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"Good Fortune"Written By: Fancy Figures Winner of Best Overall in the Devil with an Angel's Face Spring fic comp 2003 Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, wish I did, just
enjoy writing about 'em for free etc Rating: NC 17 Warnings: AU, POV, romance/angst, Yaoi, lemon
Pairings: 2X4, 4X3 Summary: Nothing in Trowa Barton's wealthy, relatively
sheltered life could have prepared him for the shock of taking in
the two street rats. His life was going to be turned upside down by
both of them, in different ways. And by the end of it all, no-one
was going to be quite what they seemed at first.
"Good Fortune"
Chapter 2 The following night, I confronted Duo. It was perhaps my mistake that I chose to wait until he came back into the house -- late, smelling of drink, and something else more musky. But I had braced myself to do so, and I was afraid of losing my nerve if I waited for another time. "Yo, Rich Boy," he slurred. "Business
keeps you up late, eh?" He shrugged. "You wanna have a drink with me? You got some real good scotch in the kitchen that your bitch of a cook stole from your last order." "You're in no position to talk about stealing, Duo, are you?" "Huh?" "Forging cheques," I said, clearly. "Some of my silverware missing. Cufflinks from my father's collection. A painting from the trays in the study. All gone. You took them all, didn't you?" He stared at me. He didn't look frightened, or remorseful. Just wary. "You gonna call the police?" "You think I should?" He laughed then. "You woulda done it before now if you were gonna do it at all. And I know why you haven't. The same reason I'm here at all. You want him." I didn't bother denying anything. I knew what Duo thought of me. I'd heard enough of it, hadn't I? "What will it take for you to leave him alone? Leave us both alone?" "Yo, just cut to the point, why don'cha?" He yawned, but I know he was only pretending not to be interested. He sank down in an armchair, stared a challenge back up at me. "Everything, Rich Boy. All your money." "Don't be ridiculous!" I snapped. "A coupla million then." When I didn't reply, a grin spread over his face. He raised an eyebrow, speculatively. "Ohh -- so now we know his price, eh?" I ignored the jibe. "You'd -- leave then? If I paid you that much? And never come back?" He shrugged. His drunkenness seemed to have been forgotten. "I would, Rich Boy. I don't wanna be here any more 'n you want me here. Cramps my style. But I can't say the same for him." "What do you mean?" "I'd take your money, Rich Boy, and I'd leave. But I wouldn't stop him followin' me, that's a fact. And d'you know that he wouldn't?" "You bastard -!" I couldn't believe the anger rising in me. The pain I could feel as my chest tightened under its power. Duo was on his feet, and his face was close to mine. I struggled for breath while he watched. With nothing more than curiosity. "Ain't gonna last long with that, are you, Rich Boy? Better sign the cheque before you peg out and the whole lot goes to the lawyers. Or shall I write it for you?" I could only gasp. "I want you out of here now, or -!" "Think carefully, Rich Boy," he hissed. "Think carefully before you threaten me. Other guys have done it, y'know? And most of 'em are really, really sorry they did." I sank back into the other chair. I was beaten. I could hardly stand, with the ache in my back and legs, and the headache that the sudden excitement had brought on. I seemed to have less and less energy these days. And he'd scared me -- again. "You oughtta rest, eh? That's what the quacks say." "What do you care?" I whispered. "You're right," he grinned. "I don't. Except for my money." "You know where the cheque book is," I hissed, viciously sarcastic. "Get me a pen from the desk." He fetched me the stuff, and I straightened up, pulling over the small drinks table to lean on, to write the cheque. "Make it to cash," he murmured. "Don't have accounts like you do. And you'd better let the bank know tomorrow I'll be droppin' in. Officially!" I felt dreadful, but I was beginning to think that maybe he'd listened to me -- that he'd really go. It would be the best day of my life if he did. He was poking around the bookcase, pulling things out randomly. "So what do you do, when you do this resting business?" "I read. If I'm up to it, I write a little fiction. I like to sit and talk to Quatre about the day." "Don't fuck 'im, then?" "What?" I was horrified at his calmly offensive question. He grinned. "Yeah, thought so. Haven't dared touch him, have you? Our Quatre has that effect. Looks too good to be true. But you should do 'im, you really should! Those that finally get him underneath 'em say he's a fine performer." "Stop it!" I shouted. My head was swimming. "That's so disgusting!" He was staring at me, watching my eyes roll, my desperate attempts to get back in control. "You don't fuck anyone, do you, you pathetic, sick young puppy? I bet you're still a virgin! How many of them d'you think we've met, out on the streets?" "Is that all you do on the streets?" I hissed. "Steal, and beat up people, and -- and fuck?" The word sounded gross in my mouth, but I was surprised at the ease with which it fell out. "Not much else to do," shrugged Duo. He stood up, and walked over to me. Snatched the cheque out of my hand. It was instantly imtimidating -- and I think that he knew that. "Quatre's not the only boy on the rocks, Rich Boy. There are hundreds of us. You've got no idea what the rest of life is like. Sitting in your gilded cage here, surrounded by all this art crap, and gourmet food, and money. Tons of it, eh?" I was silent, but he grinned again. Stuffed the cheque almost carelessly into the side pocket of his grubby jeans. "I know -- you don't discuss such sordid things with Quatre, do you? But I know that you're the heir to the biggest fuckin' business in this state, and that your personal annual income is more 'n twenty guys like me could earn in a lifetime." "Guys like you -!" I spat out. "Guys like me, yeah. And that's what Quatre is, as well!" "Don't include him with you!" "You're doin' it again! Threatenin' me!" he growled back. "Want me to call him down -- take him outta here now?" I was silent. I had no idea how to handle this. I was at my weakest in all ways. He seemed reluctant to go. He glanced at the door, saw it almost shut. The rest of the house was asleep -- the staff who lived in. Quatre, who'd retired early tonight. "Don't you wonder what it'd be like?" he murmured, turning back to gaze at me. The grin was back. "To fuck 'im?" He leant closer as I gasped for breath. "To fuck me?" "No --" I gargled. Did he know I'd been watching them last night? He leaned over me as I sat there. Placed his hands on the arms of the chair. Over mine. "Now, now... that's a fuckin' lie, and you know it. I told 'im you had a thing for boys. I can smell it..." He was too close -- I could feel the panic rising up in me. But he didn't move away, and I couldn't demand he did. "C'mon, Rich Boy," he mouthed into my