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"A Pirate's Trade"Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Alternate Universe - Pirates, yes I
went there, Yaoi, Smut, Questionable Pirate Morality, Arrrrg Pairings: 2x1, 3x4 Summary: Captain Maxwell of the Shinigami, second
most feared pirate to sail the Seven Seas, unwittingly stole precious
booty from the one man who is more feared than he is. Oops. "A Pirate's Trade" Chapter 15: Checkmate"Trowa, they're here." The captain glanced up at his first mate and dipped his head in a nod of acknowledgement. On the outside, he appeared completely neutral, nonplussed, but he wasn't fooling the other man. Wufei knew better. Could see the subtle, momentary dilation of his pupils and the minute stiffness of his posture. If Trowa had been an impulsive man, he would have stormed Maxwell's pillaged ship, guns blazing to relinquish his lover from the clutches of his enemy. Instead, he stood from the table and began rolling the maps he'd been looking over. For now, he no longer needed them. "Very well. Have Thomas meet with Captain Maxwell's negotiator in twenty minutes. I wish to meet with Maxwell this afternoon to discuss the terms." "Aye, Sir," Wufei said, ticking his fingers against his forehead before turning to leave the cabin. "You will accompany me," Trowa called to him. "Of course," was Wufei's wry response. His fading voice was a familiar mix of amusement and exasperation. It didn't really need to be said. Of course Wufei would be there. He always was. The Captain's dark and sinister shadow, silent and deadly. Trowa knew he wouldn't possess the status he did, nor would have been regarded with the same fear and reticence if not for the constant presence of his friend and partner. If all went well, they would be making the exchange that evening. By tonight, he could have Quatre safe and sound back on the Catherine and ready to depart for the Americas. But it was important not to get ahead of himself. Emotions dictating the situation could be disastrous. It was a struggle to keep himself under control. Until this exchange was over, he could not be Quatre's lover. He had to be Captain Barton. It was necessary to treat this trade as if it were any other. It was the only way to ensure the outcome he desired. Before now, it was never an issue. Bartering for goods, while he cherished his wealth, was not the same when the life and safety of someone he would die for was at the center of it all. It seemed an insult to Quatre to treat this like any other trade, regardless of the fact that he had no choice. Quatre's condition was also a defining factor. On principle, Trowa religiously treated their prisoners well. They were fed three times a day, allowed a little exercise, and were protected from sexual advances by his crew. It did not bode well to mistreat a prisoner and if and when the ransom was paid, making enemies by returning the hostages in a worsened state than they were taken in was not conducive to good business. If Quatre was returned to him emaciated, covered in bruises, or other injuries. If he showed signs of being sullied by Maxwell, or his crew, there would be Hell to pay and vengeance would be swift, harsh, and darkly satisfying. He had until sundown, several hours away though it seemed like an eternity. Tension coiled within his belly and made his shoulders ache. The most crucial trade of his life lay on the horizon. Pirate dealings were always a tossup. Men who were unpredictable and prone to violence at the drop of cocked hat brought variables to the table that no one could foresee. One erroneous move, a look taken the wrong way, and everything he'd prepared for could go down in flames. And this time, the stakes were higher than ever. *** Thomas returned forty minutes later. Trowa knew because he'd been routinely checking his pocket watch every other minute. So much that Wufei finally swiped it from his hand with a scowl and after a brief scuffle, danced away with the watch held high in victory. Trowa gave him a dark look, but relinquished the timepiece without further argument. "You're driving yourself mad, Trowa." Wufei informed him, holding out a mug of warm ale which he hesitated to take. "Drink it. It will calm you." "I don't want to be compromised." "One cup will not compromise you. You nearly made a saddle of my arse when you were three sheets to the wind." He chuckled when Trowa barked out a laugh. "And I was sober." Trowa took the cup and stared down into the murky liquid. "You never did tell me what you were doing there that night." Wufei breathed in deeply through his nose. Trowa watched him stretch his back, his inky gaze distant towards the mouth of the bay. "Maybe someday I will." "Is it that personal?" The first mate's black eyes darted in his direction for a brief moment before he averted them again. "It is...not something I am proud of," he murmured