Title: Play of the Fates (16 of ?)
Author: Paola
Disclaimer: Play of the Fates is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages and people, dead or alive, are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited. Characters not found on any official Gundam SEED/Gundam SEED Destiny character list belong to the author unless otherwise disclaimed. Citations and references will be found at the end of every chapter should they be made. Beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's.
Historical figure/s, real company/ies, and other personality/ies used is/are for fictitious purposes only. Their use in this story should not be taken as facts.
The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S
This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.
Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.
Play of the Fates
Chapter Sixteen
Before she could stop herself, she'd already sucked in a breath that was more than enough to tell him that he'd more than caught her attention. When she thought that there was something she wanted to know about Athrun and Lessiane, being married to each other wasn't exactly what she was hoping for. In fact, it was the furthest thing from her mind.
"You were engaged to Lacus," she bit out, and as soon as the words left her mouth, she felt stupid. She'd just implied that he had cheated on Lacus when they were together, and although she might not be far off given what he had just told her, it wasn't fair to ring an accusatory tone when she didn't even know half of the story. Still, she thought, just how many women was he planning to have walk down the aisle for him?
"Yes."
Cagalli stilled the fingers that were making themselves familiar with her flesh. "What?"
"Judging by your tone, you either think I cheated on Lacus or I cheated on Lacus. Not much room to maneuver, is there? You have got me cornered!"
If there was one thing Cagalli would never understand about Athrun, it was how he was so openly amused by the strangest things — things that no sane person would find the least bit amusing. And there was no doubt about it: Her reaction to his so-called secret amused him immensely.
"I will smack you, Athrun, I will smack you good to wipe that grin off your face."
He shook off her hands and continued the exploratory journey of his fingers inside her shirt, ghostly touches that raised the hair on her arms and sent tiny shocks down her spine. When his thumbs brushed the edge of her bra with a promise of an erotic thrill later on, Cagalli found herself having to keep a tighter rein on her indignation to keep her from melting like putty in his hands.
"See, you want to know, but directly asking is out of the question because you want me to volunteer the information. You're very curious, Cagalli, so curious you'd tell me something I want to know so I'd give you details without you having to ask." His finger lingered at the front clasp of her bra for a second. "Tell me I'm wrong." Then he flicked the fastening open.
The ragged breath Cagalli took was involuntary, but she refused to back down. "Fine, I maybe the teensiest bit curious, but how do I know that you're not just jerking me around? I have no reason to trust you."
He palmed the fleshy mounds, as if testing their weight in his hands, and then drew away from her breasts, only to reach for the hem of her shirt to get her out of it. She let him, and he promptly dipped his tongue in the hollow of her collarbone.
"Do you think I'm lying?" he whispered against her skin.
"Yes."
"No, you don't."
He slowly eased the straps of her bra off her shoulders, his lips moving from her neck to the sensitive spot just below her ear. Then he stole the retort from her mouth when he dipped his head lower and suckled her, completely taking her by surprise. A hiss of pleasure passed her lips as she buried her fingers in his hair.
He stopped just when she thought she'd come close to shattering from the sensations vibrating under her skin, and just as she was about to protest the loss of contact, he kissed her full on the mouth, tilting her chin so he could kiss her better, kiss her more deeply, kiss her more possessively until even her breath was his to claim.
When they pulled away to draw air, Cagalli's head was spinning, and only through sheer determination to not be outdone did she manage to land a shot, "A kiss like that still won't make me talk."
With hands skimming the waistband of her shorts and his breath a hot caress on her lips, he easily deflected her blow, "Sex will." Cagalli gave him an impossible look. "That and the fact that I'll tell you about my marriage in exchange."
"I don't want to know about your marriage," she let out with difficulty. It was getting harder to think and talk when he had his hand inside her shorts, cupping her through the material of her panties. "And you're lying. If you got married after getting out of the engagement with Lacus — as you want me to believe — then it would've been all over not just social magazines, but business magazines as well. The most eligible bachelor can't get…can't get married in secret." The last part was almost just above a whisper as she tried to withstand his attack, and she almost groaned when he suddenly retrieved his hand and rested them on her hips, keeping silent.
Despite the halting jolts of pleasure he was torturing her with, she managed to feel good about his silence. It boosted her ego. She had gotten him, and there was no other way around what she said because it was true. Someone as celebrated as he was deserved to be put in his place, one little, smart maneuvering at a time.
