The Hellfire Club

by Raye Johnsen

'Kidou Senki Gundam Wing' is copyright Sunrise, Bandai and associated parties - in other words, NOT ME.
[holds composure]
[holds composure]
[loses composure]
IT'S NOT FAAAIIIR!!!

On a related note, this fic contains YAOI LEMON.  And lots of it.  If this is illegal in your place of residence, you are not of age to view such material, or you don't like this sort of thing, please press the 'back' button NOW.  I will not be responsible for you getting arrested, getting in trouble, or getting icky thoughts.

 He stood on the steps of the quiet, unassuming building.  Passers-by on the street glanced, and often glanced back to make sure they really had seen such a handsome young man.

 He looked like he was in his late teens, possibly early twenties, his soft, feathery blond hair falling softly to frame a delicately-moulded face, with large almond-shaped, aqua-coloured eyes set above a straight nose and warm, full lips. Lips that seemed to be made to smile, and even now were curved into a gentle expression.  He was dressed all in black, his black T-shirt tucked into his low-riding black jeans, in defiance of current fashion. His long-sleeved full length black leather duster was even more miserly with his pale skin, seeming to hide his long-fingered hands from view.  The jeans were tucked into low-heeled black riding boots.

 All in all, he looked like a very gorgeous, very modern highwayman - an image that caused the smile that spread across his features.  Shaking his head, he mounted the steps and walked through the doors.

 "Hey, Sandrock," the attractive thirtysomething behind the desk in the foyer smiled.  "How are you tonight?"

 The blond lifted an eyebrow.  "Same old, same old," he replied.  "And you, Thirteen?"

 Thirteen lifted a forked eyebrow of his own.  "Same as ever," he replied.  "I'll be in the second arena with Aries later, when Epyon takes over. I'll need it."

 "Where is Epyon?"

 "Probably displaying Taurus in the secondary arena.  You know how he is.  Nanashi's in Private Room Three.  Better hurry - I've had Catalonia and Shinigami asking if you're making him available tonight."

 "Tell Shinigami to stick to sharing Wing and Blue-eyes with Hime.  And tell Catalonia to go after Epyon.  I don't share."

 Thirteen laughed.  "If you displayed him more often, you probably wouldn't get asked as much. I wouldn't mind sharing him either.  Aries is quite charmed."

 "I'm sure," Sandrock replied dryly, turning to enter the club proper, before being arrested by a soft cough.

 "ID, please," Thirteen requested.

 "Come on...."

 "Rules are rules, even for members.  Persons must be over the age of twenty-one to enter the Hellfire Club and must produce ID to prove their age before entry."

 Sandrock spat a curse and flashed a drivers' licence.  Thirteen grinned.

 "Thank you, and welcome to the Hellfire Club," Thirteen parroted.  Sandrock did not dignify him with a reply.

 The Hellfire Club was dark and opulent, decorated in black and red and rich, rich gold.  It screamed money and decadence.  Cunningly-placed screens hid and teased at private nooks.  Brightly-coloured panels on the screens were the only influx of pastel colour in the room, and could be twisted to display each of their four sides, each painted a different colour and each colour having a meaning: pale green for 'unoccupied', purple for 'occupied but welcome other participants', orange for 'occupied but welcome spectators' and white for 'occupied, do not enter'.

 The central aisle Sandrock padded down branched into four channels; the widest led to an unwalled auditorium, with a stage large enough to comfortably hold an orchestra, and seating for up to two hundred.  The Masters who held memberships in the Hellfire Club were expected to display their Mastery over their slave (or slaves; some Masters had more than one) at regular intervals.  Some did it as few times as possible, preferring to Master their slaves in private, while others, like Epyon, chose to display with their slaves regularly.

 Sandrock glanced down one of the two medium-sized paths, each of which branched off to the left and right, almost opposite each other and at an eighty-degree angle to the main corridor. These each led to auditoriums also, but half the size of the main arena.

 A soft cry came from the left-hand arena, and Sandrock winced even as he glanced to where it had come from.  Poor Taurus....

