by Fancy Figures

Good Fortune + Chapter 2

The following night, I confronted Duo. It was perhaps my mistake that I chose to wait until he came back into the house -- late, smelling of drink, and something else more musky. But I had braced myself to do so, and I was afraid of losing my nerve if I waited for another time.

"Yo, Rich Boy," he slurred. "Business keeps you up late, eh?"

"I'm not working now," I said.

He shrugged. "You wanna have a drink with me? You got some real good scotch in the kitchen that your bitch of a cook stole from your last order."

"You're in no position to talk about stealing, Duo, are you?"


"Forging cheques," I said, clearly. "Some of my silverware missing. Cufflinks from my father's collection. A painting from the trays in the study. All gone. You took them all, didn't you?"

He stared at me. He didn't look frightened, or remorseful. Just wary.

"You gonna call the police?"

"You think I should?"

He laughed then. "You woulda done it before now if you were gonna do it at all. And I know why you haven't. The same reason I'm here at all. You want him."

I didn't bother denying anything. I knew what Duo thought of me. I'd heard enough of it, hadn't I?

"What will it take for you to leave him alone? Leave us both alone?"

"Yo, just cut to the point, why don'cha?" He yawned, but I know he was only pretending not to be interested. He sank down in an armchair, stared a challenge back up at me. "Everything, Rich Boy. All your money."

"Don't be ridiculous!" I snapped.

"A coupla million then."

When I didn't reply, a grin spread over his face. He raised an eyebrow, speculatively. "Ohh -- so now we know his price, eh?"

I ignored the jibe. "You'd -- leave then? If I paid you that much? And never come back?"

He shrugged. His drunkenness seemed to have been forgotten. "I would, Rich Boy. I don't wanna be here any more 'n you want me here. Cramps my style. But I can't say the same for him."

"What do you mean?"

"I'd take your money, Rich Boy, and I'd leave. But I wouldn't stop him followin' me, that's a fact. And d'you know that he wouldn't?"

"You bastard -!" I couldn't believe the anger rising in me. The pain I could feel as my chest tightened under its power.

Duo was on his feet, and his face was close to mine. I struggled for breath while he watched. With nothing more than curiosity.

"Ain't gonna last long with that, are you, Rich Boy? Better sign the cheque before you peg out and the whole lot goes to the lawyers. Or shall I write it for you?"

I could only gasp. "I want you out of here now, or -!"

"Think carefully, Rich Boy," he hissed. "Think carefully before you threaten me. Other guys have done it, y'know? And most of 'em are really, really sorry they did."

I sank back into the other chair. I was beaten. I could hardly stand, with the ache in my back and legs, and the headache that the sudden excitement had brought on. I seemed to have less and less energy these days. And he'd scared me -- again.

"You oughtta rest, eh? That's what the quacks say."

"What do you care?" I whispered.

"You're right," he grinned. "I don't. Except for my money."

"You know where the cheque book is," I hissed, viciously sarcastic. "Get me a pen from the desk."

He fetched me the stuff, and I straightened up, pulling over the small drinks table to lean on, to write the cheque.

"Make it to cash," he murmured. "Don't have accounts like you do. And you'd better let the bank know tomorrow I'll be droppin' in. Officially!"

I felt dreadful, but I was beginning to think that maybe he'd listened to me -- that he'd really go. It would be the best day of my life if he did.

He was poking around the bookcase, pulling things out randomly. "So what do you do, when you do this resting business?"

"I read. If I'm up to it, I write a little fiction. I like to sit and talk to Quatre about the day."

"Don't fuck 'im, then?"

"What?" I was horrified at his calmly offensive question.

He grinned. "Yeah, thought so. Haven't dared touch him, have you? Our Quatre has that effect. Looks too good to be true. But you should do 'im, you really should! Those that finally get him underneath 'em say he's a fine performer."

"Stop it!" I shouted. My head was swimming. "That's so disgusting!"

