(It's alive!

Been a while, hasn't it? I know, I'm a bad little writer. I'll offer no excuses this time, but instead jump right into the story. Let me tell you, it was a maddening task to try to stay within the rules of this site. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Thank you, as always, for reading. And if you haven't read my other stories by now, what are you waiting for! Those are updated more frequently, and I'd like to say as good if not in some cases better than this one.

Please?)

XxXxX

Trieze looked away from the gorgeous work of art that was his lover and best friend when he heard that soft gasp. He watched something dark wash over their Dove's features, and thought to remove it himself before it could cease what they had so carefully forged, but by the time he'd even lifted one hand to stroke the chaotic strands of gold from that smooth brow, it was already gone.

And the smaller male was moving away from him.

He watched, startled, as with several careful and amazingly graceful steps on his knees, the boy brought himself first to Zechs' sprawled out form, then laid himself over it. His hands fell to brace themselves on the arm of the couch that lay just beyond Zechs' head, and his covered legs lay pressed against the bareness of the older male's. Then he began to kiss the longer haired being.

With the small boy's eyes closed, though Trieze could see that Zechs' were still wide and blatantly stunned, those rose petal lips pressed delicate gifts along the curve of his companion's jaw, slowly over his chin, and finally to the corner of that slack mouth. They lingered there, until a tiny brush of his tongue made Zechs shiver in acknowledgement, and at last turn to meet him.

Lethargically, as one moving from within the possessive grasp of a dream might, Zechs brought an arm up and settled it around the slender shape of the boy's shoulders. He shifted in place, and then the other emerged to make it's short trip as well, coming to rest against the dip of the other blonde's lower back, his fingers ghosting along his suddenly infuriatingly still pants-covered hip.

His fear of any rejection happening still was washed away when the youth made a barely audible purr at the contact and then sank more securely against his chest, and his waist. He felt the press of that untouched body against the scant cloth that covered him, the graceful valley of a taunt stomach beneath stiff cotton massaging his hidden flesh, and released a shocked hiss that never quite reached the air; Quatre's kisses stole it.

Deep inside, part of Zechs knew the angel would feel that hard bit in his lap where perhaps there should be only smoothness, and would be disgusted, or scared. He felt sure of that in the darkness of his mind even with the boy lapping teasingly at his lips now and with little hands threading up into his hair and curling there as though they belonged. Which was why he tried, without losing the sweetly given kiss, to scoot his hips back on the sofa. To hide his clear approval of the youth that still bore a mark on the back of his neck from where Zechs'd shot him.

His mind came close to snapping when his casually thought out retreat plan came to a swift end. The boy felt the sudden lack of warmth, and he followed it.

Quatre curled his lower body towards Zechs' blindly and instinctively, pressing himself against the smooth length of the older blonde's thigh, and capturing the other male's still covered arousal solidly against his lower stomach. He felt the undeniable presence of the other male's length, froze for one heart stopping second, and then he melted and gave the softest of moans into their kiss.

He didn't know what was more unbelievable. That the child accepted that hardness so readily -- the sound of that innocent reaction had made him have to bite his own tongue to keep quiet -- or that he could now feel a slightly heavy weight pressed firmly, rocking softly even, against his own leg. It was divine delirium.

His hand slipped down, over the swell of the teenager's bottom, and grasped possessively there. A second later he felt another hand slide over his, familiar skin that had to be his lover's, coaxing his hand into kneading the young man's backside.

Zechs broke away with a gasp, eyes wide as they searched out Trieze's face over the pale moon of the child's shoulder. His lover was smiling, coy and confident, as he encouraged that motion and met Zechs' startled blue gaze.

What? Trieze mouthed, one eyebrow raised almost mockingly. Shy? Now?

Zechs swore he could hear the 'tsk tsk' that his older mate would have normally followed such a statement with. He's been nudged into enough things the same way, hadn't he? He ought to recognize his general's tactics by now. His shock at the man's -- child's -- reaction and then at Trieze's playful accompaniment had left the leader of this encounter worrying not about the angel being frightened and running off, but now of -him-.

Had the smaller blonde not have been trying to seek out the heat of Zechs' mouth once more, he might have laughed.

Surprised, undoubtedly, but pleasantly so. He needed no prodding, and none of Trieze's games.

His fingers curled over the tempting mound, squeezing until he got a hot gasp against his lips, pulling the slighter form down so that he could testingly rock up against that promising hardness, then soothing him all over again with gentle stroking and drumming of his long fingers.

