Considering that it is Valentine's day, I think Treize and Milliardo deserve at least a little TLC.

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The Portrait

Part 15

"So, how about another climb?" Sitting on the hardwood floor, Milliardo took another sip of water from his plastic bottle as he crooked his head and looked at the other man. He was wearing only a pair of black jogging pants and a tank top which was by now soaked in sweat. "We do have time for one more, don't we?"

"Time is not the problem…" Treize told him.

"But?"

"But you might regret it tomorrow morning."

"Probably," the blond agreed with a smirk. He already could feel his muscles burn, but he had too much fun to stop now. When Treize had told him about this place he didn't expect much more than a 15 to 20 feet wall or boulder but what he found was a rock climbing cave with cracks, arêtes and dihedrals, at least 35 feet in its highest points. Challenging yes, but also unbelievably fun. After signing a waver they were allowed to climb on their own; the gym was providing all the necessary equipment.

"Then why push it?" the older man ask. "We can always come back next week."

"I don't know, maybe I'm a masochist." Milliardo's smirk turned into a wide grin as he put down his water bottle and go to his feet. "This time let's try the red route."

To make things more interesting one could follow several marked routes each of them varying in their degree of difficulty, with the red one definitely being a more demanding one.

"Very well, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"Let's make this a little more interesting," Milliardo suggested. "Last one at the top pays for dinner."

"You are challenging me?"

"You don't have to accept."

The older man threw his nose up with a playful huff. "A Khushrenada walking away from a challenge; that, my dear Milliardo, will never happen."

The younger man laughed. "Then what are we waiting for. The evening doesn't get any younger, you know."

He picked up the harness he had dropped to the floor earlier and slipped into it. From the corner of his eyes he could see the professor do the same. The older man was definitely the more experienced climber of them and Milliardo didn't really think he had much of a chance to make it to the top first. So why did he challenge Treize? Simple. He still felt guilty about the little tricks Alexander had played, and paying for dinner would make him feel at least a little better about it. Treize was somewhat old fashion when it came to dating, and he would never allow him to pick up the bill, otherwise.

"You want to go first?" the older man asked, and he nodded. Since it wasn't possible for two people to climb the same route together they had to take turns, timing how long it took for each of them to reach the last of the red marker.

Treize kept his eye on his wrist watch. "Ready!" he commanded. "Go!"

#

"You lost on purpose, didn't you?" Milliardo accused as the two men walked to the elevator that would take them from the underground level where the gym was located to Treize's suite at the hotel's highest floor.

"I did not!" The older man sounded almost offended by that suggestion.

The blond frowned slightly. He still found it hard to believe that he actually managed to beat Treize by a good thirty seconds. As they stepped into the elevator however he noticed that the other man was favoring his left foot.

"Are you alright?"

Treize turned his head. "I'm fine, why?"

"You are limping."

"It's nothing," the other man assured him, but Milliardo believe that.

"You are limping," he repeated with a bit more emphasis this time. "Did you get hurt when we were climbing?"

Treize finally sighed as he pushed the button for the top floor and the elevator doors closed with a quiet swoosh. "It's an old injury," he explained. "It flares up every once in a while when I push myself too hard."

So that's why he wasn't able to beat me. "Why didn't you say anything? I mean I'd have…"

"That's exactly why."

"I beg your pardon?"

The elevator car stopped and Treize sighed again. "As soon as people find out that I had been injured they start treating me like I'm an invalid, so I try not to bring it up. I don't need people to tell me what I can and can't do. I know my own body well enough to know my limitations."

"I'm sorry; I wasn't implying that you didn't."

"Don't worry about it." The professor opened the door to his suite with an electronic keycard. "Why don't you take the first shower?" he suggested. "The bathroom is straight ahead and to the left. There are fresh towels under the sink, and there is also an extra bathrobe."

"Thanks," Milliardo nodded. He definitely needed a shower right now. With the duffle bag that held a change of clothes in his hand he stepped through the door Treize had indicated.

The bathroom was large and luxurious, set in black marble and chrome, but that was to expect from one of the most expensive suites in one of the most expensive hotels in town. To his left two steps led up to a raised area with a set-in hot tub, and in the furthest right corner was a shower large enough to accommodate two or three people comfortably. Double sinks beneath a mirrored wall were made from the same black and white stone as the floor and tiling. The white furniture set a sharp yet pleasant contrast.

The young man turned on the shower, pulled two fluffy and oversized bath towels from one of the cabinets and started to undress. Outside the door he could hear Treize walk around then talk to someone, probably on the phone. But through the sound of the running water he couldn't make out what he was saying. After testing the water with his hand, Milliardo removed the hair band that had been holding his ponytail together and stepped under the warm jet. With a content sigh he closed his eyes and let the water massage his broad shoulders and back.

