Disclaimers: I do not own either Gundam Wing or Harry Potter. I am making no money with this. This story is purely for
entertainment purposes only.
Notes: A crossover fic, no pairings yet, but it will contain Yaoi and lots of it. Will have rape, lemon, limes, Yaoi, violence, foul
language, abuse, angst, and probably some other stuff that I’ll warn you about as they come up.
Warnings: This part contains Rape and mention of bestiality.
Soldiers of Sorcery
Part One
A deafening screech echoed through the mind of a sleeping youth, causing him to sit bolt right up in bed. He grasped his head,
having never felt anything similar before in his life. It was as if someone or something had called out to him mentally, left him
feeling as if a white-hot poker had been driven through his skull and into his brain. It was so odd, so painful.
The young man threw the blankets away from him, stumbling into his bathroom and switching on the painfully bright lights.
When the sharpness in his eyes faded to a minor ache, then into nothing, the young man turned on the water and leaned forward
then splashed some cold water onto his sweat-dampened face.
When he raised his gaze again, he was staring right into his own eyes. Trowa sighed deeply, wondering what was wrong with
him as he searched his green eyes. It must have just been a nightmare, he thought, not knowing how else to explain it. Quatre
was the empath, not him . . . Trowa couldn’t have sensed anything from anyone. It just wasn’t something that he could do as
far as he knew.
He sighed again, knowing that he wasn’t going to get anymore sleep that night. So he slipped out of his bathroom, turning off
both the water and the light as he headed to the bedroom area of his trailer. He silently dressed, deciding to take a walk . . .
thinking that it could help him think if he got some fresh air. He pulled on the first things he found, sweat pants and a T-shirt,
wishing the night wasn’t so warm outside. Well, what could be expected of a summer night but warm weather?
Trowa tied his sneakers, pulling a thin jacket on as he stepped out of the trailer. Even as warm as it was, he wouldn’t walk
around outside without a jacket . . . he just didn’t feel comfortable without one for some reason. It was all right when he was
performing, the hot lights shining down on him, but when there wasn’t a show, he just felt so much more comfortable when he
could cover himself from view. He couldn’t explain his reasons, wasn’t sure himself why it was so important to hide his skin
under a thin layer of fabric. It was just something that he did . . . an odd habit he couldn’t seem to break.
Trowa stepped out into the warm night, taking a deep breath. The scent of popcorn lingered in the air, leftover from that night’
s performances. He took a glance around the grounds, noting that the area was virtually deserted, just a few stragglers hanging
around here and there, doing odd jobs or just sitting around. Most of the troupe was probably asleep at this hour . . . it was the
middle of the night.
He sighed, heading away from his trailer, away from the campgrounds, and walked into the nearby forest, just wanting to get a
little fresh air. He breathed deeply as he strolled through the dense woodlands, thoroughly enjoying himself as he veered away
from the path and hiked deeper into the forest.
A short time later . . . it could have been an hour, or just a few minutes . . . Trowa stepped into a rather large clearing. He
looked around, smiling at the way the light of the full moon illuminated all around him, listening to the chirping of the crickets as
he took a seat on a nearby log. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes as he listened, hearing the usual noises of nocturnal animals.
He could no longer hear the troupe, so he must have walked pretty far away. It didn’t really matter though, he had wanted to
get away for a bit.
A loud rustling sound in the bushes attracted Trowa’s attention, and he looked up just in time to see a dark shadow streak
across the clearing. It was hidden behind a tree, somewhere in the dark where Trowa couldn’t quite see it. Curiosity overcame
his common sense and Trowa slowly approached the tree, hesitantly kneeling down and peering at the shadowed thing once he
was close enough.
Only a moment later, Trowa was surprised to see the eyes of a large feline staring back at him from the darkness. Trowa
blinked, taking a step back as the feline moved forward, trying to keep the distance between them. He wasn’t all that ready to
face a large predator before finding out what he was up against.
A sleek form stalked from the darkness, soon stepping out into the clearing. Moonlight streamed down on it, and Trowa’s eyes
widened in awe as he watched the pale silvery light glimmering across smooth black fur. It was a panther, Trowa noticed with
mild surprise. He wondered just what a panther was doing out in the middle of the forest . . . they weren’t exactly common in
this area.
His silent question was answered by a loud, angry shout. “Where the fuck did you go you stupid animal?”
The panther nuzzled against the back of Trowa’s legs, as if hiding behind him as Trowa turned to face the voice. Seconds later,
a large, muscular man came barreling out of the forest and into the clearing. He stopped short when he saw Trowa, nearly
falling over as he skidded to a halt a few feet away from him.
“Is this your panther?” Trowa asked, sizing the man up out of habit from his time as a soldier and a mercenary.
