All the Things You Never Knew:
Part Four
By: Kitty E.
Quatre took a deep breath, catching the scent of wildflowers on his hair. It had been with him through most the day, a subtle reminder and source of pleasant thoughts. He and Trowa went riding almost every morning now, though Quatre still loathed to ride his stubborn mare. Trowa refused to allow him the conspicuous use of anything better, reluctant to show favor in public. When hidden from prying eyes by the expansive hunting grounds west of the castle though, Quatre found it wasn't too difficult to convince Trowa to let him steal Difficult for a few moments. The Prince always looked as though he were merely waiting to be abandoned, ready to watch Quatre run and leave behind the life he so clearly abhorred for another, to grasp the chance to be free if always on the run. It was that look that made Quatre come back each time, if only to prove it wrong.
In the clearings, they would rest, sometimes breathless from exertion because neither would ever admit that they were out of practice on horseback. It was only during these quiet times that Quatre would dare to test his boundaries. The Prince never refused him then, but within the castle, he pushed Quatre's hands away, never accepted a kiss. Absently, Quatre had asked about it once, receiving a vague answer about how the forest made one feel like there was no one else in the world. Quatre still had to be careful though, having learned after the first few attempts that Trowa didn't care for kisses he couldn't explain. It wasn't difficult to make Trowa want one, just a few meaningful glances and soft words, then a brush across his check to remove imaginary dirt. When it was simply the natural end to the moment, Quatre could easily elevate them into further things.
Despite that, he held back complete consummation, he had learned his lesson with Heero, and he wasn't about to create another relationship based solely on sex. The day was coming close, though, he could sense it in their interaction, but he knew that while it was his initiative, there was nothing he could do without Trowa's invitation first. The concept was entirely foreign to him, to actively manipulate a master into taking him to their bed was something he'd never done.
Now he found himself pondering how to make such a reluctant partner suddenly insist that he be taken as he walked down the corridors to the Hall of Records. Trowa was taking his dinner and the butler would be with him, patiently waiting as Quatre had done so badly the first time, for Trowa to give up pecking at his food and dismiss him. That one butler was apparently cause enough for concern, because Trowa insisted that Quatre either be completely silent, and that was so unlikely he often relied on the alternative, or out of the room. Just what great shame there was to be hidden was beyond Quatre, but he knew it was best not to push his luck with such an easygoing master.
On his return, he spotted Duo at the end of hall, dropping his eyes he hoped to get past unscathed. He gasped as a hand caught his shoulder, turning him about and thrusting him against the wall. Duo let go of him briefly, but then gripped Quatre's wrists tightly in his hands. "What the hell have you been doing?" he hissed.
Quatre turned a cheek to the stone, "Only what you have asked, sire." He knew he had to keep his wits about him to placate the prince, but his mind was too filled with all that Duo could do to him.
"Master!" Duo corrected, he let go of one of Quatre's wrist to force Quatre to look him into the eye. "You are still mine, you understand?"
Quatre almost wasn't quick enough to respond, the split second of silence after Duo's question was long enough for Duo to pull his hand back. "Yes, master!" he winced inwardly at the words, but didn't dare let it show.
Duo slowly lowered his hand then stepped away, Quatre sagged against the wall, hands splayed across the stone to keep him standing. "Then why have you been wasting my time?"
"I haven't, master, I swear," Quatre insisted desperately.
"Horse shit... you've been playing with him, and I don't know why. What I do know is that you've been sleeping in your own bed every night since I let you go. That is *not* what I asked."
"It takes time, sire," Quatre whispered. "He's doesn't want it yet."
Duo frowned, hauling Quatre away from the wall only to slam him back. "I don't care. You've wasted enough of my time, spend tonight with him or you will spend the night with me, and I am *not* in the mood to be kind. Do you understand, or do I have to prove it to you?"
Quatre's knees nearly buckled when Duo let go of him, but he didn't let himself fall. "Of course not, master."
Turning to leave, Duo said over his shoulder, "Then do it... *tonight.* Keep him out of the way, and distracted for as long as you are with him. Disappoint me, and I make you this year's bonus to the Royal Guard."