#

Treize was sitting in the living area, reading a newspaper when Milliardo stepped out of the bathroom, his long silvery hair still damp and open.

"Your turn," he told the other man. "I hope I didn't make you wait too long."

"Don't worry about it, as you can see I have been keeping myself busy." The professor folded the paper up and put it down on the glass coffee table as he rose to his feet. "It's still a little early for dinner, but I ordered some appetizers. So, when room service knocks while I'm in the shower will you let them in? I left the tip on the table."

"Yes, of course."

"Oh yes," Treize held his step at the bathroom door and looked back at Milliardo. "There are a couple bottles of wine in the kitchenette, could you pick one and open it. Unless of course, you'd prefer champagne instead. There should be a bottle in the fridge, too."

"Wine is fine," the younger man assured him.

The so called kitchenette was almost as large as the full size kitchen in his old apartment; equipped with everything but an actual stove. Still there was a microwave, a toaster oven and even a small wine refrigerator build into one of the cabinets. It was filled with an assortment of red wines and a few bottles of white. Milliardo was still reading the labels, trying to decide which one to pick when someone knocked at the door to the suite.

"Room service!" a male voice announced from the other side of the door.

Excellent, Milliardo thought as he walked over to unlock it. Maybe seeing what kind of appetizers Treize ordered will help.

"Good evening, Sir." A young man, clad in a dark blue uniform pushed a small serving cart into the room. He put two platters covered with silver domes onto the table and bowed. "I hope you enjoy."

"Thank you." Milliardo handed him the money Treize had left out and he bowed once more before retreating.

The blond waited until he was alone again before he curiously lifted one of the serving domes after the other, checking out the delicious morsels beneath them. He found an assortment of fruits and vegetables paired with various cheeses under one of them while the other plate held thinly sliced cuts of grilled meats drizzled with a… black and white truffle sauce, he recognized after tasting it carefully with his little finger.

Milliardo was no wine expert but even he knew that the delicate taste of some foods could be easily overpowered by a heavy or fruity red wine. So, just to be sure he decided to open a bottle of dry white Sauvignon instead.

He could hear the shower being turned off as he carried the bottle and a couple of wine glasses into the sitting room. Dropping down in one of the soft white leather chairs the young man picked up the paper Treize had read earlier. He thumbed through it for a few moments, - he never was much of a newspaper reader, relying more on TV and internet for information- before folding it up again. As he put it back down on the table his eyes wandered to the plates with the appetizers. He lifted the dome once again, setting it down next to the plate as he reached for a slice of pear topped with a blue veined cheese.

"Oh my, doesn't this look scrumptious?!"

The professor's voice reached him from behind just as he put the piece into his mouth. Caught off guard, Milliardo nearly jumped. He quickly swallowed, blushing slightly as he turned around. Treize was wearing a pristine white bathrobe with the hotels' logo.

"I… was just…"

"Checking if it tasted as good as it looks?" the older man smiled.

"I'm… sorry." Milliardo felt rather sheepish, like a child being caught with its hand in the cookie jar.

"Don't be," Treize laughed. "Instead, tell me what you think?"

"It's delicious."

"In that case, I think I'll have a piece too before I go get dressed." He gestured toward the door to the master bedroom. "If you would be so kind, I have lotion on my hands."

"Umm…Of course."

The blonde picked up the hors d'oeuvres with his right, holding the other hand beneath it to prevent the pear's sweet juices to drop onto the carpet as he closed the distance to the other man's mouth. As the professor leaned in to meet him half ways, Milliardo's nose was hit by the fruity smell of shampoo mixed with the musky sandalwood scent of cologne and something else that was uniquely Treize.

The professor's lips parted, and the younger man watched, almost mesmerized as he savored the little delicacy. Treize licked his lips, catching a small drop of sweet juice that trickled from the corner of his mouth before it could run down his chin. Milliardo swallowed, quickly averting his gaze downward, but that didn't help much either. Although Treize's robe was held together by a belt, the v-shaped opening gave the young man a good view of his chest and abdomen, all the way down to the belly button. Oh god, he is sexy!

In a little room in the very back of his mind, a little warning voice tried to object. Shut up! Milliardo slammed the door shut, effectively cutting off its protest, as he leaned in to capture the professor's mouth with his own.

One of Treize's eyebrows jumped up in surprise even as he returned the kiss, his lips parting invitingly.