 A tall man with long, platinum-blond hair sat on a small stool on the stage, a thin cane tucked under one immaculate arm.  Draped over his lap was a slender, attractive brunette in her twenties.  Unlike the man, she was naked.  Her short black hair fell forward, towards her face.

 "Now, not only are the weight of strikes important, but you must take care where you place them...."

 Sandrock nodded.  A lecture on sensual caning always worked best with an example.

 But Epyon would have been there, playing with Taurus, even if there hadn't been a class to teach.  He seemed to get a vicarious thrill out of an audience watching him put Taurus through agony and ecstacy.

 Sandrock shrugged.  He had gone through a phase - and a number of slaves - of much the same thing.  However, in the past eighteen months - ever since he had met his current partner - such displays had lost much of their appeal.  He only displayed now when he absolutely had to, to keep his membership.

 He idly wondered why Thirteen was being such a prick tonight.  IDs were hardly ever checked, as he ought to know; Sandrock had been a member since he was fourteen, brought by his father.  Oh well, his was not to wonder why.

 He glanced at the main arena. Ah, Shinigami and Hime with Wing and Blue-eyes.

 Nobody in the club went by real names.  They were recorded on a register of membership somewhere, but everyone chose a different name when they passed through the doors. Who you were when you were outside didn't matter inside the Hellfire Club.

 Rumour whispered that Shinigami and Hime were brother and sister - Epyon's brother and sister, if rumour were correct.  None of the three would confirm or deny the rumour to those impolite enough to ask.  Sandrock had long decided that it wasn't any of his business.

 Shinigami and Hime were unusual in that they shared two slaves.  It was almost unheard of for Masters to share a slave.  One might think that, as they had two between them, they each had one and simply chose to play together, but no - it wasn't unusual for one to take both Blue-eyes and Wing, at the same time or in succession, for the entertainment of the other, or to swop slaves in the middle of a session, or even to Master each other.

 Tonight, it appeared that they had decided to concentrate on Blue-eyes, recruiting Wing to help them toy with the smaller girl.  Shinigami enjoyed bondage, and had clearly had his way first; both Blue-eyes and Wing were in harnesses.  Blue-eyes was gagged as well - but then, if her mouth had been unbound she would probably have been screaming.  Her short black hair was drenched in sweat and her eyes were wild as she arched, squirming as much as the restraints she was tied in would let her.

 Shinigami chuckled as he pounded her from behind, a laugh echoed by Hime as she stroked a soft feather over Blue-eyes' heaving breasts.  Wing's mouth was otherwise occupied, licking Blue-eyes' clitoris from the front and rewarded by Hime's hand on his cock every time he wrung a shudder from the other slave.

 Sandrock frowned in thought as he moved on.  Something about the dynamics of that scene... Hime had always favoured Wing over Blue-eyes anyway, but Shinigami had been concentrating on the girl-slave more than the boy of late.  Wing hadn't been the centrepiece of any similar arrangements for quite some time.

 Yet another thing that was none of his business, he decided as his feet followed the fourth and smallest corridor away from the main part of the building.

 It led to a short passage, with six doors opening off it.  These were the private rooms - where the Masters with the inclination for complete privacy and the seniority to get it enjoyed their slaves.  Each room was fitted with all the accoutrements a Master might wish for - and a lockable door.

 The young blond turned the knob of the door labelled '3', and stepped into the room.

 At first glance, it was stark - pale green latticed walls meeting pale green carpet, the only furniture the small bench, upholstered in green-dyed leather, set against the wall beside the door.  A small pile of neatly-folded clothes sat on top of it.

 The only other colour in the room was the skin and hair of the young man who knelt, head bowed, in the centre of the room.

 Sandrock smiled again, this time in sheer aesthetic pleasure.  The other's nut-brown hair was cut full on top, so it fell over his eyes, hiding them.  His dark-green eyes were wide and calm, and his skin was that soft cream that is sometimes found in the south of Europe.  He was entirely beautiful, with long, slender limbs and a frame that was almost too wide for his flesh.

 "You may look up, Nanashi," Sandrock said softly, his voice falling clearly in the small room.

 Nanashi's face lifted to Sandrock's face.  His lips twitched slightly upward.