ear. "D'you really wanna die without having felt a hot young body in bed with you? Without someone to suck your cock to orgasm; to open up that pink little asshole of yours and thrust their cock in? I bet it's really tight, eh? Really, viciously, virginally tight! Just as I like 'em -!" "No.." I moaned. But I couldn't move. "Another lie!" he hissed. "So try this!" And his mouth came down hard on mine. I can only plead shock, to explain why I let him. Shock -- and fear, that I don't know how I could have stopped him. He lifted one hand off mine, and put it on my neck, clenching the skin there. I was unable to move; the other hand was still crushed against the arm of the chair, keeping me down in my seat. And his mouth attacked mine. When his tongue pushed against my clenched teeth, I opened them. I tasted the victorious smile on his lips as he plunged into my mouth, licking at my own, frozen tongue, nipping at my lower lip until I felt the skin tear and a drop of blood ooze out. "Good, Rich Boy..." he murmured through both our mouths. "Not a sound, now, or he'll hear, won't he?" "Don't --" As I opened my mouth to speak, he sucked on my tongue, silencing me. I felt the shudder run through my body. "You've paid, man," he hissed. "You deserve the full works..." "No..." I groaned. His mouth had left mine throbbing and aching -- it had moved to my neck and was suckling there. To my horror, I felt an answering twitch in my lap. "Let's make this a quick one -- not sure how your old ticker will hold out, eh?" His hand was running down my chest now, tweaking at buttons, tugging at cloth. And still his mouth lapped at my neck -- I felt his teeth graze me more than once. His hand reached my lap, and I flinched. I think my eyes closed tightly then. I heard his low laugh, and felt his fingers rub at my cock, inside my pants. To my eternal shame, I felt it respond. I had an erection to be proud of. "Yo..." he grinned. "Look at it, man! I guess you might be fun in the sack after all. A tool that size could do some real damage to a soft little mouth like Q's. Lucky it's me, instead, eh?" He dropped to his knees, pushed his way between my unresisting legs. His hands came back on to mine. He stared into my stricken face. "Keep quiet, Rich Boy. You ain't gonna want to be caught like this, are you?" One hand came back to my lap, flipped the button of my pants with expert speed, tugged down the zip. I felt the evening air on my cock, through the silk. It strained to get out, to stretch to its full length. With a rough, easy gesture, Duo wrenched the fabric apart, and pulled it out into his hand. "Watch me," he grinned. "Watch -- and learn!" And he opened his mouth so that I could see what he intended, licked his lips, and went down on me. I don't know what I expected -- I've never had it done to me. I'd been fascinated when Quatre did it to Duo; I guess I'd dreamt about it that night. If I were honest, my dream had been about this very situation, though I had envisaged Quatre, not Duo, nursing in my lap. But there was no denying that his mouth was skilful -- it sucked and nibbled at me, and every touch was a mixture of ecstasy and horror. He never hurt me, but he wasn't gentle, either. When I instinctively grasped at his braided hair, he chuckled -- the reverberation it set up around my cock and into my balls was incredible. "Thick..." he mumbled. "Best meal I've had for a week, eh?" He laughed again, felt the answering jerk of my member. "You close, Rich Boy? You wanna come, now? Want me to swallow it? Gonna cost you extra..." I moaned. I was incapable of speech. I'd jerked off, sure -- but I never knew a sexual feeling could be this strong. "Guess that's a yeah.." he said, smugly, and his mouth started to speed up. I felt the suction of his lips, the fleeting trail of his tongue across my slit, and his hand slipped into my pants, fondling my balls inside the silk boxers. I climaxed. I had never been so totally out of control of my body in my life -- even when I had been most ill. I could feel a wail starting to form -- Duo reached up a lazy hand and clamped my mouth shut, to keep it in. As I registered what he was doing, I felt every nerve in my body race to meet in my cock; every fibre strain to force the seed out into the freedom it craved. I shook -- I bucked on the chair. I felt the fluid as it burst out, in a stream, in spasm after spasm, all into Duo's waiting, grinning mouth. Even as I hated him for it, I poured into him. And I watched him draw his mouth off me, still licking trails of it off his lips; swallowing the remainder down his smooth, strong throat. I lay back in the chair, cock limp on my lap, horrified -- terrified -- sated. Duo stood slowly, groaning as his knees cracked. He rubbed absentmindedly at his own cock, looking a little prominent in his pants. "No more..." I whispered, in some fear. "Oh, no more tonight, Rich Boy. Just a blowjob, I think. And I ain't gonna rape you. Hey -- that'd cost you even more!" It was like a scene from a movie -- we were both suddenly aware of someone else in the room. Duo spun round to face the door. It was open now, and a man was standing there. I could see round Duo's body -- and I could see that it was Quatre. Staring at us. No-one spoke. Then Duo laughed. It may have sounded a little hollow. "Well, here's Q, come to join in, maybe. Done plenty of threesomes in your time, haven't you, blondie? Pity I was just goin'." He turned back to me, but I could see tension in his body now. He knew Quatre was watching him. He gazed at my flushed, tear-stained face. And he laughed loudly. "I've never seen a man more in need of a good fucking, Rich Boy! Keep that ass ready for me -- I'd like to be your first. Show you what I can really do!" I couldn't help it -- I gazed at him as he ran a hand down his body, cupped his groin, and rubbed it, hard. I looked back up to his face, saw the dark look of cruel derision. Then he tapped at his jeans pocket. "I've received my payment already, eh? No need for a bill. I'll see you both in the morning. G'night!" + I don't remember what happened after that hideous scene. I think I passed out. I was prone to that, years ago, when the illness was much worse. I woke up at three in the morning in my own bed, my clothes folded neatly on the chair. I never do that myself, and I no longer have a nanny or a manservant, so it must have been Quatre. And then I heard their voices, Loud. Angry. They must have been just outside my door. And -- amazingly -- it was Quatre's voice that was louder. "Get out!" "Aww, come on, Q, he asked for it --" "You're a selfish, predatory shit, and I won't have you taking it out on Trowa! He could hardly breathe, Duo!" "Shit, you got it bad, haven't you, blondie? What d'you see in a sick fuck like him? He only wants a nursemaid, y'know --" "And you only want a meal ticket! It's over, Duo. I want you to go." "Now come on, Q --" "I want you to go." There was a stunned silence. "I'll see you in the park tomorrow -?" "You won't see me again." "You can't do this to me --" growled Duo's voice. I