cryptically and said no more. Trowa nodded and let it drop. Wufei would tell him when he was ready and not a moment before. Thomas returned soon after, panting as he climbed over the scuppers. Other than being winded, the young man seemed no worse for wear and Trowa waited patiently for him to catch his breath. "Sir. Captain...Captain Maxwell has agreed to meet with you at the Blue Glyde tavern in one hour. He agreed to the terms and said his men will wait outside." "Thank you, Thomas. Go fetch some water before you collapse from thirst." "Aye. Thank you, Sir." He scampered off towards the orlop, leaving Captain and First Mate alone on the deck once again. "See?" Wufei folded his arms, mouth quirking in that contemptuous way. One that Trowa had become intimately familiar with, having been on the receiving end more than once. "Nothing to worry about." He snorted and shook his head. The wind had picked up with the rise of daylight. It disturbed the resting sails behind them, billowed the loose linen of his shirt, and caused goosebumps to ripple across his skin. The cool, salty air wafted beneath his nose, awakening his sea legs and igniting his longing for the choppy swells of the open water. Being docked for so long felt like confinement. He was itching for the freedom of international waters. It was so close now, he could taste it. "Haven't you learned anything, Wufei?" He glanced at his friend and lifted a brow. "First lesson of a sailor. Never trust a pirate. Especially if you are one." *** Blue Glyde was exactly what Trowa expected it to be. An abject hole in the wall congested with men so filthy, they were nearly indiscernible from the brown, wooden planks of the tavern's interior. Drunk and raucous, they bellowed their laughter while they drained their steins, gambled, and pawed at the serving wenches and whores who loitered and flirted with the men who had the most promise when it came to coin and pleasure. It wasn't unusual to witness at least some level of disrobing. Exposed breasts were as common as the routine brawl. Roughened, grimy hands would occasionally disappear beneath hitched skirts, or down the waistband of trousers. Fornication and buggery were also not out of the realm of possibilities. With inhibitions compromised by fermented wheat, in a place where degenerates were the standard, it was no longer surprising to witness a coupling take place in a barely concealed corner of the establishment. And right on cue, he watched with impassive eyes as a serving wench was seized and shoved down onto a table. Her tray, laden with fresh ale and rum clattered to the floor, the liquid puddling around the booted feet of the man responsible. The roughneck flipped the young woman's skirt up and out of the way, exposing her genitals to the dark, triumphant eyes of those who came for sights such as this. After a quick fumbling of belt and breeches, the lascivious and inebriated man pushed inside her, spurred on by the howls and cheers of the tavern's occupants. The wench gave up any semblance of resistance and resigned herself to the violation, to the pulling and tugging of her bodice until her breasts sprung free and were cupped and squeezed in the man's crude palms. It was nothing new for the lasses. It was simply part of the job. If she was lucky, he would finish quickly. Lucky if she got a few shillings tossed her way for her troubles and then she would rearrange her dress back over her defiled body and continue on with her work. "Captain? The usual?" Wufei's voice so close to his ear startled him and he forced his gaze away from the mesmerizing act of fucking, but not before he caught a hint of pleasure on the wench's strained face. It was evident in the tremble of her lips and the flutter of her lashes. For some odd reason, it reminded him of his first coupling with Quatre. In the beginning, the fear and reluctance to enjoy the sensations and then the inevitable surrender to it. Dismantling Quatre's reticence had been one of the most breathtaking and profoundly satisfying experiences he'd had the privilege of witnessing. Fear turned to defeat turned to the kind of rapture that made one's eyes roll back into their heads. Melted the coiled tension of muscles into liquid languidness and the tell tale body language of arching spines and the widening of thighs. Quatre had been his since the very first night because Trowa was adept in the dialect of lovers. Fluent in the ways of passionate lovemaking. Whether male, or female, he kept them coming back for more. It wasn't the careful and gentle act of missionary sex upon the marriage bed, but the carnal and shameless sins of the flesh. Not in the repression of God-fearing folk fumbling in the darkness, but in the raw, iniquitous act of fucking in broad daylight. Of burying your face between your lover's trembling thighs. Of pinning them to a wall and taking your pleasure with your fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh of their thighs as you hold them fast. When the frantic attempts to smother the sounds of ecstasy evaporates into desperate pleas for more. He glanced back at the wench and observed the bend of her back and neck, the way her legs wrapped around the man who moved above her, and the reedy cries of delight now spilling unbidden from her open mouth. "Yes," he intoned in a gravelly voice, feeling a sharp pang of arousal stir within his groin. He'd not taken another lover since Quatre was abducted even though the temptation to relieve the pent-up tension was overpowering at times. He'd barely even taken himself in hand, consumed with guilt as though he'd forfeited his right to pleasure after his failure to protect his own. The prospect that Quatre could be in his arms by nightfall made him weak in the knees. He turned to Wufei whose narrow-eyed expression told him he'd missed nothing and mentally cursed the man for being so intuitive. "Yes. The usual, Chang," he said, sharper than he'd meant to. Wufei's head dipped low in acknowledgement and the humble realization that he was skirting deeply personal territory. In public, no less. He backed off, knowing that Trowa's ire was easily provoked due to the situation at hand. He was tetchy and short-tempered and it was best not to agitate the shallow waters of his wrath. "Very well," he intoned with hushed respect and began pushing through the throng of stumbling bodies towards the back of the tavern. Trowa watched the mass of drunken men and scantily clad women part like the Red Sea once the patrons recognized their newly arrived guests. He watched Wufei dismiss the brush of dainty hands and the press of bosums the moment the lasses understood what they could potentially glean from seducing the crew of the Catherine with their feminine wiles. In Wufei's case, it was an attempt doomed to fail. He'd long since taken a vow of celibacy after the death of his beloved wife and he'd stayed true to her memory for as long as Trowa had known him. He tolerated the lecherous lifestyle of the corsair with haughty disdain and had informed Trowa on numerous occasions that debauchery was the weakness of man. Trowa took it in stride and even teased him when the mood was prime for it. "That debauchery," he reminded his friend, "Is the reason our species is even alive today." Wufei flipped his hand and turned his pointed nose into the air. "Evolutionary flaw," he said with a repulsed curl of his lip. "Fornicating like filthy vermin without a thought to the kind of cruel world they are bringing their children into." "Be cautious with that "evolutionary" talk," Trowa mused. "Are you certain you want to add "heretic" to your list of crimes?" "Heresy is the least of my worries, Trowa. What right has man to dominate this earth? War, famine, thievery?" Trowa shrugged his shoulders. He'd accepted the fact that man was inherently cruel a long time ago. It was simply the nature of things. "The drive to survive is a double-edged sword." "It's greed," Wufei snapped and then flushed at his outburst. He paused to drink his tea and collect his thoughts. Calmer, he said, "Greed is the malevolent seed that has been planted in every one of us. It's the Devil's seed. It drives man to steal, ravage, and kill for his own selfish gain. Greed does not belong in civilized society." "Greed goes hand in hand with ambition. Without ambition, there would be no civilized society." Trowa leveled a quizzical look at his friend. "Since when do you believe in the Devil?" Wufei snorted and finished off his tea. He was silent for several moments and Trowa patiently waited to see if he would answer. "I don't need to believe, Trowa. I see him every day. I've seen him every day since Meiran was taken from me. Since I've been old enough to understand the vile ways of man. My own..." he stopped there and pressed his lips together. Trowa turned that last interrupted sentence over in his mind and debated whether it was wise to press the issue. He decided the best course of action was to approach it from a different direction. "Why did you decide to join me?" "Because someone has to make sure you don't do something foolish." Trowa didn't believe him and told him as much, surprised when the other man's cheeks flushed a deep red. Wufei hesitated for a moment and then admitted the truth, or at least part of it in a muted whisper. "You were the first man I'd come across in a long time that was genuine. A man of integrity. I saw that right away. And...then the next thing I knew, you were my friend. I'm still not even sure how that happened." He ran his finger along the rim of his teacup, his face belaying a trace of mortification. "I've never been good at making friends." Trowa had the uncanny sense that there was more, but he'd decided Wufei had exposed enough of his vulnerabilities for the time being. It