Warning: Shameless Lemon ahead!!
Chapter Thirteen
Lady Une and Noin had, by mutual consent, headed away from the resort in completely the opposite direction from the two men, avoiding the little hamlet and the other tourist attractions in the region for the lure of the nearest major town. For the first hour or so of their drive, Noin had divided her attention between the road she was steering the car down and the awkward conversation she and the older woman were making, wondering where the sudden difficulty had come from. She wouldn't have described the Lady as a close friend, but she had thought that they had developed some sort of connection over the past two or three months.
Instead, this morning, there was a tension between them – she could almost sense the Lady checking herself before she allowed herself to respond too willingly. Trying to break through, she found herself telling the other woman, with suitable edits, some of the things Zechs had said in his drunken babble the night before.
For a time, she thought it was going to work. Une seemed to relax, smiling and even laughing once or twice at some of the more outrageous statements – particularly Zechs's assertion that Treize should be the Queen of their new Kingdom – but then she told Une about the hot chocolate trick and the smiles and the laughter and the sense of communication between the two of them vanished instantly – in favour of an even icier atmosphere than before.
Noin had recoiled a little, and frowned.
For the tenth time in an hour, she found herself watching her companion covertly as they meandered through one of the shops in the town, analysing her behaviour for an answer. The pattern of thaw and re-freeze had been repeated all afternoon. Given the right line of conversation, Une could be prodded into being a pleasant, urbane companion – one that Noin enjoyed spending time with – but the slightest mention of her classmate brought scowling silence and a half hour of monosyllabic responses, and she didn't know why. She knew Une had no particular fondness for the blond, but she hadn't thought things were this bad.
As something she said triggered another bout of brooding, Noin rolled her eyes and tried to work out what had been the provoking factor.
Replaying her last sentence, and then all the others that had preceded a new ice age, Noin began to see a pattern. It wasn't mention of the pilot that was causing the problem – it was any mention of Zechs and Treize together, from the fact the elder man knew how to put his friend to sleep, to the ideas the general had given Noin for the younger man's birthday presents.
Noin shot a horrified look at the other woman's slender back – was it possible Une knew that the two men were more than friends?
It was possible, all right. Treize and Zechs weren't nearly as careful as they thought they were. To the right eyes, almost every interaction gave them away, and Noin knew that if she saw that, the Lady couldn't have missed it. The question now was – did Une actually know they were lovers, or did she merely have her suspicions. If it were the latter, then it might be possible to deflect her. If it were the former, the two men could be in very serious trouble. Either way, Noin herself could well be the only thing standing between her friend and her commander, and disaster.
It was hard, Noin realised, not to feel sorry for Une. Much like herself, the older woman was completely in love with a man who wasn't in love with her. Unlike herself, Une was stuck with working side by side with that man, day in and day out all year round, tasked with never letting her feelings compromise their professional relationship. Where Noin had been friends with Zechs for quite some time before she had fallen for him, and so had possessed another relationship to fall back on for her interactions with him, Une – so far as she was aware – hadn't known Treize before becoming his aide, and so didn't have that advantage. Worse, where Zechs had never given Noin the slightest reason to believe he cared for her in a way other than as a friend, Treize was an uncompromising flirt, silver-tongued and charming.
For a few brief seconds, Noin found herself furious with her commanding officer for his treatment of his aide. He must know how Une felt about him, yet his attitude towards her sometimes was not that of the Gentleman he was supposed to be. He was a politician as much as he was a soldier, raised in board-rooms and ball-rooms to be the quintessential nobleman, and half of everything he said was layered with innuendo and with subtle promises he had no intention of keeping.
She found herself wondering suddenly if the man was even attracted to women, biting her lip as she recognized that she might have yet another reason why she was luckier than the Lady. As she had concluded during their argument the week before, Zechs had fallen in love with the one person who had been everything to him for most of his life. She doubted the question of gender had ever occurred to him, and didn't think it ever would. Should something happen to separate him from Treize, she was, she knew, the most likely replacement, simply because she was the only other person he trusted enough.
Her commanding officer, though, could well be another subject altogether.
Without question, she was sure that the casual observer would have said Une had no hope – the man was simply too damned elegant to be straight – but she, herself, wasn't certain. Rumour wasn't much help in coming to a conclusion. She had heard all the same stories every member of the Specials had heard – that he had a new partner every night, that he was under a vow of celibacy, that he was sleeping with Une, with Zechs, with Field-Marshall Noventa and that was how he'd got his job – but they didn't prove a thing; nobody had ever been able to back up their claims about him. As far as conclusive proof went, the man might as well be a eunuch – he had taken discretion to the point where any affairs he might have had, simply hadn't happened.
