Treize felt the hard wood of the door pressing into his back, the lines and swirls of the ornate carving on it clear through the thin fabric of the shirt he was wearing. Zechs had barely allowed Treize to get through the door of his bedroom and shut it behind him before he had caught the older man in his arms, lips eager against the general's skin and his mouth, and hands working at his clothing with almost feverish intensity.
Treize had found himself with his back against the door as Zechs stripped him of his uniform cape and coat without quite knowing how he had got there. All he knew was that the blonde's mouth on his own was threatening to send him dizzy and that his own hands were pulling Zechs's clothes from him with as much enthusiasm as Zechs was pulling at Treize's.
If absence didn't make the heart grow fonder it certainly seemed to have an effect on something.
Zechs's fingers were tugging at the last of the fiddly little decorative buttons on Treize's shirt, the pilot's breath hissing in frustration when it wouldn't come loose as quickly as the others had. He tugged harder and Treize was forced to catch at the younger man's hands to keep him from simply yanking the button loose from its stitching and, most likely, tearing the shirt when it did.
"Steady, love," the general soothed, dealing with the button himself and shrugging out of the shirt to let it drop on the floor at his feet. "We have all night. There's no need to rush things so."
Zechs shook his head violently, then moved in to trail kisses along Treize's throat and the line of his collarbone still hidden beneath the long sleeved t-shirt he was wearing as an undershirt. "I haven't even seen you in a month. I haven't touched you. Don't tell me to slow down," he murmured, "because I can't… I want you too much…." The pilot lifted his head just enough to pull his own t-shirt off over his head and then he was dragging at Treize's. "Why must you wear so many damned layers all the time?" he demanded, obviously irritated.
Treize shrugged, easing the undershirt off over the brace on his wrist and then dropping it with the rest of his clothes. "Habit, mostly," he answered, standing on the heel of each boot in turn to get them off and then bending to tug his socks free. His feet sank into the thick, soft carpeting and he flexed his toes, relieving the ache in them that came from wearing the boots he was still breaking in all day.
Treize saw Zechs look up from taking his own boots off and scowl, and then gentle hands were closing on the general's left wrist.
"I thought this would have healed by now," Zechs wondered. "You seem to be using it normally…."
"I am; it's fine," Treize replied. "The brace is a precaution, that's all. I'll be wearing it till I complete the physiotherapy."
The younger man released his grip and bit his lip, gazing at the older man with worried eyes. "Treize, maybe we shouldn't do this…" he murmured. "I'm not sure I can be gentle with you right now and I don't want to hurt you."
Treize raised an eyebrow. "My wrist is fine, Zechs, and I don't particularly want you to be gentle."
Zechs was still looking down at his commander with hesitant eyes. "Still, I'm bigger than you now and…"
Treize made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded very much like a growl to the blond, and then the general's hands were in the pilot's hair again, twisting into it and pulling the younger man down so they could kiss.
"If I wear too many clothes, then you talk too damned much," Treize hissed. "I asked you not to rush things, not come to a complete stop! You aren't going to hurt me, for God's sake!"
"Yes, but…"
One long fingered hand untangled from the hair it was holding and slid down the younger man's neck, scratching lightly across his chest and stomach, pausing only to brush lightly over a nipple and make Zechs jump in reaction before it came to linger at the waistband of his trousers. One fingertip played back and forward, teasing as Treize leaned forward to nip at Zechs's jaw line and speak into his ear. "Have you forgotten what you know about me? You won't hurt me, meine schönheit," he murmured, feeling the tension in the pilot growing under his hands, "not when I'm this worked up. You can't."
Zechs shivered as the older man talked. He'd only seen Treize in this sort of mood once or twice before, and the pilot was embarrassed by the realisation that he had forgotten what the general was like when he was this way out. Treize's endearment, 'my beauty', stole Zechs's breath away for a second and the light pressure of that lone finger was frustrating beyond belief.
