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"In My Master's Arms "Written By: Jewel of Hell Disclaimer: Don't own nothin' but these words Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Yaoi, lemon, violence, slavery, cruelty, possible OOCness, AU/Fantasy/Drama Pairings: 1x2 Summary: In a society where sorcerers are feared
and hated, Duo is given as a slave to a powerful warrior in order
to keep his tremendous power under control. All he wants is freedom
from his cruel master, but nothing is as it seems . . . "In My Master's Arms "
Rules of the Game "Quatre." His name, softly spoken, made the man lift aqua eyes to look at the other. His lips curved up in a slight smile, but he didn't speak. "I don't understand." The smile vanished. "You promised once you would not ask me questions," Quatre said after a moment. His tone was casual. The underlying warning was clear. Warm, strong hands gripped his arms and squeezed. "You're playing a very dangerous game, love," Trowa said. Quatre winced when Trowas squeezed too hard. "I know. But you know the rules. I have to play it. I want to keep a closer eye on Heero both to protect him . . . and to find out how to get past this frigid exterior of his. I want to destroy the Council of Nine, but I can't do it without him." Quatre could feel Trowa regarding him, but he studiously ignored the man. Trowa had a gentle soul, and he was honest to a fault. These games of intrigue his lover played caused him worry and stress. Quatre, who'd been born into it, barely noticed the tension anymore. It had become second nature to manipulate things to his liking. "It is Jhatahj's wish, as well," Trowa said, "but-" Quatre whirled and slapped a hand over Trowa's mouth, eyes blazing. "Don't ever say that, Trowa. If the rest of the Council found out that we actually can speak with our gods, they would quietly dispose of us in a heartbeat." Trowa's green, green eyes filled with soft emotion. He didn't try to remove Quatre's hand as he nodded. Quatre lowered his hand, eyes clouding. "I wish it wasn't so, just as much as you do," Quatre whispered, rubbing a hand over his heart. "Nirande often speaks of the time when the Council of Nine actually was what it claimed, and did as they promised to do always." His eyes met Trowa's once more. "And of her love for Jhatahj." Trowa stepped forward and stroked Quatre's cheek. "If I were not the Voice of Jhatahj, and you not the Voice of Nirande, would you love me anyway, angel?" Smiling, Quatre stepped into his embrace. "Always," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Trowa's collar bone. A warm, bright light filled his mind. Nirande, he knew. The woodland goddess spoke to him frequently this way. Simply sending her emotions to him in a flash of light. This particular color reflected her passion, and Quatre knew in an instant she was with Jhatahj. One look at Trowa showed him his lover was feeling the same things, and it was affecting him. He shuddered as Nirande's passion took on a bright flash of challenge. She would never submit to Jhatahj, though she would allow his advances. She would never be tamed. Just like Quatre. Trowa's mouth slanted over his, using his superior height to full advantage. Quatre pushed against his chest, opening his mouth and biting at Trowa's lips. Always this struggle for control, this fight for dominance. Though Jhatahj was male, he never dominated Nirande. He always lost to her. Willingly, true. It was the same with Trowa and Quatre. Limbs tangling, they toppled down onto the wide bed, Quatre on top of Trowa's chest. Heat blazing over his skin, Quatre broke the kiss to tug Trowa's tunic over his head. He tossed the velvet aside, kissing him again as he tackled the laces of his shirt. In moments it, too, was flung aside. Quatre hungrily devoured Trowa's lips, hands gliding over the smooth skin of his chest. Perhaps it was Nirande's passion, perhaps it was his own, but he was fully aroused and ready. Grabbing Trowa's hand, he pressed it against his hardened length. "Touch me," he growled against the other man's lips. Trowa obeyed, unlacing Quatre's breeches and slipping his hand inside to grip naked flesh. Quatre arched up with a moan, eyes fluttering shut. Trowa's hand was almost unbearably hot. It squeezed and caressed him, a single thumb dancing over the tip and teasing the slit until he thought he might go mad. An equally hot mouth latched on to one of his nipples, and he whined out another moan at this new sensation. Suddenly he wanted them both naked-now. A flurry of hands, legs, clothes, and two young, lithe bodies pressed together on the bed. Perspiration beaded on Quatre's skin, making him slide easily and deliciously along