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Upper Egypt	By : scarychicks Category: +S to Z > Trigun Views: 1541 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Upper Egypt
- 1
A/N: Dedicated to my fans, especially Ms. Eckener. I give up on regular disclaimers since the people they apply to ignore ‘em anyway. I don't own Trigun but if I did Wolfwood would have a normal, healthy sex life as my respected and frequent plaything! Enjoy kids!
Wolfwood sat on the dilapidated steps smoking a cigarette. Nothing new there. He was a chainsmoker, proud of it. Was never gonna give the damn things up. Not for anyone. Not for anything. He was in a foul temper, and sometimes--not often--but sometimes, a smoke could get him out.

He was restless and tired. Sick of following around Vash the Stampede and bored of playing babysitter. He inhaled, lungs filling, lips pulling strong on the filter, and held it. Coughing, he laughed at himself as the black smoke exited his body into the clear afternoon air. It was hot. No surprise there either.

The truth of the matter was, at this minute, Wolfwood was bored. Needle Noggin had gone off with some woman. Nice for him for a change. So what did the priest do? Sit outside the whorehouse (for that’s what Wolfwood assumed the building had to be--Vash didn’t get lucky very often) and bide his time while waiting for the Humanoid Typhoon to return. Not knowing anything about the sexual stamina of plants, Wolfwood thought he might be there for a while.

“Hey handsome, why don’t you come on in?” A woman who looked dolled up for midnight on New Year’s Eve, although it was only three-thirty in the middle of the year, gave Wolfwood a come-hither look. He smiled, shook his head gently, but not without charm.

“No thanks, ma’am.”

“Ah, you’re a priest? Well, we get all types here, don’t worry about that.” The prostitute wandered over and sat companionably next to Wolfwood on the steps.

Exhaling slowly, Wolfwood considered the offer. He had enough double dollars, and he could think of worse ways to while away the afternoon. But his tastes…were a little unusual. And he doubted a brothel in the middle of Inepril was equipped, for lack of a better word, to deal with his particular perversions. He stood up, allowing a sheepish smile to flicker across his features as he gathered up the Punisher.

“Maybe next time. Do me favor sweetheart? Tell that broom head I’ll be at the hotel. I can’t wait for him all day.”

The whore smiled slowly back at him, standing up as well. She was tall, well-proportioned, and for a minute Wolfwood was reminded of the big girl. He missed her, he supposed. Too bad they had no choice but to ditch the insurance girls back in Augusta. Oh, they would catch up sooner or later, but for the moment, it was boys only, and Vash seemed to be taking advantage of the short girl’s absence. It hadn’t escaped Wolfwood’s notice, however, that the woman the plant had disappeared with was dark-haired and petite. Looked nothing like Meryl, otherwise, but there was that.

Wolfwood saw the woman peering at him closely, as if trying to discern his thoughts. “I’ll tell him, Mr. Priest,” she said, laughing. “Go take care of yourself.”

She sauntered up the steps and through the front door of the wooden building, shaking what God had given her for his benefit, and Wolfwood flicked the cigarette to the sand with a grin as he turned and walked down the dusty street. The Punisher banged against his side and he wondered briefly if he’d made a mistake in turning down the whore’s offer.

He shook his head to clear it, pulled out another rumpled smoke, and lit up as he headed towards the hotel. That girl had called him “Mr. Priest”…another reminder of wholesome Milly Thompson. With a sigh, the man let his thoughts drift to definitely unwholesome territory. What the hell--he’d make his own confession later, he smirked.

Stepping into the darkened hotel room, Wolfwood’s senses tingled, and in a fraction of an instant he’d pulled out his pistol, crouched to the floor, and flicked on the light.

A low throaty laugh greeted him, and he spun around, only to find the intruder standing immediately next to him.

“Hi, Chapel.”

A puff of air came out as Wolfwood expelled the breath he’d been holding.

“Jesus Christ, Dominique, what the hell are you doing here? I almost killed you.”

The woman laughed harder. “I somehow doubt that, Chapel. Your bullets would have a hard time tracking me.”

