kinkfest | What Winner Wants, Winner Gets

Title: What Winner wants, Winner gets
Author: Caitilin
Beta: Christy (thank you!)
Rating: NC17
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Characters: 03 and 04
Warnings: Kink, Non-con or dub-con, depending on your context. More posessive and dark than loving. Other warnings: ginger, lube, a tawse, a spanking horse, drugs, catheter, and alcohol.

ok this one went considerably darker than I'd intended. I think the muse still has some issues. Erm, warning for dark stuff. Stop reading if you don't like, this one is more about posession than sexyness.

-June 28TH
Gundam Wing, Quatre/Trowa: hard bondage "What Winner wants, Winner gets"

It had been three days since I walked out of our shared apartment. Three days since I saw Quatre, since I slept in a bed, ate anything or drank. Well, drank anything that wasn't at least 60 proof. All I could think right now was that I was drinking my way into a very early grave, and the other part of me wasn't caring. At least if I did that the hurt would stop.

"Go away and leave me alone!"

The words rattled around in my skull and I drank another slug of tequila out of the bottle. I just wanted it to stop. I didn't care what I had to do, I wanted it to stop. I could hear a car slush through the rainwater that had come down, but I knew I was safe. A corner of an alley is not where the cars come. Another gulp gave me back that nice haze, the one just this side of passing out. It was that nice warm place where you don't feel the rainwater dripping down your back or the cold biting into your fingers. I did feel the sting of something jabbing into my neck though, and I managed to reach up and curl my fingers around the dart before the sedatives took over and I passed out.

***XXX***

I don't know how much later it was when I woke up, but I know I woke up somewhere I’d never expected. I woke up in our own bed. What I didn't expect was the straight jacket I was wearing, nor the fact that I was nude aside from it. Looking at the tubing running out from under the blankets, I could see I was catheterized, and had an IV line running into somewhere. The total and utter lack of a hangover told me it had probably been at least twenty four hours and more like thirty six, the furry taste in my mouth told me I'd spent all of it drugged, and the lack of Quatre… I'm not sure what that told me. The fact I was home gave me a teensy bit of hope though. Maybe… Maybe I could convince him to take me back?

It took a good few hours, by my reckoning, before Quatre came in. A few hours for me to think about what I'd done, or not done, I guess. He came in, carrying a tray with a glass of water and another dose of something in the needle he was carrying. I shuddered. I'd rather be left alone with my own thoughts than be drugged again. I watched him quietly, letting him set the scene. He didn't say a word, but he bent over to put the tray down and I watched his arse move under the leather pants he wore... He knew what that did to me. He turned to me, holding out a straw and I sipped gratefully, but his face was as closed off as I've ever seen him.

"You left," he said softly. I nodded, just once. He's right, I did. He turned away.
"Why?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly. I shrugged, and he must have seen it in the reflection in the window.
"A shrug isn't an answer Trowa. Why?" He asked me, sternly, crossing his arms and looking out, seeing the children play in the park outside, I suppose. I didn't want to say it. Didn't want to say those hurtful words. Didn't want to remind him that he'd asked me to leave. He might decide to do it again.

He gave me several moments, and then he turned back. His face was a mask of indifference.
"You won't even answer me?" he asked bitterly, and walked back, reaching for the needle. I thrashed and tried to get out of the straight jacket as he picked the syringe up and reached for the IV port, my breath caught. He gave me a long look and then pressed down on the plunger. Reaching for a few straps on the bed, he hooked the straight jacket to them so I couldn't roll off. Then he attached cuffs around my ankles and spread them out to the footboard. I could feel a rolling, odd sensation come over me, like warm waves spreading over my body. The IV had been in my arm, either through the straight jacket or through a hole in it, I supposed. I could feel that area the most. The world went hazy on me then, and when I opened my eyes again, it was dusk outside and I still felt odd. I could guess what had been in the needle, some kind of truth drug. Not one I was familiar with, most of them we were immune to. I didn't know if I wanted to talk or not any more, but the fact he'd given it to me told me not. The fact my lover had drugged me to get information... that was something I wasn't even prepared to deal with and I carefully buried that little fact deep in the recesses of my brain to be dealt with later.

