Title: Koji ma Oshi
author: Sol 1056
rating: NC-17 for sex, violence, and dirty mouths
warning: BDSM, psychological issues, post-post-EW
pairings: 2x1, 3x5x3, 4xR
Chapter Ten
"I think my head is going to explode." I finished oiling the flails and flipped the whip over to rub the oil into the handle, burnishing it until it was a dull sheen. "I don't see how you can hold all this in your head."
"Hand me the antibacterial wipes, would you?" Zorya sat cross-legged next to me on the floor of the main dungeon room, her collection of metallic objects spread on a towel in front of her. They were grouped according to submissive; she had a set for each and was wiping them down in preparation for the week's play.
"It's like cleaning the guns," I grumbled, and picked up the crop. I shook it, dubious. "It just feels like it has too much spring."
"Supposed to."
I dropped the crop back onto the towel and rubbed my forehead. "I just don't see how you do it, sometimes."
"You were a pilot. This should be a piece of cake for you."
"This is hardly determining trajectory derivations on the fly, Zorya."
She snorted. "Okay, you can do math that most people don't even know how to begin to comprehend--and you do it in your head, you scum--and you're complaining about remembering safety tips at the same time as measuring a scene's progress?" She shrugged and moved onto the next instrument, wiping it down lovingly. "I dated an Alliance pilot in college. He said piloting during battle was multi-tasking with a gun to your head."
"That about sums it up."
"So no gun to your head, but otherwise the same."
"I suppose." I chuckled, and began sorting through the implements I'd need for the scene.
Two weeks of negotiating with one of Zorya's part-time subs, and we'd finally reached an agreement about a scene. I'd observed several other scenes--with Zorya, and a handful with Nikki, the woman who'd told off the dishonest sub, my first night at the club--though none were nearly as... powerful as that first scene. Since then, I'd preferred to stay in the corner and just observe, trying to see how the dynamic shifted and changed during the course of the interaction. Tiki had been willing to sub for me, if Zorya supervised, but something held me back... and I think Zorya knew why. Bizarre, but I didn't want my first time with a man to be someone other than Heero. Shit, that sounded like such a virgin-attitude: my first time, insert mooning here.
But there it was. So, there I was, getting ready to scene with Libri. Thing was, it had taken me awhile to figure out her real kink, in between what she didn't say. She was too coy about it, and Zorya stayed out of our negotiations, only making herself available when I had questions. I finally took to charming Libri, chattering on, and watching her reactions--it was like dealing with Heero again, back during the war. The subtlest details carried the most impact, and I hadn't agreed to set a date until I'd gotten that ah-hah. Libri's drive was two-part, and intriguing enough that it had me on edge, as to what I could do.
I stood up, stretching, and collected the implements Libri had dropped off the night before. Apparently most submissives own their entire collection of implements, to make sure that what was used on them was only for them. There were no sexual toys, since Libri and I didn't know each other that well--only dominants like Zorya, working long-term with a submissive, would go into that area, from what I'd learned.
"Going to head to the bar," I told Zorya. "Get a cup of coffee and wait for Libri."
"Be there in a few," she replied, and accepted a kiss on the cheek with a quick smile for me. "Behave."
"Never," I said over my shoulder, and left the room.
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Okay, deep breath. Zorya stood a bit behind me, and she patted me on the shoulder before pushing the door open. I took another deep breath, focused, and stepped through the door.
Libri was kneeling in the middle of the room, hands clasped behind her back. Her brown hair was curled--I suspected she'd gone to the salon that afternoon--and hung down in her face. Libri's body was like Zorya's or Relena's--all woman, curves, and a bit more in the hips after childbirth. Breasts hung down, nipples gently pointing upwards through the black silk tank top; nothing there for support and barely enough for modesty except in name. A layer of skin and slight fat across a convex stomach, down into a short leather skirt.
"Libri," I said, when I came to stand in front of her. Zorya moved around behind me, to melt into the corner darkness, but I could feel her, and knew she was keeping an eye on both of us. I knelt down in front of Libri, and ran a finger down her cheek. "I expected you to blindfold yourself."
"I wanted to see you," she said, and raised her eyes to me. She stared for a long moment at the black leather pants, and the buttoned black leather vest--gaping with six inches open on each side, lacing the only thing keeping it together. Her gaze fell to my crotch, and I smirked.