He was staring at me, watching my eyes roll, my desperate attempts to get back in control. "You don't fuck anyone, do you, you pathetic, sick young puppy? I bet you're still a virgin! How many of them d'you think we've met, out on the streets?"

"Is that all you do on the streets?" I hissed. "Steal, and beat up people, and -- and fuck?" The word sounded gross in my mouth, but I was surprised at the ease with which it fell out.

"Not much else to do," shrugged Duo. He stood up, and walked over to me. Snatched the cheque out of my hand.

It was instantly imtimidating -- and I think that he knew that. "Quatre's not the only boy on the rocks, Rich Boy. There are hundreds of us. You've got no idea what the rest of life is like. Sitting in your gilded cage here, surrounded by all this art crap, and gourmet food, and money. Tons of it, eh?"

I was silent, but he grinned again. Stuffed the cheque almost carelessly into the side pocket of his grubby jeans.

"I know -- you don't discuss such sordid things with Quatre, do you? But I know that you're the heir to the biggest fuckin' business in this state, and that your personal annual income is more 'n twenty guys like me could earn in a lifetime."

"Guys like you -!" I spat out.

"Guys like me, yeah. And that's what Quatre is, as well!"

"Don't include him with you!"

"You're doin' it again! Threatenin' me!" he growled back. "Want me to call him down -- take him outta here now?"

I was silent. I had no idea how to handle this. I was at my weakest in all ways.

He seemed reluctant to go. He glanced at the door, saw it almost shut. The rest of the house was asleep -- the staff who lived in. Quatre, who'd retired early tonight.

"Don't you wonder what it'd be like?" he murmured, turning back to gaze at me. The grin was back. "To fuck 'im?" He leant closer as I gasped for breath. "To fuck me?"

"No --" I gargled. Did he know I'd been watching them last night?

He leaned over me as I sat there. Placed his hands on the arms of the chair. Over mine.

"Now, now... that's a fuckin' lie, and you know it. I told 'im you had a thing for boys. I can smell it..." He was too close -- I could feel the panic rising up in me. But he didn't move away, and I couldn't demand he did. "C'mon, Rich Boy," he mouthed into my ear. "D'you really wanna die without having felt a hot young body in bed with you? Without someone to suck your cock to orgasm; to open up that pink little asshole of yours and thrust their cock in? I bet it's really tight, eh? Really, viciously, virginally tight! Just as I like 'em -!"

"No.." I moaned. But I couldn't move.

"Another lie!" he hissed. "So try this!" And his mouth came down hard on mine.

I can only plead shock, to explain why I let him. Shock -- and fear, that I don't know how I could have stopped him. He lifted one hand off mine, and put it on my neck, clenching the skin there. I was unable to move; the other hand was still crushed against the arm of the chair, keeping me down in my seat. And his mouth attacked mine. When his tongue pushed against my clenched teeth, I opened them. I tasted the victorious smile on his lips as he plunged into my mouth, licking at my own, frozen tongue, nipping at my lower lip until I felt the skin tear and a drop of blood ooze out.

"Good, Rich Boy..." he murmured through both our mouths. "Not a sound, now, or he'll hear, won't he?"

"Don't --" As I opened my mouth to speak, he sucked on my tongue, silencing me. I felt the shudder run through my body.

"You've paid, man," he hissed. "You deserve the full works..."

"No..." I groaned. His mouth had left mine throbbing and aching -- it had moved to my neck and was suckling there. To my horror, I felt an answering twitch in my lap.

"Let's make this a quick one -- not sure how your old ticker will hold out, eh?" His hand was running down my chest now, tweaking at buttons, tugging at cloth. And still his mouth lapped at my neck -- I felt his teeth graze me more than once.

His hand reached my lap, and I flinched. I think my eyes closed tightly then. I heard his low laugh, and felt his fingers rub at my cock, inside my pants. To my eternal shame, I felt it respond. I had an erection to be proud of.

"Yo..." he grinned. "Look at it, man! I guess you might be fun in the sack after all. A tool that size could do some real damage to a soft little mouth like Q's. Lucky it's me, instead, eh?"