She was right, but Wolfwood wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of the admission. He holstered his gun, still cautious, but a bit more relaxed. If she’d come to kill him, she’d have done it already. Dominique liked to play with her prey, it was true, but they were old…friends, and Wolfwood didn’t see her drawing out the task.

“So tell me then, why are you here?” Wolfwood shut the door, leaned the punisher up against it, and took off his jacket. He sat down on the bed, dwindling cigarette still in hand, and propped a foot up on his knee.

Dominique gave him a toothy smile and in a flash was beside him on the bed. “Gotta kill your friend, priest. That’s my orders.”

“He’s not MY friend.” The denial was reflexive, and Wolfwood didn’t even take a moment to consider if it was the truth or not. His mind was already going over his own, conflicting orders in his head, and he realized one of them--perhaps both of them--were being set up. For failure. Given his reputation, Wolfwood thought it was Dominique who was destined to lose this round. And knowing the penalty for failure as a Gung Ho Gun, Wolfwood felt a bit sorry for her. Why did it come to this?

“What’s on your mind, Chapel?” Dominique laid a hand on his knee. “Remembering the good old days?”

“Actually, I was, earlier,” Wolfwood admitted. “Damn plant is out at the local whorehouse, and I was thinking whatever they got…well…”

“…it wouldn’t satisfy you.” Dominique finished his sentence for him. “You always were a bit…”

She trailed off and Wolfwood wasn’t going to try to finish her sentence in reciprocation. Any number of adjectives could fill in that blank, and although Wolfwood wasn’t ashamed of his sexual predilections, he felt a bit uncomfortable for some reason reliving them with a former … partner.

As if she could read his mind, Dominique moved her hand up his leg. “If little brother is busy for while, maybe…”

Wolfwood thought one of the reasons he had been so sexually compatible with this woman was she had her own hang ups, her own twisted needs, and enjoyed getting off however her partner wanted her to. Dominique had fucked every Gung Ho Gun at least once, and rumor had it she’d even had Legato. But instead of seeming whorish, the experience added to her allure. She could satisfy any of them, or all of them. Wolfwood wondered if she’d been brought into the ranks to fulfill a dual purpose. She was talented with her Demon’s Eye, yes, but she could handle all of their sexual anomalies. When Wolfwood learned about her sexual history, it had only made it easier to fuck her. Dominique didn’t expect a relationship. She was being “a good sport,” as E.G. Mine had said once. As long as she was used, she didn’t feel abused. It was odd, and if one of the Guns had asked her, she probably would have claimed empowerment as the reason for her sexual openness. She liked being in control, and by sleeping with all of her colleagues, Dominique felt a measure of power over each. She didn’t share their quirks or preferences, didn’t gossip about penis size or stamina. She just took advantage of the men in her arena, and let them feel, if they wished, that they were taking advantage of her.

Chapel though, she’d always been fond of. He was a mass of contradictions. Although his appearance was normal, handsome even, in the bedroom he was rather bizarre. Dominique didn’t need to ask why. His skin, a canvas of scars and torment from his Eye of Michael training, childhood abuse, battle scars, and God knew what else, showed that pain had always been part of his experience. She’d once read an article that said often children who’d been abused needed pain to believe they were feeling the sexual act completely. Torment and suffering were associated with strength and power in their minds. And sex, Dominique understood, was ultimately about power. Who was on top, who was being penetrated, who got off first, and who was left bleeding.

Dominique’s hand had traveled the length of his thigh and come to rest on his crotch. Wolfwood made no move to escape her touch, so with her other hand, she reached around and plucked the cigarette from his lips. She took a drag, resting her head on his shoulder, and then, deliberately, turned the burning tip against his palm. Wolfwood didn’t move, and Dominique ground the butt out against his skin.

She blew the black smoke into his face and was across the room in a flash, trench coat half off. She pulled her arms from the sleeves hurriedly, tossing it on the floor.

“Close your eyes, Chapel.”

It didn’t occur to Wolfwood to disobey. Although it had been a long time since they were together, the sizzle of the embers on his flesh had acted like a subliminal trigger. He wanted this. Dominique was an answer to a prayer. Wolfwood couldn’t explain to a common prostitute the intricacies of his wants, but Dominique already knew. She had learned quickly, and remembered. And so Wolfwood shut his eyes, making sure no light seeped in beneath the lids. His breathing already becoming harder with anticipation of the coming interaction.