Quatre didn't move, barely breathing, not even letting his eyes waver from the hole they were burning in the floor until Duo had turned the corner. He didn't like to admit when he was scared, and usually turned the emotion into anger, or hate. This time it was impossible to deny, he was terrified. As unpleasant a master as Duo had been, Quatre had never feared anything more than the familiar pain of being taken, perhaps a few punishing blows, but never a beating. Arrogant, unkind, self-centered, even backstabbing were all adjectives he'd use for Duo, but not sadist. Something's changed... he's dangerous now.
Quatre a felt a shiver run through him as he pushed away from the wall and headed down the hall. Some part of him knew it was a warning, not about what had just happened, but of what was to come. A cold feeling blossomed from within him, spreading from his chest to the tips of his fingers. It passed after a long moment of calm breathing, but Quatre knew better than to ignore it. Such a feeling had warned him twice before, but he knew there was nothing he could do. The first time had meant his mother's death, the second the invasion of his homeland. All he could surmise was that in the next few days his world would change, and it would not be for the better.
He entered his prince's chambers without a knock, or having been called earning a look of general disapproval from both the dignified butler, and Trowa. Tapping the other servant's shoulder he again whispered only a few words into his ear, enough to embarrass the impossibly conservative old man and ensure he would not be hanging by the door. He bowed curtly and left, just as expected, Quatre knew he would rather die than confirm what he had said with the prince. He locked the door, and turned back to Trowa who seemed content to ignore what had just happened.
Coming from behind, Quatre knelt beside the prince, gently turning Trowa's face away from the paper. They stared at each other quietly, one too afraid, and the other too angry to speak.
"Sire, you must listen very carefully, please just listen even if you don't take it to heart," he cradled Trowa's face in both hands, keeping his eyes on him, and absently stroking the soft skin of his cheek under his thumb. "Something is going to happen soon, I don't know what... death, or upheaval, the Second Coming, it could be anything, but it will come from your brother, majesty. Stay away from Prince Duo, don't pry into what he does or says. His malice now has a dangerous edge, and I don't think anyone is immune to it."
Trowa's brow furrowed and he broke away from Quatre's gaze, "What lies are you telling me? For what purpose?"
"I didn't have to tell you, sire," Quatre insisted, he dropped his hands to Trowa's shoulders. "For all I know it is *you* I have been warned of, but I don't believe that. It is my curse, because knowing evil is coming has never saved me from pain, but I think it can help you. Trowa..." At the sound of his true name, the prince met Quatre's eyes for the first time. It was a conditioned response to look away, but Quatre didn't let the contact waver. "I didn't have any reason to reveal this to you, and I certainly have no reason to lie. Can you believe that much?"
Trowa sighed softly, leaning back into his chair, he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I do, and that's precisely the problem. Not only are you asking me to expect mortal danger from my brother, you are asking me to bury my head about it, knowing full well the repercussions could have a profound effect on the entire kingdom."
Quatre nodded, slowly exhaling the breath he'd been holding. "Just for now, sire. When the time comes to intervene I'm sure you wouldn't want him to think of you as enemy." At last he let his hands slip away from Trowa's shoulder, the blood had been rushing out of his arms at the incline and now they were a bit numb. Showing no change in his face, he rested them lightly on the prince's lap. "I just-" he began, but bit his lip to stop the words.
"What?" Trowa asked, leaning forward slightly.
Quatre reconsidered what he wanted to say, and took a deep breath, "I just wanted you to be safe, sire." He knew the words weren't a lie, but their motivation was unclear. Trowa was Quatre's escape from Duo, now that his master was even more dangerous, he could not deny that self-preservation played no small part in why he had warned the prince. However, the feeling refused to summed up so simply, another feeling lie beneath it, concern. Once he was free and safe from Duo, he knew that he *wanted* no harm to come to Trowa after he left.
A soft hand across his skin distracted him, blinking, Quatre realized Trowa had reach out to cup his cheek. A small smile came unbidden, and he rested his head briefly into the offered hand, before sitting up slightly. Trowa didn't move away, though Quatre was sure that by now he knew what was coming. Their lips met softly, but Quatre pulled away after a moment to scoot closer, settling between Trowa's parted knees. The next kiss demanded more, and, though he was expecting it, Quatre winced when Trowa pulled away.
