Disclaimers:  I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its characters.

Notes:  Rasid acquires yet another concubine, a young street thief.  Heero nervously awaits Rasid’s attention in bed.

Warning:  YAOI LEMON ahead!  RasidX1

Acquiescent Concubine

Part Four

Rasid sighed and closed his eyes briefly against the slight ache in his head.  He was glad that he only had one case left to judge.  
He disliked punishing his people, even when they deserved it.

“Bring in the last case.”  He commanded, waving his hand.

He almost winced at the two clangs made as one of his advisors’ staffs was brought down sharply against the floor.  He ignored
all of the formal words and paid attention only to the crime at hand . . . stealing.  Rasid sighed again, but blinked as the accused
was dragged in by the accuser.

“Dammit!  Lemme go!  The kids needed that bread!  It was trash to you anyway!”  The boy yelled as he was pulled in by his

Rasid’s eyebrows shot up at the cracking voice of the youth being dragged in by a merchant.  Despite the boy’s position, he
acted as if HE were the victim.  “Tell your tale, merchant.  Guards . . . take the youth from him and see that the accused does
not get away.”  He frowned as the merchant all but tossed the filthy youth to the floor, causing the frail-looking boy to let out a
slight whimper.  When the guards had secured the boy, Rasid turned his attention back to the merchant.  “I am waiting.”

The merchant, a man who looked as if he ate well, drew himself up.  “That filthy little thief stole from my cart!  I demand that
you punish him as the law sees fit.”

Rasid sighed and regarded the boy.  “What did you steal?”  He ignored the merchant’s protests.

The boy, noticing who had addressed him, looked away and fiddled with the end of a very mussed up braid.  After a moment,
he turned back and looked at Rasid.  “It was only a loaf of bread.”  He sniffed and glanced at the merchant.  “I honestly don’t
see why he made all this fuss over it.”

Rasid blinked.  The boy, really didn’t seem to grasp the reality of his situation.  “Boy . . . stealing is a very serious crime . . .
regardless of what the stolen article was.  The punishment for stealing is to have your hand cut off.”  He fought the urge to
throttle the merchant, who looked entirely too pleased about this.  It WAS a pitiful reason to bring the boy in.

The boy’s eyes filled with fear.  “But . . . it wasn’t even a fresh loaf!  It was a two-day-old loaf of bread that woulda gotten
tossed in the trash anyway!  If I hadn’t taken it then, I would have had to dig it out of the rubbish pile later.  The kids get little
enough as it is without having to content with a filthy loaf of stale bread.”

Rasid frowned in thought, considering the boy’s words.  That was the second time the accused had mentioned children.  “Who
are these kids you speak of?”

“Street vermin cast outs!”  The Merchant spat with a bitter tongue.  “Orphan homes won’t take the useless brats!”

Rasid frowned in annoyance at the merchant.  “Be silent.  The question was directed at the boy, not at you.”

The youth sighed in apparent relief.  “He’s right, though.”  He whispered, then spoke more clearly as he addressed the Sultan.  
“Many of the kids I take care of are too precocious or energetic.  The orphanages don’t want to take in any children that have
little chance of getting adopted.  We tried begging, but people acted as if we weren’t there.  We tried doing odd jobs, but we got
kicked around because of our status.  Many of the kids in my care are sick or dying, so I’ve had to resort to stealing food for
them.  I don’t take anything besides food that other people won’t want.  Stale bread, half-rotted fruit and vegetables, meat that is
of poor quality.  They don’t get any milk because milk is no good unless fresh.”

Rasid nodded in understanding.  Now he knew the boy’s reasons.  “How long has this been going on?”

The boy shrugged.  “Years now.  The merchants all know what I was doing.”

The merchant snarled.  “My brother would not allow a thief to make off with the merchandise!”  The man scoffed.

The boy turned to the portly man, glaring at him.  “He not only allowed me . . . he occasionally gave me a few pastries as treats
for the kids.  He was the only merchant who DIDN’T look the other way.”  He turned back to face Rasid.  “He got called
away.  Before he left, he told me that he would explain things to his brother.”