Dominique watched with fascination as the strong man across from her complied wordlessly with her demand. This was going to be fun. She threw her hat on top of the coat, lying on the floor, and was next to Chapel in a flash, slowly unbuttoning his white shirt. She could smell his sweat and it made her more excited. When the shirt was open, Chapel acted as if to help her take it off, and she slapped his face, hard.

“Have you forgotten? Nothing unless I say.”

“Sorry,” Wolfwood mumbled, sounding almost childlike in his apology. He was rewarded with another slap on the opposite side of his face.

“That includes speaking, Chapel.”

Wolfwood stayed silent and Dominique decided to have a little more fun with him. His chest was truly magnificent, despite the faint scars mottling its surface, and she ran her fingertips lightly over the flesh. He was tan--from years in the desert suns or by a lucky genetic trait she didn’t know. But her pale fingers glided over the strength and warmth of him, and Dominique thrilled to realize he was completely at her mercy. Chapel had never wanted to turn the tables, like some of her other lovers had. He was content to be abused, commanded, and teased and then satisfy her when ordered. It was, to her mind, a perfect arrangement.

Abruptly, her fingernails clawed at the skin by his nipples, drawing blood. Wolfwood never flinched, and Dominique saw with satisfaction a twitch in the material covering his crotch. She dug a little harder, then literally ripped the shirt from his body, tearing the sleeves off and shredding the cotton as if it was paper. Wiping Chapel’s blood on the white cloth, she pushed him back on the bed and gently lapped at the cuts she’d made, then kissed him hard. Wolfwood could taste his own blood on her lips, and fought to keep his arms at his sides. His erection was pushing painfully against his zipper, and Dominique’s weight against him made it harder to control it.

Dominique pushed her tongue against the roof of Chapel’s mouth, exploring his teeth and the ridges there. When she felt him relax and his tongue pushed against hers, she withdrew and bit down hard on his lower lip. A soft groan came from Wolfwood’s mouth, and she decided to let that one slide. The small trickle of blood on the corner of his lip looked quite sexy, she thought. Jumping up from his prone body, Dominique played with the buckle of his belt, feeling the agony she was causing him as Wolfwood’s hips lifted involuntarily. She pulled it through the loops and then viciously snapped it against the large bulge in his pants.

“It’s not when you want it, it’s when I want to give it to you.”

The sting from the belt made Wolfwood curl slightly in a natural defense, but did nothing to relieve the pressure building up in his blood. His cock was throbbing, from his want and from the pain of the whip. Both sensations hurt, and both were welcome. Wolfwood’s mouth opened slightly as his breathing became deeper. His eyes were still closed of his own volition and his heart pounded as he waited for whatever Dominique had in mind.

The familiar sound of the buckles releasing the covering from the Punisher greeted his ears, and Wolfwood automatically opened his eyes, unthinking. Dominique had expected this, however, and in an instant she was across the room, behind him on the bed, and thrashed his exposed back with the leather of his belt.

Quickly shutting his eyes, Wolfwood realized she had known he would react that way. He was playing right into her hands. The thought made him feel helpless and even more aroused. He couldn’t remember Dominique anticipating his actions so well in their past encounters. The belt continued its assault on his skin, tearing into the muscles there, drawing thin lines of blood and leaving welts. Wolfwood thought if she kept it up much longer, he would be unable to stop his orgasm. He squirmed against the tidal wave of nerves that were drowning him. Seeing the priest’s distress, Dominique relented, and kissed his back delicately, tracing her tongue over the wounds she had made. Her hands reached under his arms and found his nipples, twisting them tightly as her lips adored his flesh. Wolfwood’s hips moved involuntarily with this new attack and her fingers dropped down to his waistband. Slowly, inexorably, she unbuttoned his pants, pulling them as far away from his straining cock as she could, unzipping them. Then, leaving them on, she was gone. Wolfwood was unwilling to open his eyes to see what she had in mind next, but he didn’t need to wait long.