He dropped to his knees, pushed his way between my unresisting legs. His hands came back on to mine. He stared into my stricken face.

"Keep quiet, Rich Boy. You ain't gonna want to be caught like this, are you?"

One hand came back to my lap, flipped the button of my pants with expert speed, tugged down the zip. I felt the evening air on my cock, through the silk. It strained to get out, to stretch to its full length. With a rough, easy gesture, Duo wrenched the fabric apart, and pulled it out into his hand.

"Watch me," he grinned. "Watch -- and learn!" And he opened his mouth so that I could see what he intended, licked his lips, and went down on me.

I don't know what I expected -- I've never had it done to me. I'd been fascinated when Quatre did it to Duo; I guess I'd dreamt about it that night. If I were honest, my dream had been about this very situation, though I had envisaged Quatre, not Duo, nursing in my lap. But there was no denying that his mouth was skilful -- it sucked and nibbled at me, and every touch was a mixture of ecstasy and horror. He never hurt me, but he wasn't gentle, either. When I instinctively grasped at his braided hair, he chuckled -- the reverberation it set up around my cock and into my balls was incredible.

"Thick..." he mumbled. "Best meal I've had for a week, eh?" He laughed again, felt the answering jerk of my member. "You close, Rich Boy? You wanna come, now? Want me to swallow it? Gonna cost you extra..."

I moaned. I was incapable of speech. I'd jerked off, sure -- but I never knew a sexual feeling could be this strong.

"Guess that's a yeah.." he said, smugly, and his mouth started to speed up. I felt the suction of his lips, the fleeting trail of his tongue across my slit, and his hand slipped into my pants, fondling my balls inside the silk boxers.

I climaxed. I had never been so totally out of control of my body in my life -- even when I had been most ill. I could feel a wail starting to form -- Duo reached up a lazy hand and clamped my mouth shut, to keep it in. As I registered what he was doing, I felt every nerve in my body race to meet in my cock; every fibre strain to force the seed out into the freedom it craved. I shook -- I bucked on the chair. I felt the fluid as it burst out, in a stream, in spasm after spasm, all into Duo's waiting, grinning mouth. Even as I hated him for it, I poured into him. And I watched him draw his mouth off me, still licking trails of it off his lips; swallowing the remainder down his smooth, strong throat.

I lay back in the chair, cock limp on my lap, horrified -- terrified -- sated.

Duo stood slowly, groaning as his knees cracked. He rubbed absentmindedly at his own cock, looking a little prominent in his pants.

"No more..." I whispered, in some fear.

"Oh, no more tonight, Rich Boy. Just a blowjob, I think. And I ain't gonna rape you. Hey -- that'd cost you even more!"

It was like a scene from a movie -- we were both suddenly aware of someone else in the room. Duo spun round to face the door. It was open now, and a man was standing there. I could see round Duo's body -- and I could see that it was Quatre. Staring at us.

No-one spoke.

Then Duo laughed. It may have sounded a little hollow. "Well, here's Q, come to join in, maybe. Done plenty of threesomes in your time, haven't you, blondie? Pity I was just goin'." He turned back to me, but I could see tension in his body now. He knew Quatre was watching him.

He gazed at my flushed, tear-stained face. And he laughed loudly. "I've never seen a man more in need of a good fucking, Rich Boy! Keep that ass ready for me -- I'd like to be your first. Show you what I can really do!" I couldn't help it -- I gazed at him as he ran a hand down his body, cupped his groin, and rubbed it, hard. I looked back up to his face, saw the dark look of cruel derision. Then he tapped at his jeans pocket. "I've received my payment already, eh? No need for a bill. I'll see you both in the morning. G'night!"


I don't remember what happened after that hideous scene. I think I passed out. I was prone to that, years ago, when the illness was much worse. I woke up at three in the morning in my own bed, my clothes folded neatly on the chair. I never do that myself, and I no longer have a nanny or a manservant, so it must have been Quatre.

