Title: Love and Water
Author: Zoisite NightDragon/Seguchi Touma
Pairing:1x4/4x1, 3x5 (it's weird, but it works. I hope *crosses fingers*) ... Duo will probably pop up with one eventually.
Warnings: I hate doing warnings. Decide for yourself. It'll get lemony (of course) and there will be some angst and other common themes. AU is a definite. Language as well. Domination, bondage, submission themes as well ahead. If this sort of thing isn't what you like to read, then I'd suggest stopping now. You have been warned. The Abydians are a tribe I just made up. I had no idea if it's even an actual word.
-------------------------
There were two things that were rare in the barren desert plains. The first was water. An oasis was as close to being sacred as it could become. Even when wars broke out, wells and oasises were never harmed, both sides taking extreme care in avoiding them in battle. To do so was to not be of the desert people. Even at war, they were a proud and strong race that took strength from their history, one that they and their ancestors had carved out of the brutal sands and arid flats that killed most. Never was a well damaged or befouled. To do so was death.
The second was love. More songs and poetry of these people had been based on the subject, sang or recited across the moonlit sands. It was the great mystery that there seemed to be no real answer or definition for. How does one explain being in love or how to fall in love? There is no cure for that disease that has taken more men and women than any other. Wars were fought over it though in the end, no one knew why. Love of self, love of a mate, love of this place they called their own.
It was here that two tales of love began...
------------------------
Quatre moved through the crowds, a smile alighting his pink lips. Folds of white, purple, and gold wound about him, falling down to his ankles. Dressed within the material, one might have thought him burning up with the heat. The opposite was true. Within that much cover, sweat created a barrier of sorts. A natural air conditioning as well as reflecting the sun's beating rays off of him. His hair was bleached with many days under that burning orb, the fair strands escaping from beneath his ghutra, a large diagonally- folded cotton square worn over a kufiyyah (skull cap) and held in place by an igaal, a double-coiled cord circlet that bore the Winner family crest. While not royalty, he was a step below it with a well liked and regarded family. His undershirt that ran down to his ankles was of a white shade, dusted with the desert's touch as well as embroided with small blue roses, a gift from one of his many sisters. Over it laid a purple dyed long cloak, that shade being one that only the upper families and the sultan himself could don in public. Silver bracelets and rings decorated him, earrings hanging from both of his ears with precious gems catching the light.
Flutelike laughter broke from him as he glanced at his two companions. One was an Oriental male, gathering much attention even as he disdained it. Among those of the desert, his race were known as Celestials, beautiful and rarely seen in this area. It wasn't uncommon for Wufei to often receive invitations to the finest families or gifts from them. His raven's wing black hair gleamed glossily in the sun, still keeping to his own people's mode of dress in silks.
The third and final was a man that many feared. He was nicknamed Shinigami, the God of Death. Old women crossed themselves as he walked by, huddling their children nearby. For Duo, it was not an undeserved name. He had once been part of a band of bandits, killing more men than most could count from the time he was barely able to hold a blade. Even his violet eyes held a wickness in them, the dancing glee of a devil that fully embraces what he is. Duo had been saved two years ago from execution by Iria Winner, Quatre's older sister. Her only request in buying his life was that he guard her baby brother. Duo had learned quickly that Quatre needed no one to guard him. Regardless of his too fragile appearance, he was not a man anyone wanted to encounter in battle. It had been nothing more than a job at first until he'd come to care for the blonde as he would a younger brother, staying at his side far beyond what his contract had been for. With the arrival of Wufei a year ago, the three ... or four since the last was on his own duties at present... were inseparable.
"You can't be serious, Wu-man! You said that to Sultan Al-Saud's favourite wife? He didn't have you beheaded?" Duo exclaimed, trying not to laugh at the same time.
The Oriental male was unruffled by Duo's attitude, walking at a sedate pace with his hands clasped before him still beneath the too long sleeves of his clothing. "He asked my opinion on marrying his oldest daughter, and I replied truthfully, Duo. And do not call me Wu-man. My name is Wufei as I must remind you twenty times a day."
Duo collapsed into laughter on Quatre's shoulder, looping an arm around the smaller teen as he shook with giggling. "Awww Quatre! How could you sit there and keep a straight face while he told the -Sultan- that his daughter's aroma brought to mind the fragrance of camels on a hot afternoon and that her face bore a striking resemblance to his stallion's ass?"