Trowa. His lover's hands ran down his back, bracing against the backs of his thighs to grind him forward. Quatre hissed and sat up, reaching for the small bedside desk and grabbing the bottle of oil he kept there. Trowa continued his oh-so-deliciously distracting actions, and Quatre almost dropped the bottle twice. Growling, he popped the cork and poured some on his fingers. Some of it landed on Trowa's stomach, sliding into the grooves of muscle and flesh. Setting the bottle aside, Quatre lifted himself up onto his knees and pushed two fingers into his entrance. The bolt of pain/pleasure made him stiffen, eyes snapping shut. Trowa's hands landed on his hips. "Lean back, love," Trowa whispered, pushing. "Let me see you do that. I want to see your fingers . . ." Eyes locking with Trowa's, Quatre obeyed and sat back on his haunches, pelvis tilting forward. He had planned to make this quick, but with Trowa's eyes greedily devouring him, he slowed down and sank his fingers into his body at a more leisurely pace. His eyes hooded, watching Trowa watch him as he savored the sensations, twisting his wrist to find his prostate. A light shudder ran up his spine when he found it. "Shit," Trowa hissed, surprising Quatre with the crude profanity. He grabbed Quatre and shoved him down on the bed, grabbing Quatre's wrist and wrenching his hand away only to replace it with his mouth. Quatre's eyes shot open, lips parting with a faint mewl as Trowa's tongue lanced up into him. His fingers clenched in the bed sheets, thighs trembling. Trowa tormented him until the fear of passing out became real, and he couldn't catch his breath. Then suddenly his lover stopped, sitting up and looking down at him with an almost curious expression. Growling, Quatre planted his feet on the bed, spreading his knees. He sat up just enough to grab Trowa's arousal, tugging with a wicked grin. "Come into me," he demanded. "Now." Trowa smeared oil onto himself and obeyed. Down, down, down he plunged, always maddeningly slow, always feeling as if it would go on forever. Once more Quatre's breath caught, and he found himself wondering if this was good for his health. Then Trowa's hips were aligned with his thighs, and damn him, the man stopped moving. Panting, gasping, Quatre glared up at him. Trowa caressed his cheek. "Don't push yourself." Quatre shoved him backward, climbing over him so he could mount him. "I know my limits," he growled, plunging himself down. Despite his intensity, the pace he set wasn't frenzied. It was somewhat slow, but his movements were controlled and powerful. He watched Trowa through his lashes. Perspiration beaded on his skin until he started sliding, and the concentration on his face made his expression look almost one of pain. He slid his hands up Quatre's hips to his waist, then around to his chest. His fingers dragged heavily over peaked nipples, making Quatre's eyes flicker, a soft moan escaping him. "Next time," he panted, "I'm going to tie your hands." Trowa gave him an amused sort of smirk. "I look forward to it, angel." That nickname, Quatre thought as he clenched around Trowa, had never suited him. He wasn't a very pure man. Leaning down, he planted a demanding kiss on Trowa's lips. His lover returned it ardently, fingers carding through Quatre's hair. Completion crept up on them slowly, building up into sweet ecstasy only to spiral down into soft bliss. Quatre allowed his body to collapse onto Trowa, content to feel strong arms go around him. In some ways, Trowa was very much like Jhatahj. Soon he'd have to get up, to resume his duties and continue this farce. But for now it was nice to bask in Trowa's nearness and his love. o8o o8o Duo leaped to his feet and ran to the door, startling Frost into excited motion, to throw his arms around Heero as the Black Prince walked into his chambers. Heero stiffened, looking down at him in unguarded surprise. He gripped Duo's shoulders and pushed him back. "What in Cestera's name has you so excited?" Grinning from ear to ear, Duo pulled free and scampered to the center of the room. Heero had been leaving the restriction off him so he could practice, and he held up his hands. Energy immediately started crackling around them, and he brought them together in a sharp motion. A gleaming archway of light appeared. A second one appeared on the other end of the room. "I figured out how to make doorways!" he exclaimed. "It took so long because I couldn't figure out how to make it go anywhere, and even when I figured out how to make two at once I couldn't figure out how to connect them. But I finally did it. Me an' Frost have been going through these doorways for an hour now, and we're both completely fine!" Heero