With the marriage issue behind her, which she would never admit was a relief, a surge of confidence began to pump in her veins. He always managed to look so impeccably attired, even when dressed in casual clothes like the salmon polo shirt and bootcut-fit, broken-in chinos he was currently wearing, and a mad temptation to get him as human as she was gripped her. And as soon as the feeling washed over her, she realized with just the smallest shred of embarrassment that the only way to do that was to get him naked before he could do the same to her. She needed to work; she was already down to her shorts and panties while he only had his shoes off because she didn't allow shoes inside her home in the first place.
Extending her arms, she deliberately brushed against his crotch before reaching for his belt, unbuckling it with fingers whose sense of purpose was belied by the slight tremor of defiance. She'd just about popped the button of his dark khaki pants when he spoke again, the tone of which made vague by the breathy quality his voice had taken — she'd like to assume she was the cause of that.
"He can't, now can he?"
She splayed her hands on the taut skin underneath the cotton of his shirt, and with his pants being gloriously low-riding enough, she could trace her fingers freely over his hipbone. He just stayed where he was, unmoving, and the submission of control overrode Cagalli's natural instinct to call him on the compliment he threw towards himself. As she inched his shirt over his body and over his head, Cagalli, at the moment, didn't care if Athrun considered himself the most eligible bachelor, more so when she kissed her way down to his chest and felt the ripple of reaction across his skin that seemed to have come from deep beneath. Her fingers traced invisible patterns down the sides of his torso until her hands rested on the lowered waistband of his pants, imitating his movements earlier. Then she paused, as if considering her next move, before tilting her head and licking at the corded muscles on the side of his neck that tensed as her fingers finally brought down his zipper. She pressed closer, making sure she ground unabashedly against him, and she felt his arousal through the fabric of her own shorts. He groaned, but other than involuntary reactions, he was staying still quite perfectly.
"What if," he started and she could feel the vibration in his throat on her lips, "he was able to?"
She opened her mouth wider and bit him, not enough to hurt him but enough to express her aversion to his interruption. However, as soon as her brain processed what he uttered, she withdrew ever so slowly to give her time to school her expression — she had as much luck with it as much as she had with her French class in high school, which she flunked.
"Why are we still pursuing this topic?" she tried to sound aggravated. It was difficult to conceal her curiosity when he was offering the best bait — not to mention how aroused she was — but she had to try, which ultimately proved to be the wrong tactic as he easily saw right through her: The grin threatening to split his face in half told her so. She'd been wrong to think she had him.
"Because I still want to know, and now I've made you curious about my past so you're going to divulge what I want to know so I'd tell you what you want to know in return."
"You're not supposed to psychoanalyze me, you know. I minored in psychology and could beat you any day." She marveled at how he could keep talking when something more pressing was almost peeking out of his pants. He was driving her insane with his self control — really — when she herself was a bundle of mixed emotions: lust, annoyance, and wonder at his tenacity.
"Yes, you can. But that's not the point. The point is, you should give up and tell me, Cagalli. You know you want to."
"No!" The force of her answer wasn't merely due to the stirrings of annoyance in the pit of her stomach, but more to the fact that she was startled out of her mind when he pulled her with him as he let himself fall over the backrest. He landed on the softness of the couch and she let out an oof of air as she landed on the firm plains of his upper torso. However, before she could smack him for startling her, he flipped them over so he was pinning her down with his weight. She tried to move her arms, but he had her wrists pinioned above her head.
Athrun attacked her mouth with the force of a man starved, his tongue sweeping over blunt teeth and taking with it the remaining fight in her body. She never doubted he was good at his business, good at interacting with other people, good at looking good, but the one thing she was terribly sure of was that he was good at kissing, so good that he could kiss away the debate ready to spring out of her mouth.
With her hands secured above her head and his free hand cupping and kneading a breast, Cagalli thought to herself that sometimes, submission like this one was exhilarating, more so when the person she'd relinquished control to knew his way around a woman's body. And when he released her hands, she was more inclined to wrap them around his warm body than re-establish command.
He kissed his way down the column of her throat, scraping his teeth gently over the skin. His movements were calculated, taunting in their unhurriedness and certainty. There was no hesitation in the way he possessed every inch of skin, and when he suckled her breasts, taking his time until she was mewling, she marveled at the possibility that he could bring her over the edge without granting friction to where she needed it the most.