should have been scared at the tone, but I think I may have been sedated -- I was merely curious as to whether Quatre would be scared. He wasn't. "Get the fuck out of this house, Duo, and don't come near me again." I heard nothing after that until the door slammed -- it sounded a long way away. I think I fainted again. "Quatre..." Was I dreaming? Did he come and sit by me, put a cold flannel to my head? "He's got money, Quatre. Let him go. If you've got to go with him -- he can look after you, Quatre... he's got the money now..." On and on I rambled, in that vein. "Don't go, Quatre," I heard myself begging. I despised myself. He would despise me for my weakness. "Hush, Trowa, I'm here. I'm not going with him, Trowa. I'll stay with you." "Stay with me..." "I will, Trowa. I'm not here just for money. I'm not Duo, Trowa." I slept peacefully for fifteen hours. + "I know that you miss Duo, Quatre. But I couldn't have him in the house anymore. Do you -- understand?" We sat together on the garden bench. The doctors were still shaking their heads about me, but the summer was coming and I welcomed being outdoors. I was back at work, I was moving easily about the house. I wanted to spend time with Quatre. "I understand, Trowa. I'm sorry." "You're sorry?" "I'm sorry he came on to you. He does that a lot. He likes to fuck with people -- literally and emotionally." "But he's gone now." "Yes." He stroked my arm almost absentmindedly. It sent small electric shocks down my body. I wished he'd kiss me again, like he used to. "It's been a good few months, hasn't it, Quatre?" "Uh-huh. I'm glad you're better." "Perhaps we might take a holiday -- after the second quarter results have been announced. The business has never been stronger. Thanks to you, really -- holding the fort while I've been recovering." The advisors kept me posted on progress across the corporation -- and Quatre had been an invaluable assistant during the last few months. It seemed that with Duo gone, he had blossomed. And the situation with my critics had also eased -- people barely remembered Quatre's street rat background. He was so pleasant a young man that it seemed that all the hostility towards him had left the house - and my life - along with Duo's passing. "A holiday -- I've never had one of those!" he laughed lightly. "We'd deserve it then, wouldn't we?" "Hush, Trowa, you don't need to --" "But I do need to!" I cried. I sounded rather hysterical -- it must have been the medication, which they had changed after the scene with Duo leaving. Quatre had to count the tablets, had to mix the potions. I didn't seem able to concentrate quite as well any more. "I want to thank you, Quatre -- for being with me. For looking after me -- for being there. I want to spend time with you, be there for you in return." "You are," he said, softly. "You will be. But for now the doctor said you must rest." "Fuck rest!" I said, sharply. He looked surprised for a second -- and then he laughed. "Perhaps you're right. You certainly seem much brighter today. We can go through those papers for the prospectus this evening. And then..." "And then you might kiss me again before bed..." I murmured, very daring for me. "Yes!" he smiled. "I didn't know if you -- well, I thought you might be nervous of it --" "Not with you," I sighed. I felt the tiredness creeping over me again. But not before Quatre slipped an arm around my waist and tugged me to him. "Do you feel OK, Trowa?" "Yes, I feel very OK. I know it was hard for you, Quatre, but I was proud of you -- standing up to him." "Duo?" His voice was very quiet, even for him. "Yes, Duo. I'm glad he's gone. I could never have given you everything I want to, not with him around, soiling everything we have." "Mmm..." I felt his lips very softly at my ear. The tip of his tongue licked at the lobe. "Dear Trowa... I've missed kissing you good night..." I sighed with a languid pleasure. "Will you call George Nicholls for me in the morning? I want to discuss some outstanding business with him." "But he must come to you, Trowa. You mustn't overtire yourself again..." "Yes," I smiled at his fierce concern. "He'll come to me this time." Things would soon be back to normal again. + I knew the time would come, sooner or later. And I was eager for it. The goodnight kiss was becoming a frustration rather than a joy. As his lips touched mine each night, I'd have vivid hallucinations of him with Duo -- him pleasuring Duo -- him pleasuring me. If I were truly honest, I would admit to my arousing dreams after Duo's attack on me -- his astonishingly intimate attack. And the response that had been forced out of me. I wanted to investigate this further. With Quatre. Was I stupid? Could I love another man? Is that how it went? While Duo was here, I had kept my feelings in check. I denied them. But now he was gone, and I could openly examine the way I felt about Quatre. No -- I knew how I felt about him! That night started gently. We had had a good evening -- Quatre had kept me amused with stories about the office; I had eaten a reasonably sized portion at supper; I was feeling quite comfortable in myself. "I'll go upstairs to read, Trowa -- there are quite a few marketing proposals to go through. I'll bring your tea first, but don't stay up too late." He bent to touch my lips, his own mouth still moist from his drink, his face a little flushed from his laughing. And as he did, I reached up and took his face in my hands. "Trowa...?" he murmured. I didn't say anything -- I couldn't. All I could feel was the pulse in my chest, the ache in my heart. I pulled his mouth down on to mine, and I kissed him. I didn't let go. I felt his warmth, I felt his hand wavering at my shoulder, then gripping me. Still I kissed him. And remembering what had been done to me that horrible evening, I pushed my tongue at his lips -- asking to come in. Asking to taste him. With a sigh, his lips opened and I slid in. It was delicious! He tasted of supper and laughter and Quatre. I couldn't believe I'd not been brave enough to do this before. His tongue was caressing mine, just as eagerly, and he was growing in enthusiasm. I was praying that he wanted this -- that he felt the same way. He'd said once that he'd wanted to kiss me for a long time. He moaned a little, as if he could hear my thoughts. His mouth broke from mine, though it reached a breath between us, as if he was reluctant to lose the contact. I saw him hook a foot around his chair and pull it nearer to him. He sank down into it, and his hands crept to my face. He smoothed my skin with silky fingers -- he ran a finger tantalisingly over my lower lip. "Trowa... this is so good... do you want more?" "Yes," I whispered. I tried to say everything in just that one word. "What about your health? Can you manage this?" "I can manage it," I gasped. His finger had reached the centre of my mouth and was sliding in. Fondling the hot, swelling flesh. Teasing at my teeth. "I want to manage it!" Quatre smiled, his eyes on my mouth. Their blue was sparkling now, like the morning sun on the garden