"I did not say 'ass'. I said my stallion's posterior. Only crude people like you would say something like that," Wufei reminded him.
Quatre dissolved into giggles as well, shaking his head softly. "It wasn't easy, especially when her father turned that black glare on her and ordered Ayana to go take a bath immediately and not be in his presence for a week. I swear that even Trowa had a tiny grin on his face."
"No way!" Duo nearly shouted in his ear much to the blonde's dismay. "Yu smiled? I missed this? See what happens when I have to hang out with the servants?"
"I did what?" asked a sedate voice from their side.
All three turned to Trowa, the tall boy's head tilted quizzically towards them. Like Wufei, he was clad in folds of silk that resembled pyjamas more than anything, soft slippers covering his feet. About his throat was a thin collar, the crest of the Chinese male's family on it. While he was considered a slave, few would have guessed it. Death or great pain came to the person that dared to insult or attempt to touch Trowa. The same was true of Wufei when Trowa was at his side. For a time, the two gazed at each other, and both Duo and Quatre knew that they were forgotten. Worlds of emotion and unspoken words passed between the deep Indian ink black gaze to and from those of emerald. The only outward sign was a soft touch of their fingertips to each others as Trowa took his place at Wufei's side.
"Quatre? When they're in bed, do you think Trowa has to ask permission to grope him?" Duo asked too loudly.
"MAXWELL!"
Duo squeaked and hid behind Quatre, eyes wide as Wufei took a stalking step towards the violet eyed youth, death in his eyes. Trowa's lip twitched in what might have been a smile before murmuring something low to his master, too quietly spoken to be caught. Wufei turned, the fury melting away to a serene adoration and love as they refocused on Trowa. The brown haired boy lowered his head slightly, tints of rose heating across his cheeks even as his jaden eyes peeked back up. Wufei touched his fingertips to the other's lips softly with a reply of his own before drawing his hand back and straightening up. One last dark glare was given to Duo as he snorted. "You're correct, Trowa. He isn't worth getting blood all over my new clothes."
Duo blinked, pretty sure he had been insulted there as he popped out from behind the protesting Quatre. "HEY!"
Wufei merely lifted his chin and started away from him, Trowa at his side. Shaking his head, Quatre grasped the end of Duo's braid and tugged his friend's too long length of hair. "Braided baka. You know he's going to be in a snit for the rest of the day now."
"Owowowow! Watch the hair!"
"I do not have a snit, Quatre. I reflect upon things in silence, something that Duo could benefit from."
"Huh?"
"..."
The conversation was cut short by shouting, the beat of horses' hooves following along with the music of the bells that off of the horses and people wore when going out into the wasteland of the desert. If a sandstorm blew up unexpectedly, it made it easier to locate missing people or animals. It signified one of two things: Either the war party had returned or it was an opposing tribe making a raid of their own.
Had one been watching the four closely, they would have been surprised perhaps at how they all moved. Duo took a step forward, the black cloak he wore over the same shaded garments below parted, a silvered dagger hanging on his hip. The thing that most feared brought about as well. Most of the time, Duo's scythe was merely leaning against his shoulder, carelessly held and handled. Now, it was brought before him, held loosely still but at the ready. It was art to see him in motion with it. Trowa took that single step as well, putting himself slightly before Wufei. Drawing his cloak about him more, a rasp of metal on leather was barely heard from the tall male. Bagh Nakh or Tiger's Claws as they were called among Quatre's people popped out and to the ready. It was an executable offense for a slave to have a weapon of any sort, but then again, Trowa was no ordinary slave. Wufei stood quietly, the man a weapon in himself. Quatre's hand dove for his ankus, an odd weapon but one he handled with great skill.
Relief spread among the gathering crowd as a cheer went up, their own men moving through the gates. The Arabian horses trotted proudly, loot spread across them in the forms of silks, gems, and occasionally a captive. The four youths relaxed their poses, nearly breaking into another fit of giggles at themselves. That bubbling laughter was stilled as two horses paced by, a cage held between them. Within it was a male of their age, clad in flowing robes of midnight blue and black, the crescent of the Abydian raiders on his clothing as well as tattooed in black across his hands. Pale skinned like most of this odd group, they were said to have traveled across the seas from a far place called Japan. They were vicious, but not cruel, an odd mixture. How one had ever been captured alive was a wonder in itself.