Used to the rejection, he pressed on. "Sire," he began as he nuzzled the curve of Trowa's neck. "You're sure I have no... night duties to attend to?"
"Quatre," Trowa warned, he placed both hands on Quatre's shoulders and pushed him back a little. "You know I don't ask that of you."
Quatre sat back, but kept one hand lightly on Trowa's thigh, "And if I want you to?"
Trowa was clearly caught off guard, always careful with his words he thought over how to reply for a long moment. "It's not a question of that. It's my decision that we shouldn't... get that close."
Quatre was clearly not pleased to hear that, making a soft noise of indignation. Getting angry would help nothing, there was no way to force the issue, and so he turned to other means. "What have I done to force you to come to such a decision, sire? Is it... is it because you find me undesirable?"
Trowa didn't seem pleased that Quatre was still pressing the issue. He didn't care to explain his motivations, his fears. He hoped his silence would deter Quatre from asking anything more.
"I know what it is, majesty," Quatre whispered, accusing him sharply. "It's not this body you have a problem with it's that so many others have found it just as pleasing. I'm used, after all, like a hand me down, from one brother to the next. Who would want to play with a toy no one else fought to keep?" He lost control of his voice as he stood up suddenly, and he realized he wasn't trying to fool Trowa any longer. This was a part of him he had buried, and now he fought with his emotions for scant moment. When he spoke again, it was in resignation. "After all, I could live a thousand years free, and still be a whore."
"Dammit, Quatre has there ever been a time when you *didn't* feel strongly about something?" Trowa asked with exasperation as he stood and pulled Quatre into his arms in a way that expressed both frustration and comfort.
Quatre let himself relax in the embrace, recognizing his chance. "No," he answered honestly. "But if it's not that, then what could it possibly be?"
Trowa sighed heavily, rather than risk confirming Quatre's assumption he tried to make him understand. "It's not about what I feel, or think... it's about what I know. Things are easier this way, and when the time comes to part ways there will be less to regret."
Quatre pulled back slightly, to examine Trowa's face. "What if it is this we regret? You barely live for today, because you always see tomorrow looming on the horizon. Happiness isn't finite, sire, take as much as you want when it's there before you."
Trowa said nothing more, out of arguments, out of will power. When Quatre shifted, and brought lips together he put up no fight. In a lot of ways, he relished being defeated. His fingers teased upwards from the base of Quatre's neck, threading through the exotic sun-colored hair. Quatre pressed harder against him, trapping the prince between his slim frame and the table, as their kisses grew more heated. One of Quatre's hands remained at the small of Trowa's back, while the other slid the paper off the table, and shoved away the plate. Once finished, he placed his hand over Trowa's heart, and gently pushed him down across the table.
Supporting himself on both hands as he leaned over Trowa, "I can do nothing more than this unless you ask me, tell me to do so." He glanced up and noticed the goblet next to Trowa's ear. "Prove you want nothing else. Let there be no doubt as to what you are feeling, what you desire." He dipped one finger on the wine, and slid it across Trowa's parted lips, "Show me where you want to be kissed just like this."
Trowa looked less than committed to the idea as Quatre stretched over him to lick the wine from his mouth. The sensation was pleasant enough to make him to play along, and he gingerly reached up to wet one finger in the liquid, drawing another line over his lips. Quatre slipped one hand behind Trowa's head, lifting it for the next kiss. Parting his lips, he pulled Trowa's tongue into his mouth and began suck softly, breaking away only when it was necessary to breathe. When Trowa moved to make a third line, two drops fell from his finger, one splashing upon his cheek as the other slid down to his neck. Every trace of the wine was thoroughly removed with wet, careful kisses, but Quatre paid special attention to the neck, even biting softly at the sweetened skin.
He was pleased with the results, for a moment it looked like Trowa would simply ask for another kiss, but after a second of hesitation he pulled red-soaked fingertip slowly down his neck. Dutifully, Quatre went to work, his hands now unlacing Trowa's jacket with expert, and unhurried movements. Once to the very base of the neck, he spread open the cloth revealing the white shirt beneath, and waited. Trowa demanded both this time, one splash of wine across his lips, and another for his neck. Quatre hid his satisfaction well, no matter what anybody said, even royalty, no one was above their own desires.
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Part Five