"See enough?" When she didn't move, I shrugged. "Blindfold by the count of three or this scene is over."
I had no idea where that came from--I didn't want to end, not yet! But she'd said she'd be blindfolded when I walked through the door.
"One... "
What was she doing, to change things so quickly? What the fuck was I supposed to do? Think, damn it, think. What is she trying to get?
"Two... "
Punishment, already? No, because we'd agreed on punishment-reaction versus reward-reaction, and from her dislike of the cane, I didn't expect her to... no, no, stop babbling, mind. Shut up, brain; focus.
"Three."
"It's on, sir!" She came up to a kneel, her hands over her face, as though trying to point out the blindfold to me. I put my hand on her head, rubbing gently at her scalp, and she sighed in relief--but the tension was still there.
Somehow, what I'd done hadn't pleased her. Odd.
"I understand Zorya's trained you extensively," I said, backing up a few steps to sit down on the stool, a few feet away. "Show me kneeling, arched." She moved into a kneeling position, back arched with her hands around her ankles. It made her muscles flex, and her stomach went taut from the position. I nodded, and moved to the next on the checklist. "Crawl towards me, third position." Her head went down to the floor, ass raised, forearms against the floor as she slithered-crawled towards me. A few feet and I halted her with a word, then sent her into another position.
Eight positions, rapid-fire, and I was bored, but I suspected she was enjoying it. She'd had that attitude, when we talked: she was proud of her knowledge of the technical details. Showing it off was one of her pleasures; not so much exhibition as just... showing off. I had to stifle a chuckle at the same time as a mental yawn. Not good. Have to stay focused.
Okay, enough time for her to play her little blindfold power game, and for her to demonstrate that she's got the craft down pat. Now it was time for me to exert a bit of my personality, and see if I'd figured her out. Zorya had never said it in so many words, but I could see what she'd done to me, and it was time to do it to someone else: figure out what wasn't being said, to know where to push things.
"Crawl to me," I whispered. When Libri's forehead was an inch from my knee, I put my hand on her head. "Stay there." I leaned over and dug around in the bag I'd left in the room, to be ready for me. I pulled out a bottle of water, a plastic wine glass, and a thin but flexible cane.
It only took one swish of the cane over Libri's head and I could tell she was having a hard time not cowering. Good. She hadn't lied about not liking it. I set the cane down and guided her to kneel on all fours, so her ribs were by my knees; her tank-top was backless, and falling open to the floor from where it was tied around her neck. So much for modesty. I filled up the wine glass, took a long swallow, and then guided her to take a drink.
"Go ahead, just water," I coaxed, and she sipped it before handing it back.
"Thank you," she said.
"You're welcome... now, stay perfectly still." I set the glass right at the base of her spine. I'd trimmed the bottom edge and sanded the plastic down, which made it even more precarious than usual. Too much sway in any direction and it'd fall. "You're an excellent submissive, which means you should be able to hold that position and not spill the wine. Correct?"
"Yes, sir." Her head was down, hands splayed against the padded floor. It was a position she could hold comfortably, for at least twenty minutes--assuming I didn't find a way to make her fail that.
And that's exactly what I planned to do.
"I'm going to ask you questions," I said. "I want to know more about you, all the things you didn't tell me when we negotiated. Hesitate, and... "
I switched the cane, just enough to brush against her thighs. Instantly her pale skin welted, but only slightly; good. She squeaked, body jerking, but caught herself. The wine glass held--but that's because I was holding it, as well. I didn't want her to fail until I decided it was time that she do so.
"Clear?" I snapped the cane through the air; she shivered at the loud pop but didn't move.
"Yes," she whispered.
"What did you want to be when you were a little girl?"
"Hunh?" Clearly that was not what she'd been expecting.
I hit her once on the back of the thighs.
"A garbage man!" She gasped, holding position with a bit of effort. "I wanted to ride on the back of the garbage truck."
"What's the worst thing you've ever done to another person?"
"I... " She hesitated, then burst out: "I slept with my sister's husband, when I was in college. She never knew. They divorced a year later."
"That is pretty bad," I agreed, and ran my hand down her ribs. She wasn't ticklish, but it still surprised her. "Ever kissed another woman?"
