Forgotten Dreams
Part 16
Quatre woke feeling curiously
rested. ‘A whole night without a nightmare. Not even a
murmur.’ He opened his eyes and looked down at Trowa. Smiling Trowa. Naked
Trowa. The events
of the previous night came crashing back to Quatre: Trowa under him, around
him, pleading
softly for release, begging Quatre not to let him go. Quatre smiled and gently
stroked
Trowa’s cheek, then yawned and winced as scratches on his back were pulled.
‘Scratches? When
did I get scratched?’ The memory rose slowly, but vividly: Trowa’s arms and
legs wrapped
around him as the brown-haired boy orgasmed, hands grasping Quatre’s back and
his fingernails
digging in as he cried out, leaving shallow gouges in the soft skin.
Quatre simply smiled at the memory
and watched Trowa as he slept, that peaceful smile
still on his lips.
“We must have done *something*
right, if you’re still smiling,” Quatre murmured
softly, still awed that Trowa was actually his, wholly and completely. “And I’m
going to do
my best to keep that smile there, no matter what.”
Trowa shifted a bit and turned on
his side, facing Quatre. His body tensed as he woke
to unfamiliar surroundings, then his eyes opened slowly.
Quatre bit his lip, suddenly afraid
that Trowa would decide that he *hadn’t* wanted
last night to happen, and gently touched his lover’s shoulder. “Good morning,
Sunshine. Did
you sleep well?”
Trowa looked up at him, the look in
his eyes and on his face so open and vulnerable
that Quatre pulled the youth against him, heart aching.
“You’re still here.” Trowa’s voice
was small, incredulous.
Quatre nodded as he tilted Trowa’s
head up. “Where were you expecting me to be?”
Trowa looked to the side, face
gloomy once again. “I don’t know. Gone.”
“Why would I leave?”
A shrug. “Why wouldn’t you? You got
what you wanted, didn’t you?”
Quatre sat up and rubbed his eyes.
Not *this* again. “Trowa, do you *want* me to use
you? Is that it? Do you *want* to be nothing more than my playtoy?”
Trowa slid under the covers and
shook his head. “. . . No. . .”
“Do you *want* me to hurt you, to
abandon you?”
Another shake. “. . . No. . .”
Quatre lifted the blanket and looked
down at Trowa.
“You’re mad at me. . .” Trowa inched
down the bed.
“No, just very tired of your lack of
trust in me.” Quatre tilted his head to the
side. “I love you, Trowa, and---*Why* are you hiding?”
Trowa had moved down until his head
was even with Quatre’s knees. It was a good thing
Quatre’s bed was really, really big. “I don’t want you mad at me.”
Quatre raised an eyebrow. “You know,
Trowa, sometimes I think a good smack would do
you wonders. I’m *not* mad at you. I’m *not*.”
“But you’re upset.”
“With myself. I don’t care if it’s
my birthday or not, I think that we rushed into
this too soon. I don’t think we, especially you, were quite ready for this yet.
And please,
will you stop hiding? I’m not going to hit you, really. You look like a kicked
dog.”
Trowa moved up a bit. “I liked it.”
“So did I, but I can’t re-convince
you of my feelings every morning after, love. Now
come here.” Quatre patted next to him.
“Why?”
“I want to hold you.” “I
don’t want you to hold me.”
Quatre sighed and tilted his head
back. “Then stay there. Get up. Do whatever you
want.” He closed his eyes and tried not to get angry, or cry. ‘You’re an idiot,
Winner.’
Trowa moved up completely, laying
his head on Quatre’s chest and entangling their
legs together.
Quatre raised his head. “Fickle.” He
held Trowa close.
“I’m sorry for making you upset.”
Quatre smiled and tilted Trowa’s
head up. “A kiss would make me feel better. May I
kiss you?”
Trowa nodded. “I think that’s a good
idea.”
“Oh, *do* you?” Quatre murmured as
he lowered his head, mouth brushing against
Trowa’s.
Trowa nodded. “I do.”
Quatre merely chuckled softly before
pressing his lips to Trowa’s gently. Trowa
sighed softly and slid one hand behind Quatre’s head, laying back and pulling
the blond on
top of him. Quatre bit gently at Trowa’s lower lip before kissing a trail to
his ear,
nibbling gently. Trowa’s arms tightened around him and the brown-haired boy
whimpered softly
before Quatre kissed down his neck, sucking gently at the base of Trowa’s
throat. Trowa
shuddered, his voice a husky whisper in Quatre’s ear.