Rasid was again surprised.  “Still . . . allowed or not, it is thievery.  However . . . I think that I can make a deal with you.”  He
liked this boy.  Even though he was filthy and underweight, the boy had a spark of intelligence in his eyes . . . and that generous
heart . . . it would be a shame to harm the boy for kindness that he hoped more of his people would display.

A guarded light entered the boy’s eyes.  “What KIND of deal?”

Rasid turned to the merchant.  “I will reimburse you the cost of the bread you lost.”  He turned back to the boy.  “So young to
take so much responsibility on your shoulders.  My deal is this.  You are to remain here.”  He held up a hand as the boy let out
an alarmed sound.  “I will send some of my men to collect the children in your care.  My personal healer will tend to them, and I
will see to it that they are placed in good homes.  Is that agreeable?”

The boy blinked and nodded slowly.  “What do I have to do?  If it means the kids will be okay, I’ll abide by your decision and
go quietly wherever you want me to go.”

Rasid smiled.  “And if I said I wanted to have your hands cut off?”

Rather than the fear he had shown before, the boy held his hands out in offering.  “Whenever you’re ready.”

There was a pause before Rasid nodded.  “Then my sentence is this.  In return for the welfare of the young ones in your care,
you will remain here as one of my concubines.”  He ignored the gasps, not only from the boy and merchant, but from his guards
and advisors.  Taking on a slave as a concubine was one thing . . . but it was a different matter to take a thief.  “In addition, I
will occasionally send someone to make sure that the children are well . . . and that any new children are placed in good homes.  
The only thing I require is your loyalty.  You will be presented tomorrow evening.”

The boy was silent, but he nodded his acceptance.

“Good.”  Rasid smiled kindly at the boy.  “What is your name, child?”

The boy took a breath and bowed, sealing his fate.  “Duo.  My name is Duo, Sire.”

Rasid gestured for a guard to approach.  “Take him to the bathing chamber . . . clean him, dress him, and put him in a room for
the night.  Be sure a guard is left outside.”

The guard, a man named Ahmad, nodded.  “Yes, sire.”  He said, grasping Duo’s upper arm and leading him from the room.


Heero could hear nothing but the rhythmic throbbing of his own heart as he lay on the pristine sheets of a large bed.  These were
his private chambers.  On one side of the room, he could see the door that led to the Sultan’s private rooms, and across from
that, was the door to the common area, where all the concubines could meet and spend time together.  The room was dark, so
Heero couldn’t see much else, only the light of a few flickering candles illuminating the area.

He had been presented to the Sultan no more than an hour ago.  His body was now draped in the flimsiest of fabrics, his injuries
remained wrapped in bandages.  The clothing he wore was barely able to be called a robe, held closed by a number of ties down
the front of his body.  Servants had seen to it that his body was anointed with scented oils and prepared so that the Sultan could
do what was necessary without wait.

He was nervous and frightened.  Never in his life had Heero been touched in such a manner.  He had merely heard rumors and
stories from the other slaves and servants in the household about what two people did when they were being intimate.  To
Heero, they had only been tales . . . he had never thought he would ever be involved in anything such as that.  He was a slave, a
worker, nothing more than that.  He was his Master’s possession, the thing that was beaten when his Master was displeased
about something.

But here he lay, fearing pain, not knowing for certain what he would have to do.  He bit his lip as he heard the chamber door
open and looked over as his new master entered.  He would have sat up, but he had been ordered to lie still by the servants that
had attended to him.  Still . . . he couldn’t stop his body from trembling in fear.

The Sultan was dressed only in a simple robe of deep blue, a sash all that kept the flimsy garment from falling from his broad
shoulders.  He approached slowly, moving to kneel on the bed by Heero’s shaking form.

“Sshh . . . there, there.”  Master’s voice was deep and rich . . . and it did soothe Heero a little since there was a gentle
undertone.  “All you’ve ever known was pain . . . I swear to you that I will teach you something else.”