He made quick work of her shorts, but chose to slowly remove her panties, slowly gliding the cloth along the length of her legs until she lay naked before him. She was never conscious of her own body, naturally accepting what was given to her, but his open scrutiny caused her skin to prickle as if tiny icicles were sliding along her flesh while a lick of flame tortured her insides. She watched as he placed his hands on her knees, parting them before dipping his head to kiss the inside of her thigh and moving at a torturous pace towards the source of her exquisite pain. And when he reached his goal, Cagalli almost came undone.
He claimed her with his mouth, effectively lighting every nerve ending in her body, and just when she thought she would combust, he withdrew, undressed completely, and loomed over her without the intention of finishing his job.
"The ball's in my court, Cagalli," he told her smoothly, and if the pun was intentional or not, he didn't give any indication.
Cagalli couldn't believe his stubbornness, but as she ran her fingers over his back, she felt his tension, felt the strain of his control that was at odds with his easy tone. He wasn't nearly in control as much as he was displaying, and his determined pursuit of information tugged at the corners of her mouth until she was grinning widely at him.
"You cad," she let out breathlessly, giving in because at the moment, she didn't think she could stand any more teasing: The coil inside was ready to spring apart. "I'll tell you, okay, I'll tell you, but after…" she trailed off, arching towards him to get him to move.
He needn't further encouragement, and he drove deep and true inside her. His skin on hers was electrifying, and his motions were a no non-sense drive that made her toes curl. Making love with Athrun was like a roller coaster ride, a never-ending set of loops that left her breathless and panting, and where the final climb built so much anticipation that she was rendered dizzy when the drop ultimately happened, its full force triggering an eruption of butterflies in her stomach.
Moments later, she was draped over his chest, bathing in the afterglow and letting languor take over her. He ran a lazy finger down her spine, drawing abstract patterns on her skin every now and then, and when he yawned, her head rose with his chest.
"I'm waiting."
"You're nosy."
"Only because you made such a fuss over it."
"Whatever," she retorted half-heartedly, barely getting the word out as his earlier yawn drew a similar reaction from her. "That guy, he's my ex. And, um, he sort of…kinda…became, you know, like a stalker…"
"Hm."
"But he was pretty harmless. I mean, no trailing around, at least, not really. A few phone calls now and then, but not recently though. No threatening. Just, well, he had a habit of popping out of nowhere sometimes." She didn't think she had to tell him exactly how her ex-boyfriend had bothered her, especially when no real damage had been done anyway.
Cagalli felt uncomfortable discussing her ex-boyfriend with him, and she consoled herself with the fact that he'd be telling her something about Lessiane later in return for her troubles. Maybe Damien and Miriallia were right: She was wary of Lessiane, but she didn't want to admit it even to herself so she pointed out every good thing about her to sway away from the less savory aspects of her unwarranted jealousy.
"So you didn't file for a restraining order?" His question made her feel stupid.
"Well…he wasn't so much as a threat than an annoyance. Showing up in places he shouldn't be showing up."
"Didn't he just accost you in the park?"
"Not really. And that time was different, like he had something important to say. I don't know. I was just surprised, is all."
"So you're gonna meet up with him? Or have you already?"
Cagalli thought she detected a tinge of irritation in his voice, but she shrugged it off. "No, I haven't, not—"
"Then don't go."
She gritted her teeth at his tone, but she forced to speak normally, "He can't do anything in a public place. And he had sounded so sincere then. He wasn't exactly a bad guy…it's just that we broke up rather unexpectedly. He's too attached, is all, like a puppy…just not as cute."
"It's been two weeks. I'm guessing the invitation has expired."
It hadn't. Just yesterday, she had received an email from him; since she had changed numbers and address, emailing was the only way left for him to contact her. In it he'd told her that he would be in that place every Tuesday and Thursday and that if she decided to honor his request, he would be waiting. There had been no other details, no other frivolities included — not even a greeting — and it naturally piqued her curiosity. But Athrun didn't need to know all that, and she didn't feel obligated to tell him anyway. "Yes, I suppose so."
He hummed his agreement, as if to emphasize his point that she shouldn't consider going, and when he didn't offer any more words, Cagalli seized the chance to ask about his marriage.
"So? How about you?"
"What about me?"
She slapped his chest to inform him he had to reciprocate her disclosure. He shifted, paused, then shifted again so he could sit up.
