Author's Note: This is a gift for my wife, as she's a big fan of Trevor Goodchild's. The insertion of her character into the story is a treat for her, and is intended to offset the end scene of 'Chronophasia', to an extent.

Disclaimer: Please don't sue me, MTV. I'm not making any money on this, and I don't even think you are, anymore.

SYBARITE

TREVOR GOODCHILD HAS FOUND HIMSELF A FIANCEE FROM ANOTHER TIME AND PLACE, BUT ONE WHO REMINDS HIM STRANGELY OF AEON FLUX.

IT'S NONE OF AEON'S BUSINESS, BUT…

PART ONE

Concupiscence

"What is love? A rush of chemicals? A synaptic relay? A wash of pheromones? A toss of the hair? A sparkle in the eyes? Man doesn't know, nor does he care. He merely acts out his excesses on those he finds most desirable."

Chairman Trevor Goodchild has never uttered words he more regrets than those he uttered to the young interviewer from "Modern Breen". Seeing it in print only makes him want to cover his eyes and shake his head. What is it he's once told Aeon?

This is what happens when a great deal of intelligence is invested in ignorance.

Yes. That's it. And what is that charming expression his adopted mother was so fond of using? Three fingers pointing back…?

With a sniff of disgust, Goodchild sweeps the magazine closed and aside in one motion, hoping that Ana doesn't happen to pick it up. If she does, he knows he'll never hear the end of it. She is a merciless tease, and while he loves the attention (protesting it all the while), he knows this will be different. He'll be embarrassed by how jaded and wrong he was.

"Chairman Goodchild?" The voice crackling over the intercom is crisp and male.

"What is it, Vandik?"

"Councilman Onatus has arrived for the meeting, sir. He's the last one."

"Very well. Thank you."

"Yes, sir."

The telltale fuzz of static disappears and Trevor Goodchild stands, reaching for the tan jacket hung over the back of his chair, pulling it on over his white shirt and tan braces. The effect is good; it is one of class and dignity with just enough youthful idealism to threaten the security of his older council members.

Trevor is 6'3", blond haired, blue eyed, and put together in a way that is pleasing to members of both sexes (provided they swing that way). He is slim, but well defined, and holds himself with a confident bearing that ensures he will command attention when he enters a room.

The meeting will go well. He'll see to it.

***

PART ONE

CON'T.

Concupiscence

When he returns to his living quarters, Ana is waiting for him. She looks tanned and fit, and quite happy…and why shouldn't she? She has free roam of Bregna, a battalion of personal assistants to cater to her every whim, the weather is fair, and she has access to anything she wants. It delights him to see her likewise delighted.

She sees his fond eyes upon her and she smiles at him. For a moment, she is so beautiful with her dark hair and dark eyes, that it hurts. He pulls her close and kisses her. Though he wants the kiss very badly, this is also a ruse on his part. It allows him to close his eyes for a moment and regain his composure. Her loveliness has greatly unnerved him. At last, he permits them to part and holds her at arm's length, examining her.

"Your skin is…glowing. What did you have done?" He asks at last, gently releasing her and crossing the decadent sitting room to get himself a drink of sherry. As he goes by, he glances at her easel in the corner. A canvas is propped up against it, and an impressionist oil painting of a vase of flowers is taking shape. He likes it a great deal, he finds. It speaks to him with its blues and purples and slyly off-kilter perception of a perfectly normal bunch of orchids.

Ana touches her face as if examining it for the first time.

"Oh, I just had a spa day." She replies. "Very nice. Lots of lavender."

Trevor smiles, but says nothing. He is amused that 'lots of lavender' somehow amplifies 'very nice'. When he turns, he is holding two glasses of sherry in his right hand and his jacket in his left. He goes to join her on the blue swan wing chaise, and gives her one of the glasses.

"Thank you." She says. "How was your day?"

He takes a sip of his sherry and contemplates.

"My day was nondescript." He tells her. "I had a boring meeting where a large group of men talked a great deal and said nothing. I'm much happier to be home." With that, he slips his arm over her shoulder and pulls her close, nuzzling kisses into the side of her neck. "How was your day?" He murmurs into her ear, pausing to nibble at her earlobe. The warm, pleasant scent of sherry on his breath is enticing in an exotic way and it sends a small wave of goosebumps over her skin, her nipples becoming erect.

"It was…nondescript." She tells him softly, tilting her head in the opposite direction to allow him better access to her neck. "Shopping, facials, tennis, swimming…all that."

She pulls herself away from him long enough to turn and look into his eyes. "Are you actually going to take me, Trevor…or just play around at it?" That said, she cocks a saucy eyebrow at him and waits.

-------------------------------------------------------

Their coupling is both sweet and intense, though they're much too excited to carry on for long. It ends with her repeating his name over and over again while he thrusts at a frantic pace, finally erupting inside of her.

For some time (neither of them know how long), they dose. Eventually, Trevor comes fully awake and realizes that they're both only half dressed. With a chuckle, he manages to raise himself and get his clothes back together. He turns to find Ana wearily regarding him with a smile.

"My legs are asleep." She tells him. "How long were you passed out on me?"

"I don't know." He adjusts his tan braces over his shoulders, then holds a hand out to her. He assists her in straightening herself out, smoothing down her skirt and fixing her hair. "I think it was quite a while, actually."

They are silent for a moment, and she is nestled into his arms in a loose but comforting hug.

"Put it on for me." She murmurs suddenly, a coy look entering her exquisite dark eyes.

"What?"

She laughs.

"You know what I mean, Trevor. Go put it on for me."

It dawns on him that she means his 'special suit' and a small rush of color creeps into his cheeks.

"Really? Do you…?"

"Yes. Go do it."

Trevor Goodchild is not a man who takes orders gracefully, yet he usually does as she commands, and does it without argument or question. This time is no exception. He releases her and she watches him veer out the door of the sitting room, toward their bedroom. She likes the way he strides, she thinks…it's very sexy.

Ten minutes pass as she waits for him to return, going back to the sherry she left sitting on the end table. Finally he returns in 'the suit', a form-fitting one piece outfit that is sapphire blue and made of a material that she finds mysteriously like spandex. Sewn into the bottoms of the sleeves are lines of feathers to simulate wings. Part of her wants to burst out laughing, and part of her wants to drop him and take him again.

"You know," she says at length, a trouble-making grin on her face, "if your political career fails, you can always fall back on fashion design. I know you made that bird suit yourself, and the wedding dress you're putting together for me is nice, too."

Surprised by the tease but also secretly amused, Trevor folds his winged arms across his chest and turns haughtily away.

"This is why you wanted me to put it on? So you could make fun?"

Ana contemplates for a moment (looking appropriately guilty, he's glad to see), then says: "You could try modeling, too. You have that primping and preening in front of the mirror down to a science; not to mention the cavorting around the bedroom, flapping your wings…"