“Quatre. . .”
Quatre smiled and leaned up to kiss
Trowa when his gaze passed over the clock on his
nightstand, and he did a double take.
10:42.
“Oh, crap,” he murmured, pulling
away from Trowa’s sweet lips and sitting up.
Trowa opened his eyes, hands resting
on Quatre’s hips and a frown on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
Quatre sighed and ran his hands
absently over Trowa’s chest. “It’s almost eleven. I’m
surprised they let us sleep this long.”
“So?”
Quatre smiled. Trowa was cute when
he was pouting. “So, if we’re not up soon Iria’s
going to come looking for us, and much as I’d *like* to lock the door and stay
here with you
all day, this party is going to *be* an all-day event.” He made a face. “Plus we
both need to
bathe. Sex is messy.”
Trowa smiled and sat up, spilling
Quatre into his lap and resting his head in the
crook of Quatre’s neck. “You weren’t complaining last night.”
Quatre wrapped his arms around Trowa
and leaned his cheek against Trowa’s head. “No,
and I’m not complaining now. It was but a statement.” With much reluctance, and
to Trowa’s
great disappointment, Quatre moved off of him and stood. “I’m going to shower.”
‘Want to join
me? Oh, but then we’d *never* leave the room.’
Trowa nodded and brought his knees
up to his chin, wrapping his arms around his legs
and resting his head on his knees as he watched Quatre. “I’ll take one after
you.” Apparently
Trowa thought a joint shower wasn’t a good idea at the moment, too.
Quatre leaned down and kissed the
silky cheek offered him before walking into the
bathroom. That joint shower was sounding really good at the moment. . . But
Quatre had a
hand, and he *did* know how to use it. He showered quickly after that, then got
out and dried
off, wrapping a towel around his waist. He opened the door and smiled at Trowa.
“All yours.”
Trowa nodded and got up, walking to
Quatre and looking down at him. A faint smile
graced his lips and he shut the door softly.
Half an hour later both boys were
clean and dressed. Quatre leaned up and kissed
Trowa’s cheek for the umpteenth time, enjoying the pink flush that spread
across Trowa’s
cheeks and the bridge of his nose when Quatre kissed him, then took his lover’s
hand and
opened the door.
Altair had a gun pointed at the
center of his face.
Quatre stopped thinking as Altair’s
finger moved on the trigger, throwing himself
back against Trowa, knocking him down. Water splashed on his face as he and
Trowa tumbled to
the ground and Quatre sat up, glaring sullenly at Altair and her water gun.
“Damn you and your sick sense of
humor, Altair.”
Altair merely flashed him a swift
grin as she walked into the room, looking around.
She wore a navy blue tank top with black jeans, black shoes, and a black
fedora.
“Chill,” she murmured, “You landed
in his lap.”
Quatre raised an eyebrow as he
stood. “Chill? You sound like Basma. And me landing in
Trowa’s lap doesn’t matter.” He held his hand out to help Trowa up. “What are
you doing?” he
asked as Altair started gathering up the sheets and blankets.
“Taking these to Pari’s room. She
and Rashid were getting mighty friendly at dinner,
so the servants won’t question stained sheets.” Quatre simply stared at her as
she walked
past. “Besides, Iria would have a cat, a cow and two chickens if she found out
you two had
sex.”
Quatre’s eyebrow went up again. “How
do *you* know we had sex? Besides from coming in
here and poking around.” He pinched Altair as she passed him again.
Altair moved out of his reach. “I
saw the way he looked at you yesterday and the
looks on your faces when you left the dining room.”
“I guess you *have* to be observant
in order to be the scariest person in the galaxy,
hm?”
“It’s in the job description.”
Quatre smiled and wrapped his arm
around Trowa’s waist as Altair left with the
sheets.
Trowa looked down at him. “She’s
odd.”
That brought a laugh from the young
Arab. “You have no idea, love.” Quatre gently
drew Trowa out onto the balcony and leaned against the rail.