The weight of the other hand lifted, the reason why obvious when Trieze's hands worked their way between the two blondes' bodies. The boy's mouth never lifted off his for even a second as Trieze nimbly started undoing the buttons along the front side of his shirt, parting the cloth with teasing brushes to the cream-tinted flesh beneath. Zechs even felt the so named Angel shrug as though to hurry it's removal from his shoulders. Soon enough though, mere seconds if his muddled brain could be trusted with any accuracy, the child's chest was bare and pressed to his, the body above arching with a delicious little shiver as the boy felt that kind of contact for the first time.

Only Quatre could have told them it wasn't the first. That there had been nights, in the summer when the storms crackled overhead and the air was like water itself, so hot and muggy, when he'd curled up behind Trowa underneath a thin sheet and felt his sanity thin out into one single cord of teenage want. That he'd felt the press of his best friend's bare back, moist and like covered steel, and had almost succumb to something he knew just couldn't be. Only Quatre could have told them about the agony of lying still when someone rolled over, and snuggled up to you, and you could smell them and almost taste them, hot and heavy on your tongue… And then to know that you couldn't, wouldn't do a damned thing about it. To betray the bounds of friendship, for that single delirious moment. He could tell them.

But he never would.

Some secrets are meant to be sealed away, and left unspoken, even to ourselves.

Fantasy are often better than common sense, and that's what makes them so hard to turn away from. Quatre's knowledge of this was what made him stay exactly where he was, tasting a stranger's hungry lips, when he felt sure hands fall and rest on the button of his pants. The urge to call everything off was counteracted flawlessly by the urge to live through an impossible reality.

He opened his eyes and stared at half-lidded sapphire blue when those fingers pulled apart the button, then shifted to catch the zipper and drag it slowly down. The man before him was gorgeous, sleek and feline in a way that seemed to scream of models laying over hard machinery, and the way his lips parted and the warm, teasing brush of a tongue darted against his own was painfully captivating.

Shivers came naturally as his pants were gently tugged down his legs, the clothing he wore underneath removed efficiently as well, pooling at his ankles, then pulled away and placed somewhere. The chill of the air in comparison to the near scalding heat that had been forming around his body was almost shocking, but it was soothed away -- or perhaps simply just forgotten -- by the silken feel of Zechs' leg sliding up and rubbing insistently, encouragingly, against his own. Just a friendly reminder what he'd paused in doing, and enough to make his breath catch in his throat wantonly before bowing his head to continue that kiss again.

Little fingers tugged and pulled at his mane, a weakness that their Angel had found by accident and now exploited mercilessly as Zechs shifted beneath him and made the most strangely adorable mewling sound. Together, so firmly tangled up in their growing desire, neither noticed the form of the general slipping away. Trieze was humming to himself, something unnamed but undoubtedly classical, as he walked over to fireplace and lay Quatre's now neatly folded clothing down. He poured himself a drink, and looked at the pair with a very satisfied smile that would have been right in place on the face of the animal Zechs so often identified him with. He felt like king of the jungle now, there was no doubt about that.

And soon enough, he thought he'd make the others feel it too.

Or perhaps he would have right then, if not for the irritating red light flickering from it's normally well disguised spot in the corner of the walls. It dulled, then flared again. It looked like some kind of madden firefly right now, and Trieze thought that was an annoying accurate label for such a thing. He sighed, near silently, to himself and cast his eyes back on the pair entwined before him. It had just started after all, and if nothing else, he was a good judge of tactical situations.

Those delicate fingers curled again and pulled with a muted whimper from the child's kiss swollen lips, only to receive an answering hiss of delight from Zechs, then the harder crush of his mouth moving. Below, he felt like his body was no longer under his own control. It had felt those first gentle nudges of hardness, and now his waist was pushing back in some unscripted pattern, each second of contact making him feel more desperate and less in grip with himself. In this state, he still had the wisdom to think ironically that most of his fellow soldiers had been right in deciding that battle was not the time for such matters.

It was a weakness. A wonderful weakness. Better than any of the other means he'd seen the others display so far to take the edge off their mutual tasks, anyway.

They could have gone on for a while like that, building themselves up into a companionably frenzied state, if Trieze had not seen fit to interrupt again.

