by Ruth
It was late at night. Quatre turned off his laptop and sat on the edge of the bed, turning an empty teacup in his hands. His midnight blue robe lay careless at the foot of the bed. He and Trowa were still in Wufei's house. They had moved to the smaller suite that overlooked the garden on the opposite side of the house from the master suite that was still locked. Wufei was staying in one of the smaller side bedrooms.
"Are you all right?" Wufei asked quietly. He looked like he was ready for bed, his hair down, wearing his dragon embroidered robe over his red pajama bottoms.
"Not really," Quatre admitted, finally putting the cup down on the bedside table. "I understand that Trowa was the best choice for this mission. The trouble is," he half-laughed, "that we just got back together and here we are at opposite ends of the Alliance." He gave a deep sigh.
"Hm," Wufei calmly brought in the extra chair that seemed to wander into various bedrooms, put it next to the bed and sat down astride the back.
"Turn about?" Quatre asked with a trace of a smile.
"Fair play," Wufei answered. They sat together in silence a moment. Quatre swung his legs up on the bed and leaned against the headboard.
"Can I ask you something?" Quatre looked over. Wufei nodded. "Just what were you going to do the night you jumped me?"
Wufei colored slightly. Quatre was referring to the torturous experience the five friends had just gone through. Almost a year after his wife's death, Wufei had nearly succumbed to the dark obsession that made him blame Duo Maxwell for Sally's death. Quatre, Trowa and Heero had flung themselves physically and emotionally between the two to keep them from each others throat until a peace could be resolved.
"It wasn't a jump," Wufei protested, "it was supposed to be a pounce. A game and," he shrugged, "a way of ensuring your-er loyalty to me."
"Oh, really?" Quatre pulled his knees up and leaned an elbow on them. "Where did you learn this ‘game'?"
Wufei shrugged. "At the dojo. We were taken from our families at age five and trained as warriors for the next nine years or even longer. All young things crave affection, but certain behaviors were not encouraged." Quatre gave him a puzzled look. "It was out duty to marry and produce children to strengthen the clan. Period."
Wufei paused. "They're called the torments. It was the older boys, the leaders; you were pounced in the shower and carried off. It was then seen how much you could endure for the honor of your section and your clan. Please, don't look so horrified, Quatre, it wasn't always cruel sometimes it could be quite-er, stimulating."
"Just what were you going to do to me?"
"Oh, er, pounce, carry you off, tie you to the bed and ah-torment you until-uhm," he stopped, too embarrassed to continue.
"Until I succumbed to the mastery of your passion and surrendered myself to your desire?" Quatre asked dryly.
"Fantasy seldom survives reality," Wufei turned his head. "I didn't expect you to put up such a fight."
"I don't take kindly to being pounced and now you know why!" Quatre retorted. He looked away a moment, before continuing in a softer tone. "I meant what I said, all you had to do was ask," he paused. "Or wait until I asked."
There was a long silence.
"This isn't some revenge because. . ."
"Because oral sex is Duo's second favorite contact sport?" Quatre shook his head. "No. I mean, there were so many times on Peacemillion when the fighting would get to us that we'd just reach out for someone, anyone so we could feel human again. At least, the three of us did. I know Duo reached out to Heero a couple of times but he doesn't talk about what happened and you," he paused. "Didn't you ever get lonely?"
"Duo asked me that on Peacemillion once. Yes, I did get very lonely, but," Wufei shook his head. "Reaching out to my companions wasn't permitted, wasn't part of my teaching. I did reach out to Sally, but that wasn't until later. When I stopped defining myself only through battle."
"And you're lonely now," Quatre reached out and touched his arm.
"Yes," he confessed. There was another long silence. "Do you mind being pounced?"
"Yes," Quatre said. "I do. Do I have to be pounced? Can't I just be . . . invited?"
"I never thought of that," Wufei could feel himself starting to blush again. "Actually, this is the room where I would-er, carry Sally off to when I'd pounce her. It's quieter and a little more isolated from the rest of the house."
"I've noticed," Quatre nodded. "All right, what do we do first?"
"I have to get a few things. Why don't you pull down the bed clothes?" Wufei stopped at the door. "Are you sure -?"
"I'm lonely, too," said Quatre. He pushed the bed clothes off and bundled them into a corner. "There's still a lot of healing to be done on your heart, my friend." He shivered a little as a knot of fear chilled in his stomach. "Mine, too." He folded his pajama bottoms, placed them next to his robe under the side table and lay down. He was shivering slightly, but not with cold when Wufei came back.
Wufei had collected a few silk scarves, a small bottle of scented oil and his calligraphy set. Quatre was lying on his side, pink and ivory against the stark white of the sheet. He looked uncertain. Wufei set down the items he'd brought. "Maybe this was a bad idea."
"No," said Quatre firmly. He swallowed hard. "No, what do you want me to do?"
He's facing his own fears. Wufei realized. "Just let me do this." He gently pushed Quatre to his back. "Relax," he slipped the long sash off his robe and threaded it through the ornate loops of the heavy brass head board. "Lie still. I won't hurt you, you know that."
"Yes," Quatre's voice shook a little.