wasn't easy for a man who prided himself on strength and honor. Who always kept his cards close to his chest and his emotions under lock and key. Even six years later, Trowa had yet to learn what secrets drove his first mate to travel down this path and what kept him on it. Wufei was a scholar, but then again, Trowa was as well to some extent. Tragedy was the catalyst that led him to his own path. Something he and Wufei had in common. He squared his shoulders and strode through the center of the tavern, studiously ignoring the awed faces and whispers of the patrons. He gently removed the feminine hands that slid up his chest as he passed. He'd not bedded a whore in over three years. He wasn't about to start now. The men who'd been lounging at the far table against the wall scampered away at Wufei's approach and it was now cleared for them. He sunk down into the chair that faced outward. A man who turned his back on cutthroats was a man doomed to have a knife plunged into it. The position also gave him the advantage of a clear view of the door. He wanted to know the moment Maxwell stepped inside. His men flanked him with Wufei at his right shoulder as always. Steins of ale were set down in front of him. He grabbed one and immediately drained half, keeping his eyes trained on the door and paying no mind to the whores and serving wenches who desperately tried to catch his eye. They didn't have to wait long for Maxwell's arrival. Trowa assumed the other pirate was just as eager to get this done as he was. Like Trowa, Maxwell's visage was intimidating and alluring, drawing the eye with stunning beauty, yet invoking dread in the pit of the stomach with an aura of ruthlessness and violence. As he entered the tavern, Trowa thoroughly looked him over. His keen gaze searched for any chinks in Maxwell's armor from a subtle shift of his posture to hesitation in his steps. Anything that could be used to ruffle the man's confidence. Maxwell carried himself like a predator. Someone certain of his rightful place in the world. His eyes immediately landed on the far table and narrowed and Trowa's mouth quirked in amusement. A pirate always knows... He was alone as promised. Trowa leaned back into his chair, his thighs spreading in a languid show of dominance as he watched Maxwell's approach with cold calculation. The Shinigami captain was still young. A tenderfoot as the elders would say and as such, Trowa knew he was far more prone to cockiness and emotional outbursts which worked in his favor. He wasn't disappointed when Maxwell proceeded to do just that, stopping abruptly a few feet from the table. He didn't miss the momentary clench of Maxwell's fists, the fight to keep his anger in check. In the sudden subdued atmosphere of the tavern, he hissed through clenched teeth, "Where is she?" Trowa traced the rim of his stein with an elegant finger and bided his time, knowing that making Maxwell wait for his response would get the other pirate's ire up. Emotions did not bode well in situations such as this and for Trowa, that was advantageous. He calmly gestured at the cups of ale. "Drink?" "Where is me ship?" Down to business it was then. He leaned forward and grabbed the exchange by its horns. The only one who would be leaving this tavern rattled would be Maxwell. "Your ship is fine. Where is my boy?" And there it was. A slight flicker of Maxwell's eyes and the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Trowa's heart skipped for just a moment and then he hardened his gaze, watching the bob of the other pirate's Adam's apple. "He is here, with me men." This time, the aggression in his voice was softened around the edges. "You will not have your ship until I have my boy and know he is safe and unharmed." Maxwell faltered again and Trowa's fury rose to a simmer. "He is unharmed, is he not?" The reaction was not what he was hoping for and his stuttered answer left Trowa instinctively reaching for the revolver on his belt. "What has become of him?" He watched the man's expression closely. Noting the realization that he'd shown weakness and the attempt to gather his composure. Maxwell straightened his back and lifted his chin, the confidence returning to his voice. "Nothing. He is well. How is me ship?" Trowa wasn't convinced and the redundant question irritated him. "I am not in the habit of repeating myself," he said, careful to keep his tone smooth and even. "Consider yourself lucky this time. Stealing your ship was a small price to pay for stealing my boy. The next time you cross me, I will not be inclined to be so generous." Feathers ruffled with indignance, Maxwell adopted a haughty expression and curled his lip. "Fine. I will refrain from touching anything that belongs to you." Trowa finished off his ale and set the cup back down onto the table with deceitful gentleness. "See that your men do as well." "Of course." "We will meet tonight at