His behaviour didn't prove anything either. Three weeks ago, at his Christmas Ball, she would have been willing to swear that he was straight– gay men didn't partner on the dance floor like he did – but then, three weeks ago, before she had seen him with Zechs, she would have been willing to make bets with Une about how long she would have to wait before he asked her to marry him. That was the way she had thought things were headed, especially after he gave Une his mother's necklace.
Noin's thoughts were interrupted by Une coming over and asking her opinion on a dress she had found, and, for that moment at least, she put aside her wondering.
**********************
Treize ducked as Zechs threw his hand of cards at his head, laughing at the younger man's disgruntled expression.
As good as his word, it had taken less than half an hour away from the topic of the Sanc Kingdom to restore Zechs to his customary self. The rest of the afternoon had been passed indulging in various games with the cards neither of them had played for years and, most of the time, could only half-remember the rules to. As stupid as some of the substitutes had been, it made a pleasant and relaxing change from chess.
"I'll take that as your decision to fold, shall I?" Treize asked, scooping the cards up from where they had fallen.
"You might as well," Zechs agreed, stretching lazily.
The general slid the cards back into their packet and watched as the pilot shook his head to get his hair out of his eyes.
"How much longer do you think Une and Noin are going to be?" the blond asked. "I'm hungry, and I suspect you'll only point out that it would be bad manners if I suggest eating without them."
"I would, yes. Feeling better?"
"Finally. I'm never letting you do that to me again."
Treize smiled. "I wouldn't advocate that you make a habit of drinking like that on a regular basis, but it is something everyone is obligated to try at least once. Besides, a decent tolerance becomes essential with increasing rank – all the social functions and the paperwork, you know."
"I know – you've complained often enough!"
The smile turned into a laugh. "There really are times I should court martial you for insubordination."
"Probably."
"Well, at least you admit to it. That's something. Where do you want to eat then? Even if Une and Noin aren't back yet, we can organise that much."
"I'll leave that to you." He stretched again, and threw off the blanket Treize had thrown over him. "Would you mind if I left you alone for ten minutes? If we're going out anywhere, I need to wash my hair."
"Why should I mind?" Treize asked. "Shall I come and talk to you?"
"If you want to."
Treize stood up as the pilot did and followed him up the stairs.
Heading into the bathroom, he turned the water on for Zechs, and then went to find his own toiletries. Steam rose from the hot water of the shower as the younger man stepped under it, sighing in pleasure as the spray hit his skin.
Treize chuckled as he turned the sink tap on and dug out his shaving kit. "You're worse than a cat," he commented as he finished running hot water into the sink and setting his things out on the side.
"Sorry?"
"I said, you're worse than a cat – I've never known anyone who fussed over their hair the way you do yours."
"Dorothy, possibly. Long hair takes work. Besides, you can't say anything to me about fussing over my appearance. I don't think I've ever seen you look less than immaculate."
"It happens."
The shower turned off, and a moment later, Zechs spoke again from just behind the elder man. "When?"
The general turned around, his straight-blade razor in his hand. "Now, really," he teased, voice soft. "Can't you answer that for yourself?"
There was blank incomprehension for a breath or two, and then cool eyes sparked and began to glow, as though someone had lit a match behind them. "Possibly."
A split-ended eyebrow lifted. "Only possibly?"
"You might remind me…"
Treize smiled, and reached out with his free hand to pull the other man to him. Tapered fingers wound into wet strands of hair as the pilot slid his arms around his commander's trim waist. Their mouths met and lingered, light and careful at first, and then Treize murmured some meaningless noise or other, and the kiss deepened as his fingers tightened and his body leaned into the younger man's.
Treize broke it a few moments later, tilting his upper body back just far enough that he could look at his friend properly, a small rueful smile playing around his mouth. "Why can't you be older?" he asked.
Zechs returned his look, confusion setting two small lines into the skin between his eyebrows. "Why?"
"Why do you think?" The older man stroked the back of his companion's neck with the pad of his thumb. "So I could do what I actually want to now."
The pilot's mouth quirked at one corner. "Which is what?"
Treize's breath was warm against Zechs's throat as he kissed the smooth skin and then bit down lightly, working a neat path from collarbone to jaw. "Take you back into the bedroom and fuck you…," the general murmured, directly into his ear.
The blond startled, shivering for a second as the unaccustomed profanity, and its meaning, sank in – since when did Treize speak like that? And, why had the thought that he might mean exactly what he'd said inspired such a wash of fierce wanting? "Why don't you?" he asked, not thinking.