"If I'd wanted romantic lovemaking I'd have gone to the trouble of setting the mood," Treize continued, the words liquid warmth against Zechs's ear, punctuated with fleeting little kisses. "I don't. Bruise me, bite me, scratch me, bleed me. You can't hurt me, but I'd love it if you'd try to. Whatever you do, I want you naked and on that bed and soon!"
The older man pulled back a little, enough that he could meet the pilot's gaze with his own, and the heat, the need, the challenge in those sapphire eyes was intoxicating for Zechs. There was a clear demand in Treize's words and Zechs had never been able to say no to him.
Not that he wanted to this time.
Remembering an evening in Treize's office and an afternoon in Salzburg; a razor blade in the lodge bathroom in Sweden, and a long, hushed conversation against the pillows in Dover, Zechs locked his hands firmly around Treize's wrists, making sure he had leverage, and brought his mouth down on his commander's.
The older man struggled against the grip, opening his mouth to Zechs's at the same time, a bizarre mix of resistance and submission to the younger man. The pilot found it maddening and before he quite knew he'd done it, Zechs had shoved Treize back up against the door, hard.
The carving of the door bit into Treize's spine again and he tore his lips from the younger man's, panting. "Oh, God! Yes!" he gasped out, twisting his hands from Zechs's grip until they were free, ignoring the burn of skin on skin as he slid his arms around the pilot's neck and pulled him in harder. Zechs's own hands, suddenly empty, settled on Treize's waist and one knee slid between the general's until their bodies were touching along their full length. The younger man's body weight was warm and solid, holding Treize in place pressed into the door, his hair soft and heavy next to the backs of the older man's forearms.
Zechs felt Treize's body go pliant, all the resistance melting out of him, to leave his movements liquid as he rocked and writhed against the blond. In a matter of minutes Zechs could feel the pool of heat gathering in his stomach, tightening his body and he had to pull away for fear of ending things before they'd really started.
Treize whimpered his disappointment, his hands locking on the pilot's shoulders as he tried to prevent Zechs moving away. "Don't stop…" he pleaded.
"I have to. I'm sorry, but I can't keep that up, or I'll..."
Jewel-hued eyes flickered open, clouded with sensation but still bright with curiosity. Treize looked at his companion for a moment, and then smiled slowly as he took the single step needed to press his body to Zechs's again. "Still don't trust my powers of resuscitation, then?" he asked softly, letting his perfectly kept nails bite into golden skin a little.
Zechs shivered at the sharp flickers of pain. "What?" Treize pressed down a little harder and he tensed. "That's not helping, Treize!"
"Depends on what you mean…" Treize murmured, letting go of Zechs's shoulders to score his nails down the blonde's spine slowly, smiling and sighing when the younger man flinched away, then let his eyes close as he whimpered. Even white teeth nipped at Zechs's mouth. "I want you," the older man whispered, teasing the blond with the warmth of his breath as his hands found narrow hips and tugged, pulling Zechs back against him.
Zechs jumped at the contact, fighting to draw away again, succeeding only in making the general tighten his grip. The older man held him still for a moment, then began pushing him across the room, guiding him the few steps it took for the back of Zechs's knees to hit the edge of the bed as easily as he would have a partner on the dance floor. Zechs almost lost his balance and Treize steadied him with a small smile before letting go of the younger man completely and moving past him to climb onto the neatly made bed.
The older man settled himself against the pillows and held a hand out. "Come on," he encouraged. "You aren't going to stand there all night, surely?"
Jolting himself from watching Treize's long-limbed, graceful sprawl across his pristine sheets, Zechs crawled onto the end to sit next to the general, wondering why he suddenly felt so awkward.
Treize shook his head slightly and reached up slowly with the same hand he had extended to pull the blond down into his arms. They kissed for a minute or two before Treize rolled the both of them so that he was flat on his back with Zechs pressed into his side, half on top of him. The pilot looked down at Treize with a mix of heat and confusion in his eyes and the general, his own eyes soft with affection, ran caressing fingers across the younger man's cheek.
"Where were we?" Treize asked quietly. "I was quite enjoying that."
"So was I… that was the problem," Zechs murmured back, sliding his hands across the lean body next to his without thought.