the docks. Sundown. Do not be late. I will return your ship provided my boy's condition is to my satisfaction. And I wouldn't try anything underhanded if I were you. Your Shinigami is loaded with explosives. One of my men remains on board to detonate should anything happen to my boy, or you and your crew attempt to attack us. Are we understood?" Fury sparked within the depths of Maxwell's eyes. His jaw clenched in an effort to tamp down on the urge to lash out. He took a long, deep breath through his nose and jerked his head in acknowledgement. "Right," he growled and spun on his heel, shoving through the congregation of spectators who'd paused to watch the confrontation. "Maxwell..." The swish of the pirate's braid stilled against his back as he halted. Maxwell turned, his expression irritated, but uneasy. Trowa smiled and gestured towards the man to his left. Carver, known for his deft hand in petty theft and pickpocketing stepped forward with Maxwell's pearl handled pistol in his hands. "You forgot something." The hooded eyes widened for a brief moment before they darkened, narrowing into angry slits. Blood rushed into his stately face, staining the tanned skin red with humiliation. With two quick strides, he snatched his revolver from Carver's hand, sneered at the bald man, and turned to leave. "Maxwell..." He stopped again, his head tipping back with impatient frustration. He turned and barked, "What?" Now was the time to lay everything out. Remind the arrogant marauder who was in charge of this arrangement and it most certainly was not Maxwell. "The only reason you are not dead is because you're a damned good pirate. You've always come through on our business deals before. Consider this your only warning. I'd hate to lose good competition, but I will not show mercy should you decide to cross me again. If I see my boy is harmed, I will sink your ship right in front of your eyes and then I will kill you." Maxwell held his gaze in challenge and Trowa prepared for the possibility that he would be forced to prove his point in a more tactile manner. Instead, the other pirate lowered his eyes in a clear display of acquiescence. "As you wish." Trowa watched him leave and turned to Wufei once the door swung shut behind him. "I want the men prepared for the unexpected. I want sentries posted at each end of the docking platform. If anything suspicious happens, I want to know about it immediately. Make sure the guns are loaded and blades sharpened. I want everyone armed and ready within the hour." "Aye, Captain. Consider it done," Wufei said, ticking his fingers at the crewmen who waited for the order. "You heard him. Get back to the Catherine and prepare the weapons. If this gets ugly, we must be ready to fight." After a dutiful salute, the three men left the tavern. Trowa and Wufei followed at a more sedate pace, knowing those they trusted with this task would get the job done. Outside, the sun was finally beginning to break through the thick cloud cover. The first time they'd seen it since they docked a month ago. Bright rays of light filtered through the gray canvas like a sign from God. "Perhaps there is hope after all," Wufei mused, cupping his hand over his forehead as he gazed towards the sky. "You're quite the mystic these days." "I remember an old proverb my father used to recite to me as a boy. "You will not be punished for your anger. You will be punished by your anger." It just occurred to me how true that is." "Are you telling me that you're letting go of your anger?" "I don't know if that's possible," Wufei confessed. "But it's something I hope to accomplish someday. There's still something I need to do before I can." "And what's that?" "Kill Captain Zechs Merquise." Trowa stopped short, shock momentarily freezing him in place. "What did you say?" Wufei shook his head and walked towards the pier. Trowa followed suit until they reached the ropes and leaned their elbows onto the thick, braided hemp. There was a long, disconcerting silence between them, broken only by the gentle lap of waves against the rock beneath their feet. Trowa glanced over at his friend and saw the pain, years worth of agony, clear as day on his face. The kind of pain that made one decay from the inside out. "What happened, Fei?" Wufei let out a long breath and bit down on his lip as he prepared himself for the price of his confessions. "You remember what I told you about greed and sin?" "Yes." "I am not...without my own sin, I'm afraid. This isn't easy for me to say and I've never told another soul about this." "You know anything you tell me will be kept between us," Trowa assured him. Wufei nodded and curled his fingers around the ropes. "Merquise arrived in China on a routine trade about nine years ago. I was in town running errands for my father when he and his crew were there to do business with a local merchant. I was...intrigued by him. I'd never