Dark Prussian blue eyes regarded the four from beneath bangs of chocolate brown as the entire procession came to a halt, most likely for the inner gates to be opened. It was the gaze of a man-eating tiger caged, one that promised revenge for the indignity of being penned up when he was meant to be free. Quatre felt a pang of hurt at this, something within in sorrowed at something as wild as the boy in the cage kept in confinement. "Duo? Are they taking him to the slave market?"
Duo's own violet eyes locked briefly with the stranger's. Instead of the softness that Quatre's bore, his own grew colder. The Abydians were killers, ones not to be crossed. Almost unconsciously, he drew Quatre back a step, glancing down at him to break away from those depthless eyes of dark blue. "They'll most likely take him to Sultan Al-Saud as a present to be executed. He's too dangerous to be sold, Quatre."
Quatre frowned softly, knowing truth in what Duo said, but the same heartache washed over him again. Shifting his eyes back up to the boy in the cage, his frown darkened into a scowl. One of the riders had dismounted and was gathering a bucket of dirtied water from the trough that sat for animals to drink from. Laughing, he threw the fouled liquid onto the boy in the cage, soaking him. "No!"
Quatre was moving before any of them realized it, Duo fast behind him with Wufei and Trowa running to keep up. Duo saw it in the mind's eye before it even happened. As Quatre neared the cage to protect the male within it, the captive moved from his sitting position with a deadly quickness. Strong arms shot from between the roughly hewn wood bars, grasping the delicate Arab and jerking him back. Those too calm Prussian blue eyes regarded them all as Quatre was held tightly against the outside of the cage, the prisoner's arm about his chest with the other hand holding tightly to his chin. One twitch, and he could easily break Quatre's neck. "You will let me out of the cage now," Heero spoke in a dead tone.
"Oh fuck," Duo muttered miserably, his scythe already raised. It was a stand off. He could easily sweep the curved blade down and through the top of the captive's head, but Quatre would be dead by then.
"I believe that accurately sums it up," Wufei replied, all of them watching the two carefully, staying back for now.
Author: Zoisite NightDragon/Seguchi Touma
Pairing:1x4/4x1, 3x5 (it's weird, but it works. I hope *crosses fingers*) ... Duo will probably pop up with one eventually.
Warnings: I hate doing warnings. Decide for yourself. It'll get lemony (of course) and there will be some angst and other common themes. AU is a definite. Language as well. Domination, bondage, submission themes as well ahead. If this sort of thing isn't what you like to read, then I'd suggest stopping now. You have been warned. The Abydians are a tribe I just made up. I had no idea if it's even an actual word.
-------------------------
There were two things that were rare in the barren desert plains. The first was water. An oasis was as close to being sacred as it could become. Even when wars broke out, wells and oasises were never harmed, both sides taking extreme care in avoiding them in battle. To do so was to not be of the desert people. Even at war, they were a proud and strong race that took strength from their history, one that they and their ancestors had carved out of the brutal sands and arid flats that killed most. Never was a well damaged or befouled. To do so was death.
The second was love. More songs and poetry of these people had been based on the subject, sang or recited across the moonlit sands. It was the great mystery that there seemed to be no real answer or definition for. How does one explain being in love or how to fall in love? There is no cure for that disease that has taken more men and women than any other. Wars were fought over it though in the end, no one knew why. Love of self, love of a mate, love of this place they called their own.
It was here that two tales of love began...
------------------------
Quatre moved through the crowds, a smile alighting his pink lips. Folds of white, purple, and gold wound about him, falling down to his ankles. Dressed within the material, one might have thought him burning up with the heat. The opposite was true. Within that much cover, sweat created a barrier of sorts. A natural air conditioning as well as reflecting the sun's beating rays off of him. His hair was bleached with many days under that burning orb, the fair strands escaping from beneath his ghutra, a large diagonally- folded cotton square worn over a kufiyyah (skull cap) and held in place by an igaal, a double-coiled cord circlet that bore the Winner family crest. While not royalty, he was a step below it with a well liked and regarded family. His undershirt that ran down to his ankles was of a white shade, dusted with the desert's touch as well as embroided with small blue roses, a gift from one of his many sisters. Over it laid a purple dyed long cloak, that shade being one that only the upper families and the sultan himself could don in public. Silver bracelets and rings decorated him, earrings hanging from both of his ears with precious gems catching the light.