"Hardly a problem, love," Treize countered, yielding to the blonde's touches with a soft murmur of pleasure. "Do you really think I would have minded?"
"You said you didn't want things over so fast."
The general smiled, letting his fingertips brush over soft skin, tracing curves and lines, feeling the way Zechs's muscles shifted as he moved. "Zechs, if you thought that would have ended things you really have forgotten a lot about me…"
"Maybe." Zechs shrugged. "I don't think my uniform trousers would have appreciated it much, either."
Treize chuckled. "Perhaps you should take them off then."
Zechs tilted his head, looking down in amusement. "Just perhaps," he replied dryly, moving to comply. As he dropped his clothes on the floor at the side of the bed and rolled to lie back on the sheets again, he was pleased to find that Treize had taken the chance to get rid of the remains of his clothes too, and had sat up to root in the top drawer of the chest positioned by the bed to act as a night stand. He closed the drawer a moment later and settled back onto the bed, looking at Zechs with amusement in his eyes as he tucked whatever it was that he'd found under the pillow without letting the younger man see it.
"Much better," Treize murmured, looking over Zechs slowly. The weeks in the desert had deepened the faintly tanned cast the younger man's skin normally held, and he looked toned and healthy if a touch thinner than he really should have been. That was probably due to the stress of his posting, Treize mused, and the doubtless poor quality of the food.
The general made a mental note to get some decent meals into the younger man before they both shipped out to Egypt and reached out to pull Zechs to him again. The sigh that broke from him was one of mixed relief and pleasure as the pilot's body settled against his own, pressing him down into the support of the mattress. In the right mood, as he was now, this first full contact was one of the things Treize loved most.
Zechs was delightfully heavy, his skin smooth and pleasantly warm – Treize couldn't resist wriggling a little and his breath hitched in surprise as the younger man brought his hands up and caught Treize's shoulders to hold him still.
"Zechs…?" the general asked softly.
The pilot didn't reply other than to dip his head enough to press his lips to Treize's, once again quickly deepening the kiss, teasing at his commander's mouth, invading with his tongue, until he broke away to grant them both needed air and to trail fleeting pecks across Treize's face, following the line of one high cheek bone.
Zechs dropped one light kiss just under Treize's ear and carried on his path, interspersing the kisses with tiny licks as he tasted clean skin, occasionally lingering long enough to redden the area before moving on.
Treize had closed his eyes drowsily, letting the younger man go where he would without trying to direct him, content to linger in the haze of feeling Zechs's light play was creating. The first sharp sting of a bite from the blond startled him and those eyes snapped open at the same moment as Treize's breath jumped. Zechs chuckled low in his throat and bit again, harder this time – hard enough to raise a mark just on the junction of neck and shoulder – and Treize shivered. "Zechs!" he hissed, his voice caught between a moan of approval and a snap of protest.
"You told me to bite you, sir. I'm only following orders," Zechs whispered in reply, all innocence. "Have you changed your mind?" he enquired, concern clear in his tone even as he rocked his body down and into the older man's, prompting a quiet moan.
Treize let his hands close on the bedding for a moment as he waited for the wave of sensation to wash through him, and then he shook his head. "Do you remember what else I told you to do?" he demanded.
"I… believe so, sir. I've always been told my memory is exemplary."
"Ah, good…." Treize bit off another moan as Zechs shifted his weight again, and freed one hand from its clutch on the sheet to slide it under the pillow. Long fingers found the item he had hidden and pulled it free. "I'll leave things in your capable hands, then, Major," he sighed, opening his hand and offering the small bottle revealed to the younger man.
Zechs glanced down at the bottle, blinked in surprise, and then stared. Though the bottle Treize was offering him wasn't his customary elegant and ornate vial of custom-made rose-scented oil – was instead a plastic tube with a brightly coloured label and a flip-top lid filled with clear, thick liquid – the purpose of it was obviously the same. "Treize?" he quizzed, confused. "What…?"