"No."
Hunh. That was fast. "Ever wanted to?"
"Maybe."
One quick swat against the thighs. "Honesty, Libri. Yes or no."
"Yes."
"Who?"
"I... " She fell silent. I caned her a second time; she flinched. The wine glass shook, but stayed in place.
"Tell me. We can stay here all night if we have to." Really, how far could I push her? It was intriguing, a strange kind of watching from outside myself. That wasn't me, holding a cane over her backside--was that me? I was the one who ran support for my best friend, and worked my ass off to please others and--there I was... cane in hand. What if I was wrong about Libri?
"Celestina," Libri muttered. "She's one of the other subs."
"I've met her. She's definitely kissable." I ran my hand down Libri's spine. "What was so hard about that?"
"I... don't know," she admitted. She started to shrug, and caught herself. I had to stifle a laugh. Almost had her.
Question after question, some thought provoking, some inane. It was like a bad fire drill of word association. If your sister and your mother were in a burning building and you could only save one... what was the first book you ever read... how many hearts have you broken... if you could save ten thousand people by killing one person, would you? By the time we'd hit ten minutes, she was shaking, but the fuckin' wine glass was in place.
Damn it! I needed to get her to spill that wine glass. It wasn't enough to trick her into doing it. I had to get her to fail. Maybe I was wrong, but I hadn't been the best damn sneak thief in L2 without being able to size up a mark pretty damn fast. Libri's pride--almost to a defensive level--in her abilities as a submissive--had been there, lurking under the surface of her deference and courtesy in every conversation. I had to think of something...
"You're amazing," I said, and loaded my voice with admiration. Her back straightened, and her head came up just a little. Right. That's what you want? Is that really what you want? Why does my gut say it's not so? "I never dreamed of having such a perfect submissive... "
"Thank you," she said, but that wasn't a tone of appreciation. That was a tone of utter smugness... and a good bit of disappointment, too. Ah-hah. "I try, sir," she added.
But it was too late; my hand was under her, with all the stealth I'd had for years. I tapped her on the bellybutton, under her silk slip-tank, and she shot up, startled. Water went everywhere, and she froze, half up on her knees, hands to her chest.
I was right. I gave her a minute to shake, to let build up her panic, while I reveled--if only for a split second. She'd taken about ten hits with the cane, a hated instrument, and not spilled the water. It wasn't that she was so perfect she wouldn't fail. It was that she wanted to fail.
"So." I grasped her by the chin, pulling her face around to me. She couldn't see, and she jerked her head a few times, as though seeking me out through the darkness. "You're not perfect."
"I'm so sorry," she babbled, hands still up.
"Under all that hard work, you're still flawed," I observed.
I could feel Zorya shifting in the corner, though I wasn´t sure if she approved or was startled. It was hard to tell; every bit of me was centered on Libri's shaking body. I came to my feet, roughly dragging Libri up with me. I spun her around and half-carried her to the cross-brace. Her wrist-cuffs were already latched in place. I yanked one hand over her head, and she wriggled against me, protesting incoherently.
"I don't hear a safe-word," I told her.
She fell still, and I waited. When she said nothing, I forced her arm up into the wrist-cuffs, and snapped it in place. She did her best to get her other hand away from me, but it wasn't much trouble to pin her flailing free arm, and lock it in place, too.
And then I picked up the flog in one hand, the crop in the other. I started gently with the flog, then increasing the speed and intensity. She was quiet, back arching, and I knew she was still playing the 'perfect' game. Damn it. Maybe I should've pushed her into a bigger failure--should I not have waited for her to let herself fail? Should I have pushed her, maybe tricked her? I didn't want to do that... fuck. Without thinking, I struck harder across her back, and she yelped, body twisting and arching as though she could get away, though she only managed to press herself harder against the standing cross-braces.
"Not perfect at all," I muttered. "From what I've been told, a perfect submissive wouldn't screw up, wouldn't yelp, and certainly wouldn't shy away from a blow. That true?" I threw a harder hit with the cane, across the back of her thighs, and she yelped again, shifting her feet. "I asked a question."
"It's true," she gasped, and I popped the flog across her back again. "A submissive should--"
"Should what?"