lake. White sparks on the shining, vivid blue bed. "Come upstairs with me, then. Come to bed." I let him lead me, even though we went to my room. We naturally knew it would be more comfortable. I was in a dream. I was determined control the weaknesses of my body -- I was equally determined to surrender to all the other weaknesses I now knew I had for this man. He knew! He knew and he understood. And he was so gentle that I never felt overwhelmed at any time. He laid me on my bed and there was more kissing -- a lot more kissing! It grew more feverish as he slipped off my shirt, running light, warm fingers up and down my chest. I wanted his mouth on mine all the time, I was feasting on it, I was thrusting my tongue in like a mimicry of how sex must be, again and again, until I was panting. And then he straightened up beside me, as if to force me to calm myself. "Quatre..." I moaned. "Don't stop, please, I'm fine..." "I know you are," came his quiet voice. It sounded amused. "I just want to see more of you..." He reached to my pants, and slipped the button through. I gasped with surprise -- with delight. His hands were cool on my thighs as he slid the cloth down, rolled it off over my feet. I've never let anyone see me in my underwear -- not even my manservant, in far off days. And yet I felt no embarrassment. I fell back, completely relaxed. He started to massage my legs with firm strokes, up along the outside of the calves and the thighs, then a rolling motion, down into the valley between them, into the soft flesh of the inside thigh, kneading softly, teasing around my groin. "I want to take off these boxers," he mused, tugging at the black silk. I nodded my permission. He hooked his fingers under the elastic, and as I lifted my hips, he slid them down and off. "What about your clothes, Quatre?" "In a minute," he smiled. "I think that you need attention first..." He was looking at my cock, and I was tempted to pull myself up on my elbows and look myself. It was rearing up on my stomach -- it was red and weeping a little, and I could feel its heat on my skin. I felt pure amazement, that I was gazing so boldly at my most private parts -- and I felt rather ridiculously proud. "It's a fine cock, Trowa," he grinned, mischievously. "You'll let me praise you on that, I hope?" "Yes -- I suppose so!" I felt it twitch up towards him, boasting. "I want to touch it.." he murmured. His fingertips grazed the tip, tickled at the slit. "Wait!" I don't know where the cry came from, but Quatre stopped immediately. "I'm sorry, Trowa -- " "No, no! That's not what I meant, I want you to! But -- I have to tell you -- oh God..." He sighed. He didn't withdraw his hand, and it stayed at the tip of my cock -- tantalising me. "It's something to do with Duo, isn't it?" I nodded, miserably. "I have to tell you -- that night -- when he -- he --" Quatre put a finger to my lips, probably to reassure me. He started to roll his other hand around my cock. To run it, lazily, slowly, up and down the shaft. I could feel the tingle of delight down to my toes. "Quatre, please forgive me... when he touched me ... when he did that... I was excited! I hated him, I didn't want it -- but then I did -!" I was burning with the shame, even as he continued to caress me; up and down; up and down. "Are you disgusted with me?" "Oh Trowa," he sighed. "Duo is very sexy. He's very -- experienced. I'd be surprised if you hadn't responded. It's only your body -- it's a natural reaction." "But..." "Be quiet!" he said, and I was a little startled at his firm tone. "Concentrate on me, now. I'll be touching you now. Do you want me to do something different - ?" He meant, different from Duo! I had upset him, I was sure, talking about another man's fondling. I felt wretched, at the same time as the calm, frank words made my blood boil. "No...," I whispered. "I want that -- from you..." He looked pleased. "Think of him if you like, Trowa -- if it excites you. It doesn't worry me." "No!" I gasped. "Just you!" How could he think I'd want anything else? He laughed, and settled his knees on the bed between my naked legs. And then he took my hand, slid one of my fingers into his mouth, and sucked it hard. "This hard, Trowa? Or softer? What do you want?" My head was spinning with excitement. "Harder, Quatre -- please -!" He put his hands back on to the bed, either side of my hips, and he bent his head to my groin. He licked my cock. I flinched, yelped quietly. He grinned, and licked again. And started to lap at me, hard, regular strokes, his rough tongue running up and down the sides of my hot, throbbing member. I thought I was going to die -- I thought my heart would stop with pure bliss. I didn't dare say it to Quatre, in case he thought I meant it, and stopped his torture. And, to be honest, if I'd died there and then, I couldn't have been happier. But I wanted to stay alive -- to know more. "Take it in your mouth," I groaned. "I can't hold on very long -!" "My poor, impatient Trowa..." he murmured. "We must work on that -- I don't want you to miss out through your inexperience. You deserve hours and hours of it; of my mouth; of my mouth plunging into yours, licking all over your body; of my mouth sucking hard round your cock --" and his lips came down over me, moulding to my thick, aching shape. The sexy, brutal words from his angelic mouth were the final straw for me. I cried aloud, tears squeezing out of the corners of my eyes, and I came. It was as sharply consuming as when Duo had sucked me -- but oh, so much more poignant! And this time I had a different head of hair to grasp, a different set of shining eyes to gaze into as I shot out into a waiting mouth -- Quatre's! I lay there for a few minutes, gathering my breath, praising myself that I hadn't expired after all. That he was still beside me, wriggling out of his shirt. He laughed, the sound low in his throat. "So you like the dirty talk, eh? That's good... Touch me now..." he sighed. "Shall I -- suck you back?" I said, timidly. I suppose that I could have done -- I think that I wanted to. But I wasn't sure what I should do. His hand was hot on my chest, teasing at my nipple. I felt a stir in my cock again, marvelled at its resilience. "Trowa, would you -- could you consider something more? I want to make love to you -- completely..." I lay very still, even as the thrill ran up my spine. Make love to you... he'd said. It made my heart soar. I thought I knew what he wanted to do to me -- or perhaps I wasn't sure. Perhaps I was scared -- perhaps I was more thrilled. There was a warm ache between my legs -- but there was also a nagging question that I couldn't keep back. "Quatre -- have you -- did you -? With Duo?" For the first time that I could remember, he seemed cross with me. "Just forget about Duo, Trowa, he's gone! That was then, this is now. That's all it ever is, OK? And as for your question -- not often. Duo likes -- liked me to play with him. But not so much for full sex -- he preferred to fuck girls. And he never let me fuck him." God, I ached...! That word from