Two Maguanacs were escorting a young
Chinese woman to the front door and then there
was a familiar shriek from the left. Basma appeared on a balcony two away from
Quatre’s and
leaned over the railing at a precarious angle, waving her arms frantically.
“I looooooove you, Pai Ling!” she
shouted, alto voice ringing out across the
courtyard.
The young woman looked up and waved
back, a smile lighting her face. “I love you too,
Basma Winner!” Her soprano countered Basma’s lower voice nicely.
Basma shrieked again and disappeared
from view, only to come flying out the front
door less than a minute later, flinging herself on the Chinese girl. They both
fell,
laughing.
Quatre chuckled softly and smiled,
turning to Trowa. “I do believe Basma’s in love,”
he commented, running a finger up and down Trowa’s sleeve.
Trowa’s mouth twitched. “I do
believe she is,” he agreed.
“Well, shall we seek out food?” The
faint growl of Quatre’s stomach emphasized his
question.
Trowa nodded, allowing himself to be
led from the room.
*
* *
Basma met them at the dining room
door, wearing a shirt that said “TEST-TUBE BABIE”
across the front.
“Hey,” she said, grinning.
“You misspelled ‘baby’,” Quatre
pointed out.
“Yah, I know.” She continued
grinning.
“What?”
“Y’know what I got for my birthday
last year?” The look on Basma’s face told Quatre
he didn’t.
“Ahhh, maybe later.” Quatre looked
for a way to squeeze past his sister, but Basma
blocked the doorway.
“Well, I’ll tell ya!”
“No, Basma, really---”
“I got a big, juicy piece of---”
“Basma, please!”
“Cherry Pai!” Basma finished
triumphantly, eyes twinkling.
Quatre paused, hands halfway to his
ears. It hadn’t been the perverted statement he’d
been expecting. “Cherry pie? Dare I ask?”
Basma covered her mouth as she burst
into laughter. “Uh-huh! And did my Cherry Pai
taste goooood!”
Quatre blinked. There was something
he was missing. . . He looked at Trowa, who
shrugged.
“Basma, that’s nice---”
Quatre was interrupted yet again as
a slim pair of arms slid around Basma’s waist.
“You’re too tall, Basma.” It was the Chinese woman. What had Basma called her?
Something-or-other Ling.
Basma pulled the other woman around
in front of her, looking fondly down at her. She
was nearly a head taller than the other girl, who was smiling up at her. Basma
smiled back,
then grinned at Trowa and Quatre.
“Boys, this is my girlfriend. Yummy
as a cherry!” She started snickering again.
The girl looked back at the two
pilots and smiled as she bowed politely. “Hello,” she
said, a definite accent in her voice, “My name is Ling Pai.” Basma poked her
and she
corrected herself. “Ah, Pai is my name.”
“Pai? Pai. . . pie. . . cherry. . .
pie. . . Cherry. . . Pai. . . piece of Cherry
Pai. . . piece of. . . of. . . *BASMA*!!!!” Quatre howled as the pieces
clicked into place,
“You *pervert*!” Unwilling to attack his sister, Quatre stamped his feet and
growled
incoherently, throwing a minor temper tantrum as he vented his anger. “I should
have *known*
nothing *decent* would ever come out of *your* mouth!” He turned to Trowa and
hid his face in
his lover’s neck, scowling.
Trowa wrapped his arms around Quatre
as Basma laughed.
“Oh, Basma! Quit telling people
that!”
“Oh, Pai! Quit wearing clothes and I
will!”
Quatre plugged his ears and
whimpered. “See what I had to put up with?!” He sniffed
for effect, and Trowa’s hold on him tightened.
“I’m still hungry.”
Quatre smiled and slid past the two
lovers, who had decided to inspect each other’s
mouths very thoroughly. Quatre suspected it had been all Basma’s idea. “Well,
let’s get you
some food.” He pulled Trowa down for a quick kiss, then led the way into the
dining room,
where various sisters and Maguanacs were eating.
“Yo, Quatre-baby! You’re up!” Duo
leapt out of his chair and over a table, bounding
over to the blond Arab and enveloping he and Trowa in a bear hug, ecstatic at
seeing his
friend. “Didja see Basma’s shirt? Isn’t it great? You never told me your
sisters were
test-tube babies! That’s really cool, y’know?”
“Test-tube baby and *damn* proud of
it!” was Basma’s shout from the doorway.
