Captive


"So," Quatre said brightly, staring at the naked green eyed native, before his eyes shot up to the ceiling. "The weather… it's been nice, yeah?"

As if the world wished to contradict him, the volcano, far too close for comfort seen in the window of the hut, rumbled.

"Not that you can understand me, right?" Quatre nodded to himself. "I am going to murder Duo when I get my hands on him. Told me he was the best captain in the seven seas… Bastard."

There was a slow, serious nod from the native. His eyes never left Quatre and he made no move to cover himself. Quatre was becoming very uncomfortable.

"But then, it was Heero who introduced to Duo. And he was the one who said not to mix business with personal relations. And if his relationship with Duo isn't personal, or carnal for that matter, then I'm your uncle."

In the distance, Quatre could hear the beat of drums, and the roaring cries of the natives. They seemed to be celebrating something, but Quatre had not a clue about what they could be thinking about.

"It's rather hot in here, isn't it?" Quatre mumbles, trying not notice how the flames makes some very interesting patterns on the native's tan skin. Waving the remains of his straw hat did little to alleviate his hot condition as it was riddled with holes from his attempted to escape from the island people.

"This sounds so ridiculous, talking to you like this. I feel like a fool, I don't even know your name." Quatre looked down, so he didn't notice the warm amusement in the other man's green eyes.

"My name is Trowa."

Quatre stared at Trowa, gaping like a fish, before he hastily shut his mouth and stared pointedly at the ground.

"Really? How… nice." A furious blush infused Quatre's cheeks.

"I am here to serve you. The wise woman Dorothy sent me, she said I would find pleasure with you before the night ends."

"Uggh?" Quatre recoiled back to the wall, eyes widening to comic proportions. "You can't mean - no! It's illegal! Very," his eyes trailed down Trowa's long, lean thighs, "Very," up to shadow of his groin, "Very," where his finger were, "Very," oh dear god! "Illegal…"

Trowa smiled mysteriously. "Don't you wish for your last night be enjoyable?"

"My last night?" Quatre murmured weakly.

"Tomorrow you are sacrificed to the volcano god, Treize. He has…" A fearful expression crossed Trowa's face, "Been unsettling." Trowa nods, "But he should be very pleased with you."

"Er… huh?"

"Your body should delight him, if words are not your particular skill," Trowa said easily, waving a hand around.

"What are talking about? You can't seriously be talking about… that!" Quatre stuttered. "I'll fight! I won't be sacrificed."

"You have been subdued before, if it comes to that. But Treize, it is said, likes them feisty," Trowa murmured, smiling in that disquieting way he had.

"Sacrificed!" Quatre stared down his hands and mutters, "Maybe I should have just been normal and taken a tour of the continent."

"Maybe, but fate has delivered to the almighty Treize." Trowa whispered, moving forward so that he knelt in front of Quatre. "Come. Dorothy's words, ah, well, they usually are true. When she wants them to be."

Quatre face was confronted by the hard, erect nipples on Trowa's firm chest. A struggle of the mind seemed to echo on his face, but Trowa waited patiently.

"Ah, fuck it!" Quatre curses. His hands press into Trowa's chest, his breath coming quicker, as Trowa's eyes closed to mere slits, watching him.

"Yes," Trowa murmurs, one hand reaching to the top button of Quatre's shirt. "Let's fuck." Trowa leans in, his lips feathery, then insistent as they make a path up from Quatre's collar bone to his parted lips.