Title: Takeover
Author: Kiarene
Pairings: 1x5
Rating: R
Summary: AU. Corporate raider Heero Yuy has his sights on one Chang Wufei.

Published: 27th June 2004
Disclaimer: I so totally own them. Bwahaha.

Feedback: It keeps the boys panting.



Takeover 4





My office door bangs open and Chang strides in wrathfully, a piece of paper crumpled in one fist. "What is the meaning of *this*?"


Behind him, Sally quietly closes the door, an amused smirk on her face.


"What do you mean?" I keep my voice modulated, a similar amused smirk playing on my lips.


"You know what I mean," Chang snarls, waving the piece of paper. "This... notice! Telling me that my family's land in China is being bought over by a certain WingCorp!"


"Oh, that." I shrug and lean back, the padded leather creaking slightly. "Yes, well, WingCorp occasionally does land acquisition."


"Land. Acquisition." Chang's eyes narrows dangerously. "Whatever for?"


"Business. Sometimes to build upon, sometimes because a competitor has his eye on it, sometimes to hold onto and sell again at a later date because of the value of the land..." I explain matter-of-factly.


Sometimes as bait, I think silently. 


"How could you? I thought you..." Chang trails off, flushing lightly. I thought you like me, I could fill in smugly. Point to me. Changing track, he asks again. "Did you know I own this?"


"No," I lied. "I accquired a large tract of land in that area — I did not know it included your land." 


Standing up, I slid around my desk, planting one hand on the surface as I lean towards him. We're so close; I can *feel* the stiffness of his body as he tenses up.


"Why, did you think that I would give you special treatment because of my interest in you?" I tease, allowing my voice to lower seductively.


"Yes... No!" His blush deepens adorably. "I mean, um..."


Quick as a striking snake, I plant my other hand on the desk on his other side, trapping him against my desk. So close I can feel the heat of his body; if I lean in a *bit* more, we would have been touching. Tempting — sinfully, delightfully tempting — but I keep my distance. Sometimes the promise, the imagination, could be a far better seductive technique than any action.


"You mean...?"


Chang's position surely can't be comfortable, back arched back against my desk like this. Beneath me, I can see/feel the faint trembling in his taut muscles. Shit, and that calls to mind an image of him, on my desk, bowed and quivering under me.


"I mean... that this isn't the best way to... enamor yourself with...Yuy, could you possibly move back?"


It's really, really delicious to see this normally self-assured, gorgeous creature blushing and stuttering, and I really, really shouldn't be enjoying this as much as I am.


"No," I answer simply with a vulpine grin.


I decide that he *really* couldn't be comfortable in this position so I abruptly pushed him down onto my desk. Already off-balanced, Chang lands sprawled out, his temple catching at the corner of my computer monitor.


"The hell?" Chang barks, shifting to get up but I don't give him a chance. I hold his wrists with my hands and pin my body on top of his. "Yuy!"


Pulling his wrists above his head in a swift motion, I capture both with one hand and bring my free hand to rub at his temple. "Sorry. Does this hurt?"


My soft tone and surprising action throws him for a few moments, and he stares up at me, stunned. But he recovers quickly and suddenly I find myself flipped on my back, in his position.


"Dammit Yuy! I'm serious!" Chang snarls in my face, a furious wolf to my teasing fox. "How can you be so... so uncaring? So indifferent? The natural environment is a beautiful, scared gift; why must you despoil it?"


"Advancement is unavoidable—" I say, knowing it would rile him.


"—not at the expense of the environment! Surely there are methods that—"


"—those are less efficient, less—"


"Bullshit, and you know it!" Chang leans closer unconsciously, heated breath ghosting over my face, and my breath hitches. We're now face to face and, well, other things to other things. When had I lost control of the situation? And, why am I not worried?

"It's all numbers! An environmentally friendly process that uses solar energy is perhaps say twenty percent less efficient as compared to one that uses fossil fuels, but that's because you're starting from the wrong baseline. When you add in the cost that went into the making of the fossil fuel, I daresay solar energy is more efficient because energy is not lost along the way in the manufacture of the fossil fuel. But that's not the point — the point is, even if it *is* less efficient, or more expensive, surely the extra cost, be it monetary or otherwise, is worth it!"