His hands were there once more, fitted with smug confidence along the curves of his pale waist, and tugging gently but firmly. It prevented him for pushing back when Zechs arched so nicely up, and as the older man tugged harder, he could feel the arms around his shoulder and back growing taunt as his own that were still wound into those gorgeous blonde strands. He was actually being lifted away, pulled upright and against a bare and very solid form as easily as a child's toy.

Zechs let loose an angry sound of dissatisfaction, blue eyes flashing open at once and picking out the form of his tousled and confused new lover, then moved up and over the boy's shoulder to meet the teasing glow of Trieze's eyes.

My turn, darling. Zechs read that easily from Trieze's moving lips, and his own turned down in a sultry pout. The general chuckled, bending his neck to nuzzle at the smallest blonde's disarrayed locks before addressing Zechs silently again, impish good humor in his gaze. Goodness. When did you forget how to share?

And then, to the boy who was only now coming to realize why he wasn't sprawled out on that lovely bare form on the couch still and who had turned his head to look up at his captor- "It's all right, Dove. It's not over, so wipe that sulk off your pretty face? I just wanted to touch you too."

"And seeing as there is no more room on that couch for me…" He chuckled, turning towards the glow of the fire, and kneeling to gently lay the boy out a few from it on the soft rug.

The child with eyes that reminded him of standing on a cliff by the sea stared up at him, cheeks dancing with color and lips parted as he tried to catch his breath. The licking flames of the fire played over snowy flesh and turned it into a taunting show, reds and yellows kissing places that most would only dream, then receding to display that startlingly pure color all over. He could have stood there and been happy just looking (at least until his full intents were kicked back in and likely in a violently aroused way), if not for that small hand that Quatre slipped out that ghosted over his bare feet, and the pleading light that dawned in his eyes. It drew him back, instantly, with a smile that wished to reassure his would-be prey.

"Oh, my lovely," It was aimed back at the graceful man on the couch, who he distantly heard sitting up, pushing hair back as he likely stared as well. "… You truly did find a little piece of heaven, didn't you?"

Quatre's brow wrinkled, rosebud lips pursing. "I don't believe in heaven."

"It's okay, Dove," Trieze had a kind smile on his face and the devil in his eyes as he knelt down before that sprawled form, "I do."

XxXxX

Hands reached, and settled on his waist, tugging him closer as his eyes remained glued on the face of the older general. His enemy… Later.

Like a bird dealing with a snake, Quatre could only watch as Trieze lowered his head and began gently pressing his lips to the inner curve of one ankle, and then, after a pause, another higher along the rounded peak of his calf. These were legs he had to walk on every day, legs that hurt when he forgot to let them rest and muscles that had carried him in and out of battle. They were nothing new and special, and yet those tiny gestures made his skin prickle. They sent courses of electricity running up to encircle his heart from just under the skin, like the reaching fingers of the kiss itself. New sensation in something he rarely thought of distinctly any more.

His heart wasn't the only thing those invisible digits stroked either, and by the time Trieze's contact had reached the shivering skin just above one boyishly soft knee, he'd closed his eyes to the onslaught and there was a lump in his throat from trying to contain his rapid breath.

He heard the shift and sigh of the couch as Zechs stood up, then the pad of his feet and soft declaration of him sitting himself somewhere nearby. The scent of him which Quatre found he could already surprisingly distinguish was oddly soothing, like lilacs and lilies made into musk, one stability in the chaos that came as he felt Trieze's reddish gold hair curl and tease along the upper reaches of his thighs. Warm breath caressed his sensitive and rigid skin, a prolog to the press of velvet lips along it's aching tip.

What remained of the sensitive and thoughtful pilot the others knew so well was nudged away in painless efficiency as the enemy general's mouth came sliding down over his most secretive flesh.

It was heaven and hell in one determined, warm and wet package. Freedom issued by a man who might or might not show him mercy at the crucial moment, who might lift that pleasure-giving mouth from him, and with a jury unforgotten but unseen nearby. Distantly, he could hear Zechs pull in a breath in mirror to his own gasp, and then came the comforting touch of a cool hand on his forehead which suddenly baked with an unnatural fever.

As if Trieze was pulling his senses from him, and replacing them with angry clouds of demanding desire, that's what it felt like. And those clouds held promises of pink contentment-lined edges. Of a blissful euphoria unlike anything he'd known before.