Quatre just nodded and hugged Duo
back, heart catching as Duo molded his body to the
blond’s. He let go and brushed Duo’s bangs out of his face, touch lingering
slightly. “Is
there any food left?”
Duo nodded and skipped back to his
place next to Heero. “Yup!”
Quatre greeted his sisters and the
Maguanacs as he and Trowa sat, catching Rashid’s
disapproving look as he leaned in close to talk to Trowa, one hand on the back
of Trowa’s
chair and gently touching his lover’s shoulder.
‘My lover. . . I can say that now,’
Quatre thought as he absently greeted Zara, who
ignored him and piled Trowa’s plate with food. ‘Because that’s what we are.
We’re lovers.’ He
smiled softly as his gaze drifted around the table, settling on Duo.
The Shinigami pilot glanced up from
his animated, if largely one-sided, conversation
with Heero and winked at the blond, his own smile softening considerably as he
toyed with the
end of his braid. Heero glanced up when he noticed that Duo had stopped talking
and said
something, but for once the American didn’t jump all over his words. Quatre
watched as Heero
followed Duo’s gaze to him, his eyes narrowing. He spoke again, closer to Duo,
and again Duo
didn’t react. He merely watched Quatre, that soft smile tugging at the corners
of his mouth.
Heero’s face darkened and he grabbed Duo’s chin roughly, forcing the American
to face him.
Duo meeped and tried to pull away, but the Japanese soldier glared at him and
spoke low. Duo
lowered his eyes and shook his head, and Heero smiled thinly, cupping Duo’s
cheek gently as
he continued to talk.
Quatre frowned as Duo reacted in
shakes and nods of his head. That wasn’t right at
all. Trowa touched his arm lightly, distracting him.
“Quatre. . .”
He looked up. “Yes?”
Trowa pointed to the door. “What’s
Basma doing?”
“Probably something stupid.” Quatre
turned to look. “Talking to herself.”
“Why?”
Quatre smiled and brushed his
fingers lightly across Trowa’s cheek. “She does that,
love.”
“Oh.” A faint pink spread across
Trowa’s face as he shifted in his seat. “You’re
touching me. . .” His voice was barely above a whisper.
Quatre nodded as he continued to lightly
stroke Trowa’s cheek. “I know.”
Trowa shifted again. “Why?”
“Just reassuring myself that you’re
really here. And I like touching you. Your skin
is so soft. . .” Quatre took Trowa’s hand and stroked the back of it lightly
before bringing
it up to his lips. He watched Trowa through his eyelashes as he tilted his head
down and
kissed his love’s hand. Trowa squirmed again and smiled slightly, then jumped
when Quatre
opened his mouth just enough to lightly flick his tongue across the back of the
brown-haired
boy’s hand.
“Master Quatre!” Rashid’s voice
boomed out across the room, making Quatre himself
jump. He scowled and dropped Trowa’s hand.
“Yes, Rashid?”
The huge man glowered at Trowa
before looking back to Quatre. “Master Quatre, the
festivities will be starting very soon.”
Quatre nodded politely as he turned
back to Trowa, only to find the boy gone. ‘Great.
That’s the second time he’s done that. Rashid doesn’t like Trowa. Oh, if he
does *anything*
to hurt Trowa, I’ll. . . I’ll. . .’ the threat was left hanging as suddenly and
without any
warning at all Quatre was dragged from his chair and out of the room. “Hey!
What---”
Basma laughed. “Bite it, Camel Boy!
It’s time to party!”
Quatre was dumped unceremoniously in
a chair outside and showered with flower petals
as he looked around. “Girls, Maguanacs, please---” Where was Trowa?
“And now,” Basma declared as she
shoved her way through the crowd, “for our *dear*
brother’s viewing pleasure,” She wiggled her hips suggestively, drawing
laughter from the
crowd, “But not mine, ‘cause *I’m* a lesbian,” This brought more laughter and a
few
agreements, “I give you, and don’t forget to give him back when you’re finished
with him,”
Quatre covered his face, “Troooowaaaaaa Barton!”
The crowd of people parted as Trowa
walked through, and Quatre nearly had a heart
attack. The girls had managed to get Trowa into a male version of a belly
dancer’s outfit,
with a very short vest replacing the usual top.