laid eyes on a foreigner before." He dipped his chin down and closed his eyes. "He took a liking to me as well. I was newly wedded man. I'd only bedded my wife twice since our ceremony." "But I could not take my eyes off of him. He accosted me and told me to wait for him until he was finished with his arrangement." He laughed, a self-deprecating bark. "I kept telling myself to go home. To forget about it. It was foolish and unfaithful and I knew I was making a terrible mistake." "But you stayed," Trowa guessed. He nodded once. "Yes. I couldn't help it. I was fascinated by him and the possibilities of a night with him. So I stayed and he found me once he'd conducted his business. There were no inns, no place we could go with a bed. We walked until we reached the edge of town and found a secluded spot. I was so scared, Trowa, but I'd never felt so alive either. He made me feel things..." He broke off with a visible shudder. "Wufei you can't blame yourself for that. The heart wants what it wants." "It doesn't end there. He told me he wanted to take me on board the Tallgeese. He told me the magic we made could happen every night if I wished it. I was so tempted, I almost said yes." He wrapped his arms around himself, a defensive gesture. "But I had a duty to my wife and my family. I told him no and then I left. It was the most difficult thing I'd ever done." "Where I'm from, nothing is more important than honor and duty. So much that I often felt as though I would die of boredom. The rigid and pious structure of lessons and discipline, of memorizing and reading and memorizing, it's quite inept at killing a man's adventurous heart. And I longed for something new. Unpredictable. But I also knew there was a chance that I would be nothing more than a whore to this man whom I'd only just met. And do you know what the worst part was?" Trowa was fairly certain he did, but he waited for Wufei to tell him. "The worst part was that I found myself asking, "Would that really be so bad?" A life relegated to a pirate's whore. Good only for buggery. And I was seriously considering taking him up on his offer." "So what happened?" Wufei's face twisted with a pain that appeared almost physical. He seemed to curl in on himself and Trowa's heart reached out in sympathy. With a broken voice, he relayed the events that followed that fateful day. "He found my family. My wife. He...he killed them all. Slaughtered them like animals. I returned from my work and found Meiran disrobed and face down in a puddle of her own blood. She'd been ravaged, her throat cut so deeply, she was nearly beheaded." "Oh, Fei. I'm sorry. I had no idea." "No one does. I never went to the authorities. What could they possibly do? They would never go against a pirate such as Merquise. They likely would have punished me." Wufei's eyes were visibly damp, but still, he refused to cry. "I buried them and I left. I had no choice. I spent the next three years tracking him down." "That's what you were doing there that night," Trowa surmised. "You were looking for him." "I'd had a lead that he would be there, but he never showed. Instead...you tried to swindle me out of my money," Wufei recalled fondly, a small grin finally curling up the corners of his mouth. Trowa mirrored it and said, "And the rest, as they say, is history." He sobered quickly and added, "You should have told me, Fei. How many times have we met with him?" "This is between he and I, Trowa. When I am ready, When I take my vengeance, I will do it alone and when the time is right." He gazed at Trowa with somber eyes, begging for understanding. "You must respect that this is my fight and my fight alone." Trowa smiled sadly and clasped his shoulder. "Of course. But you know if you ever change your mind, I will be there." "You're a good man, Trowa Barton. Always remember that. My respect does not come easy so believe me when I tell you that you have earned it." "And you have earned mine, my friend. You do what you have to. Sometimes a man's battle is his own to fight." "Speaking of which, what are your plans for Maxwell?" "Depends on him. Depends on Quatre's condition. If he behaves himself and Quatre's well being is to my satisfaction, he can set sail on the Shinigami at his discretion." "And if Quatre is not to your satisfaction?" Trowa abruptly pulled away from the ropes and headed down the length of the pier to where the Catherine and Shinigami awaited their return. That was the burning question, wasn't it? The "what if" that hovered in the air above them all like an ominous cloud. The trigger that would determine the outcome of this exchange. The difference between life and death. The knowledge that one half of this equation would not live to sail another day. He glanced behind him and caught the inquisitive look on his friend's face. Only one word came to mind. Checkmate.
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