Quatre's soft, boyish lips made my flesh burn. He bent over me again, and the fingers slipped down towards my groin. Tugged softly at the curls under my navel. "No more questions...?" he breathed hotly into my ear. "No," I gasped. "Do it to me! Fuck me! You will, won't you?" "I will, indeed," he smiled. The next hour was the most amazing of my life. Quatre stripped off his own clothes and at last I had that perfect, fit young body all to myself. He pressed against me, drew his limbs slowly around mine -- caressed me as if I were some kind of treasured possession. We hugged and touched and stroked like that for long, gorgeous minutes, until he only had to touch the skin of my neck with his lips to make me moan aloud. "Trowa, you are a dark and delicious secret," he sighed. "Would you have thought you could be so sensitive? So sensual?" "No," I tried to laugh, but my voice was shaky. I'd never seen myself as physically sensual in any way. Not before Quatre came. "Let me down your back now," he smiled. "I must touch everything..." I was rolled over on to my stomach, pulled up on to my hands and knees. Every bone in my thin, ill-covered back was sensitive, and he seemed to know this. He dragged his rough-smooth tongue all the way down, from my twitching neck to the small of my back. And then downwards again -- he licked greedily all over my buttocks, under the join with my thighs, and up between them, all along the crack of the cheeks. Licking, sucking -- and then a little gentle teasing with his tongue, around my anus. Oh God... and I think I may have gasped it aloud. "There, Quatre?" "Uh-huh..." his whisper was almost a growl. "Find me some cream..." He had teased me before that my dresser was full of creams and medicines and oiintments -- like a girl's, he said, but kindly. Now I grabbed at something I knew was only a cleanser, it had no medicinal properties. I knew he wasn't looking for it for that. Just something cool and lubricated and easy on the skin -- how did I know that? "Trowa... don't be frightened... it'll be so good..." His voice sounded strange -- a little restrained. I shut my eyes. I listened to his heavy breathing, the quiet twist of the cap. I imagined his hands, spreading the cream over -- what? Over me? Over his cock? I didn't imagine for much longer, because his hands were on me immediately. His long, thin fingers, slippery from the cream, back to tease at my crack, to spread the soft, untouched flesh. To slip into my hole, slowly, hungrily... I was whimpering, I think -- the fingers up inside me tugged at the muscles around my entrance like an alien invader. But as they moved further in, as they probed around at me, stretching me gently, I felt the strange tingling reaction in my groin. "I want to tell you, Trowa, what I want. Will you like that?" "Wh -- what do you mean?" I instinctively leant back against him, drawing in the invading digits. "I want..." he said, relishing the words, leaning down to whisper in my ear. "I want my cock up inside your ass. I want to fill you -- I want to come inside you. Burst out inside you, all my cum, up inside you..." "Anything, Quatre... anything you want..." And I meant it, of course. His hands were slippery with the cream, clutching my buttocks, peeling them apart. I couldn't help but be shocked when something far wider than his fingers pressed at the entrance. Something warm, even through the coating of cream. Hot -- thick -- velvety smooth as protected flesh is. But I didn't protest. I think I actually spread my legs wider. I knew it would hurt when he pushed in -- I knew it would be difficult, because it was my first time. Pleasure would come later, I knew. But I welcomed it all -- welcomed the pain and the groans from both of us, because it was what we both wanted. And he fucked me. At last! There were only minutes between him entering me fully, and our respective climaxes. A few, hot, moaning minutes, full of ecstasy and astonishment, until his hand round my cock brought me back to full erection, and a pumping, panting spasm all over his fingers and the bed sheets. Until I felt him slam much harder against my buttocks, his skin slick with sweat, and he grunted a deep, primal sound that I would never have imagined he could make. It didn't sound like Quatre at all. For that one blessed second, as I felt his cock thrust so hard up into me that I thought our bodies would fuse together; as I felt the warm rush of his seed filling me inside, and dribbling down my legs, shaking with the tension of holding myself up on miserably weak arms -- For that one second I was shocked to imagine that I really didn't know him at all. + I sat at my personal desk, looking out over the garden. It was going to be a wet September. I had started to write a diary. I thought it was probably a little childish -- definitely self-indulgent. But I wanted to shout my feelings out, and I had no-one to listen to me. Quatre didn't count, because the feelings were about him! And sometimes even he looked embarrassed at my outpourings. I felt that I'd been released from prison -- from a prison of my own body, of my own life. And it continued to amaze me. Read me, flickered the words of the diary. Read me, and be comforted. "What could be better?" I read, with a rueful smile. "I have a thriving business, with stocks that are topping the markets. A beautiful home, the respect of the community. Most of all, I have Quatre. The most beautiful man in the world. And he's with me every day, sharing it all with me. And the nights -- oh God, yes, the nights! He's in my bed with me, and he's a tender, exciting lover. He's taught me everything -- and perhaps I've taught him some things too, in my naïve way. I never knew it could be like this, but it's more than I could ever have wanted. "George still prods me gently about starting a family, every now and then. The doctors say it may be possible, so long as I -- you've guessed it -- rest a lot, and get my strength back. "I seem to have enough strength to love you, I joke to Quatre. This has been such an education for me! I can touch him for hours -- I can take his cock in my mouth now and caress it until he comes. I can turn my back for him to stroke me and open my legs, and press his fabulous cock into me... he says I've become quite uninhibited over the last few months! And even when he's driven me wild with it, and my heart is crashing in small, shattered pieces around me, along with pools of my seed -- I can lie in his arms and be restored again. "I don't want a family, I should say to George. I don't need it. I have Quatre. "This is my good fortune, Quatre, I said last night to my lover. Not money, not treasures. It's you!" + The autumn was fading gently into an early chill, and I had taken some kind of an infection in my chest. I had been ordered to rest in bed, but I'd dragged myself up from sheer boredom. And a desperate need to see Quatre, as soon as he returned from the lawyers. I missed him; I lived for him. Everything else was perfect. Business was good, Quatre was my constant companion. I'd