The door opened again, and this time Quatre came in pushing a small cart, covered with a towel. I could see part of what was on it, wooden legs that I knew belonged to something I really disliked. A spanking horse. He set it up easily though, and I knew he wasn't going to be the one on it. I also knew I couldn't stop him.

"Cat… Please?" I asked him, my voice breaking, but he just carried on, not even looking at me.

"Should have thought of that before you left," he told me, the comment as indifferent as if he was talking about the weather. I closed my eyes. There wasn't anything I could do to stop it, and he was right. I traced his progress through the room by sound, and as he came up to the bed I felt something being slipped over my head and then pulled over my eyes. I tried opening them, and found was blindfolded.

I felt him do something with the IV, unhooking it I assume, but he didn't take out the catheter. That was a shame, I've always hated those things and Quatre knows it. He slid his arm under me and he must have unhooked the straight jacket as well as the ankles somehow, as he helped me slide off the bed. My legs were like rubber, but he maneuvered me, and I guess the catheter bag onto the spanking horse. For once I was glad to lay down on it, as I'm not sure how much longer I could have stayed standing. He somehow secured the straightjacket to the runners on the side, not even allowing me to grip anything. It felt unsteady, though I know I was secure, but the drug was sending me off balance. Whatever was in that drug was powerful stuff, and that scared me. I had no way of escaping if I wanted. Not that this wasn't fair and just deserts, after all. I'd left.

He repositioned me, making sure the needle from the IV wasn't jabbing into me, and then I heard him pace behind me. It didn’t' take long before I felt something wet dripping on my arse, and I clenched, not expecting that. I'd expected a hand, or a brush. Something that hurt. This? this was just cold and wet as he pushed something inside me. Something large enough to feel but not nearly as large as he was. I shifted slightly, and was rewarded with a chuckle and then his hand came down hard, making me flinch more by the sound than the feel though that stung as well.

"Its ginger", he told me and I almost groaned. That stuff burns every time you clench the muscles, so either you clench and burn, or you relax and the spanking hurts more. Either way you lose. But I could deal with a hand spanking. That’s not what I got. What I got hurt a lot more.

Quatre used a tawse.

I don't think he used it more than a dozen times, but I lost count after six, the added insult of a stinging and burning sensation from the ginger remained after he pulled it out and pushed in something smaller. I could feel something being pushed in and I'm guessing it was a lube shooter. Then something far larger nudged me and he pushed in, the burn of that hurting to the point I cried out and he did too, I think. He took me then, on the spanking horse, and I was just along for the ride, feeling well used when he pulled out. I think everything between my belly button and my knees ached, at least on my backside.

Then he picked me up, and left me blindfolded and straight jacketed on the bed, my arse, which I’m sure now resembled raw meat planted directly on the sheets. I could feel him seeping out of me as I tried rolling over but he stopped me.

"Why?" he asked again, and I just shook my head.
"Do you want me to do that again?" he asked, sounding sad and I shook my head again.
"Then why did you leave Trowa? Why did you.." he broke off with a choking sound. I didn't want to fight the drugs any more.
"You asked me to leave," I said softly, and I could hear a quick inhalation of breath, before he said angrily "I never asked you to leave!".

I shook my head.
"Go away and leave me alone," I recited back at me, and I could tell my words had hit their mark.
"I didn't mean...Not permanently! I just need a bit of space Trowa, just a bit of space," he said.
Ah. Not much I can say to that is there?

The bed shifted, and Quatre obviously stood up.
"I'm going to keep you here until I get that through your thick skull. You're mine Trowa Barton, and I’m not letting you leave. What Winner wants, Winner gets, and I want you." He told me darkly, stomping out of the room. I heard the door close and then the final, ominous, click of the lock, and I was alone again with my pain.