Across the room, the Cyclops had undressed herself completely, and she made her way slowly back to Chapel, kissing his lips as she looped his belt around his neck, pulling it tight. The veins in his strong throat stood out against the pressure, and she straddled him, rubbing her large breasts against his naked chest. She pushed him away with one hand as she deepened the kiss, then tugged him in the opposite direction, closer to her, with the belt. The result was excruciating for the man. One hand came up to cup her breast, and Dominique allowed it for a moment, giving in to her own desire, before she punched Wolfwood in the stomach, causing him to fall back and choke harder against the belt around his neck.

“You know that’s not allowed.”

Wolfwood was silent and waited, desperately wanting to touch the woman atop him. As if she could sense his wish, Dominique acquiesced for a moment.”

“You may ask for one thing, Chapel.”

Wolfwood’s mind whirled. What should he ask? Something…he had to ask quick or her gift might be withdrawn. What would please his mistress?

“To pleasure you.”

His voice was low, rough, and fierce. Dominique found herself immensely turned on, and loosened the hold on the belt slightly.

“Very well.”

She lay him back again on the bed, and took a position facing the door, thighs on either side of his face. She lowered her pussy onto his waiting lips and Wolfwood began tonguing her with intensity and fever. She was drenched…wet and flowing, her juices covering his nose. He pushed harder against her slit, wishing he could use his hands, and applied more pressure on her clit with his nose. Dominique sighed above him and rested more of her weight on his head, almost smothering him in the folds of her sex. He ate her with eagerness, trying to remember exactly what techniques she liked.

Dominique was fast approaching an orgasm. She had been so stimulated by the situation, at having Chapel again, that it wasn’t going to take much to get her there. And the man had a talented tongue. She had forgotten. She moved in a circular motion above him as his lips pulled at her clit. Without his hands, he would need a little help, she understood. But why should her pleasure be any less because of Chapel’s weird tastes? She made a quick decision.

“You may touch me, but not above the waist.”

She was unprepared for the roughness and frenzied groping of his fingers as he pulled her pelvis hard against his chin. He spread her open with one hand as the other reached inside her, pushing hard. It hurt. She hadn’t been prepared for this. Although well-lubricated, Chapel was pounding deep, going forcefully against her, all the while his lips and tongue teased and prodded her clit. Dominique bucked with the pleasure and thrusts of his fingers, and as she approached her climax, Chapel bit gently on her clit, sending her into spasms of ecstasy. She fell forward against him, bracing herself on his hips with her hands, and thrashed against his face as his fingers slowly withdrew from inside her. She breathed heavily, breasts crushed against his skin, face almost against his cloth-covered cock. She had to move; if she stayed here it would ruin it.

Standing up, she checked to make sure Wolfwood’s eyes were still closed. They were, but he had a slight smile on his face. She slapped him again, leaving a red mark, and noticing as her hand connected that his cheek was wet from her sex.

“Worst head I ever had in my life,” she said, unable to keep the grin from her lips, but hoping Chapel didn’t hear it in her voice. The smile disappeared from his face and he lay, awaiting her next order.

Dominique moved next to the bed, selecting some of the longer tattered strips left of his shirt, and then went and lay the Punisher on the floor.

“Get up,” she said coldly, “and take off your pants but don’t you DARE touch yourself.”

Wolfwood obliged, removing the dark trousers and exposing his rigid penis to the dry air. The experience of bringing Dominique to orgasm had been exquisite. His pleasure was denied while hers was fulfilled. Wolfwood didn’t know why it was such an erotic thing for him, but it was.

“Open your eyes.”

Wolfwood, almost fearfully, did as he was told, disappointed that Dominique was behind him. He couldn’t look at her nude body…see the flush he’d brought to her skin with the force of her orgasm.

“Lie down on the gun.”

This was a new one. Wolfwood couldn’t remember her using the Punisher in their sexual games before. He had a pretty good idea of what she had in mind, and the sheer blasphemy of the idea alone made his cock harder.

He lay down, feet towards the door, careful not to attempt to look to see where Dominique was, and stretched out his arms on the cold metal.

“Close your eyes again like a good boy.”