The elder officer went still. "Zechs…" He shook his head. "Have a little patience."
Zechs smiled, drawing his commander closer to him. "I somehow doubt that…," he shot a glance through the open bathroom door at the clock resting on the windowsill, "…six hours, give or take, is going to matter to anyone."
Treize shook his head again. "By that reasoning, I doubt the last three months would have mattered either. It's a technicality, I know, but it's one that could be used against us both. Is it worth the risk? Especially having lasted this long?" He wound his fingers a little tighter into the strands he held. "We've managed with other things so far…"
For a moment the pilot didn't reply, then he turned his head and looked down, staring at the floor. "I know," he murmured. "Can I help with that?" he asked, changing the subject.
"With what?" Treize quizzed, and was surprised when Zechs freed one arm from around his waist, ran teasing fingers down the inside of his forearm and took his razor from where it had been hanging from his hand.
"This – can I help?" the younger man asked again, taking a step back and away from his commander.
Treize raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "I don't know why you'd want to," he admitted. "Do you know how?"
"I've seen you do it often enough."
The general hesitated, and then, by way of consent, handed the blond the soap and towel he had laid out, and rested the small of his back against the edge of the sink unit. "I haven't had anyone else do this for me in quite some time," he said, as the pilot applied a layer of soap and set the razor against his top lip.
"You don't have to let me, but if you are going to, could you be quiet? I don't want to cut you."
Treize bit off his chuckle, and forced his body into complete stillness. It was harder than he had thought it would be. Though he had wondered why Zechs would want to do this for him, now that he was, there was something curiously intimate about it – both in letting the younger man involve himself in a part of his personal grooming routine, and in trusting him with so sharp a blade so near to him. Already partially aroused, Treize found himself fighting not to move as his body responded. The pilot used two fingers from his free hand to tilt his head back and put the razor to his throat just above the pulse point, and the older man drew a ragged breath and set his hands on the counter behind him for balance.
"Are you alright?" Zechs asked, hand stilling as he registered this reaction. "I haven't cut you, have I?"
"No. I'm fine – carry on."
"Are you sure…?"
"Perfectly."
Treize sounded more than a little breathless, the pilot noted, and he ran an assessing eye over him, observing that his grip on the counter was hard enough that his fingertips were whitened by the pressure. Frowning at this contradiction of his commander's reassurances, Zechs finished his self-assigned task and set the razor down in favour of the towel. Gentle pats with the soft fabric removed the excess soap, revealing newly smoothed skin and giving away the fact that the elder man was shivering.
The pilot laid the towel back on the counter and scowled. "You didn't have to let me finish, you know," he muttered. "If it was bothering you that much, you should have told me to stop."
"I didn't want you to stop," Treize replied, and his voice was still ragged, still breathless despite the fact that he was almost panting in the humid air of the bathroom. He opened his eyes to look at his friend, and the deep cerulean hue was glittering with excitement.
Zechs stared, feeling the force of that desire jump across the space between them, catch onto the fading need in his own body, and fan it. Not at all sure of where the nerve was coming from, he took the two paces that closed the gap between himself and his lover and used his body weight to pin the elder man back against the counter he was still leaning on. Fingers strengthened by hundreds of hours gripping mobile suit controls fanned along the sharp line of Treize's jaw and held him still as the blond kissed him, pushing past the momentary shocked resistance until the general caught back a moan and began to respond in kind.
Treize fought to keep his mind from drowning under the unexpected onslaught. He had no idea what had prompted Zechs to turn so aggressive, but he wasn't about to protest too strenuously. In the month that had passed since Christmas – when Treize considered their relationship had truly begun – Zechs had instigated things between them so infrequently that the general could number them on the fingers of one hand. It was expected – his friend was younger and inexperienced, accustomed very early in his life to following Treize's lead, and in more recent years, to obeying the commands of his superior officer. With gentle prompting, he was an equal participant in their encounters, but that didn't mean that Treize wished such a pattern to continue. There were few people in the world that would, or could, say no to him; his childhood friend was one of them, and it was that strength of personality the elder man was counting on to make theirs a relationship of equals. If he'd wanted shrinking submission, he could have bought it easily enough.
That and it was nice not to be the one giving the orders occasionally.
There was pure fire in Zechs's kiss, a force that wasn't about to yield to anything, and so the general didn't try to take control. His hands left the edge of the counter and locked around the younger man's trim body.
The pilot broke their kiss and laughed softly. "This is new…."
"Is it?" Treize asked, utterly uninterested in talking.