"Aren't you hungry? I haven't eaten lunch when I came here. Show me what you can do in the kitchen."
She watched appreciatively as he uncoiled from the sofa and stretched, comfortable in his nudity, before donning his pants, but she wouldn't be sidetracked. She made to grab his discarded shirt, caught the intimacy of such an act, thought better of it, then grabbed the afghan off the backrest of the couch instead, wrapping it around herself before following him to the kitchen.
"You're not avoiding answering, are you?" She stood beside him in front of the open fridge.
"Not necessarily." He took out two eggs, a whole green bell pepper, cheese, and a sealed pack of bacon. "Omelette, please?" He dumped everything on the side of the counter nearest the stove then moved to the opposite side.
Cagalli rolled her eyes and fixed the afghan wrapped around her to keep it from falling.
"You stay on that side and I stay on this side," he said, "while I tell you the story."
Pulling a pan out of a cupboard, she replied, "Why do I have the feeling that you're using the counter as a barricade?"
He grinned almost cheekily. "You're imagining it. Do you know how to cook?"
"No, I just thought I'd get a pan and dance around with it."
"That could work, too."
She thrust a bowl and a whisk towards him. "Here, beat the eggs while I slice the pepper and bacon."
He seemed to consider the bowl and whisk in her hands before he shook his head. "I'll do the slicing. Give me a knife. I'll be safer that way," he muttered the last part.
"What?" She gave him what he needed then started on the eggs.
"Nothing. I said that afghan looks good on you."
"You're stalling you know." When he looked at her as though he was chastising her for accusing him, she laughed. "So, how did you and Lessiane get married without alerting the press?" Now that she thought about it, it was a good thing they had the counter between them and tasks to do because broaching the subject wasn't exactly comfortable for her and the physical distance somehow put her at ease.
He eyed the pepper for a second before slicing it in half, and the manner with which he performed it suggested that the only thing he knew how to do in the kitchen was wait to be served. He put aside the other half to be returned to the fridge before he spoke, "Elvis impersonator, three guests, and Vegas."
She arched an eyebrow. "That would still raise attention. Vegas isn't known to keep marriages of known people a secret."
"Not if the priest was contracted. Wasn't even a certified wedding officiant."
"What?" Now she knew why he wanted a counter between them and a knife out of her hands. "Athrun!" She could just kill him. The tone with which he had told her he was married was as somber as someone's requiem that, even though she'd been inclined to disbelieve, she couldn't help but take it as the truth, more so when he'd implied he was able to get married without alerting the press. Not that his supposed marriage was a very big concern because it was in the past, but since it had been with Lessiane, she'd gotten a little disquieted. And now he was telling her that it was a fake, clearly revealed only to get a secret out of her, and that intention, she found, was very irritating. He wasn't legitimately married; it was a joke and she believed him.
At that moment, she couldn't quite tell whether she was relieved or not that he had the knife.
He hurried over his words under the pressure of her glare. "Lessiane was drunk, madly in love with a friend of mine, and wanted to make him finally pay attention to her. Don't be fooled by her classy appearance. She's a French fry short of a happy meal. It's why she's so good at her job. Only a nutcase can be so good at handling celebrity clients and bloodsucker producers."
Cagalli planted a hand on her hip, not placated by his explanation. "And you went along with it? What were you, fifteen? And you got me thinking it was serious so I would tell you what you wanted to know! I'm giving you five seconds to explain before I crack your skull with this pan." There were times when she had a hard time reconciling this Athrun with the smart, straight-laced Athrun business magazines loved. Sometimes she forgot he kept crazy company like Dearka who probably influenced him to drive on the wrong side of the road.
"I thought it was funny. And because I agreed, Nicol snapped out of his stupidity, socked me, and married Lessiane that same night. It was a drunken affair, but this time with a legal officiant."
Looking at Athrun who was dodging her glare by going back to his task and studiously slicing the pepper into thin strips, she couldn't help but let go of her indignation. She sighed. There was really no point in being mad at him as she herself had just given him a lie a while ago. She could already see the finer print of their relationship: have a good time while avoiding investment in actual feelings. And much to her own surprise, it didn't bother her as much as she originally thought it would.
"And what did you get for your troubles? A heap of thanks?"
"If a heap of thanks means a black eye and a good bruising, then yes."