Then there was a gentle touch to Heero’s chest . . . a single finger that caressed him through the garment that he wore.  Heero
was confused, but he was also relieved.  He expected the pain to come any moment, and any delay on feeling that pain was
welcome.  Then that single finger circled his left nipple, and Heero gasped out loud at the shock that burst through him.  There
were more touches . . . all of them gentle, and all made Heero feel . . . almost as if he could burst from his skin at the pleasure
of it.  He could hear himself moaning and whimpering for more of these sensations.

Heero shuddered, fearing this.  Pain he could understand . . . but this . . . this was different, new . . . it was frightening.  He
whimpered and turned his head away, clamping his eyes shut.  Master’s hand stilled, his voice soft as he spoke.

“Heero . . . open your eyes.”  Master said, his fingers brushing across his chin, delicately turning his face toward him.

Heero obeyed without question.  “I . . . I am sorry, Master.”  He breathed, hoping that he wouldn’t be punished too severely.  
He hadn’t meant to displease his new master . . . he was simply unaware of how he should be reacting.  Perhaps his master
would take pity on him . . . Heero could only hope for that.

Master smiled kindly, laying one hand along the side of Heero’s face, brushing the skin in a gentle manner.  “Do not call me
‘Master’, Heero.  You are no longer a slave.  You are a concubine . . . a consort of mine.  You are free to speak to me as you
see fit.  I would prefer it if you would call me Rasid, as that is my name.”

Heero nodded.  “Yes, Mas . . . Yes, Rasid.”  He whispered.  “W-What is it you wish me to do?”

Rasid smiled once again, his hand moving down along the column of Heero’s throat.  “I expect you to lie here and allow me to
worship your beautiful body, Heero.”  The Sultan said, his strong hands gliding over Heero’s shoulders and down along his arms
to lightly clasp his wrists.  He raised Heero’s arms, settling his hands on the pillow above his head.  “Keep your hands up there .
. . I do not want to unintentionally cause you harm.”

Heero blinked, yet nodded.  Rasid was actually concerned with hurting him?  No one had ever been concerned about him, not in
the least . . . well, perhaps the slave trader who had sold him to his first and only master . . . but that man had been more
concerned with the money paid for him, than with Heero’s actual welfare.  He felt feelings swell up within him and his breath

“Don’t cry . . . whatever is the matter?”  Rasid gently wiped at Heero’s tears with his thumbs.

Heero had no answer, but he didn’t seem to need one since Rasid smiled in what seemed like understanding.

“It’s all right to be confused, Heero.  It’s all right to be afraid.  You must relax and trust me, though.  Do you trust me?”  Rasid
smiled warmly and Heero could feel himself nod in reply.

Trust him?  Of course Heero trusted him.  Rasid could have done anything to him, and he was instead waiting for Heero to calm
down a little.  Heero sighed as Rasid started rubbing the area over his heart, caressing his chest.  The gentle circles soothed
Heero a great deal.

He barely noticed as Rasid altered his position, moving to kneel between Heero’s parted legs.  He tenderly pulled at each of the
ties that held his covering closed, waiting until each was untied before he pushed the edges of the garment to the side, baring all
of Heero’s body to the sultan’s eyes.  Heero felt himself blushing and turned his gaze away.  True he was not body shy . . . but
he had never been in this situation before . . . he was about to . . . he shivered again, trying not to be afraid of this.  Rasid
wouldn’t hurt him, he knew that now . . . the Sultan was kind and had rescued him.

Lips pressed against his chest, the tickling of facial hair making him quiver slightly.  Strong hands slid across his frame,
touching, pressing, feeling . . . Heero lay there, his body begging for more.  His breath came in soft pants as Rasid continued,
moving to take a pebbled nipple between his teeth.  Heero gasped and bucked against the larger man, only to hear as Rasid
chuckled lightly.