Gold armbands set with onyx and jade
encircled Trowa’s upper arms, his wrists and
ankles, with a matching gold slave collar around his neck. The pants, slippers
and vest were
a shimmery bronze material trimmed with deep green, and the veil covering the
lower half of
Trowa’s face was the same shade. The green of his outfit and of the eye shadow
that had been
lightly applied brought out Trowa’s eyes, the bronze bringing out his skin and
the highlights
in his hair, and Quatre was quite taken away by Trowa’s beauty.
If Trowa was in any way embarrassed
by his outfit he didn’t show it, gliding to where
Quatre sat with a feline grace that would have had Quatre panting *without* the
help of the
outfit. The total effect was one of exotic beauty, and it worked. It worked
well enough that
Quatre’s pants were becoming very uncomfortable, very quickly. Trowa knelt on
one knee in
front of Quatre and bowed his head, holding his hands out, palms up.
“My lord Quatre,” Trowa’s low voice
only added to Quatre’s excitement, and the blond
discreetly folded his hands in his lap. So Trowa wanted to play lord and
underling, did he?
Quatre could do that.
“Speak,” he commanded softly, “and
state your business.” His eyes devoured Trowa’s
body as the other answered.
“I fear I have committed a horrific
crime, my lord, and I wish to remedy my mistake.”
Quatre closed his eyes briefly,
heart thumping. “I am aware of no crimes against me
that you have committed.”
“My lord, I was graciously invited
by you to your home, yet failed to acquire you a
gift, and on your birthday as well.” Trowa kept his head down, gaze fixed on
the ground.
Quatre leaned forward and steepled
his fingers. He’d already gotten his present, but
not many knew *that*. “A grievous crime indeed, and one that requires immediate
action. What
sort of action do *you* suggest I take?”
Trowa’s head twitched slightly. “My
lord. . .”
“Yes? I’ve not got all day.” He
*did*, but that wasn’t the point.
Trowa swallowed, his voice lowering.
“My lord, if I may be so bold, I wish to offer
you myself as your humble servant.”
Quatre sat back at this, startled.
There was more to this simple statement than met
the eye, and he would have to choose his words carefully.
“For how long?” he asked softly.
“Until you tire of me.”
“Forever.”
Trowa tensed. “If. . . if that is
what you wish, my lord.”
Quatre nodded as he stood. “I wish
you to stay forever.” He crossed to Trowa and
knelt in front of the boy. “However,” he murmured, tilting Trowa’s head up,
entranced by
those deep green pools, “You may leave whenever you want.” He smiled softly and
lightly
brushed his hand across Trowa’s veil. “Now rise, my love, for beauty such as
yours should
never be hidden, nor be a cause for shame.” Quatre stood and drew Trowa with
him to his
chair, where he reached behind Trowa’s head with both hands and unhooked the
veil, letting
the sheer garment slide between his fingers as he cupped both of Trowa’s cheeks
in his hands
and started to lean up.
“Quatre---” Trowa half-whispered,
eyes widening.
“Shh,” Quatre whispered back. “It’ll
be all right.” That said, he pressed his lips to
Trowa’s, molding his body to the taller pilot’s. Trowa stiffened for a moment
when he felt
how much Quatre liked his outfit, then hesitantly wrapped his arms around the
Arab’s waist.
Quatre slid his own arms around Trowa’s neck as he continued the kiss, pressing
more firmly
against his lover. Trowa responded slowly, his grip tightening as he opened his
mouth for
Quatre. Applause started among those watching, punctuated by hoots and catcalls
from Basma
and Duo.
Finally Quatre drew back, satisfied
that he’d made his point clear to the crowd and
Trowa. He looked around, arms still around the unibanged boy. “Happy now?”
Basma nodded. “Yup!”
Quatre smiled and lay his head on
Trowa’s shoulder. “I love you, Trowa.”
Trowa looked down at him and nodded.
“I know.”
“Will you stop doubting me now?”
“I. . . I’ll try.”
Quatre kissed Trowa’s lips briefly
and gave him a dazzling smile. “Thank you.” He
stepped back and looked his lover over again. “Wow. Whose idea was this? And
are you going to
wear this more often?”
Trowa knelt and retrieved the veil.
“Hey, Trowa!” Duo called, “While
you’re down there. . .”