Another strike with the crop, then four more in rapid succession. She cried out, startled. She'd been very clear she wanted a slow, careful build-up, but every time she'd emphasized it... someone in me had said: she's lying. Or perhaps not lying so much as... saying what she thinks should be said. Fuck, what if I'm wrong? What if... No, focus on her. Pay attention to what she wants.
"Do everything right," Libri gasped. She danced sideways, but her arms over her head limited her motion, and I moved easily around her. A few solid thrashes of the flails across her back, just enough to start raising red streaks.
"Like what? Stand in one place? Be silent?" Each syllable, another strike with the crop. Hard. Fast. Almost... almost angry. Where did this energy come from? Where were these words coming from?
"Yes!" She shrieked, coming up on the balls of her feet. "Not complain! Not protest!"
"And what are you doing?" I dropped the flog and stepped forward, smacking her hard across her leather-clad rear, then another smack on the back of each of her thighs.
"I don't mean to!"
Libri was practically trying to climb onto the cross-brace. It would've been ridiculous if she weren't so upset about it--but was she? No safe word, and she was still lucid, still coherent. Zorya came to her feet in the corner, and I waved her away, realizing she was looking at me, not Libri--she was wondering if I knew my next move. I knew that look--G had given it to me in enough training sessions. And yeah, I did know my next move.
Two strides and I'd grabbed the cane.
"You don't have to be perfect," I growled into Libri's ear, "but if you insist, then I'll punish you." I stepped back, and came down with the cane across her ass. She screamed--it had to sting, even through the leather--and I did it again. "Count," I told her. "Ten strikes--that's what we agreed on, and you assured me you'd be well-behaved."
"Two," she cried, and I struck three more times. I felt like I was clawing my way through battle with seventeen Leos and down to half-power on the Scythe, only I was clawing my way through her psyche and damned if I wasn't going to come out the other side, if she'd just fucking--
"I'm not perfect!" She screamed, and it was a furious sound. "I'm not!"
I dropped the cane and grabbed the flog. Her favorite implement, she'd said, but wouldn't tell me why. Seeing her arch into the blows, I understood: it was because of the pattern. That perfect, endless, repeating pattern. Something she could get lost in, to make up for her own imperfections, and maybe that's all armchair psychology but maybe it doesn't matter anyway.
She screamed, and I wished for ear plugs, and eventually her screams became pleasured cries, moans. I kept the pace the same, never varying. Zorya may have kept Tiki on his toes--in more ways than one--but that wasn't what Libri needed. Or wanted. She wanted that rhythm, that endless loop, in which something else--or someone else--could be perfection and she could just be along for the ride. Her cries softened into ecstatic whimpers, fading into dull moans that seemed almost drunken, and I slowed the pace, bit by bit, reducing the intensity.
Eventually I took a breath, letting the cords brush her reddened back with only the gentlest kiss, and dropped the flog. I took a long, shuddering breath--my heart was pounding hard, blood rushing in my ears, but I felt... disassociated. Distant. I couldn't figure out why. Shaking myself and waving Zorya away again, I undid Libri's hands and lowered them to her chest, then turned her around to hold her against me, her head under my chin.
"How are you," I whispered. "Talk to me, Libri."
"I'm fine," she said, but her voice was slurred.
She slumped in my arms, and I suppressed a groan when I bent over to pick her up. My arms were killing me, and my back wasn't too much happier. Somehow, though, I managed to carry her to the side chair, where I settled her down on my lap. She curled up against me, whimpering when my hand brushed across her back.
I sighed, and kissed her on the forehead. Zorya came to stand in front of me, eyebrows raised, and I gave her a weary smile. She jerked her head towards the door, and I nodded.
Libri and I stayed there for several minutes, and it gave me time to realize how quickly I'd come down. There were parts when it had been exhilarating--realizing what I needed to do, the insight, the momentary flash of knowing I was the person making this possible, kicking open the door for Libri. Only in this case, I was throwing her through, headfirst. She rubbed her nose against my collarbone, and wrapped her arms around my neck, and I'm almost certain she was starting to fall asleep.
So why didn't I feel like... oh, fuck, I didn't know. I thought back to watching Zorya with Tiki, and with her two other submissives. She didn't play with Libri that often, hence the suggestion, but... when Zorya had played, her subs had...