not replaced staff who left me, because I no longer seemed to need them. Quatre would even cook and clean for me, though I didn't see why he should. The bodyguards were an embarrassment, so I dismissed them -- and, to be honest, I didn't leave the house very often. Yes, my health was the only concern. I had lost more weight, and my breathing was harsher than ever. I took the medication, I rested as much as I wanted, for Quatre was running most things by now. But still I deteriorated, and no-one seemed to know why. They all agreed that I was happier emotionally than I'd ever been -- even George Nicholls could see this. But my body was dying faster than anyone had ever thought likely. "It's not the sex, is it?" Quatre would ask me, his face screwed up with worry. "I -- we're not always gentle..." What can I tell him? That sometimes he bruises me too easily, that sometimes it takes me an hour or more to gather my breathing pattern again? I won't tell him, because it's the only delight of my life, and because I know he would be so upset. He has no idea what a toll it takes on me, or I know he would stop it. Though it seems I only have to touch his hand sometimes, or breath lightly beside his ear, and he's pulling me over to him, to fondle him, to lay me back over the bed -- or a table or chair, depending where we are! -- and he awakens every needful nerve in my body. The voices came through my sleepy consciousness. I must have drowsed off after my afternoon tea. I feel like some kind of old man, on these days! I wondered whether to call out, to ask who was there. I thought I could hear Quatre's voice, but there was someone else, surely -? I raised myself up with a bit of an effort, but I was determined to greet visitors to my own house while I was able. I wished I hadn't. Even as I reached the door of the drawing room, I recognised the voice. I slowed my step; I deliberately lowered my eyes as I stepped into the hall. But it was because I already knew who I would see. He was there, standing in my hall, leaning in towards Quatre, who had obviously just returned from town. Duo. He looked taller -- that was likely, of course, because he would still be growing, in his teens -- and it had been almost nine months since he left this house. Since the night he abused me; the night that Quatre threw him out. They had both stopped talking, the minute I appeared. Quatre looked as if he'd move towards me, but Duo grabbed at his sleeve and held him there beside him. "Trowa -!" "Hiya, Rich Boy," Duo drawled. "Lookin' like shit, I see! Life with my friend here not doin' you any favours?" "Get out," I said, quite clearly. "That was our arrangement." "Ahh... yeah," he dragged out the words. Grimaced a little. His hand on Quatre's arm got tighter. "That -- well, that's not possible at the moment. Y'see, I need some help getting' by, and I thought I'd look up old friends..." Had he spent the whole lot? Wasted it on drugs? Gambled it? Who the hell knew? We stared at each other for a minute, both understanding fully what was going on. "No more money," I said. I held on to the door post for discreet support. I saw his eyes flicker to my white knuckles, and back to my face. He raised an eyebrow. He was still as good-looking as ever -- the boyish build was giving way to a more mature, adult handsomeness. He looked superior in so many physical ways to Quatre, clutched to his side. "Who said I wanted money?" he laughed. "Don't give him anything, Trowa!" Quatre cried out. We both looked at him in some surprise. "Leave us alone, Duo. It's all over between us --" "Yeah?" His voice had dropped to that low, menacing sound that I had thought I'd banished from my dreams. "Do you give him everythin' now, blondie? And he does the same for you?" He glared over at me -- a challenge of some kind. And then he swiftly twisted his hand into the back of Quatre's neck, wrenched the blond head up to his, and pressed his mouth down on to him. "No!" I cried. "Leave him alone! He doesn't want you!" It was a matter of seconds, I suppose, but it felt like one of those old movies, when the film slows down, and the principal characters stretch and leap to reach each other, all with an agonising sluggishness. Duo's hands were all over Quatre, kissing him, hugging his slim body in tight to him, fingers gripping at the cheeks of his ass. Quatre was wriggling, sure, but he didn't seem to have the strength to fight him off. And I - like some knight in armour, like some avenging hero -- threw myself at Duo, knocking them both apart. I felt as if I flew through the air -- I could feel the soft wind in the hall from the open front door, hear the rustle of the trees along the drive outside. I saw my hand connect with Duo's chest, saw their lips burst apart, and the shocked, pink tip of Quatre's tongue as it left the warmth of Duo's mouth. I saw no anger in Duo's face, not even surprise, I think. Just the coldness of those deep, violet eyes, veiled with something I'd never understand. I vaguely heard an unintelligible cry from Quatre, then saw Duo staring carefully at me as he raised his hand in return. A much stronger hand -- a hand experienced in defending himself. In attacking enemies. I had no time for the fear that should have followed my rash action. I never even felt the answering blow. All I heard was his voice from such a long way away that I thought he must be elsewhere in the house. "You fuckin' fool, Rich Boy! You fool..." + They tell me the maid found me on the stairs and called the paramedics. There was no-one else around, and the front door was wide open. They also told me, when I regained consciousness, that there had been severe bruising to my chest, the ripping of tendons, the twisting of already weak muscles. If I'd been in better condition, it would have been a matter of weeks in bed to recover. But I'm not in a better condition. I heard the discussion, though they thought I was unconscious again. They think that the fabric of a lung was damaged in my fall. My heart seems to be failing me on one side, like a stroke -- from the shock of facing the burglar that they assume broke into my house and attacked me. I've given them no other details yet, and they've not harrassed me about it. The doctor thinks that the emotional shock and the sudden, excessive activity has crippled me. He doesn't think I can pull out of it. And the chances of any physical transplant, in my condition -- despite my wealth, despite the frenzied pleas of my lawyer and other associates -- are negligible. I wouldn't survive the surgery. They couldn't say how much longer I'll last. + The hospital was very quiet, but even so, I never heard him come in. There was no sign of the usual nurse at my bedside, even though she often fell asleep herself. It was a vision. The thing I prayed hardest to have. To see. To touch. "Quatre! You came..." "Of course I did, Trowa." His face was full of shade -- I wondered if it were pain. Though it may just have been my failing eyesight. He bent quickly to me, but his lips were like cotton wool on my cheek. I