Trowa frowned as he stood, folding
the garment carefully. “What?”
Quatre shook his head and stuck his
tongue out at Duo. “He’s being a pervert.” ‘Maybe
later tonight, though. . .’
“Oh. Altair and Basma did all this.”
Quatre’s eyes widened. “*Altair* and
Basma?” Trowa nodded.
“Hey, Trowa!” Basma ran up, holding
a photo album. “Wanna see a cool picture?”
Trowa blinked and shrugged.
Basma grinned wildly and pulled a
picture out. “It’s of Quatre when he was five! He
wanted to look like the rest of us, so we dressed him up! Here!” Basma offered
the picture to
Trowa.
Quatre’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, shit! No
the dress picture!’ He made a grab for the
photograph. “Basma, no!”
Basma snatched her hand away and
laughed. “He’s a cutie!”
“*No*!” Quatre reached for the
picture again and Basma danced away, still laughing as
she ‘oo’ed and ‘ah’ed at the picture. The younger Winner gave chase, and Basma
shrieked.
“Not fair!” She took off running,
jumping over benches and tables as she taunted
Quatre with the picture. She was taller and had longer legs, and Quatre didn’t
have a chance
of catching her. He stopped for breath, glaring at the crowd who refused to
help him, then
leapt at Basma and tackled her when she got close enough to him. She went down
with a
startled cry and the picture flew out of her hand, landing face down a few feet
away. Quatre
gaze a desperate lunge for it, but then Trowa was there, picking it up.
“No!” Quatre clung to Trowa’s leg as
he pleaded with his lover. “Trowa, please, you
*don’t* want to see it, it’s a horrible picture, it’s bad and ugly and stupid
and idiotic
and---”
“Cute.” Trowa had turned the picture
over.
“Really?” Quatre immediately warmed
to the idea, standing up and leaning in close to
look at the picture as everyone laughed at his fickleness.
A wide brimmed white hat rested atop
his head, with a purple ribbon around it and an
orange flower to one side. Quatre was sitting on a blue couch in front of a yellow
pillow,
and had on a red dress with white lace trim on the sleeves and top. He also
wore purple
high-heels and earrings, pink blush and red lipstick. In his hands was a black
purse and he
was beaming at the camera. Trowa was right; he *did* look cute.
Trowa nodded. “Very.” He slid the
veil back on.
Quatre smiled. “Yes, I guess I was.
I had fun.” He shuddered. “Then Father walked
in.” He sat down on his ‘throne’ and Trowa curled at his feet, looking up at
him.
“Your father walked in?” He laid his
head on Quatre’s leg.
“Yes. With a very important client,
I might add.” The Arab smiled and ran his hand
through Trowa’s hair as his sisters smiled at the memory, some snickering. “The
girls were
all around me when they walked in, and the client asked where the one who wore
the pants in
the family was.” A faint smile was barely visible through the green veil. “The
silence was
immediate, then they parted like water. Father and the client walked through
and there *I*
was, with no idea how embarrassing it was for Father to see not only his one
son, but his
*heir* dressed like a girl. I only knew that the girls though I was adorable.
But I was so
happy that Father had voluntarily come to see me that I jumped up and ran over
to him to show
off my outfit.”
“I’ll bet he loved it.”
“I note the sarcasm. I’d never seen
him so angry in my life! His face got all red and
he started spluttering. Oh, were my sisters in trouble!” Quatre laughed softly.
“Basma, where are you going?”
Basma froze, one arm around Pai. She
looked over her shoulder at Iria. “We’re going
to my room.”
“Why?”
“I can’t say. Pai’d get
embarrassed.” Basma grinned as Pai blushed. “See?”
“Ask Quatre. It’s *his* party.”
Basma made a face and pulled Pai up
to where Quatre sat, kneeling. “My gracious lord
Quatre.”
Quatre smirked, caressing Trowa’s
cheek. Trowa was nearly purring. “Yes, O lesbian
one?”
Basma’s mouth twitched as she fought
to stay in character. “My lord, you know that my
love for you is great, and I wish you to have the happiest of birthdays, but I
fear I must
most humbly beg leave of you presence.”
Quatre tilted Trowa’s head up and
toyed with his veil. “Are you bored?”
“No, my lord.”
“Then why do you wish to leave?”