The man was large and angry looking. If he tried anything, Trowa was sure that he could take him, but still he would rather not
have to get into any fights. The man’s dark eyes glinted with something, a cruel looking smile crossing his face as he raised his
hands to his hips. Trowa immediately noticed the long rope that the man held, and he wondered if the man meant to use that on
the panther.
“Yeah, he’s mine. He escaped his pen just this morning. I’ve been chasing him all over the forest.” The man said, his eyes
roaming over Trowa’s body and making him shiver under his gaze.
Trowa just did not like this man. There was something distinctly unpleasant about him, an unidentifiable quality that left Trowa
disgusted by him. He was well-groomed and appeared nice, but still, Trowa couldn’t stand him.
An anguished cry from behind him, alerted Trowa to the fact that the panther was still behind him. It didn’t sound well, so
Trowa turned to it, kneeling down in front of the animal. There was a cut on one of his paws. Trowa frowned, knowing that a
cut as neat as that could only have been made by a sharp blade.
Before Trowa could turn and confront the man, intending to demand an answer from him about how the panther had been
injured, a sudden force knocked him to the side. Trowa felt dazed, his eyes closing before he was even aware that he had hit
the ground, darkness quickly sending him into unconsciousness.
An unknown amount of time passed before Trowa awakened with a massive headache. That bastard must have hit him, Trowa
decided, forcing his eyes to open. He tried to raise his hand to his head, only to find that he was restrained in some way. He
struggled, his eyes focusing while he fought, gasping when he found that he was securely tied to a tree.
His arms were stretched up above his head, a rope binding his wrists together and stretched uncomfortably to the branches
where the other end of the rope was tied to one of the thicker tree limbs. His legs were similarly bound, his ankles tied together
with a length of rope that wound around the base of the tree. The same could be said of his knees, as a rope was chaffing the
skin just below them and whenever he tugged on the ropes with one leg, the other was pulled.
Trowa gasped, a sudden realization dawning on him. He could feel the rope against the skin of his legs, could feel the smooth
bark of the tree trunk against his chest. He had been stripped. Trowa maneuvered himself, looking down as best as he could
and finding that his jacket, shirt, and pants had been taken off of him. His boxers remained, which Trowa found to be a great
relief. Still, he shivered, wondering why that man had done such a thing to him.
He looked around, trying to determine his surroundings, also wanting to know if that bastard was still nearby. His clothes lay
scattered on the ground. Trowa frowned, seeing that panther only a few yards away, tied to another tree, hissing and making a
general loud fuss. It must have been what had awakened him, Trowa thought, only now remembering hearing similar noises
before he had actually opened his eyes.
“Finally awake?” A familiar deep voice asked.
Trowa turned, looking for the source of the voice, only to watch as that burly man stepped out of the tree line again. “What the
hell are you doing?” Trowa demanded, once again pulling at the ropes binding him.
The man chuckled. “What does it look like? I’m gonna have some fun.” He smiled, reaching into a shirt pocket and pulling a
camera out of it. He snapped a few pictures of Trowa, the flash hurting the young ex-pilot’s eyes enough to make him turn
away.
“Let me go!” Trowa yelled, wondering if there was anyone that would hear him if he screamed at the top of his lungs.
The man only laughed, stopping just behind Trowa and running one of his large, callused hands down the length of Trowa’s
spine.
Trowa shuddered in fear, trying to press himself closer to the tree and away from that bastard behind him. The man put his
camera into one of his shirt pockets, Trowa watching him out of the corner of one eye as the man reached into his pants and
pulled out a pocket knife. “I went back home to get my camera. I wanted to have a memento of our little tryst together.”
Trowa’s eyes widened, the implications of that statement making him want to vomit. He could do no more than wriggle to get
away though, as the man took hold of the waistband of his boxers and proceeded to cut them off of Trowa’s body. Trowa was
near tears as he shivered, feeling totally helpless under this man’s assault on him, knowing what was to come. It would be the
same as before, the burning pain, the agony of being forced to pleasure someone . . . he had never wanted to experience this
pain before, but it was happening all over again. All of his training had been for nothing. He was a soldier and here he was, still
being forced to fuck a man against his will.
“S-stop . . . please.” Trowa whimpered, finding his voice to be weak and frightened.
“Hey, kid . . . you into bestiality?” The man suddenly asked, his hands roaming over Trowa’s back in sickening tender
caresses. Trowa didn’t answer, he couldn’t . . . his voice had disappeared once again. The man laughed again. “I am . . . that
cat is just a fine lay . . . but I bet you’re going to be an even better fuck.”