looked a little bemused as he headed for the bedchamber. "I was in a foul mood just seconds ago," he said, stripping off his formal outerwear, "and just looking at your face, so bright and excited, has lightened my temper trememdously." Duo beamed at him, feeling as if he was bursting with happiness. "You can introduce me to your father now, right?" he asked. "I can finally meet him?" "Yes. He's been anxious but too sickly for visitors. We're between doses now, so you can meet him." At the reminder of Heero's extreme measures to get his father out of this, Duo's expression soured. "I've been thinking a lot about the Council," he began slowly. "I hate them. I think I hate them even more than the masters at the Tower. Especially Relena and Treize. I was listening to them talk to you all night last night, Heero. They so seldom spoke a word of truth I was beginning to think that all her lies were the truth." Heero smirked. "People have been gossping about you all day. They thought you were just a timid little boy who was so afraid of his master he wouldn't do anything without permission." Like a switch his expression went dark and grim. "We'll have to change that. I want you to go ahead and start wandering. Feel free to take Frost with you, too. Be with these people exactly how you want to, Duo. There's no reason to hold back." Duo nodded, feeling impatient. "Okay, but right now I want to meet your father." Snorting, Heero nodded and rose. "Let's see this doorway of yours." Duo looked at him and shook his head. "I can't make a doorway to a place I've not been. At least, I don't know how." "The old-fashioned way, then," Heero said. "It'll be good for the folk to see you. As soon as we get into my father's chambers, put up your wards against scrying. I haven't been able to hold a meaningful conversation with him in several years." His jaw clenched. Furthering Duo's hatred of the Council. He grabbed Heero's hand and brought it to his cheek, nuzzling it. "I'm with you," he murmured. "I've been trying to use magic for everything. The more I use it the easier I create new spells." Heero caressed his cheek for a moment. "I'm glad," he murmured. "Come on, chiccira. I'll show you the way to my father's room. And there's nothing wrong, by the way, with you going to visit him all the time. All the better to enforce the illusion that you're at odds with me." Today Duo wore only a soft leather tunic, the buffed matieral dyed a soft blue. It was belted at the waist in black, no embroidery or brocade. Simple, but the fine material made it look expensive as it was. Gone was the simple country boy. Strangely enough, the clothing had added to Duo's confidence. Of course, the sleeveless tunic left his arms bare, and hence showed off the brilliant, silver slave-cuffs. It would take Duo some time to get used to them, although the craftsmenship was superb. The metal was thin and extremely light. "Walk behind me and to my left," Heero instructed as they headed to the door. "Don't worry about schooling your expression if someone tries to glare you down, either." Resigning himself to sharing Heero with the world again, he quickly stopped the man before he could open the door. "This room is really, really boring. And depressing. Can I . . . change it? There's no color and there's so little light it feels like a cell." Heero gave him a soft smile. "Of course. Make a list of what you want and I'll see to it you get it." Duo grinned. "Already made the list. You'll take care of it when we get back? I really wanna meet your father!" Giving him a tenderly indulgent smile, Heero led him out. Frost happily trotted at his side, giving him a nudge for affection. Which he gave her, but as soon as they were in the hall, that hated mask fell back into place. Duo felt his teeth grinding. He didn't hate Heero. In fact, he was growing attached to the man. But he hated this. There's a darkness in him. I think he could become this person he shows to others. It was so easy for him to control and intimidate those people in the audience hall. If he lost his light, whatever it is, he would be lost for good. He shuddered at the thought. Beside him, Frost lifted her head and looked at him. For a split second, he got the eerie impression she'd heard his thoughts and nodded agreement. Then the moment passed and he shook his head. First his stallion, and now Frost? He grinned to himself. As they walked the corridors, servants gave them wide berth. Many of them gave Duo looks of scorn, and Duo lifted his chin to give them frigidly condescending looks. Scorn turned to sullenness, which Duo ignored. Heero walked by them not as if they were beneath him, but as if they were so unimportant he didn't