"Certainly. You've never behaved like this before." Zechs grinned suddenly, raising an eyebrow. "But then, I've never thought to hold a lethally sharp knife to your throat before. You weren't joking last week when you said you liked power games, were you?"
The general shook his head, the movement exaggerated in comparison to his usual precise grace and a good indicator of the state of the rest of his composure. "Do you mind?" he demanded, his fingers biting into the bare skin of the blonde's shoulders as he tried to pull them closer together.
Zechs laughed again, running one hand in a soothing stroke along the line of his commander's spine and hooking it under the hem of his jumper when he reached it. "Mind? No. I'll confess to a degree of curiosity… You really liked my having that knife, didn't you?"
"Yes…." Treize took the hem of his jumper from the younger man's hands and finished the job he was stalling over, pulling it over his head and dropping it onto the floor at their feet. His trousers met a similar fate and the brush of skin against skin made him gasp. He let his head drop forward until his face was hidden in the crook of the other man's shoulder.
"Could I have made you come just with that?" Zechs asked him, teeth grazing the skin of his throat. "If I'd kept it up?"
"I don't know," Treize hissed. "Possibly." His perfectly kept nails were scratching lightly at Zechs's skin. "Zechs!" he pleaded.
"Shh." Gracefully, the blond went to his knees on the cool floor of the bathroom, ignoring his own body's demands in favour of answering his friend's. He let his hands trace a path down his lover's body until they were gripping his hips, and felt powerful fingers wind into his hair with a strength born from frustration. He laughed quietly as he leaned forward to blow his breath over the length of the other man's arousal and the general jumped.
"Don't tease," Treize demanded, staring down at the younger man. Cool blue eyes rolled up to meet his gaze and held it for a moment or two, as their owner's lips quirked in a grin. Suddenly everything Treize had been trying to explain to him about the balance of control in such a situation was clear – though it appeared Zechs was the one being submissive, he had all the power. He made a note to himself to bring it up with his lover later, and breathed out again, liking the way the older man started.
The expression on the general's face was vaguely surprised as he combed his hands through the heavy silkiness of Zechs's hair, pulling a strand over the pilot's shoulder and wrapping it around one finger. "Your hair has the most wonderful texture," he mused, a subtle form of revenge for the younger man's teasing. He brushed the ends against his flat stomach and added, "I do believe I could find uses for it…."
The pilot's smile took on a degree of shock. "Could you?" he asked, tone cool, but the colour that rose under his skin told his commander that the idea wasn't entirely unappealing.
Whatever answer Treize was going to make was lost when his breath left him in a rush as the blond leaned forward and ran his tongue over the tip of his erection.
Zechs pulled away a little as the older man jumped, then moved back and took him fully into his mouth, forcing himself to remember and apply everything he had been taught. He had damn near choked himself with his first attempt at this, trying to wake his friend in the same manner as he himself had been knocked out the night before. Treize had held him till he stopped coughing, fetched him a glass of water – laughing at him the entire time – and then had laid back and talked him through it, his self-control holding until the very last moments.
There was nothing of that self-control visible today.
"Jesus, Gott, Milliardo!" Treize gasped. "I need…"
The younger man smiled at the incoherency he had inspired in his lover, understanding what he had been trying to say and lifted his hands away, freeing the older man to move as he needed to. As Treize had instructed him, he relaxed the muscles in his throat, breathing in sequence with the suddenly sharp movements of that hardened flesh over his tongue.
It didn't take long.
"Oh… Christ! Milliardo…!" Treize's broken moan was his warning, and Zechs felt sudden bitterness pour into his mouth as the older man spilled himself, the warm rush of fluid expected but still surprising. He swallowed repeatedly, quickly enough that the taste didn't really register, and stroked with his tongue, keeping up a gentle sucking until the general tugged his at hair in an attempt to get him to stop.
The blond sank back onto his heels for a moment, drew the back of one hand across his mouth, and then got to his feet.
The general was resting against the counter, though Zechs happened to think that 'sprawled' would have been a better description, head bowed and skin flushed; his hair, sweat-dampened, was falling out of its pristine styling.
He glanced up and smiled. "As promised – I look somewhat less than immaculate…"
The pilot laughed, and drew the other man to him. "You do, but I like it."
"Ah, good."
They stood in silence for a moment, then Treize looked at his friend. "Give me a minute, Milliardo, and I'll return the favour."
"It doesn't matter," Zechs murmured, feeling oddly satisfied.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Treize smiled at him and kissed him.
The front door slammed shut and they jumped apart out of habit, before realising how ridiculous a response that was and laughing.
"Lady Une and Lucrezia. One of us should dress and see to them."
Zechs nodded. "I'll go. You get in the shower."