That was it. Her subs were always there. She wasn't just a tool, an arm providing that catharsis to let them reach some higher plateau. I supposed that some might feel pleasure in knowing they'd achieved that, or helped another do so--and in some ways, I did, no arguing that--but I didn't feel the unbelievable high I'd felt just watching Zorya and Tiki respond to each other. At no point had I ever gotten the sense that Tiki had actually forgotten Zorya was there... and that's how it'd felt with Libri.
Well. I shifted her in my arms, and then guided her legs around until her feet hit the floor.
"Legs are falling asleep," I told her. I brushed her hair back, and carefully, finally, removed the blindfold. "Now tell me how you're feeling?"
"Warm and fuzzy," she said, then smiled. "And totally imperfect."
"Oh, that's always good to hear," I replied. "Ready to bask elsewhere? I think someone'll need this room in a bit."
"Okay."
She made no move to get up, and I had to lift her up and place her back in the chair. She remained there while I cleaned up and packed everything away, putting it back into the locker and spinning the combination before I retrieved her from the chair.
Another difference; Tiki and Zorya had cleaned together. I wondered if that were just them, or perhaps Libri was just a different style of submissive. Shit, she was definitely a different style, but she wasn't a bad person--I had to fight the urge to berate myself over not knowing that ahead of time.
Together we left the room, my arm around her waist as she smiled sleepily at the Dungeon Master just about to come check on us. I helped her into the piano room, where Zorya was waiting, Tiki sitting on the floor beside her, his head against her knees. She looked up and waved us towards her.
When I sat down on the sofa, Libri promptly curled up next to me, leaning on me with a blissful look on her face.
"That's a good sign," Zorya observed.
"I hope so," I said, trying to joke, but I know Zorya caught the inflection. She shot me a look, and I shook my head just enough for her to see. Tiki raised his eyebrows at me, then looked up at Zorya. She nodded to him, and the next thing I knew, he was coming to sit next to Libri, whispering in her ear.
Zorya patted the footstool by her chair. "Come let me play with your hair, Dao," she ordered.
"Pushy, pushy," I muttered, but traded places with Tiki. Settling onto the footstool, I leaned against the chair, between Zorya's legs. She undid the bottom of my braid and brushed it out with her fingers.
In the background, Flamel had just come onto the stage, and announced in her soft, lilting twang that she'd begun work on a new song. Fingers to the keys, she opened with a minor chord, and I sighed, letting Zorya's fingers and Flamel's music relax me, finally.
"It's a different style," Zorya whispered in my ears. "Some subs... when they go into sub-space, it's in the middle of the scene. They're off, flying, and we're still down here, in the mundane world, working... " She sighed, and ran her fingers through my bangs. "There are a lot of dominants that like that."
"I'm not," I said, and hoped I didn't sound petulant. "Sorry."
"Only way to find out is to do it," she replied, and hugged me from behind. "You did a good job. You played her like she wanted, even if she wasn't always the best at saying it right out. How did that part feel, at least?"
"Exhausting," I confessed. "I feel like I ran up and down ten flights of stairs."
"Good exhausting or bad exhausting?" Zorya prodded.
"Good." I leaned my head back on her lap to grin up at her. "Fuckin' awesome."
"Language, Dao."
"Yes, ma'am."
Zorya rolled her eyes. "You're incorrigible."
"I try," I replied, in a falsely modest tone, then sighed. "But I feel... somewhere between worn-out, and kinda... tipsy."
"That's a good thing." Zorya laughed. "Now that you've seen both sides, which do you like better? Or perhaps it's too soon to tell?"
I thought about that, letting my head remain on her lap while she ran her fingers through my bangs, and down the sides of my face. It felt good, and I ran the scenes through my head--all that I'd seen, read, discussed, thought, dreamed... and I knew the answer.
"I think I could submit to someone I trusted, and admired... respect would be crucial, and maybe a little bit of love," I said, quietly, only loud enough for her to hear me.
Across from us, Libri and Tiki were chatting about something; Libri seemed to have come out of her vegetative state and returned to her usual sardonic type of wit.
"But I don't know if that's what would really... I mean, it's too easy," I said. "Sorry."
"No offense at all," Zorya replied, chuckling. "I'd be shocked if you said you preferred to play and wanted someone else always doing the work."