Trowa pulled at the ropes again, trying in vain to escape this perverted bastard. He had raped a panther? Trowa didn’t think he
could be more disgusted than he was right now. “Get off of me! Let me go!” Trowa demanded, pulling at the ropes hard
enough to chaff his skin, cutting it open in some places . . . he could feel a few trickles of blood dripping along his arms.
A sharp slap to his ass, stopped Trowa’s struggles, leaving him wide-eyed and gaping in horror at the thought of that man doing
that to him. The man chuckled behind him, laying his meaty hands at Trowa’s hips, pressing his own clothed body against
Trowa’s back and grinding him up against the tree.
Trowa gasped, trying to squirm away as the friction caused a natural reaction. The man continued to laugh, his cloth-covered
erection digging into the small of Trowa’s back. He reached around the young man’s waist with both hands, letting his thick
fingers press into Trowa’s thighs, roughly massaging his young muscles as he repeatedly ground himself against Trowa’s back.
Trowa bit his lip, trying to keep back the feelings of arousal, not wanting to get an erection from this bastard’s manipulation.
But he just couldn’t stop it, especially not after the man let his hands continue to roam, one of them massaging and caressing
Trowa’s sac as the other delivered quick strokes to his half-erect length, quickly hardening him.
“Stop.” Trowa whispered, digging his nails into his palms hard enough to open the skin, wanting nothing more than to see this
bastard die for what he was doing.
“I don’t think so, beautiful.” The man replied, whispering into Trowa’s ear. “I’m gonna make you cum before I take this
delectable body of yours. So come on boy, cum for me and I’ll give you a great fuck before you die.”
Trowa shook his head, trying to deny the feelings coursing through his blood. He stilled his hips, not wanting to give this man
the satisfaction of watching him thrust into his hands, not wanting to give this man anything.
The man continued though, pumping Trowa’s cock firmly, his hands easily sliding over his flesh as if he already knew it as well
as his own. He used Trowa’s own wetness to make things easier, smearing the pearly drops of precum over his shaft as he
stroked it, lubricating it so that he wouldn’t hurt him. Trowa bit into his lip, his instincts finally betraying him as he arched his
back, thrusting his hips forward as he finally spilled his seed. He made a low groan, his hips thrusting lightly as the bastard
continued to pump him, milking every drop from his softening length before finally letting it go.
Trowa let his body go slack, letting himself hang from his wrists as tears poured from his eyes to fall from his chin. he
shivered, knowing himself to be disgusting, hating himself just as much as he hated that bastard for forcing him into this. He
was crying so hard that he didn’t hear the rustle of clothing being removed behind him, didn’t notice as a few more pictures
were taken of his quivering body.
However, he did notice as the hands returned to him, their touches more insistent as they roughly spread his legs a bit wider.
Trowa fought again, rocking his upper body back and forth only to gasp as he felt the skin of his back meet with naked flesh.
“I’m gonna fuck you raw, pretty boy.” The man whispered into Trowa’s ear, digging his hot, slick cock into Trowa hip.
“No . . . don’t.” Trowa begged, shaking his head frantically, as if somehow he could convince this man to leave him alone now.
The man grasped Trowa’s hip in one firm grip, his other hand delving down to spread his ass apart. A large finger wormed its
way up into Trowa’s body, pain flashing through him as he squirmed to get away. “I bet you’re no virgin.” The man said,
firmly, his finger roughly moving inside of Trowa. “You feel so goddam tight . . . but you’re a fucking slut, aren’t you?” He
dug a second finger into Trowa’s ass, making him buck against the pain that the dry digits were delivering to him.
The man laughed, removing his fingers and pressing something harder and definitely larger against Trowa’s opening. “I bet you
love the feel of a hard cock ramming into you, don’t you boy?” The man asked, staying poised at Trowa’s entrance as if
waiting for an answer.
“No . . . stop.” Trowa whispered, shivering, not wanting to be hurt like this again.
“No way.” The man whispered, leaning forward and whispering into Trowa’s ear. “I’m going to fuck your ass . . . then I’m
gonna fuck your pretty little mouth. I’m gonna pound you until you die pretty boy.” He hissed, swiping his tongue over Trowa’
s ear. Then suddenly, he was inside of Trowa, his hard shaft buried to the hilt in one rapid and agonizing thrust.
Trowa screamed, hitting his chest against the tree painfully as he tried to move himself away from the man behind him, trying to
remove himself from the hot cock forcefully shoved inside of him. “Stop!” He yelled as the man made his first thrust, sending
searing agony throughout Trowa’s body in burning waves.
Then suddenly, it stopped. Trowa gasped again, confused as the shaft was removed from his body, as he was finally left alone
by that horrible man. He sobbed, not understanding why he would stop, why the man had left him be. He turned, his eyes
glazed with tears as he looked behind him, fearing that this was all some terrible trick to toy with his mind. Instead, Trowa was
shocked to see the man that had attacked him was lying on the ground several yards away, apparently unconscious.