“You are quite sensitive, aren’t you?”  Rasid commented, raising himself off of Heero’s body.  “I like that.  Do you wish me to

Heero nodded without thinking.  True, the feelings were new and frightening . . . but they also felt so wonderful.  He did want
more . . . he wanted Rasid to show him everything.  “Yes . . . Please, Rasid.”

Rasid smiled and nodded.  He returned to his earlier actions, pressing soft kisses to the skin of Heero’s chest and stomach,
allowing his tongue to trail lower and lower.  His hands squeezed and caressed Heero’s thighs, slowly moving inward.  Heero bit
his lip, shuddering deeply as Rasid took a long, slow lick along the underside of Heero’s hardening arousal.  The sensation was
pure ecstasy . . . like sending flames through his blood.

He was so focused on what Rasid’s mouth was doing, that he didn’t realize what the man’s hands were doing until a thick
finger had pushed up inside of him.  He groaned at that, instinctually pushing back against the invading digit.

“I see my servants have prepared you thoroughly, Heero.”  Rasid said, taking a moment to slip a second and then a third finger
within him, stretching him as the servants had done not too long ago.  “I just want to be sure that no harm comes to you

Heero nodded, although he was far from thinking coherently at the moment.  Those fingers felt so delightful as they pushed
within him.  He rocked his hips against them, not truly sure of what he wanted, just knowing that he wanted more, wanted them
deeper within him.

Rasid chuckled again, retracting the fingers, removing them from Heero’s stretched passage.  Heero groaned disapprovingly,
opening his eyes to look down at the Sultan.  He watched, his eyes going wide as Rasid removed his robe, tossing the garment
aside without care.  Heero’s eyes roamed across the larger man’s chest, slipping down until he saw the undeniable proof of the
man’s desire for him.

Heero whimpered . . . surely that wouldn’t fit within him.  It was so thick . . . much too large for him to take in.  It would hurt .
. . it would have to hurt.  Heero was certain of it.

Rasid’s hand settled on Heero’s chest, his thumb brushing over his heart.  “Do not be intimidated by my size, Heero.”  He spoke,
his free hand moving to stroke Heero’s member lightly.

“B-But you are so . . . big, sire.  Surely, it will hurt me.”  Heero whispered, his breath coming out as harsh gasps as Rasid’s
hand continued.

“There will be some discomfort . . . I will not lie to you about that.  However, I have never harmed any of my concubines in the
past, and I will not hurt you now.  You will feel pleasure from this, a good deal of it, I assure you.”

“I . . . I trust you.”  Heero breathed, shakily spreading his legs a bit wider.

Rasid smiled, scooting closer to Heero.  “You just breathe, Heero . . . relax.  The initial discomfort will pass.”

Heero nodded, taking a number of deep breaths, trying to stay calm as Rasid lifted his hips and slid a pillow beneath the small of
his back.  Rasid grasped Heero’s leg, raising it so that it rested on his shoulder . . . since it was his injured leg, Heero assumed
the Sultan had done so to minimize the possibility that further injury should befall it.  He appreciated the effort.

Rasid took a moment to look over Heero’s body, a smile coming to his features quickly.  “I never would have guessed that you
were so beautiful, Heero . . . you came to my court so covered in filth . . . I can barely recognize you now.”

“I . . . I thank you for your kind words, sire.”  Heero said quietly, his gaze falling to linger on Rasid’s impressive erection.  “W-
Will you take me now?”

Rasid nodded.  “Yes . . . be calm . . . this will not harm you.”  He said, stroking his one hand along Heero’s raised leg, while he
grasped his own length with the other, guiding himself forward and to Heero’s stretched opening.

At the first nudge of Rasid’s cock against the tight ring of muscle, Heero screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable pain
that would come.  Still . . . he knew that he had to relax.  Rasid had told him to relax.  So he let himself breathe, trying to focus
on anything other than the erection poised at his entrance.

Then it happened . . . Rasid pushed forward, the head of his cock easing past the tight ring of muscle to settle within Heero’s
virginal body.  It burned and Heero winced at the sensation.  Yet, it was not too bad, nothing like what he had been fearing.  He
blinked his eyes open, confused by this, only to find Rasid looking down on him in concern.  The man had stopped . . . had
stilled his inward movement, just the head of his erection inside of Heero’s body.