Though he wasn't involved, Zechs sat beside the blonde's tossing head and looked on, feeling himself get swept away in the soft suckling sounds of his well known lover, and in the cries that were bubbling in a throaty purr up from the youth's mouth. He knew what their guest was going through all too well, and it was enough to make him direly hard from the memories usually and now was no exception. It was the thoughts of what Trieze was experiencing that made his mouth tremble anxiously, that brought cold lusty fingers sliding up and down his spine. He could hear Trieze making soft almost mewling moans around that previously untouched (he was so sure of it) flesh, and the way his eyes were fastened closed gave Zechs no doubt that he was lost in the most addicting of flavors and sensations. The hand that wasn't cajoling and encouraging their angel fell to his thigh and clenched restraining there, refusing to acknowledge the straining skin just a few inches away and give himself relief.

In his mind's eye, he watched the colors of that mental fog change. Red turned to a dark maroon and then to undeniable black as he heart raced and his body curled upwards into Trieze's insistent pulling. Pale blonde strains clung to his dampened forehead, the heat of the fire roaring blindly on beside them intermingling with the fire that was the man's mouth and making tiny glistening beads break out all over his body.

Passion demanded his surrender. His own teenage fantasies, Zechs' stroking hand running through his platinum locks and tugging faintly, and Trieze's kneading hand curling around his backside took all decision out of his hands. As those fingers ghosted along the firm skin and Zechs himself lost his resolve and leaned down for a breath stealing and bruising kiss, Quatre's struggle flagged.

Trieze moaned as the salty sweet taste slide over his tongue, lapping it from the crown of the boy's shaft as he trembled on the brink of ecstasy, then he pushed himself further to fully take the child in and gave him the mind shattering nudge that sent Quatre spiraling into an oblivion of pink and gold satisfaction, floating unattached and gloriously sated limbs, and his long sought after freedom.

XxXxX

Trieze was given only a second after pulling back to draw in an uneven breath before his lover had closed the distance between them by leaning over the panting child and forcing a kiss on him. Strong lips demanded his react, a steady tongue pressing against the seal of his mouth and ordering he get entry before lapping at his teeth almost hungrily when it was given.

He laughed softly in the face of that excitement, hands coming up and entangling in Zechs' gorgeous locks before allowing him that exploration. When his beloved Count at last got a hold of himself and sat back, it was with an expression of a cat having just gotten it's crème. He licked his lips in a slow was that made Trieze's world spin and reminded him of his own incomplete need.

Before them lay the child that had broken into their base, the innocent and enchanting angel in a world of war… Now with his sweet lips battered from the forces of their kisses, his nails actually ragged on one hand from clutching at the rug before the fire, his hair thrown too and fro and his slim body devilish revealed. It wasn't a job finished, not by a long shot in Trieze's mind, but… It would have to do. He would have waited for the boy's eyes to open again from his climatic state, to awake and then let them show him exactly what it meant to have one's mind blown away if it were an option.

But it wasn't.

Ah, sweet regret. He stood, looking down at Zechs still kneeling by the boy, one hand resting carelessly on the youth's shivering chest and the other idly stroking across his own stomach as he savored his stolen taste of innocence, and knew he would never forget the image as long as he was given to live. So cruel with your teases of delight thrown to us, aren't you? Then he reached down and by the shoulder, encouraged Zechs to stand up beside him.

The blonde was still lapping at his lips, making Trieze chuckle quietly as he turned and looked for something to cover the boy with. Nothing. It couldn't be helped. He took his mate by the hand and tugged him over towards one of the walls, shushing Zechs' confused look and pointed glances back to the rumbled prisoner they were leaving before the fire with a simple finger pressed over his lips. "Not now, darling. There's no time, you'll have to see for yourself."

He pushed aside one of the false panels and motioned into the safe room that had been built into his private chambers, sighing when Zechs lingered and again looked back to the devastated beauty they were leaving behind. "Not now, lovely. Please hurry and come on."

It wasn't like him to question his leader, but Zechs couldn't help the words that came tumbling out, sounding shaken and out of sorts. "But why? Trieze, I want to-"

"I know you do, but now's not the time, love."

"Whyever isn't it? Look what you've just done and you tell me that? Hell, Trieze, we're both standing here naked as babes so when would be the proper time in your great opinion, you self-"

"Ah ah." He laughed out loud this time, using his grip on Zechs to pull him close and then tip his head up, nodding to the throbbing red light in one corner before backing a now more willing lover into that small secure room.

"We're about to have company."