing over the water. He knew him at once by the long legs and empty left sleeve.

"Chang." The voice was dark and rough and low, unreadable. Wufei thanked the darkness for hiding the rush of heat to his face.

"Good evening. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes. I've come to a decision."

Wufei's heart seemed to stop.

"I'm going in for surgery tomorrow, to be fitted with a cybernetic arm."

Wufei's heart gave a leap and started again. "That's--that's very good news."

"I spent past few days acquainting myself with the various options and querying my doctors. This will mean losing part of what I have left of the arm, and a permanent metal attachment socket, but the capabilities of the cybernetic hand and arm are quite amazing. I might even be able to take those piano lessons after all."

The dark chuckle that followed sent a jolt through Wufei, one that made his body sing. 'Stop it!' he ordered himself with rising alarm. This wasn't some fantasy; this was the real man, the one to whom he was nothing more than a keeper, his sister's employee, a body guard. And a damn poor one, too. He'd been so rattled and upset the other night he hadn't seen the attackers coming until it was almost too late.

"Why so silent, Chang? I thought you'd be pleased."

"I am!" Wufei cursed how weak and breathy that came out. He cleared his throat and walked over to join him at the railing. "I'm very pleased for you, of course. It should be a great help in your recovery."

Below them, a few sleepy white koi glowed in the starlight just below the water's surface. He leaned on the rail, keeping his attention on them, rather than the way Zechs had moved closer, one hip hitched up on the wooden railing so close to his elbow. "I assume that the fight the other night had something to do with your decision?"

That husky chuckle again, making the hair on his arms stand up and his skin prickle and his cock--no don't think about that!

"Yes. I'd been slowly coming to it anyway, but getting knocked on my ass certainly accelerated the decision. I felt helpless. And--well, I didn't react well to that, did I?"

"No."

"I came close to killing us both. I think, if you hadn't been with me, that I wouldn't be standing here now."

Wufei's unruly heart and body thrilled, but he managed to control his voice, at least. "Then it's good that I was."

"Yes." Silence fell for a moment. "Would you trust me to drive again, then?"

Wufei looked up and saw that Zechs was watching him closely. "Yes, of course."

Zechs looked at him a moment longer, then his lips--full, beautiful lips, Wufei's traitorous mind filled in--those lips curved into a gentle, friendly smile. "Good. I'm leaving for the hospital very early tomorrow. Relena has made arrangements for security. You and Sally will remain here and look after things, I suppose. I'll be in the hospital for nearly a week, even if everything goes well. I'd like to go out tonight, and celebrate my return to good sense." That smile widened further, and Wufei thought he might have to risk appearing rude by moving away from the man. "A new place, of course, one where I haven't disgraced myself.

"Of--of course." Good sense, indeed. "My clothes--that is, the ones you provided--uh, gave me--" Damn it, why couldn't he form a coherent sentence tonight? "I sent them out to be cleaned. They're not back yet."

"I have some new ones for you. I meant to have them delivered sooner but I was distracted. I'll have them brought to your room and meet you in an hour or so, if that's acceptable?"

"Yes. Thank you. Where are we going?"

"Just dinner, I think. Something casual. Do you like sushi?"

"Yes."

"Good. Sushi it is. I can eat that one handed as well as the next man." He grinned and pushed away from the railing, leaving Wufei there in the shadows with a racing heart, sweating palms and an erection hard against his belly. An hour. Damn it, he hoped he could get himself under control and dressed in an hour!

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