wondered if I were losing sensation, or whether he had just been overly sensitive. "I was frightened for you, Quatre. I thought he'd taken you." "No," he said. "I'm here." "The police are looking for him -- they'll find him." "I don't think so," he replied, in that soft voice he has. I would have replied back, to reassure him, but I stopped because I could see there was someone else behind him. Not a member of the hospital staff. Not one of my advisors. Duo. "Don't call out, Trowa," said Quatre, quickly. "No-one is around." "What do you mean?" Duo came round to stand beside him. There was something very odd about his _expression. It didn't have its usual truculence -- the barely veiled aggression. In a strange way, he seemed to look even younger than Quatre. Through my fog of fear and confusion, even his voice sounded different. Insecure. "I told you you didn't have to tell him. You should have let him have some peace." "He deserves to know," said Quatre. His voice was normal -- and yet the words weren't. "He shouldn't have been snooping on us. He was meant to be in bed, doped up." "You told me to do it --" "Shut up!" And then he slapped him. Quatre slapped Duo. I felt the rush to my chest, the sudden bleep on the monitor. Duo's head snapped backwards, then back to face us again, a red stain already appearing on his smooth cheek. He gave no sign or sound of pain, but his eyes were very wide. My Quatre! I don't know what had possessed him to do it, but what would Duo do to him in retaliation? I was truly, genuinely afraid. "Security..." I whispered. So stupid of me to have sent them all out. I had just wanted to be alone, for when Quatre came to see me. My Quatre. And then Quatre smiled. He stepped towards Duo -- not away from him, as I pleaded in my heart for him to do -- and he placed his fingertips to the red mark. Smoothed it. What was he doing? "Duo..." he said softly. Duo never moved. His body was tense, I could see the muscles of his arms fighting to hold himself still. The reaction would come soon, surely? Quatre kissed him. My heart wrenched, and it was nothing physical. Quatre stared me in the eyes as he did it; he opened his lips and his tongue crept out to meet Duo's. Duo stood as if he were stunned, but Quatre ran his hand around to his braid, and tugged him nearer. "Look, Trowa," he murmured, sucking lightly on Duo's lip, as he'd often done to me. "How tasty he is! You know that yourself, don't you? Such a pity that you wouldn't have welcomed a threesome, despite the slut you've become in these last months! Did you really think I'd want to give him up? For you?" I gasped, I couldn't find any words. I didn't know what the hell was going on. Quatre let Duo go, and came nearer to the bed. He settled himself on the side of it, leant over me, and grasped my chin. Jerked my face up to his. "Such a very corny plot, my beloved Trowa! This might be one of those pathetic TV movies that your little assistant watches in her long, empty evenings, dreaming about me, I daresay. I can hardly believe that you fell for it! Naïve, rich and lonely man takes in beautiful young boy. Loses his heart. Loses everything..." "No... he will never have anything..." "You fool," he whispered down to me. "You've never even suspected how misplaced your fears really were. The fortune hunter is nearer than you ever imagined. And after a bigger prize than the mean little cheque you cast Duo off with!" He must have seen the shock on my face. "Yes, my dear -- the real fortune hunter has been with you all long. In your bed; willingly -- and often. He's worn a mask that you've smiled at; that you've caressed. That you've showered with gifts. While he's bided his time and fucked you until you've lost your senses, and he's accepted your signature on a deed of gift that will ensure he is rich himself for all time." "No -- you can't know --" "Know that you've changed your will? That you've signed it all over to me?" He laughed, and it was a cold, hostile sound in the hospital room. "What do you think I do at that stuffy old lawyers? In that sterile office of yours, surrounded by your most personal papers, protected by childish passwords and locks that a street child could open in their sleep? As -- in fact -- I have done. I know everything about you, Trowa. Everything about you, and your repressive father, and your wimp of a mother. You and your gigantic empire, the value of which most people have only guessed at." He smiled. "Not me. I know. For who has been effectively running it for you, while your illness has kept you out of action? Keeping your staff happy, signing your deals, investing your money wisely? I have, Trowa. I, Quatre -- your trusted, helpful, most able companion!" "What have you done?" I whispered hoarsely. The pain in my chest was dreadful. "Nothing, love," he grinned. "Nothing so awful, for I need to protect my inheritance, don't I? All that money... and until now, no-one to leave it to. I can look after it for you. I have no intention of realising any of this grotesque wealth until I'm ready to enjoy it to its full! Then I will have my own choice of young boys in my bed. My own choice of staff, and lawyers and friends...." His voice grew a little tighter. "My own choice of life." I struggled to retain my sanity. "You two -- Duo -- he was so cruel to you --" Quatre laughed again. "Duo's been my partner in this." He turned to face that man, standing very still at the back of the room. "What, Duo -- you'd disagree with that? Surely you'd not call yourself a servant!" Quatre turned back to me with a self-satisfied smile. "You see, Trowa, he'll do -- always -- exactly what I ask. You'll never know why. You'll never know the history behind us, behind our twisted relationship. It's grown up over years on the street -- years of finding a way to survive. Suffice it to say that it's always been that way." "The arguments...the violence..." "Ahh... but he acts so very well, doesn't he?" Quatre's _expression was filled with something like glee. "Very talented, is Duo. I chose him for that, after all. For that -- and his talented body." I stared at Duo, trying to find some denial there. "You and Quatre -?" "Q?" he replied. His arms were crossed defensively against his chest. His eyebrows scowled over dark, stormy eyes. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. "I should say he's the talented one. He wrote the script!" "Did you like our show?" Quatre murmured, brushing a stray hair off my forehead. "Poor little rich boy -- so excited at the thought of sampling the street life. I arranged that for you. But you only wanted it through others -- never personally at risk. And all the better if you gained a pretty little bedfellow in the process, eh?" "I - never -- " I was nearly weeping. "Frustrated little rich boy," he continued, in a sing-song voice. "So scared of admitting how much he wanted to fuck me! So ripe for company like ours! I hope that we performed well for you." "Noo..." I moaned. "Oh Trowa -- still in denial? Look, my dear man -- look and listen!" He turned to Duo, and tugged him away from the wall. "Show him, Duo..." The braided man looked from me to Quatre -- he looked less than willing, for whatever Quatre intended. But my blond lover laughed. "Remember, Duo? Do you remember, Trowa? You do know that eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves -- or good for themselves..." He looked as if he would slap Duo again, and I was horrified to see the taller man flinch from his raised hand. "Remember, Duo..." repeated Quatre, softly. "I say 'That's Trowa... he's my friend...'" "No," said Duo, rather hoarsely. But he cleared his throat, and the harsh voice that I recognised as his followed. "You may like being a pet, blondie, but I gotta life of my own. And it includes you, OK? 