"No, I don't know! I don't know how it *is* worth it!"


Chang looks taken aback at my frustrated tone, and I'll have to admit I took myself by surprise too. We're know, intellectually, where the other stand, but emotionally, we're still on different levels. I still do not *see* it from his point of view.


"Show me," I say suddenly.


"What?" He asks, confused.


"Show me what you mean. Show me why it is worth it."  It occurs to me that this was a brillant turn of conversation — after all, wasn't my original plan to take him away?


I'm on a roll. "Bring me to China — to the land I just bought from you. Show me why."


"What?" Chang repeats, a lot more feebly this time.


I nod decisively. "I'm free this weekend. Luckily I've a private jet so we don't have to worry about tickets. How’s your schedule?"


Realizing that he's still on top of me, I casually wrap my arms around his waist. 


Chang scowls. "I'm not going anywhere with you!"


"Why not?"


"Because you're a prevert." At this point, our positions hit him. Pink chases across his cheeks, and he scrambles off hastily. I let him go reluctantly, allowing my hands to trail down the curve of his butt and side of his hips, and his flush deepens in anger.


"And that's why I'm not going with you!"


"Chang, you *know* that I can't do anything to you that you don't really want." I sit up, running a hand through my hair in a furtile attempt to neaten it. "We're the same size and you're stronger than I am. You're in absolutely *no* danger of getting raped by me."


As expected, the jab at his strength, or masculinity, hits home. His scowl becomes darker but he has no easy rebuttal. I have to hide my smirk — he's truly an innocent. Seduction does not require strength.


"Convince me, Chang," I say again disarmingly. "Show me why you do what you do. Show me what drives you."


I can *feel* him weakening.


"Chang, if you can convince me, the land is yours." I can see the exact moment he succumbs at *that* promise. "I'll call off the sale."


"You will?" He asks suspiciously.


When I nod, smiling, he shakes his head in defeat. "I must be crazy but..."


"I'll pick you up on Saturday morning."




Saturday morning — very early morning — finds me outside Chang's apartment door. I press the doorbell and wait.


And wait. And ring again.


I hear a curse, muffled by the door, and then the click of a latch. The door swings open to reveal a deliciously rumpled looking Chang, clad *only* in loose white pants that hang so low on his hips I can see the line of very fine, dark hair that starts just below his sexy navel and goes down right to.. god, his morning erection that’s tenting the white fabric…


The jerk of fabric breaks my concentration and I look up to see a dark — if somewhat myopic —scowl. Chang pulls his pants up, cheeks flushed in mortification, and tightens the drawstring self-conciously. His hair is unbound and cascades over his shoulders in silken wings.


I grin, staring unabashedly. Chang crosses his arms defensively over his bared chest, faint goosebumps rising all over his tawny skin in the nippy dawn air.


“What the fuck are you doing here at—“ he glances down, forgetting that he wasn’t wearing a watch, and scowls harder “—this time?”


“I said I’ll pick you up, didn’t I?” I reply cheerily.


“The sun isn’t even up yet,” he says testily.


“It is.” Sort of, if you can count that sliver of amber that’s peeking over the horizon as ‘dawn.’ I push the door wider and step through. I toe off my shoes and push them with a foot beside the shoe rack by the door.


Chang stares at me muzzily, obviously too sleepy still to come up with a proper retort. He settles for stalking back to his room in a huff, slamming his door petulantly. Almost as an afterthought, the lock clicks shut.


Restraining the urge to snicker, I sit down on the lounge to wait. Truth be told, I did this on purpose. I yawn and change my mind, standing up. If I sit down, I’ll probably fall asleep.


It *is* an ungodly hour but for some reason, I enjoy pushing Chang’s buttons and seeing him irritated. It is strange and even childish, like pulling a girl’s pigtails at the playground, and I’ve never felt this way towards any of my past lovers. But something about Chang makes it irresistible. Maybe it’s the way he reacts; like tickling a sleeping dragon. Or maybe I’m just regressing, in which case, I blame that on sexual frustration.