"I guess that's it," I told her. "I liked the planning, the hours of thinking about what I'd do. I liked going in without much of a plan other than the general idea, and going off in a different direction based solely on my gut. I liked being in control far more than I liked letting someone else have control, though I did enjoy that, too."
"Where did you come up with the idea for the wine glass?" Zorya arched an eyebrow. "I don't recall that being in the books I told you to read."
"Damn," I pretended to complain. "You mean someone else came up with that before me?" I grinned up at her. "No... just saw a waitress knock a glass over when cleaning a table, and it gave me the idea."
"And that," Zorya said, tapping me on the forehead, "is the one thing you've said so far that tells me you'll make an excellent dominant."
"Oh?"
"A sub looks around and sees what would turn them on; a dominant looks around and sees a hundred possibilities for a new twist on an old game." She chuckled and leaned over to kiss me on the forehead.
"You flatter me," I murmured, and wriggled until I was ensconced between her legs. Over on the other sofa, Tiki was trying to get our attention.
"Drinks?" He waved to someone across the room, and gave me a brilliant smile. "They finally got done with their scene! There's some folks you should meet, Dao."
"Hunh." That was about all I could articulate, since Zorya had spontaneously taken to scratching my head. "Keep that up and my leg'll start kicking," I warned her.
"I'll call you puppy and buy you a pretty leash," she purred.
"And I'll put cat-ears on you and chase you all day," I shot back, in an undertone.
"You'd look good with a tail," she replied, unperturbed.
"I'm not wearing--"
"Dao, Libri, this is Ty, Kitty, Heero, and Rex." Tiki stood up to accept several drinks from Cherub, helping her hand them out. "Coffee, Dao. Ma'am, your ice water."
"Thank you," Zorya said, and I sat up, stomach clenching.
"Thanks," I muttered, taking the coffee and using the moment to pretend utter nonchalance. There, ranged around the table, were four people, one of whom I knew... and who was staring at me as though I'd just scammed back all the parts from Wing, and he was looking to take them out of my body, piece by piece.
"Hey," I said, letting my gaze travel across them as though completely disinterested. "Pleasure."
"All mine," Ty responded, settling down on the loveseat next to Zorya.
Rex sat down beside him--an older man, with gray at the temples but a forbidding stare almost equal to Heero's. Ty was maybe my age or a few years younger; athletic build, but more like Trowa's--lean and rangy, with curly hair and dark skin. Heero had taken the other half of the sofa, next to Tiki; Kitty perched herself on a stool between them and leaned against Heero's legs.
I held onto my mug loosely. Wouldn't do to let my grip be too tight; I could fake it with the best of them. Zorya's hand landed on my head, scratching at my scalp again, and I knew she'd picked up the tension. Heero was a dominant... I could see the collar on Kitty, the leash running from the D-ring, down across her loose black top and up into Heero's hands. He held it with open fingers, as though barely bothering to hold on, confident, casual... I remembered that grasp; it was the way he piloted.
Okay. Heero's a dominant... and his submissive is female. Right. That's cool. Sip the coffee. I could be submissive, and so what if I'd just realized I'd rather run the scene? I'd be willing to play the bottom. I could do that. Yes. I could. I practically nodded at my coffee as though having a conversation with it, and barely noted that Zorya, Kitty, and Rex were chatting on about some new development over on the East Side of Bremen, a new mall or museum or something. I registered Zorya's fingers running along my ear, and I wanted to tilt my head so she could scratch behind my ear but I was too busy looking everywhere but at Heero.
He was with a woman, and Relena had only mentioned that Heero had dated a woman in the past--had she been so wrong about him? Or had he told her something? It took everything I had to jerk myself out of my stupor--though I'm sure it wasn't obvious to any but Zorya, since she could feel the stiffness in my body against her legs.
And just like that, Duo Maxwell charm is on. I should bottle it and sell it, because I could fake it like no one's business. This wasn't how I'd planned on meeting Heero--I'd thought I'd cruise in, casual, looking good--what the fuck would I know about that?--but whatever--and... no, thank you, damn space, I had to be sitting at the feet of one of the club's best known dominants...