Quatre reached under the veil and pushed gently down
on Trowa’s lower lips until Trowa opened his mouth slightly, then slid the tip
of his finger
in and ran it along the tops of Trowa’s lower teeth, never breaking eye contact
with him.
“My lord, the one I cherish most
arrived this morning, and---”
“Bring them forth.” Trowa’s eyelids
fluttered as he opened his mouth more, allowing
Quatre to slide his entire finger in bit by bit.
Basma gestured to Pai. “My lord,
this is she.”
Quatre nodded, not looking up.
“Name, girl, and rank.”
“Ling, ah, Pai Ling sir. I am the
daughter of an author of books.” Her voice was soft
and docile.
“Is he well known?”
“No, sir.”
“Ah.” Quatre added a second finger
for Trowa to suck on, his breath increasing. ‘Oh,
I can think of much better things for you to do that to, love. . .’ “Basma, in
blunt terms,
what do you and Ms. Ling plan to do if I let you two leave?”
Basma smirked. “In blunt terms, my
lord, I plan to fuck Ms. Ling brainless, or at
least until she’s screamed my name twenty times. We haven’t seen each other in
three weeks.”
Quatre raised an eyebrow and smiled,
taking his fingers from Trowa’s mouth and
running them down his lover’s chest. “And does Ms. Ling share this desire?”
‘This will keep
me out of the pool. . .’ Trowa bit his lip as Quatre returned his hand to his
lap.
Pai blinked, face red. “. . . Yes,
lord.”
Quatre raised his eyes to the two
women and smiled. “Considering that Basma is the
only one who would toss me into the pool, and I know how it is to not be able
to be near the
one you love and want private time with them, I give you permission to leave.
Have fun.”
Basma smiled, lacing her fingers in
Pai’s as they stood. “You are very gracious, my
lord. I thank you, and we’ll have fun, I promise.” She slid her arm around
Pai’s waist, hand
resting on the Chinese girl’s rear as they disappeared into the house.
Quatre smiled. “Well, that takes
care of being dumped in the pool.” He stood, as did
Trowa.
“Not entirely.”
Quatre looked over his shoulder at
the brown-haired boy. “What do you mean?”
Trowa smiled slightly through the
veil and looked down at the faint bulge in Quatre’s
pants. “You need to cool down.”
“I agree,” Duo said as Trowa grabbed
Quatre under the arms, then the braided boy took
Quatre’s feet.
“Hey!” Quatre protested, squirming,
“Stop! Iria, make them stop!”
Iria laughed. “I’m sorry, Quatre. No
can do.”
Quatre looked at Duo. “Duo, please.
. .”
Duo shook his head as he grinned.
“Nope!”
“Trowa---”
“No.”
Quatre was suddenly airborne, and
just as suddenly soaking wet and under water. He
came up spluttering, shaking the water out of his eyes. “*Hey*! That wasn’t
nice!” He climbed
out and glared at everyone. That made everyone laugh even more. “Come here,
Duo!” Quatre
grabbed the violet-eyed boy and pushed him in, then turned to Trowa and hugged
his lover
tightly, getting *him* wet. “Face my wrath!”
Trowa merely chuckled softly as
Heero pulled Duo out of the pool, then wrapped a
towel around Quatre. “Are you angry?”
Quatre shook his head. “No, just
wet.” He unbuttoned his vest and shirt and took them
off, then started drying off. Trowa’s eyes widened.
“Gee, Trowa, don’t get a nosebleed,”
Duo said as he wrung his braid out, “Though it
*is* a nice view.” He leered at Quatre, who leered right back.
“Dream on, Duo.”
“Naw, I’d rather have Heero.”
An odd pang hit Quatre’s heart when
Duo said that. It was as if. . . He *wanted* Duo
to want him. Quatre shook the feeling off with an effort, then smiled at Trowa.
“Come on,
let’s have fun! If I know my sisters, they’ve got some great stuff planned.”
Trowa took his hand and allowed
Quatre to pull him into the mass of people. On
impulse the blond looked behind him. Duo blew him a kiss, then Heero jerked him
around and
spoke angrily as Duo cringed slightly. Quatre frowned and started to go back,
but Omisha
wanted to get he and Trowa’s picture for her portfolio, and Quatre didn’t think
about it
again until later that night, when Duo came to his room.