And then I heard their voices, Loud. Angry. They must have been just outside my door. And -- amazingly -- it was Quatre's voice that was louder.

"Get out!"

"Aww, come on, Q, he asked for it --"

"You're a selfish, predatory shit, and I won't have you taking it out on Trowa! He could hardly breathe, Duo!"

"Shit, you got it bad, haven't you, blondie? What d'you see in a sick fuck like him? He only wants a nursemaid, y'know --"

"And you only want a meal ticket! It's over, Duo. I want you to go."

"Now come on, Q --"

"I want you to go."

There was a stunned silence. "I'll see you in the park tomorrow -?"

"You won't see me again."

"You can't do this to me --" growled Duo's voice. I should have been scared at the tone, but I think I may have been sedated -- I was merely curious as to whether Quatre would be scared.

He wasn't.

"Get the fuck out of this house, Duo, and don't come near me again."

I heard nothing after that until the door slammed -- it sounded a long way away. I think I fainted again.

"Quatre..." Was I dreaming? Did he come and sit by me, put a cold flannel to my head? "He's got money, Quatre. Let him go. If you've got to go with him -- he can look after you, Quatre... he's got the money now..." On and on I rambled, in that vein. "Don't go, Quatre," I heard myself begging. I despised myself. He would despise me for my weakness.

"Hush, Trowa, I'm here. I'm not going with him, Trowa. I'll stay with you."

"Stay with me..."

"I will, Trowa. I'm not here just for money. I'm not Duo, Trowa."

I slept peacefully for fifteen hours.


"I know that you miss Duo, Quatre. But I couldn't have him in the house anymore. Do you -- understand?"

We sat together on the garden bench. The doctors were still shaking their heads about me, but the summer was coming and I welcomed being outdoors. I was back at work, I was moving easily about the house. I wanted to spend time with Quatre.

"I understand, Trowa. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?"

"I'm sorry he came on to you. He does that a lot. He likes to fuck with people -- literally and emotionally."

"But he's gone now."

"Yes." He stroked my arm almost absentmindedly. It sent small electric shocks down my body. I wished he'd kiss me again, like he used to.

"It's been a good few months, hasn't it, Quatre?"

"Uh-huh. I'm glad you're better."

"Perhaps we might take a holiday -- after the second quarter results have been announced. The business has never been stronger. Thanks to you, really -- holding the fort while I've been recovering." The advisors kept me posted on progress across the corporation -- and Quatre had been an invaluable assistant during the last few months. It seemed that with Duo gone, he had blossomed. And the situation with my critics had also eased -- people barely remembered Quatre's street rat background. He was so pleasant a young man that it seemed that all the hostility towards him had left the house - and my life - along with Duo's passing.

"A holiday -- I've never had one of those!" he laughed lightly.

"We'd deserve it then, wouldn't we?"

"Hush, Trowa, you don't need to --"

"But I do need to!" I cried. I sounded rather hysterical -- it must have been the medication, which they had changed after the scene with Duo leaving. Quatre had to count the tablets, had to mix the potions. I didn't seem able to concentrate quite as well any more. "I want to thank you, Quatre -- for being with me. For looking after me -- for being there. I want to spend time with you, be there for you in return."

"You are," he said, softly. "You will be. But for now the doctor said you must rest."

"Fuck rest!" I said, sharply.

He looked surprised for a second -- and then he laughed. "Perhaps you're right. You certainly seem much brighter today. We can go through those papers for the prospectus this evening. And then..."

"And then you might kiss me again before bed..." I murmured, very daring for me.

"Yes!" he smiled. "I didn't know if you -- well, I thought you might be nervous of it --"

"Not with you," I sighed. I felt the tiredness creeping over me again. But not before Quatre slipped an arm around my waist and tugged me to him.

"Do you feel OK, Trowa?"

"Yes, I feel very OK. I know it was hard for you, Quatre, but I was proud of you -- standing up to him."