 Sandrock blinked, then smiled himself.  Nanashi's expressions were often mere twitches to the uninformed eye, a factor that made him even more desirable to the jaded denizens of the club.  Each one wanted to be the one to wring a reaction out of the seemingly impervious young man, not realizing that Nanashi was reacting.

 "You may undress me, Nanashi," Sandrock said finally, buying himself a little time while he decided exactly what to do with his slave.

 Nanashi rose up on his knees and moved gracefully over to the other man.  Using those long, elegant fingers, he began to tug gently at the soft leather duster.

 Sandrock allowed that, but when the duster fell to the floor, to be caught and gracefully draped over the same bench that held Nanashi's own clothes, he held up a hand.  "Use your mouth," he ordered.

 Nanashi's mouth was as dexterous as his fingers, managing to manoeuvre the button at the top of Sandrock's fly open and gently pulling the T-shirt out of the waistband.

 Sandrock decided to be a little kind, and pulled the cloth off himself, over his head.  Nanashi let a little whine escape at that; he had been ordered to do that!  But Sandrock shook his head at him, frowning as he tapped his loosened waistband.  Nanashi took the hint, and pulled down the zipper, then gripping the cloth and gently pulling it down Sandrock's lean thighs.  He wasn't wearing any underwear, a fact that was both relieving and distracting as Nanashi circled him to pull the jeans away fron his bare, soft skin, pale against the black denim.  No underwear meant that he wouldn't have to do this a second time, but no underwear also meant his lips were skimming so damn close to that delectable flesh....

 Sandrock watched, with a smile, as the other man pulled his jeans down.  Nanashi's back was straight as he knelt on all fours before him, that slender, elegant rear perking up just a little as his lips brushed the skin.  However conscious Nanashi's mind was of his position, his body was very aware of it.  Sandrock stared down at his slave's cock, swelling rapidly, and felt his own stir in response.

 Nanashi brushed a kiss behind Sandrock's knee, sending both the knee forwards to step out of the jeans and a pulse right to his Master's groin.  Sandrock groaned at the sudden stimulus, causing the other youth to glance up and see the effect of the gentle caress.

 Kicking off the other leg of the jeans, Sandrock sank to his own knees.  Nanashi began to rock back on his heels, but was stopped by Sandrock's hand in the small of his back.

 "Stay right there," Sandrock hissed.  "Don't move a muscle."

 The hand that had immobilised him crept down over his rear, stroking over the cheeks, while its mate stroked his shoulder.  Each hand separated into five fingers, each finger cupping and caressing another shred of flesh.  Nanashi whimpered as Sandrock seemed content to simply let his fingers glide lightly over his skin.

 Then that torturous caress was taken away, leaving his skin sensitized and untouched. Nanashi whispered, "Please...."

 It was the first time his slave had spoken.  Sandrock debated the issue with himself for a moment.  This would decide the theme for the evening.  Sado-masochism or simple domination?

 Domination, he decided.  Inflicting pain wasn't as big a turn-on for him as it was for some others - and with Nanashi already so compliant, that would be the only reason for it.  "Please what?" he whispered back, making sure his breath brushed Nanashi's ear, making sure no part of him brushed anywhere else.

 His slave shivered under the too-fleeting almost-contact.  "Touch me," his baritone whispered, husky with need.  "Please...."

 "Since you ask so nicely...." And a finger ran up and down his spine.  Too quickly, far too quickly!  It was gone before he had a chance to do more than arch up into it.  It was followed by a smooth, cool layer of something, and the scent of vanilla reached his nostrils.

 "Stay up," Sandrock's voice advised, as his hands began to rub the oil into Nanashi's shoulders.  "Stay right where you are."

 Oh God, that bastard knew what massages did to him.  All he wanted to do was flop bonelessly down, submitting completely to the other man's desires.  But tonight he had to obey, so he remained there,  steeling his shoulders against the lassitude the massage brought, while the sharp scent of vanilla stimulated his nose.

 Finally - oh, dear God, finally - Sandrock's fingers stole down, slipping almost absently into the crack between his buttocks, drawing oil down over the sensitive skin.  The fingers began to stroke around Nanashi's pucker, beginning the oiling that was necessary for the act to follow.  Nanashi pushed up against those fingers, flexing his muscles, trying to trap them in his crack.