Wolfwood did as he was told. Dominique stepped from behind the bed and tied Wolfwood at the elbow to the sides of the Punisher. The gun was too small to spread him out at the wrists, but Dominique knew the concept of restraint was the important thing here, not the fact of it. She tied his neck back with the belt, looping it into itself, and left his legs free, but pushed them slightly apart on either side of the long barrel. The hardness of the gun bit into Wolfwood’s raw back, painful against his shoulder blades, and he fought to lie still as Dominique tied him to it. His cock was standing straight up, and Wolfwood felt like if he was denied release much longer he would pass out.

Dominique watched his erection and discomfort with amusement, and went and took out one of Wolfwood’s cigarettes from inside his jacket. She smoked it calmly, knowing the smell was probably as maddening to Chapel as the condition of his body. She considered the situation, trying to ignore her own desire. The man was extremely well endowed, and the sight of him, bound and erect, was almost enough to make her forget the game and simply pounce on him. But she was doing this for him, fair was fair, and Dominique knew Chapel would be disappointed if he wasn’t tormented at least a little longer before they fucked each other’s brains out.

The cigarette got shorter, and Dominique saw with interest that Chapel’s cock was relaxing slightly. Still hard, but now lying against his tanned thigh, the coldness of the metal beneath it no doubt responsible for some abatement of passion. She wandered over to him and ashed over his leg. As the embers touched him, Wolfwood sighed and stretched his body out further. Dominique still wasn’t sure what exactly to do. Too bad she didn’t have her shotgun with her…the shells would fit nicely…ah well, maybe next time. She stubbed out the cigarette next to his nipple, brushing away the ash from his skin, and flicked each of them with her tongue. He was quite the male specimen, and Dominique took a moment to admire his lean physique, taut muscles, well-built chest, rippled waist, and smooth hips. The bones there prominent and welcoming, framing his sex beautifully. His legs were long and strong, and his ass, although she couldn’t see it at the moment, was perhaps the nicest part about him. Struck with an idea, she leaned over and pulled his buttocks apart from each other. His tailbone and the width of the Punisher kept him safe for the moment, but the coolness of the metal would now be felt better.

Dominique rummaged through a duffle, and Wolfwood could hear her. He resisted opening his eyes but was curious as to what she was looking for. Apparently she found it, as the noise stopped.

The smooth flat of a hunting knife touched his cock, and Wolfwood jumped from the sensation, eyes opening. He was surprised to see Dominique had a pistol in her other hand, which she then made good use of, whipping it against the side of his head. The crack against his jaw stung badly, and his softening penis jumped to attention again as the pain resonated in his body. It felt so good that he opened his eyes again, hoping for a repeat, but instead the serrated blade pressed gently against his throat. She was playing dangerously now, and Wolfwood felt a small flutter of pleasure in his stomach.

“I’ll cut out your eyes if you can’t keep them shut, love,” she said pleasantly.

Wolfwood closed them again, feeling the pressure against his neck disappear. The cold side of the blade traced a line up and down his legs, moving in circles, and every once in a while jabbed him with the point, making little pinpricks of pain. Wolfwood’s breathing became uneven and rough as the travels of the knife were pure torture. Dominique was careful to avoid his cock, staying close to it, often near, but never touching it, but covered every other bit of his skin. The metal felt like ice against the heat of his flesh, and Wolfwood was caught in a twisted vise of vicious pain and consummate lust.

Dominique stood, looking at her masterpiece. Little droplets of blood stood out proudly against Chapel’s suntanned body, and his erection grew even larger. She eyed it in anticipation. Not yet, but almost. With her fingers, she smudged the blood on his skin, destroying her careful pattern, and leaving angry reddish brown streaks. She collected Wolfwood’s blood on her fingertips, then put them in his mouth to suck. He pulled on them, swirling his tongue around her nails, groaning from the sensations and taste. His hands clenched in the air as the cloth bonds kept him in place.