But just as quickly, I perked up. Relena had made comments, and she wasn't that dense. So there's some hope--and if Heero's dominant, all the better that he think I were submissive, right? Okay, new game plan, and it's just like all my other game plans. To hell with the reconnaissance, let's just get in there and see what happens. Figure it out as I go along.
And with that, I joined the conversation, glancing nonchalantly across Heero's silent, inscrutable visage no more often and no less often than anyone else. Everyone got equal time, but I conceded the stage to Zorya more often than not. See, damn it, I'm being submissive!, I wanted to holler. Notice me, Heero!
I got up with an excuse of looking for Libri, and saying hello to Nikki. Somehow I didn't look over my shoulder, but strolled through the growing post-scene crowd. Heero didn't come after me, and what was I thinking that he would? Fuck, what do I do? How do I put up a neon sign that says, I'm available, come nail my ass to the wall, Heero--
Space, I needed to get myself under control. I was acting like I was fifteen--which wasn't entirely true, because at fifteen I'd never acted this stupid. Unless I counted trying to self-destruct Deathscythe and not making sure the mechanism actually worked beforehand, but I'd never been one for too much advance planning, anyway. Just a rough idea, that's all I needed.
If only I had a rough idea of what it'd take to get Heero to notice me. I wasn't going to throw myself at him--if he had a submissive already, then that was out of the question. Impolite, scene courtesy, all that. Fine. I'd just make him come to me.
I returned to my spot between Zorya's feet, glad to see it hadn't been taken. And the rest of the night was sheer fucking torture. Talk, chat, laugh, joke, and wonder what the fuck was up with Ty and Rex--I thought Ty was dominant, but as the night wore on, I picked up little signs that Rex was probably also dominant, if not dominant specifically over Ty. Given the way Tiki threw nothing but grief at Zorya at points, such appearances could be deceptive...
Man, I was going to give myself an ulcer if I kept it up. Finally Zorya nudged me to stand, and I moved along with her as though we'd be leaving together. We said our good nights, and walked down the stairs and out through the pounding incessant bass beat of the dance club.
Outside in the hot summer air, Zorya gave me a hug before digging her car keys from her pocket. "Want a ride? My babysitter's staying the night, so I've plenty of time--"
"No," I said, and hugged her again. "Thanks, though. I think I may walk."
"Duo," she chided me. "What is going on in that thick skull of yours?"
"What, your window into my head get broken already?"
"No, but I should break your head! He was sitting right there!" She poked me in the chest. "And you were nice... but hello! He was right there!"
"I know, I know," I groaned. "Believe me, I was fully aware of it."
"You sure didn't act like it," she replied. "Damn, I had no idea you could be such a cool customer."
"I'm not." I shook my head. "I thought you could tell! I was a ball of nerves in there. He's... he's dominant and he's playing with women--"
"And what were you doing tonight? Playing with a blow-up doll?" Zorya popped me in the shoulder. "Gender has nothing to do with it, sometimes. If sex isn't part of the play, then that doesn't matter."
"Yeah, but--"
"No buts, young man."
"Shit, Zorya, you're worse than Hilde was."
"I'm going to take that as a compliment," she sniffed. "If you won't take a ride, at least call a cab."
"Fine, fine," I said. I waved to the doorman, and he nodded, stepping out onto the curb to keep an eye out for me. "Go home to the hooligan, Zorya. I'll see you for lunch on Tuesday?"
"Twelve o'clock, and don't be late," she said, and gave me one last hug.
I was going to walk her to her car, but the doorman was whistling for me. He'd snagged a cab, and I thanked him and got in, giving the cabbie my address. I leaned back on the seat, feeling utterly exposed in that atrocious more-lace-than-leather vest, and stared out the window. The cab pulled up, turning around to head towards my end of the town.
Several people were leaving the club, and I could only see their general shapes in the shadows of the streetlamps. One of them waved for a cab, and for a moment I imagined that was Heero, behind and a little beside the tall man waving. Leather pants, dark tousled hair, leather jacket... but that could be any of a number of club-goers, and I settled back into the seat with a sigh.
A part of me wished it had been Heero, coming out after me, just to talk to me. And another part hoped it weren't, because what would I have said and done then? And then a truly evil part of me whispered: why worry? You'll see him in six hours, in the office.
I slunk down in the seat and tried not to groan at the thought. Oh, fuck, life had suddenly just gotten really interesting.
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