even notice they existed. His father's chambers weren't all that far from Duo's, and Heero pushed the door open without knocking. Duo followed, and as soon as the door was closed and barred, he slammed up scrying barriers. To his vindictive glee, he felt scrying spells sever like rotted string. Heero eyed him askance, and he nodded. "It's up." Heero went straight to the bedchamber, throwing open the bedcurtains and leaning down to hug the bed's occupant. "Father," he murmured. Duo's first impression of the man startled him. He'd been expecting someone frail and bony and perhaps a timid countenance. This man, though he did look like Heero's father, didn't bear much resemblance to his son. There was just something about him that reminded Duo of Heero. But his shoulders were broad and his eyes bright and alert. And at the moment he looked flabbergasted to be hugging his son. "Is this . . . safe?" his father asked in a dusty voice. As if he didn't use it much. "Duo . . . he put up a ward," Heero said in a breaking voice. Duo swallowed tears. Kazuhiko pushed his son back to cup Heero's face in both hands. "Here, mioccei," he murmured, "don't show me that face. Where's your smile? The one your mother loved so much?" Heero swallowed and straightened, most of the emotion draining away. "Gone, pierdre, just like Mother." He looked at Duo and beckoned. "I'm sure you've heard I traveled to Navrane. This is Duo." Kazuhiko looked up at Duo, a kindly smile alighting on his lips. "A Black, eh? It's been a long time since a sorcerer lived in Corai. Tell me, boy, how does your heart fare in this treacherous land?" Duo tried to smile and failed. "I . . ." he began. It's almost broken a hundred times. I don't know exactly what is holding me together right now. "Better than I feared," he finally said. The king got a sad look on his face and patted the bed. "Come, sit down. You and I both got the worst end of this deal, didn't we? Neither of us getting to see the Heero we know and want?" A single tear burned down Duo's cheek as he obeyed the king, crawling up to sit beside him. Kazuhiko immediately folded him into a hug. That was all it took to start Duo crying in earnest. The king's arms tightened around him and the man started rocking. "Shh, chiccira, it's all right. Let it all out. Heero, you will agree to let Duo attend me, yes? Surely it won't look too suspicious to allow it when this collar easily lets you bind Duo to silence." "Yes, Father," Heero said, sounding soft and distant. Duo cried and cried. All the tears came out for his first torturous days out of Navrane, for the whole torturous trip, for his torturous existence in the Tower, for all the scorn and fear and ill will he had suffered since he was a little boy. He cried that Heero had to suffer, that his father had to suffer, that this world hated sorcerers, and that there was nothing he could do about any of it. He clung to Kazuhiko, who held him and rocked and hummed some sweet, soothing melody until at last the tears dried up and he sniffled to a halt. "What's chi-chi-ra mean?" he asked, hiccuping. Kazuhiko smiled down at him. "Literally translated it means 'soft soft little,'" he said. "It means little one, but it's a very tender endearment." Duo looked up at Heero and couldn't help a faint blush. "And . . . me-oh-chay? That means?" "Mioccei means 'my son'," Kazuhiko translated. "This is an old language that scholars only teach royalty and perhaps high-ranking nobles." Frost hopped up on the bed and stuck her nose in Duo's face. Laughing quietly, he pushed her back. "How long . . . does this go on?" he asked. "You mean until I'm dead?" the king asked dryly. "Heero?" Heero perched on the edge of the bed. "Not much longer. A few weeks." He sort-of smiled. "People will think it's suspicious that during the time I was gone, you look much better than when I left, old man." Kazuhiko's eyes gleamed. "Such cheek with your father." Then the mirth was gone. "I can't leave you here with those vultures, Heero. How could I live comfortably in Tempria, knowing you're suffering here?" Duo wanted to smother Heero with affection for the look he gave his father. So pained, so sad, so . . . empty. "I'll be far happier, knowing you're safe and away from here." Kazuhiko pulled Duo closer against him. "Well, I suppose I can't stop him, can I, chiccira? Promise me you'll stay by my son's side and be his light. Don't let him wander too far into the darkness. Always pull him back." Nodding and snuggling close, wishing he wouldn't have
to say goodbye to Kazuhiko at all, he took a deep breath and tried
to push the pain away. There would plenty of time for it later.
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