The younger man moaned softly. He could taste the sweetness of pears on those luscious lips, mixed with the gorgonzola's savory taste and a slight hint of minty toothpaste. One of Treize's hand's came up cupping the back of his head. Slender fingers buried themselves in his hair. Milliardo closed his eyes; another moan escaped him as his tongue explored the other man's mouth.

When the two men finally broke their kiss they were both panting. Treize's lips curved into a tiny smirk.

"Well, wasn't that an unexpected yet pleasant change of events?"

"Unexpected?" Milliardo teased. "Admit it; you only took me up here to have your way with me?"

Treize's piercing blue eyes met his and for a moment they just studied each other. "Would you be very disappointed if I told you that indeed I was hoping we would share a little more than just a meal tonight?"

The younger man gave a deep, sultry laugh. "I think I'd be more disappointed if you'd tell me you brought me up here to show me your stamp collection."

"You don't like stamps?" Treize joked.

"Let's just say…" Milliardo's hand slipped into the front of the professor's robe. His finger roamed over soft, flawless skin exploring a perfectly chiseled chest until they found the firm little nub they were looking for. "There are things I'd like a lot more."

Treize drew a sharp breath as the young man's fingertips rubbed teasingly against his nipple. His right hand came up to softly caress Milliardo's face; his thumb brushing gently over full, red lips. He raised his gaze slightly and for a moment they just stood staring into each other's eyes.

"Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?" he breathed when he finally dipped his head and pressed his lips against the soft flesh at the nape of the young man's neck. Milliardo moaned as he placed a trail of soft butterfly kisses along his neck and cheekbone before capturing his mouth in a deep, drawn out kiss. The blonde's fingers were still playing with his nipple, squeezing and twisting it gently, sending little sparks of pleasure straight to his groin with every touch.

He hadn't planned for things to happen like this, not this fast and not this soon and he knew that he had to be careful, very careful. In the heat of the moment it was too easy to lose control and cross that line he never wanted to cross. So, when lack of air finally forced them to break their kiss Treize pulled away slowly.

"I probably should get dressed now."

"Why?"

"Because…," the professor's voice was laced with a hint of sarcasm. "I don't think they'll let me into the 'Mystique' wearing only a bathrobe."

"Their loss," Milliardo smirked as he reluctantly removed his hand from the other man's chest. "But you know dinner is highly overrated. We could just spend the night in. We have those appetizers and we have wine…"

"As tempting as that sounds," Treize replied. "I'm afraid we can't just cancel our reservations. You see, Chef Marcón serves his famous Turf and Surf, Tender buffalo steak, Maine lobster and truffle mashed potatoes, only on special request. You have to pre-order at least 24 hours ahead, because the lobster is flown in fresh every morning and…"

"…the buffalos are still roaming the prairie at noon." Milliardo teased. "I get it. But tell me… How could you make reservations 24 hours ahead when you only asked me out of dinner about… 6 hours ago? You are pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"

Treize shrugged, his eyes sparking with mirth. "I figured, if you hadn't accepted my invitation, how hard could it have been to find somewhat else interested in a free steak and lobster dinner?" he declared nonchalantly, earning himself a glare from the younger man along with a playful cuff to his solar plexus.

The professor laughed, a rich and deep sound. "You have a violent streak to you, I see." With a last, brief but affectionate kiss he turned and headed for the bedroom. "I'll be right back."

"Do you need help?" Milliardo called out after him before the door had fully closed.

Treize's head popped through the opening, a soft smirk curving his lips. "I think I'll manage. Thanks."

###

Milliardo had never been at the 'Mystique' before, but he had read about its grand opening a few months prior and from what he knew it was a very upscale restaurant/bar. The chef was famous for his continental and French fusion cuisine.

Although Milliardo was not a big fan of rich, overpowering French sauces he was impressed with what Marcón had done with just a few herbs and some truffle.

"So, what do you think?" Treize asked after giving the younger man some time to taste his food.

The two men had shared about half the bottle of white wine and a good portion of the hors d'oeuvres in his suite before heading to the 'Mystique' on foot. The Restaurant was located only a couple of blocks from the hotel, and the cool evening breeze was perfect for a walk.

"It's quite good," Milliardo admitted. "I had buffalo before but this is definitely the best so far. And those potatoes are good enough to make a meal of their own."

"I told you it was worth getting dressed for, didn't I?"

The younger man laughed. "Well, maybe."

They continued to make small talk throughout their dinner, talking about the weather, sports and cars; at which point Treize looked up. "Which reminds me… Would you mind giving me the number of your mechanic, Milliardo? I think I need to have my car checked."