I have this sudden image of me pulling Chang’s *thick and long* pigtail.


A glance at my watch — perhaps I should make myself useful. Make breakfast or something. I walk into his kitchen, a small room tiled in orange and ocher. White cabinets, and gleaming black countertops, in the center of the counter, a magnificent ebony and steel centerpiece. An expresso machine.


I can see where his priorities lie.


Feeling strangely domestic, strange because Heero Yuy is *never* domestic, I rummage through his cabinets and fridge. Peering into Chang’s fridge is rather interesting — Chang obviously eats a lot of greens and are those still *growing* sprouts? I poke my head further in and when a sudden hard slap lands on my backside, I yelp, almost knocking my head against the cold shelves.


“Chang!” I stare at him, eyes wide in shock, and close the fridge door. Did he just *touch* me on my ass? Ok, so it was a slap, but it was a *voluntary* touch, and more importantly, it was on my *ass*.


“That was for waking me up at such an unresonable hour.” Chang yawns widely and pads across to the expresso machine. He turns and grins fuzzily at me, still sleepy and uninhibited. He had changed out into a pair of faded indigo jeans and a tight black T-shirt, hair pulled back in a loose tail at the nape. His feet are still bare and I catch a glimpse of graceful ankles.


My knees abruptly feel weak and I sit down heavily on a chair. I have never seen this side of Chang before and it’s …delightful. I grin back. “I should wake you up more often then, if that the kind of reception I get.”


“Hm? You *like* getting spanked?” He asks guilelessly. I bite my tongue to hold my reply to *that* innuendo. He turns and pulls open a drawer. “Do you want a cup of coffee too?”


I’ve never played those games with my lovers before but at his words, and the image *that* conured up, I find myself hardening. Perhaps, I think hungrily. Somehow, I’m quite sure he’s too sleepy to realize what he had just said. Clearing my throat, I say aloud, “Yes, please.”


“Sugar? Creamer?” He plonks two cups on the metal grille.


“Black will suffice.” I admire his lithe grace as he moves about silently, opening drawers to take out glass containers of coffee beans and sugar and creamer, and sliding them close with a bump of hip.


Warm pinkish amber rays slant into the kitchen, painting a homely picture.


“Do you need any help?” I feel obliged to ask.


Chang shakes his head. “No need. Better that I do it; you wouldn’t know where I keep my stuff. Have you eaten yet?”


When I shake my head, he proceeds to cook a simple breakfast of eggs and toasted bagels. His movements are efficient, though a little sleepier and slower than usual; I find myself entranced by his languid grace. There's just something so sensual, yet homely, about eating breakfast with a lover — or potential lover. Something about the quiet pre-dawn stillness before the rest of the city wakes up.


Something about the hint of having stayed together through the night.


Chang himself seems to be less defensive, wary. As he sits down, the food he prepared heaped on plates between us, our eyes catch and he suddenly gives a small smile. A languorous, warm feeling spreads through me.


"Have I prepared enough? How's the eggs?" He asks self-consciously, pushing a stray wisp of hair behind his ear. He hadn't put on his glasses or contacts yet, and he blinks owlishly at me.


"It's great," I complement sincerely. Gorgeous, sexy and he *cooks*. Chang's a keeper. "And it's too much food. I normally don't each so much in the mornings."


"You should." Chang shakes his head disapprovingly as he proceeds to spoon more scrambled egg onto my plate. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!"


"Chang!" I stare at the mountain of egg on my plate, wondering if it's considered too rude to spoon some of it back.


"Eat up, Yuy. It's not a lot." Chang smiles sweetly at me. "There're bagels too. Do you prefer butter, cream cheese or jam on them?"


I open my mouth to protest further but catch sight of the steely glint in his eyes and change my mind. Sighing, I slowly make my way through breakfast. I feel ...domesticated. Heel Yuy! Sit down Yuy! Roll over and show me your tummy Yuy!


Well, look on the bright side; I'm spending more time with Chang.  




Chang is suitably impressed as we board my personal plane, a nifty white craft with blue stripes. It’s small but fast; the best non-military plane money can buy. Only one pilot is required and it can seat a total of five comfortably.


“You can store your bags in the compartment on the right,” I inform him as I buckle myself in. My luggage had already stowed securely on board last night, in the large boxes that are bolted down to the floor at the rear of the plane. I start the plane as he puts away his bags.


“Do you fly often?” Chang asks curiously over the whine of the engines. He buckles himself in the seat beside me and looks the cockpit with wide eyes. The plane is quite spacious, especially since there are only two of us, and the seats are luxuriously upholstered, with generous leg and headroom. There’s even a small bar and pantry behind the seating area.  


“Aa. At least once or twice a month.”


“It’s odd. Not that you have a plane — I’m sure you’re rich enough — but that you fly it yourself. I would have thought you’d have a pilot.” Chang turns around, looking out the window as we taxied down the runway.


“Mm. Why hire someone else to handle the pleasure of flying? Also, I’m a control freak.” I grin widely. As the asphalt falls away below us, I can practically feel the tension draining from my shoulders. “I like driving — I like anything that involves gadgets and all sorts of electronic equipment — and I particularly enjoy the freedom of flying. It’s great fun, don’t you think?”


I wave my hand, indicating the impressive array of lights and buttons and switches. Chang laughs.  


“Sometimes I think, if I weren’t a businessman, I would like to be a pilot.”


“A commerical pilot?” Chang asks doubtfully. “Somehow I cannot imagine you as one…”


“No, a fighter pilot,” I confess. It was a childhood fancy of mine. I set the plane on autopilot and check the weather report again. Perfect.


“Didn’t you just say you’re a control freak? How would you survive in a military environment?”


I consider the question thoughtfully as I unbuckle myself. “I do like control, true, but I can take orders too. I like order and a regular regime; to me, it is one form of control.”


Chang pauses for a moment, gazing thoughtfully at me. “You’re right. I *can* see you in a military environment. I think you would make an excellent soldier; you certainly have the discipline for it. Not a common foot soldier, because I think you’ll be wasted in such a position, but an elite one.” 


I didn’t try to conceal my pleased surprise at his praise. Under his steady attention, I feel extremely and wonderfully sensitive; my skin practically tingling. ”I never knew you thought so highly of me…”


“I had never thought you were stupid or incompetent, Yuy. I have the highest respect for your abilities.” Chang unbuckles himself and faces me squarely, his expression sincere. A small grin tugs at his lips. “You can be a bastard at times though.”


“I’m hurt! What did I do, or didn’t I do?” I protest, enjoying this playful side of him. “I sent you gifts — am I not thoughful?”


“Gifts are nothing!’ Chang snorts, jabbing me lightly in my chest. “You also made… *tricked* me along on this trip,” Chang said archly. He shook his head slightly and crossed his arms with a sigh. “And I was an idiot not to have realized it earlier.”


“You don’t seem to be protesting much.” I feel obliged to point out. I shift into a relaxed slouch, facing him.


“Well, it’s been *some* time since I visited China…” Chang smirks.


“I feel used. Taken advantage of.” I gave a sad sniff.


“Of course. You’re rich.”


“Taken in by a pretty face…”


“Hey! I’m not pretty—“


I smirk, nodding. “Very pretty.” Gorgeous, I think silently and leered openly.


“*Girls* are pretty! I’m a guy!” Chang scowls at me, patting his tail self-consciously. “Just because I’ve long hair…!”


“I wasn’t thinking about your hair —  but it *is* pretty too. And why can’t guys be pretty?”


“Because… because it’s an adjective to describe females!” Chang splutters, cheeks pinking in embarassment. “Guys… are *not* pretty!”


“I never knew you’re sexist, Chang. Such terms should be able to descibe either gender,” I scold, wagging my finger at him. Gods; I haven’t had this much fun in *years*.


Chang is *definitely* warming towards me.






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