The older man gave him a slow smile. "I know it's not as nice as the rose-oil, but the bottle I had of it was destroyed in Dover and it takes a while to blend properly so I haven't replaced it yet." He shook the bottle a bit. "This will do the same job just as well, so I was told. Take it."
Zechs snagged the bottle from Treize's fingers automatically as he registered what his lover had said. The first thing that occurred to him was to question where the older man would have gotten this from and who could have told Treize it would work 'just as well' as the rose-oil, implying that they were more than familiar with it themselves.
The second was to wonder why Treize was handing the bottle to him instead of asking him to move – and the possible explanations for that drove every other thought away as Zechs stared at the general in something close to shock.
Treize watched the stream of emotions play through icy-blue eyes, reading the surprise, the doubt and curiosity, the flash of violent jealousy, and then the dawning realisation replaced by a flare of heat and astonishment. "I told you," he breathed, before Zechs could speak. "I want you."
Zechs stared. "Do you… do you mean…?" he trailed off, not quite sure how to finish the question.
Treize shrugged lightly. "Would you like me to?" he replied. "It was what I was intending but you don't have to if you don't want to. I seem to recall you were quite fond of the idea, though?" he asked, tilting his head against the pillow as he watched his words register. The sudden spike of possessive want in the younger man's face answered for him before he'd come up with the words, and Treize had to bite back his smile as he let himself react to it.
Watching the pilot these last few months, professionally and personally, had been more than enough to convince Treize that Zechs wasn't going to be happy taking the same role in bed forever. His reasoning had very little to do with how well the blond had taken to his increased command responsibility – the general wasn't foolish enough to believe the two were in any way related – and had, instead, been based on the vibe that seemed to come from him occasionally.
Treize had been wondering for a while when to suggest this switch in things, knowing Zechs would be startled by it and knowing that it would have an effect on how the two of them interacted day to day. He hadn't really intended for it to happen tonight, but as with so many things in their relationship, events had conspired to force his hand. The general could feel it in himself, the need to submit for a while, to let his control go.
"Treize, I…." Zechs started. "Are you sure?"
Treize let his eyes drift half shut, and brought his hands up to rest them on the pillows either side of his head. "Of course I'm sure," he replied softly. "If you want it."
His answer came in the form of a breathless kiss and strong fingers tangling with his own, pinning them into place on the pillows. Faint calluses on both hands pressed together – the marks of hard-won piloting skills that would linger for the rest of their lives no matter what. As Zechs shifted his mouth from Treize's and began to trail a path down his body, the general turned his head to look at their intertwined hands, and let all the tension drain out of him. Perhaps it was merely a reflection of his curious nature but for Treize, the weight of Zechs's body on his, the sight and the feel of those capable, careful, controlling hands locked with his own equated only with security. It was an end to the loneliness he had never managed to explain adequately to the younger man, a feeling of complete safety most people never experienced again once they grew too old to believe their parents could protect them from everything. Only with one other person had Treize ever felt a glimmer of the same sensation and that had been nothing to this.
It was the final confirmation, had Treize needed it, that what he and Zechs were doing was right – the regulations could go to hell.
A moment later, Zechs twisted one hand free of the clasp and slid it down the older man's body, tracing his fingers over milky-pale skin and pausing to tease sensitive spots with light, flickering caresses. Treize caught his breath as the pleasure of those touches roiled through him and he began to shake his head, groping with his own free hand for the cold plastic of the tube Zechs had abandoned somewhere to one side.
"There'll be time enough for you to play later," he gasped, pushing the bottle under the pilot's fingers. "Fuck me."
Zechs's body jumped a little at the words but he shook his head, though he took the bottle. "A little patience, please." He lifted his head. "I've been waiting for you to say that for a while now," he admitted quietly, the expression in his eyes a touch impish.
"You might have asked me," Treize murmured. "I wouldn't have said no."
"I didn't know how."
"Ah." Treize nodded and wriggled his body against the younger man's. His fingers tangled in loose blond hair again as Treize bent his knee until he could put his foot flat on the surface of the bed.