'S long as I'm around, you better be ready to move on when I say. Or -- you know what the alternative is, don'cha?" Quatre saw that I was remembering when I'd heard such a speech -- just before Duo left. How I'd thought it another example of Duo's dominating hold over my sweet friend. How could he reproduce that so easily -- unless he'd learned it? Unless the whole conversation had been staged? "There's more, love," came Quatre's seductive murmur. "More that I created for our audience of one -- just for your entertainment!" He pulled Duo's head to him again, kissed him hard. Then he pulled away a little, still holding Duo round the waist. He slipped his hand down the front of his pants, making Duo gasp. The words started to fall from his mouth as Quatre caressed him. "Show me..." "What's that, Duo?" "Touch it... me first..." "Duo, Duo," he sighed. His eyes were bright and hard. He flashed them at me, daring me to remember my shameful spying -- the night I'd seen them together. When I thought I'd seen Duo as the master. "Remember, Trowa? So good to let you lead, Duo, just now and then," Quatre hissed, eyes still on me. "Hold my throat, Duo...Make marks on me, as you come... you can kiss them better in the morning..." I knew that I was weeping now. Weeping with shame and misery and horror. "Why?" I cried. "Why me?" "You don't need to ask that, Trowa. Mr Rich Boy Trowa. I am not the kind of man who can live for ever in shit -- who would find something rewarding in poverty. I have skills -- I must use them to bring me my good fortune." It was an unconscious -- or not? -- echo of my own pathetic joy, only weeks ago. "And it was so very easy to seduce you -- I have plenty of patience for the things I really want. Tempt you with the bit of rough -- with Duo's brand of intimacy; make you face your need for it, for me. Remember your embarrassing shame, that you'd been sexually excited by him? It was a delight to me, to hear it! Then move him aside and come to comfort you myself." "Oh God...so you didn't..." "Love you?" he answered, merrily enough. Relentless in his cruelty. "Hardly, my dear man! You were pleasant enough in bed, when I'd taught you a few things. In fact, you've become a very willing whore for me! Who'd have thought it? But you were never my type. For one thing, you're too weak to keep up with me -- it's been an additional bonus, wearing your feeble body down with my constant demands. Thinking I can't keep away from you -- that my love always needs satisfying." "How can you make yourself do that -?" I groaned. I felt as if I would vomit at the thought. "That's Q," Duo broke in. His eyes were following Quatre as he walked around my bed. His voice was tinged with bitterness. "He can do it whenever he chooses. Whenever he has to. He has no limitations in that department." "And the other night? When Duo came back to the house?" Quatre shrugged. "An unfortunate miscalculation. I thought you were in bed, drugged. I had a wild desire to see him; to fuck him, I guess. It was stupid to bring him to the house, but exciting as well. To try to deceive you further." He grinned at Duo, possessively. I'd seen that look turned on me before now. Thought it was for real. "I was proud of you, Duo. You slipped back into character with no rehearsal at all. And you, Trowa -!" "Me?" "What an astonishing move of yours, to physically attack Duo! I couldn't have asked for better -- I was still at the planning stage, for that little confrontation." "Planning? Why?" A sly smile crept over his face and he stopped pacing. "What did you tell me -- severe stress and exertion? The things you must avoid -- that may hasten your early death?" There was a strangled noise from Duo. I was incapable of sound. "Mm.." Quatre continued, loving the sound of his own voice, I suspect. "Duo was always the distraction -- always the threat. I knew you'd fear him. A man like you has no protection against physical threat, no experience of it. I was to build up the jealousy and the fear. And I was to be your saviour -- I was to be the angel to his devil. When he left, you'd be weaker for it -- but assume yourself safe in my hands at last. Then it would just be a matter of waiting for the right occasion to tip you over the edge." "Weaker? How could you guarantee that, you bastard?" He raised an eyebrow at my pathetic little protest. "You have been getting worse, haven't you? You should have stopped to reconsider that very ill-advised attack; you're in no state to recover from that. And you know that now, don't you?" "But I might still have..." "Oh Trowa!" he snapped. "Use your brain! I've only stood your clinging and your whinging for this long because I admired the man you were -- your intelligence, the success that you had in your life despite all your natural disadvantages. You're young, and an invalid, and quite revoltingly innocent -- but I never met anyone who didn't admire what you'd done, holding things together after your parents died." "I don't understand..." He leaned over me again. Duo drew in his breath behind him. "It's not been bad luck that your health has deteriorated recently. Who's been in charge of your medication?" "Wha -?" "Your food? Your regular tea? And thanks to the money you gave Duo, we've been able to access all kinds of materials. All kinds of new, unregistered materials..." No, no! My mind was spiralling, my control was shredding away into tiny, airborne pieces, my sanity with it. "After all," the angel was saying to Duo, stroking the strong, angry face. "I'll inherit, it's true -- but I can't be expected to wait until I'm too old to enjoy it on my own. Can I?" + It's probably the last few hours now. I know, because Quatre told me so. He met with the doctors -- he stood talking to them in the corridor, his mournful face turned to me. Smiling the brave smile that he does so well. Even the hint of tears in his beautiful blue eyes. Even now, when I seem to know I've been abused and betrayed -- I wish I could see those eyes for ever. He'll stay to nurse me, he said. Nurse me to my death. Otherwise people will be suspicious. Sometimes I can't remember why he should say that. I see no point in refusing him. He's everything to me. What would I do without him? Who else do I have to share my good fortune with? ~Owari~ ~ * ~
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