He struggled against his ropes again, frantic to get loose before the man awakened and returned to hurt him again. However, it
was no use. He just couldn’t break the ropes. He sighed, slumping forward against the tree, wondering how he was going to
get out of this.
He heard a strange growling sound and turned, watching as that panther chewed through the rope that held it to that tree.
Trowa smiled, glad that at least one of them could be free. Then he was surprised, somewhat fearful, as the panther walked
toward him. The panther merely climbed into the tree, moving out onto the tree branch that Trowa’s arms were tied to and
immediately began to chew through the ropes.
Trowa nearly laughed out loud as the ropes finally broke. He fell backwards, sprawling painfully on the ground, his ankles and
knees still tied around the tree. With his teeth, he unbound his wrists, then hastily untied the rest of himself, sighing once he
was finally free.
As quickly as he could, he dressed himself, grabbing that bastard’s camera before running as fast as he could away from the
clearing. He didn’t look back once, not caring to see whether the man was alive or dead, not caring to find out how he had
ended up so far away from where Trowa had been only moments after he had forcefully taken Trowa’s body.
He didn’t realize that he had reentered the troupe’s campground, until Catherine seized his arm in a bruising grip. “Trowa . . .
where have you been?” She asked, worriedly. “Oh God, you look so pale. What happened? Trowa, what’s wrong?”
“N-nothing.” Trowa said, pushing her away from himself, clutching the camera in one hand as he all but ran over to his own
trailer and climbed inside, ignoring Catherine’s pleas to talk to her. “I-I’m not coming out today, Catherine.” Trowa stated
from inside, pulling the film from the camera and exposing it to the early morning light. “Find someone to fill in for me.”
“All right, Trowa . . . If that’s what you want.” Catherine conceded, then all was silent as she had apparently walked away.
Trowa hastily stripped himself of his clothes, throwing them into the garbage since he didn’t think he would ever feel like
wearing them again. Then he climbed into the shower, turning it on to a hot setting, but not scalding, and he washed himself
off. He didn’t think he would ever be satisfied or feel clean again, so after the water started getting cold, Trowa got out of the
shower, drying himself and putting on a clean pair of boxers.
He walked to his bed, carrying some gauze and ointment with him, his body and mind both weary after the events he had
suffered through that night. He wanted to go to sleep, hopefully not to awaken from a nightmare. He stopped dead in his
tracks, blinking as if his imagination was playing tricks on him when he saw the panther from earlier was sitting on the floor in
front of his bed.
“How did you get in here?” Trowa asked, although he didn’t expect an answer.
The panther merely looked at Trowa, then turned his head. Trowa followed the panther’s gaze, smirking when he saw the open
window, understanding that the feline had climbed in that way. Then Trowa shuddered, thinking that if the panther could get in
like that, then so could that bastard, and Trowa did not want that. So he went around the trailer, locking every window and the
door before returning to his bed again.
Trowa pulled a gun from his bedside table, making sure it was loaded then put it under his pillow, climbing into bed shortly after
that. He quietly applied ointment to his wrists where his skin had been rubbed raw, then wrapped them in gauze, doing the same
to the small cuts in his palms where he had dug his nails through the skin. Then he lay on his side, pulling the blankets up on his
body, shivering even in the warm summer air. Tears sprang from his eyes, and he choked on his sobs, hiding his face in the
pillow as he wept, his body feeling filthy and cold.
A sudden shift of weight on the bed made Trowa jump slightly. He lifted his face from the pillow, looking over and nearly
smiling when he saw the panther climbing up to lay beside him, the large black cat nuzzling against him once before laying down
with his back to Trowa’s still shivering body.
Trowa smiled, slowly reaching out and placing his bandaged hand down on the panther’s fur, cautiously petting the animal,
fearing that he might bite if he got angry. Trowa didn’t want to be mauled by a panther in his own bed. However, the panther
merely lay there, seeming content as Trowa stroked his fur.
“I guess this means you’ve adopted me?” Trowa asked, chuckling lightly as he settled himself beside the panther, his one hand
still stroking through the soft, black fur. Trowa frowned at the injury on one of the panther’s paw. He wrapped it in gauze,
deciding that he would have to have the troupe’s physician look at it more carefully later.
The panther stretched out lazily, a rumbling purring sound coming from his throat. Trowa sighed, glad to have a friend even if
it was a panther, grateful not to have to sleep alone at a time like this. He closed his eyes, his hand continuing to brush through
the soft fur until he fell into an oddly peaceful slumber.
To Be Continued . . .