Flutelike laughter broke from him as he glanced at his two companions. One was an Oriental male, gathering much attention even as he disdained it. Among those of the desert, his race were known as Celestials, beautiful and rarely seen in this area. It wasn't uncommon for Wufei to often receive invitations to the finest families or gifts from them. His raven's wing black hair gleamed glossily in the sun, still keeping to his own people's mode of dress in silks.
The third and final was a man that many feared. He was nicknamed Shinigami, the God of Death. Old women crossed themselves as he walked by, huddling their children nearby. For Duo, it was not an undeserved name. He had once been part of a band of bandits, killing more men than most could count from the time he was barely able to hold a blade. Even his violet eyes held a wickness in them, the dancing glee of a devil that fully embraces what he is. Duo had been saved two years ago from execution by Iria Winner, Quatre's older sister. Her only request in buying his life was that he guard her baby brother. Duo had learned quickly that Quatre needed no one to guard him. Regardless of his too fragile appearance, he was not a man anyone wanted to encounter in battle. It had been nothing more than a job at first until he'd come to care for the blonde as he would a younger brother, staying at his side far beyond what his contract had been for. With the arrival of Wufei a year ago, the three ... or four since the last was on his own duties at present... were inseparable.
"You can't be serious, Wu-man! You said that to Sultan Al-Saud's favourite wife? He didn't have you beheaded?" Duo exclaimed, trying not to laugh at the same time.
The Oriental male was unruffled by Duo's attitude, walking at a sedate pace with his hands clasped before him still beneath the too long sleeves of his clothing. "He asked my opinion on marrying his oldest daughter, and I replied truthfully, Duo. And do not call me Wu-man. My name is Wufei as I must remind you twenty times a day."
Duo collapsed into laughter on Quatre's shoulder, looping an arm around the smaller teen as he shook with giggling. "Awww Quatre! How could you sit there and keep a straight face while he told the -Sultan- that his daughter's aroma brought to mind the fragrance of camels on a hot afternoon and that her face bore a striking resemblance to his stallion's ass?"
"I did not say 'ass'. I said my stallion's posterior. Only crude people like you would say something like that," Wufei reminded him.
Quatre dissolved into giggles as well, shaking his head softly. "It wasn't easy, especially when her father turned that black glare on her and ordered Ayana to go take a bath immediately and not be in his presence for a week. I swear that even Trowa had a tiny grin on his face."
"No way!" Duo nearly shouted in his ear much to the blonde's dismay. "Yu smiled? I missed this? See what happens when I have to hang out with the servants?"
"I did what?" asked a sedate voice from their side.
All three turned to Trowa, the tall boy's head tilted quizzically towards them. Like Wufei, he was clad in folds of silk that resembled pyjamas more than anything, soft slippers covering his feet. About his throat was a thin collar, the crest of the Chinese male's family on it. While he was considered a slave, few would have guessed it. Death or great pain came to the person that dared to insult or attempt to touch Trowa. The same was true of Wufei when Trowa was at his side. For a time, the two gazed at each other, and both Duo and Quatre knew that they were forgotten. Worlds of emotion and unspoken words passed between the deep Indian ink black gaze to and from those of emerald. The only outward sign was a soft touch of their fingertips to each others as Trowa took his place at Wufei's side.
"Quatre? When they're in bed, do you think Trowa has to ask permission to grope him?" Duo asked too loudly.
"MAXWELL!"
Duo squeaked and hid behind Quatre, eyes wide as Wufei took a stalking step towards the violet eyed youth, death in his eyes. Trowa's lip twitched in what might have been a smile before murmuring something low to his master, too quietly spoken to be caught. Wufei turned, the fury melting away to a serene adoration and love as they refocused on Trowa. The brown haired boy lowered his head slightly, tints of rose heating across his cheeks even as his jaden eyes peeked back up. Wufei touched his fingertips to the other's lips softly with a reply of his own before drawing his hand back and straightening up. One last dark glare was given to Duo as he snorted. "You're correct, Trowa. He isn't worth getting blood all over my new clothes."
Duo blinked, pretty sure he had been insulted there as he popped out from behind the protesting Quatre. "HEY!"