He took a small amount of oil and began to massage Quatre's shoulders, gently working down his one arm to his hand. Quatre sighed and closed his eyes, enjoying the touch and the scent. Wufei loosely tied one end of the sash around his wrist before working his way back up to the shoulders. He swung one leg to carefully straddle Quatre's torso and worked his way down to the other hand. He looped the sash around the other wrist. He stroked Quatre's shoulders again, letting his fingertips slide up his throat and along his cheekbones, lightly stroking each closed eyelid with a small amount of oil.
"That's not patchouli," Quatre murmured.
"No," Wufei said quietly as he ruffled his fingers through Quatre's soft, blond hair. It was so much paler than his Sally's and had a different texture. "It's a light musk. Patchouli didn't suit you."
"You've been planning for this, then," he teased, not opening his eyes.
"Yes," and Wufei grasped the center of the silk sash and pulled. The loops tightened on Quatre's wrists. His eyes opened wide and he gave a single gasp. Wufei secured the sash and looked at him. Quatre had gone dead white and was fighting panic. The OZ troopers on the colony had secured his wrists with heavy manacles, he'd told Wufei, and then had tried to force him into oral sex. He was terrified of being helpless in unfriendly hands again.
"I won't hurt you."
"I know that, part of me knows that. Wait," Quatre shuddered as he tried to calm himself. "All right."
Wufei let his robe slip off. Rocking his weight to his knees, he backed down Quatre slowly, gently rubbing the scented oil into his skin.
"You're still too thin," he complained mildly. "And impatient," he chuckled as he maneuvered around Quatre's erection. He finished stroking his way down to the foot of the bed where he slipped off. He lowered his pajama bottoms to the floor. He gathered up one of the silk scarves and began to work his way back up Quatre's body, lightly wiping at the few smears of excess oil that hadn't soaked into his skin.
Quatre was moaning softly with the sensation, his eyes closed. Wufei worked his way back up until he was astride his chest again. He lightly ran the silk along Quatre's lower lip and tried to slip it in with a fingertip. Quatre's eye flew open again and the color drained from his face. "No!" His voice shook. "No, not that, please!"
"All right," Wufei let the scarf drop. "In that case, I'll show you how much I'm trusting you." . Wufei leaned forward, knowing he had stiffened with anticipation. It had been too long since he'd been touched or tasted. Quatre managed a thin chuckle. That was how he had gotten out of the situation in captivity-he'd bitten the trooper who was trying to force him. Wufei grabbed the top of the headboard and hissed through his teeth as Quatre mouthed him gently.
It took every ounce of will not to move, to let Quatre do everything. "They called it sharing the yang. It was a thing between sworn warriors. The Masters did not approve, said it would turn us from our duty, but I think there was more than one of them that-that. . . . Ah!" He arched upwards, a wild cry tearing from his throat. Her name, but as he rocked back and looked down at Quatre he could see Quatre didn't mind. He used the scarf again to wipe Quatre's face.
"Is that it?" Quatre asked.
"No, it isn't." Wufei purred, rubbing his forehead gently against Quatre's, touching his mouth tentatively with his own. Quatre's erection had deflated when frightened by the prospect of being gagged. It began to swell again. "You mustn't be impatient." If he remembered right, Sally would press just there. . . Quatre gave a startled gasp.
"It is cultural," said Wufei as he calmly ground a little more ink on the stone and watched the way it dripped off the brush. "We Chinese paint poems on everything; pottery, screens, walls, one of my teachers used to say we were the original graffiti artists." He began to write. "Your skin is much fairer than Sally's. Stop giggling."
"I c-can't help it, it tickles," Quatre protested.
"Control yourself or I'll use red ink and you'll be decorated for a week," he threatened mildly. "I angered one of the older students and he painted two love poems on my front and my back in red ink. I had to be forced into the showers until it finally wore off." He added, "they were terrible poems too."
"What are you writing?"
"The old poem I told you before: A man casts aside a golden treasure The wise man, finding it Will make the fool weep."
Wufei paused, loading his brush. "You are the treasure," he finally said very quietly. "You and the others and I was nearly the fool who threw it away."
"You are a treasure too," said Quatre seriously. "Why else would we fight to keep you?"
Wufei had to blink a few times before he could finish, lettering the characters of his name just below Quatre's navel. Rinsing and wiping the brush, he playfully drew a spiral from the bottom of Quatre's erection to the tip. He glanced up at the groan and saw Quatre bite his lower lip.
"Just a few moments more, until the ink dries," he assured him, setting aside the writing materials. He teased at the head of his penis with a fingertip, chuckling with a delicious satisfaction at the gasp and soft pleading sounds that produced. The tip of his tongue tasted the bead of moisture rising at the tip.
It had been a long time since he had shared the yang, but by the cries that he raised, he had not lost the skill. The suddenness of Quatre's release startled him and he choked briefly before recovering. He moved to free the sash and let Quatre slip out of the restraint before he wiped his mouth.
"You know," Quatre pulled Wufei down next to him to cuddle. "I think we'll give Trowa two or three days after he comes back from his assignment. Then we'll pounce him in the shower and see how much of this he can stand."
"You don't mind?"
"No, in fact I have a couple ideas of my own for torments," Quatre grinned wickedly.