“Are you well?”  Rasid asked, his voice deep with desire.

“Yes . . . I am fine.”  Heero replied, truly meaning it.  It didn’t feel bad, not bad at all.  “Please . . . please continue, Rasid?”

Rasid smiled and did just that.  He slid deeper into Heero’s body, moving at a torturously slow pace until he was finally sheathed
completely.  There, he paused again, allowing the both of them time to adjust, to settle from the sensations.

Heero breathed heavily, already lost in the feelings coursing through his body.  He liked this, he found, delighting in the feel of
Rasid buried within his body, the feel of the man’s strong hands sliding across his form, stroking his erection slowly to keep him
teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

“Please, Rasid . . . please move.”  Heero begged, squirming, trying to get the older man to move.

Rasid groaned, bracing one hand at Heero’s hip to still him.  “As you wish.”  He said, retracting himself and pushing back in,
just as slowly as the last time.

Heero opened his mouth in a soundless cry, his back arching.  This felt so wonderful . . . he wished he had done it before.  
“More . . . more.”  He repeated, a litany of pleas falling from his lips.

Rasid obliged, thrusting deep within Heero’s body, now and again striking something that caused the youth to see stars dancing
before his eyes.  The Sultan’s hand stopped Heero from pushing back, from moving against him . . . Rasid seemed dead set on
having total control.

“F-Faster.”  Heero spoke, his breathing harsh.

Rasid smirked.  “So very sensitive . . . you are perfect, Heero.”  The Sultan commented, hastening his pace, sending his thick
cock deeper and harder into Heero’s tight body.

Sweat bathed the two of them.  Heero wished that he could touch the other man, that he could do something in return.  But his
hands were useless, broken . . . he kept them above his head, just as Rasid had told him to.  He cried out in passion at each
thrust, wrapping his one leg tight around Rasid’s waist in an effort to bring the man closer.

Pushing and pulling, Rasid strove deeper and harder, delivering nothing but pleasure to the former slave with each drive of his
hard shaft.  Heero very nearly screamed as Rasid finally took his cock in hand and began to stroke it once again, his sharp
thrusts hitting that spot within him more often.

“Come for me, Heero . . . come.”  Rasid growled seductively, his hand pumping roughly.

It took no more than three strokes before Heero cried out his release, shot after shot of his hot semen splattering across both of
their bodies.  His body spasmed beneath Rasid, his muscles clenching tightly around Rasid’s cock.  The older man pistoned
quickly within him a moment before his own orgasm struck.  He rocked his hips sharply, sending his shaft hilt-deep within
Heero as his fluids flooded the youth’s insides.

Rolling his hips, his hand continuing to stroke Heero’s flagging length, Rasid milked the sensations for the both of them.  Then
he collapsed, catching himself with his arm before he could topple across Heero’s smaller form.  He smiled, pressing a sloppy
kiss to Heero’s shoulder.

“You are . . . perfect, Heero.”  Rasid panted, pulling himself from Heero’s body gently.

Heero had no reply.  Suddenly, he was feeling so very tired.

Rasid moved aside.  Heero blearily watched the man’s movement, smiling faintly when Rasid retrieved a soft, wet cloth from a
nearby table.  The Sultan attended to the mess on both of their bodies, cleaning away the evidence of their tryst.  He took the
pillow from beneath Heero’s hips, throwing it off the bed, then delicately tied the laces of Heero’s garment, covering his form
once more.

Heero appreciated his kindness.  “T-Thank you.”  Heero whispered faintly, barely able to keep his eyes open as Rasid spooned
up behind him, settling Heero’s back against his strong chest.  Heero’s arms lay limply on the bed in front of his tired body.

Heero smiled, pressing back against Rasid’s form, sighing happily as a blanket was drawn over their bodies.  He easily slipped
off to sleep, feeling content and safe for the first time in his life.

To Be Continued . . .