Cagalli couldn't help but laugh at how affronted he looked as he remembered events from that time. "Why wasn't this Nicol there during the dinner? Away on business?" If Nicol had been there, she was sure Lessiane wouldn't have acted too familiarly with the other guys. Right then and there, Cagalli mentally hit herself. Damn, she hated being bitter. And the only thing she hated more was being jealous.
She noticed how the knife stilled mid-slice before it once again bit into the skin of the pepper, then Athrun replied calmly, as though he hadn't missed a beat, "Nicol Amalfi passed away three years ago."
Now that she heard the whole name, she vaguely remembered snippets of news from way back. Nicol Amalfi was a world-class pianist and was on a world tour until a car crash killed him. She never thought Athrun was friends with him.
A model-turned-designer, an esteemed professor, a professional linksman, one of the most sought-after models, an agent to the biggest names in showbiz, and now a world-class musician. She almost felt compelled to snicker at his menagerie of high-profile friends, but she knew better than to be rude in the face of someone who had lost a friend.
"Oh. I'm sorry, Athrun. Were you very close?"
"It's been three years," was all he said.
He set aside the knife and presented to her, with much relish, the chopping board where he'd carefully sliced the pepper into thin strips. His actions spoke louder than words, and he couldn't have found a better way to dismiss the topic. Nicol was obviously an unwelcome discussion.
"Who knew you could julienne peppers so perfectly?" She relented for now; there was no use in making things awkward between them when everything was going fine as it was. "What's next? Proportionally diced bacon?"
"And professionally grated cheese."
o-o-o
Cagalli tucked the receiver into the crook of her neck, looking for a specific document among the piles of reports on her desk while trying to have a conversation on the phone. She had a meeting in an hour and she needed that document to show the board.
"Pet, are you listening?"
"Yes I am." She pressed her intercom and asked her secretary if she'd seen the file she was looking for, saying thanks when she told her she'd put it away in Cagalli's filing cabinet.
"The point of listening, you see, is not talking to another person while I'm still talking. Love, prioritize."
Cagalli smiled at his dramatic sigh over being placed second after her work and at his predilection for hypocorisms. Over the years, he'd called her many different things — sweet cheeks, love, pet, sweetheart — that he was beginning to rub off on her. She sometimes found herself calling Miriallia and Damien "honey," and the first time she'd done it, they were so surprised that the conversation actually stopped. She never used pet names, at least, nothing that was more endearing than "bastard" according to her friends.
"Look, I have a meeting in an hour and I still need to gather some papers. I have a conference tomorrow morning, too, and in the afternoon I report to the President. I really have a busy schedule."
"Fascinating. I'll pick you up at eleven. There's a newly opened golf course I want to check out." It was as if she hadn't spoken, but his one-track mindedness made her laugh more than annoyed her. She didn't actually need to report to the President and she could squeeze time for him during lunch and another hour after that; she just wanted to keep him talking because, even if Dearka was arrogantly annoying — or annoyingly arrogant — he was one of her best entertainments. God, she loved him, and she told him so, laughing when he told her she had to get in line and wait for her turn with him just like his other admirers.
"You know, I don't really play golf. I don't even know how. After teeing, I'm pretty much useless in a golf course."
"You suck even at that, babe."
"I'm super busy tomorrow, then."
"Of course, by 'suck' I meant 'blindingly spectacular.'"
"You're bored, aren't you?" Even though she was taking a long time to agree, there was no doubt that she was going. Dearka's invitation couldn't have come at a more opportune time. It was the perfect chance to ask him about something that was bothering her. She knew she would feel bad about prying, but curiosity had always been her weakest point.
"I don't get bored."
She shook her head fondly even though he couldn't see her. "Fine. I'll squeeze you an appointment in my busy, busy schedule."
"I love how you make people sound like they're such inconveniences. You set my heart a-flutter."
"Good bye, Dearka," she said in a sing-song voice, and when she hung up, she resolved not to think much about how it went against her principles to make someone else's business her business. She was just upsetting herself and she hadn't even done it yet. She made no habit out of being nosy; it was just that, this time, she really wanted to know, so much so that she'd accepted to play golf with Dearka tomorrow so she could ask him. He was the only person she could get an answer from because Athrun, the one from whom she originally wanted to hear an answer, surely wouldn't provide it. He wouldn't even entertain her inquiry, she was certain, because what she wanted to know was about Nicol Amalfi's death.
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