Dominique then dove to his feet, licking his skin, tracing the damage she’d inflicted with a tender tongue, taking care to avoid his suffering cock, but allowing her long hair to fall against it teasingly. A small drop of precum escaped the tip, and gently, picking up the knife from the floor, she rubbed the metal blade over the head. She continued her trail up his body, drawing lazy patterns up his legs with her fingernails. Finally she reached his lips and kissed him. Their tongues fought, and Dominique realized with excitement that Chapel was barely controlling himself. She’d never seen him in such a fervor. She’d hurt him much worse in the past. Back at the Gung Ho Guns base they had more…toys to play with. Here she was improvising and basically using anticipation as her greatest weapon. But it was working splendidly. She felt the heat in her own body rise as her nipples brushed lightly against his chest and their lips attacked one another’s mouth. For a moment, she almost wished Chapel was a “give and take” sort who would tie her up and punish her when this was over, but she knew better. As he got even more aggressive, moving his hips up to try to touch her, she pulled back, tugging the belt tighter around his neck.

“Mmm…no…”

She really would have liked him to beg, wanted to hear him beg, but the problem with this game was he wasn’t allowed to beg, and he knew it. So these small little lapses of control, they served as the pleas that Dominique hoped were echoes of screams in his mind. She wanted him to want her desperately, even though she was aware she was only an outlet for him, a receptacle for his physical need. But apparently, she thought with a bit of a smirk, she was better than a whore. He’d turned down the prostitute that day, but couldn’t refuse her.

Standing above him, she looked at the damage she’d inflicted. She’d been careful, and there were almost no marks that would leave a trace. The cuts on his chest and the welts on his back would be the worst, but the small cuts with the knife would disappear in a few days. Wolfwood lay, seemingly calm, and no doubt was wondering what she would do next. From her position, she could see out the open window, and a small red blur was visible in the distance. Damn it. No more time for fun and games.

With no warning at all, Dominique positioned herself over Wolfwood’s tortured erection and took him inside her in one smooth motion. He gasped at the unexpected pleasure and still fought to remain motionless as Dominique began pumping up and down on his shaft. His cock stretched her almost painfully, and if she hadn’t already come once, she probably would have been even less ready for its size. As it was, she quickly forgot her role as tormentor and simply began riding him as hard as she could. Wolfwood sensed her abandon and, grateful for the reprieve, began matching her downward thrusts with his own upwards. The result was the deepest penetration possible, and Dominique screamed at the sensation.

Still held in place by the belt and ties, Wolfwood pulled his legs back, feet flat on the floor, to take some of the weight of Dominique bouncing heavily on top of him. Each motion pounded his back into the metal of the cross, her hands scraping at his skin unconsciously, and the discomfort resulted in furthering his arousal. His cock was squeezed tight by her muscles and Wolfwood had been waiting so long for this release that he feared he wouldn’t be able to last. Dominique was close to spent, her energy waning as his cock throbbed relentless and forcefully inside her. On his next upward thrust, as their hips banged together, she shuddered, and Wolfwood opened his eyes to see Dominique’s orgasm claim her. She flailed against him, impaled as her muscles contracted and breasts heaved, and, thankful, Wolfwood pistoned harder, feeling his own excitement peak as his climax overtook him. She sensed him coming and squeezed his balls at the root, making him cry out as his sperm flooded into her depths.

Dominique grabbed the knife, cut Wolfwood’s arms loose and quickly stood up, grabbing her clothes. The after effect of his orgasm had made Wolfwood sleepy, and he watched her in a half-daze, wondering what her hurry was. There was soft knock on the door.

“Wolfwood, you in there?”

“Shit.” He fumbled with the belt around his neck, trying to undo the ridiculous loops, as Dominique stifled a laugh and pulled on her clothes. A few seconds later he was loose and she was dressed.

“Yeah, Needle Noggin, just…” Wolfwood blanked. What the hell to say… “taking a crap. Be out in a minute.”

Vash giggled behind the door. “Yeah, I’m not coming in then. P.U. Let’s get some salmon sandwiches. Are you hungry?”

Wolfwood slipped on his pants and wondered how the hell he was going to explain the shirt. Luckily he did have an extra.

“I’m starving.”

Dominique stepped into the shadows as Wolfwood finished getting dressed and whispered, “Tonight, Vash the Stampede is…fucked.” Wolfwood nodded, unwilling to tell her they were opponents in this battle at the moment, and opened the door, shutting it quickly behind him.

As they walked away, Dominique heard the notorious outlaw say, “Damn Wolfwood, you bit your lip you were pushing so hard,” and dissolve into giggles.
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Upper Egypt