 Sandrock bent over his back, again making sure that Nanashi could not see his Master.  "Eager, are we?" he whispered.

 "Yes," Nanashi hissed, and then groaned as Sandrock slipped an oiled finger into his body. "My God, yesss...."

 A soft chuckle.  "Oh, no, I'm very mortal.  But I appreciate the sentiment."  A second finger joined the first.  "Is that all right? Shall I stop?" Sandrock teased, and delicately began to stroke Nanashi's prostate.

 "NO! Don't stop!" Nanashi yelped.  "Please, anything, just keep going!"

 "You're sure now?" Sandrock questioned.  Quietly, he manoeuvred himself so that he was sitting back on his heels between Nanashi's spread knees, and began to play with Nanashi's sac with his free hand.

 Nanashi groaned, and his legs finally gave way.  However, rather than hitting carpet, he found his groin on Sandrock's upper thighs.

 "Oh, if that's what you want..." Sandrock said, and Nanashi could hear the smile in his voice.  Part of him wanted to hit the beautiful blond, and part of him wanted to roll over and submit to him completely.  Those delicious, maddening fingers were dragged from his body, leaving him empty, but thankfully, not for long.  He was pulled up towards Sandrock's body, and slowly, thoroughly impaled on the blond's cock.  But the movement did not stop when he felt the stiff curls of Sandrock's groin against his buttocks; Sandrock's arms wrapped themselves around his chest and pulled him up, until he could feel the other man's hard nipples against his back.

 This position, sitting right in Sandrock's lap, was one of his favourites.  It gave his Master entirely too many ideas.

 Tonight was no exception.  "You're going to come twice before I do," Sandrock whispered in his ear.  "I'm going to stroke you, inside and out.  Nothing fast, and you're going to scream for me to hurry up and make you come."  Sandrock's hands lifted, one to Nanashi's cock, the other to his nipples, and his voice continued hissing in Nanashi's ear.  "You're going to beg me for mercy.  I'm going to kiss you -" and here Sandrock kissed Nanashi's ear, running his tongue around the pink shell.

 Nanashi shrieked as he came, pumping out white cream over Sandrock's hand.  Without missing a beat, Sandrock whispered, "Such a good boy," and lifted his hand to his lips.  Licking up the semen, he whispered into the other's ear, "Such a delicious boy."

 Collapsing back against Sandrock's chest, Nanashi sucked in a shuddering breath.  Every time, Sandrock talked him to orgasm at least once.  How the hell did such an angelic-looking man have such a dirty mouth?

 Sandrock was still buried deep inside him, and true to his word, as soon as Nanashi's breathing calmed a little, he began to stroke over Nanashi's cock.  At the same time, he began to move slowly, no more than an inch either way, inside Nanashi's body.

 As soon as Nanashi was erect once more - and it took an embarrassingly short time - Sandrock's other hand began to move and stroke over Nanashi's body.  As promised, it was slow, sweet and very arousing.  Finally, as it passed his nipples, Nanashi broke the rules. Snatching his Master's hand up, he slipped the index finger in his mouth and began to suck at it desperately.

 Sandrock felt his own body clench.  Soon, he decided, and pulled his hand away.  "I told you," he admonished gently, "you'll get it when you beg me for it."

 Nanashi drew in a heaving breath, and then whispered, "Please...."

 "Please what?"

 "Please... give it to me."

 Sandrock smiled as he kissed Nanashi just below the ear. "You had only to ask."  Then the long, deep, fast strokes began, each one hitting Nanashi right on the prostate.  At the same time, the hand on his cock sped up.

 Nanashi felt his body take over, rushing desperately towards orgasm - and then it exploded over him.

 He was just enough in control of himself to feel Sandrock's body begin to loose its seed within him, before the light swept him completely away.

 When he came to, he was being held securely by Sandrock, his head on Sandrock's chest and Sandrock's lips on his hair.  Humming, he stretched and wriggled a little, letting him know he was awake.

 "How do you feel?" Sandrock asked softly.