Zechs shivered at the change in pressure caused by the movement, moaning softly at the feel of the general's erection against his own. He began to rock his weight, creating friction, and grinned when Treize closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the pillow.
"You're a damned tease, Milliardo!"
"And you say I talk too much!" Zechs retaliated, a touch breathlessly. "Fine!" he huffed. "No more teasing, I promise."
Treize almost missed the soft click that marked the pilot flicking open the lid of the bottle but a moment later, Zechs pulled his other hand from the general's and sat up, shifting with unconsciously lithe grace to sit on his heels.
He stayed in place for a few seconds, letting his eyes soak in the sight of Treize sprawled across the midnight sheets in front of him, exposed, vulnerable, and utterly uncaring. Even the brace supporting his left arm didn't seem out of place – the black straps crossing the pale skin managed to look like some sort of ornate, gothic jewellery. Zechs had a sudden flash of memory – of Noin and Treize discussing nightclubs and music one afternoon in London and of an evening when the pilot had still been a cadet and had caught his teenage instructor as he was leaving his rooms to go out for the evening.
Red hair black-streaked and sapphire eyes kohl-lined, that Treize had been all smoky sensuality. Dressed in leather and silk, all of it skin tight, he'd managed to give Zechs material for years worth of fantasies – and most of it had ended with him in much the position he was in now. Resolving to ask the general if he still had those clothes at some point, Zechs took a deep breath and tipped the bottle, squeezing with one hand.
The liquid was cool and slippery as it coated his fingers, making him fumble the bottle a little as he closed the lid. Dropping it somewhere, he rested his clean hand on one narrow hip and then bent down to kiss the flat stomach as he brushed against the little opening to the older man's body with one finger.
Treize caught his breath, hissing as Zechs let the tip of his finger slide past the tight muscle and going completely rigid for a matter of a heartbeat. Then the general was writhing, using the leverage of his foot against the surface of the bed to thrust down and drive that finger deep inside him.
"Treize!" Zechs protested, shocked – the older man had just done the one thing he was forever warning Zechs not to do when they were together. "You'll hurt yourself!"
"Hush!" Treize bit his lip. "God! I'd forgotten…!" He inhaled sharply. "I know what I'm doing, love. Admittedly, it's been a while but some tricks are easy to recall." He closed his eyes. "Keep going."
Zechs stared down at him, unsettled and unsure. Touching the older man like this was strange – it was hard to believe that it was happening at all, and harder still to make his hand co-operate with the command to pull back a little, enough to slide the second finger as well into the damp heat of Treize's body.
The general moaned softly, twisting himself and pushing down with his foot for purchase as he made his muscles yield to the invasion. Zechs recalled all the tricks Treize had used on him over the past couple of months and began moving his hand, parting his fingers and rubbing gently at delicate tissues until the tension gripping them eased away and the redhead was panting for air and beginning to sweat.
"Zechs, for God's sake!" Treize hissed. "I'm ready – more than ready!"
The blond nodded, swallowing past the sudden dryness in his mouth. "I know," he answered quietly. "I'm just… making sure. I don't want to cause you any pain…"
"You won't. Milliardo…!" Treize shook his head. "Gott!"
Zechs couldn't quite keep from smiling at the desperation in Treize's voice. He didn't think he'd ever quite seen or heard his friend sound so… wanton. The pilot slipped his fingers free, shivering a little at the noise of protest Treize made as Zechs picked up the bottle again, squeezed more of the slippery liquid onto his hand and quickly stroked it over his own body.
Biting his lip, Zechs took a deep breath to try to fight the nerves that were making themselves known and gazed down at his general with appreciative eyes. Slowly, he lay down full length again, sliding his arms under the general's back, holding the older man to him and bracing his weight on his forearms to keep from suffocating him.
Treize, whimpering at the renewal of the warmth and weight of the younger man's body against his own, locked one foot around Zechs's ankle and reached down with his hand to help guide the pilot's erection into him.
Zechs cried out softly at the new, unfamiliar sensation, stilling as his length sank into slippery, silky heat, and then giving into the instinctive command of his body as he began to move.