Wufei merely lifted his chin and started away from him, Trowa at his side. Shaking his head, Quatre grasped the end of Duo's braid and tugged his friend's too long length of hair. "Braided baka. You know he's going to be in a snit for the rest of the day now."
"Owowowow! Watch the hair!"
"I do not have a snit, Quatre. I reflect upon things in silence, something that Duo could benefit from."
"Huh?"
"..."
The conversation was cut short by shouting, the beat of horses' hooves following along with the music of the bells that off of the horses and people wore when going out into the wasteland of the desert. If a sandstorm blew up unexpectedly, it made it easier to locate missing people or animals. It signified one of two things: Either the war party had returned or it was an opposing tribe making a raid of their own.
Had one been watching the four closely, they would have been surprised perhaps at how they all moved. Duo took a step forward, the black cloak he wore over the same shaded garments below parted, a silvered dagger hanging on his hip. The thing that most feared brought about as well. Most of the time, Duo's scythe was merely leaning against his shoulder, carelessly held and handled. Now, it was brought before him, held loosely still but at the ready. It was art to see him in motion with it. Trowa took that single step as well, putting himself slightly before Wufei. Drawing his cloak about him more, a rasp of metal on leather was barely heard from the tall male. Bagh Nakh or Tiger's Claws as they were called among Quatre's people popped out and to the ready. It was an executable offense for a slave to have a weapon of any sort, but then again, Trowa was no ordinary slave. Wufei stood quietly, the man a weapon in himself. Quatre's hand dove for his ankus, an odd weapon but one he handled with great skill.
Relief spread among the gathering crowd as a cheer went up, their own men moving through the gates. The Arabian horses trotted proudly, loot spread across them in the forms of silks, gems, and occasionally a captive. The four youths relaxed their poses, nearly breaking into another fit of giggles at themselves. That bubbling laughter was stilled as two horses paced by, a cage held between them. Within it was a male of their age, clad in flowing robes of midnight blue and black, the crescent of the Abydian raiders on his clothing as well as tattooed in black across his hands. Pale skinned like most of this odd group, they were said to have traveled across the seas from a far place called Japan. They were vicious, but not cruel, an odd mixture. How one had ever been captured alive was a wonder in itself.
Dark Prussian blue eyes regarded the four from beneath bangs of chocolate brown as the entire procession came to a halt, most likely for the inner gates to be opened. It was the gaze of a man-eating tiger caged, one that promised revenge for the indignity of being penned up when he was meant to be free. Quatre felt a pang of hurt at this, something within in sorrowed at something as wild as the boy in the cage kept in confinement. "Duo? Are they taking him to the slave market?"
Duo's own violet eyes locked briefly with the stranger's. Instead of the softness that Quatre's bore, his own grew colder. The Abydians were killers, ones not to be crossed. Almost unconsciously, he drew Quatre back a step, glancing down at him to break away from those depthless eyes of dark blue. "They'll most likely take him to Sultan Al-Saud as a present to be executed. He's too dangerous to be sold, Quatre."
Quatre frowned softly, knowing truth in what Duo said, but the same heartache washed over him again. Shifting his eyes back up to the boy in the cage, his frown darkened into a scowl. One of the riders had dismounted and was gathering a bucket of dirtied water from the trough that sat for animals to drink from. Laughing, he threw the fouled liquid onto the boy in the cage, soaking him. "No!"
Quatre was moving before any of them realized it, Duo fast behind him with Wufei and Trowa running to keep up. Duo saw it in the mind's eye before it even happened. As Quatre neared the cage to protect the male within it, the captive moved from his sitting position with a deadly quickness. Strong arms shot from between the roughly hewn wood bars, grasping the delicate Arab and jerking him back. Those too calm Prussian blue eyes regarded them all as Quatre was held tightly against the outside of the cage, the prisoner's arm about his chest with the other hand holding tightly to his chin. One twitch, and he could easily break Quatre's neck. "You will let me out of the cage now," Heero spoke in a dead tone.
"Oh fuck," Duo muttered miserably, his scythe already raised. It was a stand off. He could easily sweep the curved blade down and through the top of the captive's head, but Quatre would be dead by then.
"I believe that accurately sums it up," Wufei replied, all of them watching the two carefully, staying back for now.