 "Good," Nanashi replied quietly.

 "Good," Sandrock murmured, before stretching himself.  "I think everyone outside is fully occupied," he commented.  "A perfect time to make our getaway."

 Nanashi pouted.  "Do we have to?  I want some more."

 "Wait till we get home, oh insatiable one.  I don't want to explain to the masses that I'm not in the mood to share you."

 Nanashi's eyes narrowed, and he picked up the duster.  "Then let me help you.  I don't want to share, either...."

 Quatre Winner ushered the last of his students out of the classroom with a quiet insistence.  He sighed.  Being the youngest (and most accessible) tutor in the entire School of Political Science had its bad moments.

 But he didn't have any more tutorials to give today, and no office hours either, so he could head off from the university and take care of other, equally important matters.

 The Contemporary History department had close ties with Quatre's department, so it wasn't unusual for members of both Schools to be seen discussing classes or schedules.  Something the blond had often blessed in the past eighteen months.

 He paused at the door of the closet that served as the office for Trowa Barton, a fellow doctorate student and subject tutor in the School of Contemporary History.  It wasn't his office hours, either....

 But when Quatre tried the door, he found it unlocked and Trowa behind it, sitting at his desk marking essays.  He flicked his eyes up from the pile and smiled.  "Better shut the door behind you," he said. "I'm hiding from a couple of female postgrads.  After all, 'Who grades papers on Friday nights?!'"

 Quatre laughed.  "I should be doing grading too," he admitted.  Trowa shrugged, and Quatre found himself struck anew by those shimmering emerald orbs, half-hidden by a pair of pince-nez, and that tentative half-smile that hinted at so much past pain.  Those elegant features, those slender hands....

 Suddenly, waiting till they got home wasn't an option.  Quatre reached over, stroking those hands.  He wasn't disappointed - they turned over, abandoning inkjet-printed paper for his wrists.  Trowa swung around from his desk to face him, pulling him down by those wrists to meet his eager lips.

 The pose was uncomfortable, yet balanced - Quatre leaning down, half-bent, Trowa half-rising out of his chair, their only contact their fingers clasped around each other's wrists and their open lips pressed against each other in sudden hunger, the only movement the battle as they fought to bring their mouths closer together.

 Quatre sank to his knees between Trowa's, the contact of the kiss unbroken.  Trowa fell back deeper into the cheap cloth of the chair, bending his head to accomodate the new position.

 Finally they broke for air.  Electric aqua met smoking green, and without breaking eye contact, Trowa scrabbled in his pocket, finding a twenty-cent piece.  Without looking away from Quatre, he sent it spinning in the air, catching it and clapping it onto his forearm.

 "Call it," he commanded, voice hoarse.

 "Heads," Quatre replied instantly.  Trowa lifted his hand off his arm to reveal the carven platypus, swimming forever on the reverse of the coin.

 Quatre swallowed as the green eyes began to glow lustfully.  God, that look was so damn hot....  But here?

 Usually when Trowa won the toss, it was slow and sweet, replete with the gentleness that had been so lacking in Quatre's youth.  For all that he was into kink, and enjoyed exploring the extremes, a part of Quatre craved being held and loved, the sex a secondary priority.  Not that Trowa didn't enjoy being on top; just that even when he was, Quatre still felt as if he were the focus of their passion.

 But there was very little gentleness in Trowa's face, and absolutely nothing sweet in the way he was dumping the papers off his desk.  Quatre grinned to himself.  He wasn't in the mood for it right now anyway; what he wanted was Trowa.

 He grinned as Trowa pushed him back over the desk.  The coin gave him control last night, and Trowa control today. It would be interesting to see who would win the toss tomorrow... and then Trowa kissed all the thoughts out of his head....

Author's note:

If you participate in or are interested in participating in BDSM, please remember to exercise basic safety precautions.  Make sure you're with a partner (or partners) you trust.  Mutually select boundaries that all participants are comfortable with.  Use a safety word.  Don't use fics like this for directions (or, at least, use your common sense when considering these scenarios), and do ask for instructions - your local adult store will most likely have flyers and/or information on adult clubs in your area, and the Internet can also be very helpful.