"Umm… sure. Got something to write?"

The older man pulled out his valet and removed a small business card. "This should work."

"1 882 9768, ask for Tim and tell him that I referred you; he barely takes on new clients anymore but he will on a friend's recommendation."

"Thanks. I'll remember that."

As the professor scribbled down the number Milliardo noticed a picture in his open wallet. He reached out and turned it around to get a better look. The photo showed a middle aged woman in front of a black town car. At her side were two gorgeous white and brown dogs with slim heads and long silky coats, very similar to the dog he had seen with Alexander in his dreams. Only that Peritas was almost completely white.

"That's my mother," the older man volunteered before he could even ask.

"She is beautiful. And so are her dogs."

"Ah, yes Antoinette and Boris. She quite possibly loves them more than even me," Treize said, but didn't sound too broken up about it.

"Those are Russian Wolfhounds, are they not?"

"Yes that's right, they also called Borzoi. My family had been raising them for several generations." The professor smiled softly. "My father used to joke that Mother first fell in love with his dogs and then with him."

"I think Alexander had a Borzoi too, didn't he; a white one."

"I believe so, but how do you know?"

"I saw a picture of them, somewhere." Milliardo lied. It seemed easier than explaining that he knew Alexander's dog from his dreams.

Treize took a sip from his water glass and nodded. "I see. Well, from what I know the Russian Czar gifted two male Borzoi puppies to Alexander and Julian's father."

"The Russian Czar?" Milliardo echoed. "Are you serious?"

"But of course. Why would make up something like that? Back then the only way to acquire a Borzoi was as a gift from the Czar."

"But he wouldn't just give them to anybody, I can imagine."

No, I suppose not. Mostly Russian aristocrats, foreign diplomats and kings…"

"Your family is from Russia then?"

"Originally yes," the professor confirmed. "Some of my relatives actually lived in Kiev and Petersburg until 1917. In any case, it is quite possible that my great-great-grandfather gave one of those puppies to each of his sons, who must have been teenagers at that time. Julian must have loved the dogs very much. I remember my grandfather telling me stories about his stepfather helping to smuggle several dozen Borzoi out of Russia after the revolution. He found homes for most of those who had no owners but kept couple of females for himself and started breeding them. So, Antoinette and Boris are probably from the same bloodline as Alexander's dog was."

"Interesting, but I don't understand why it was necessary to smuggle the dogs out of Russia? Did the rebels want to keep them all for themselves because they were so valuable?"

"No, quite the contraire. Because they were closely associated with the Czar and symbols of Russia's aristocrats the rebels killed them wherever they could find them. Many noblemen took it on themselves to shoot their dogs rather than letting them fall into the hands of militants who would often torture and kill them cruelly."

"That's just wrong."

"That's war," Treize pointed out somberly. "But perhaps we can put off the history lessons for some other time, and return to a more pleasant conversation?" he suggested.

"I agree," Milliardo nodded. "This isn't exactly dinner conversation."

"So, should we order something from their marvelous dessert menu," the older man asked. "Or would you prefer to go back to the hotel and have dessert there?"

Milliardo smirked slightly. "I think I'll have to go with dessert at the hotel."

###

Dessert at the hotel consisted of a bottle of champagne, sweet strawberries drizzled with fruit liqueur and dipped into whipped cream, fed to one another on a blanket in front of the fireplace.

Milliardo usually was not a big drinker, and between the pre-dinner wine, the champagne and the sweet liqueur he could defiantly feel the alcohol rise to his head. But for some reason he couldn't bring himself to care. Stretched out on the soft blanket, the flickering flames reflecting in his blue eyes, he studied the other man quietly. He recalled the day when Treize first showed up at his house, and how he later had thought that it had been all but a dream. Perhaps, the young man thought. It was a dream. Maybe I am still dreaming.

Beside him Treize dipped another strawberry into the whipped cream before dangling it above the blonde's nose. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." Milliardo raised his head just far enough to reach the berry. He held it between his teeth for a brief moment before finally taking it into his mouth, chewing deliberately slow, savoring every bite.

"Nothing?" Treize asked.

Milliardo didn't answer right away. Instead he reached out and pulled the other man into his arms. "Kiss me!" he demanded. "Kiss me now."

Treize raised one eyebrow in surprise but dipped his head and obliged. He kissed Milliardo's lips, then hid neck and his jaw line before finally placing a ghost of a kiss onto his earlobe. "I love you, Milliardo!" he breathed softly. "I love you so much."

The young man closed his eyes in delight. "I love you too."

T.B.C.

Author's Note: