Fortune + Chapter
"Duo?" His voice was very quiet,
even for him.
"Yes, Duo. I'm glad he's gone. I could never have given you everything
I want to, not with him around, soiling everything we have."
"Mmm..." I felt his lips very softly at my ear. The tip of his tongue
licked at the lobe. "Dear Trowa... I've missed kissing you good night..."
I sighed with a languid pleasure. "Will you call George Nicholls for me
in the morning? I want to discuss some outstanding business with him."
"But he must come to you, Trowa. You mustn't overtire yourself again..."
"Yes," I smiled at his fierce concern. "He'll come to me this time."
Things would soon be back to normal again.
I knew the time would come, sooner or later. And I was eager for it.
The goodnight kiss was becoming a frustration rather than a joy. As his
lips touched mine each night, I'd have vivid hallucinations of him with
Duo -- him pleasuring Duo -- him pleasuring me. If I were
truly honest, I would admit to my arousing dreams after Duo's attack on
me -- his astonishingly intimate attack. And the response that
had been forced out of me. I wanted to investigate this further.
Was I stupid? Could I love another man? Is that how it went?
While Duo was here, I had kept my feelings in check. I denied them. But
now he was gone, and I could openly examine the way I felt about Quatre.
No -- I knew how I felt about him!
That night started gently. We had had a good evening -- Quatre
had kept me amused with stories about the office; I had eaten a reasonably
sized portion at supper; I was feeling quite comfortable in myself.
"I'll go upstairs to read, Trowa -- there are quite a few marketing
proposals to go through. I'll bring your tea first, but don't stay up
too late." He bent to touch my lips, his own mouth still moist from his
drink, his face a little flushed from his laughing. And as he did, I reached
up and took his face in my hands.
"Trowa...?" he murmured.
I didn't say anything -- I couldn't. All I could feel was the pulse
in my chest, the ache in my heart. I pulled his mouth down on to mine,
and I kissed him.
I didn't let go. I felt his warmth, I felt his hand wavering at my shoulder,
then gripping me. Still I kissed him. And remembering what had been done
to me that horrible evening, I pushed my tongue at his lips --
asking to come in. Asking to taste him.
With a sigh, his lips opened and I slid in.
It was delicious! He tasted of supper and laughter and Quatre. I couldn't
believe I'd not been brave enough to do this before. His tongue was caressing
mine, just as eagerly, and he was growing in enthusiasm. I was praying
that he wanted this -- that he felt the same way. He'd said once
that he'd wanted to kiss me for a long time.
He moaned a little, as if he could hear my thoughts. His mouth broke from
mine, though it reached a breath between us, as if he was reluctant to
lose the contact. I saw him hook a foot around his chair and pull it nearer
to him. He sank down into it, and his hands crept to my face. He smoothed
my skin with silky fingers -- he ran a finger tantalisingly over
my lower lip.
"Trowa... this is so good... do you want more?"
"Yes," I whispered. I tried to say everything in just that one word.
"What about your health? Can you manage this?"
"I can manage it," I gasped. His finger had reached the centre of my mouth
and was sliding in. Fondling the hot, swelling flesh. Teasing at my teeth.
"I want to manage it!"
Quatre smiled, his eyes on my mouth. Their blue was sparkling now, like
the morning sun on the garden lake. White sparks on the shining, vivid
"Come upstairs with me, then. Come to bed."
I let him lead me, even though we went to my room. We naturally knew it
would be more comfortable. I was in a dream. I was determined control
the weaknesses of my body -- I was equally determined to surrender
to all the other weaknesses I now knew I had for this man.
He knew and he understood. And he was so gentle that I never felt overwhelmed
at any time.
He laid me on my bed and there was more kissing -- a lot more kissing!
It grew more feverish as he slipped off my shirt, running light, warm
fingers up and down my chest. I wanted his mouth on mine all the time,
I was feasting on it, I was thrusting my tongue in like a mimicry of how
sex must be, again and again, until I was panting.
And then he straightened up beside me, as if to force me to calm myself.
"Quatre..." I moaned. "Don't stop, please, I'm fine..."
"I know you are," came his quiet voice. It sounded amused. "I just want
to see more of you..."
He reached to my pants, and slipped the button through. I gasped with
surprise -- with delight. His hands were cool on my thighs as he
slid the cloth down, rolled it off over my feet. I've never let anyone
see me in my underwear -- not even my manservant, in far off days.
And yet I felt no embarrassment. I fell back, completely relaxed. He started
to massage my legs with firm strokes, up along the outside of the calves
and the thighs, then a rolling motion, down into the valley between them,
into the soft flesh of the inside thigh, kneading softly, teasing around
"I want to take off these boxers," he mused, tugging at the black silk.
I nodded my permission. He hooked his fingers under the elastic, and as
I lifted my hips, he slid them down and off.
"What about your clothes, Quatre?"
"In a minute," he smiled. "I think that you need attention first..."
He was looking at my cock, and I was tempted to pull myself up on my elbows
and look myself. It was rearing up on my stomach -- it was red
and weeping a little, and I could feel its heat on my skin. I felt pure
amazement, that I was gazing so boldly at my most private parts --
and I felt rather ridiculously proud.
"It's a fine cock, Trowa," he grinned, mischievously. "You'll let me praise
you on that, I hope?"
"Yes -- I suppose so!" I felt it twitch up towards him, boasting.
"I want to touch it.." he murmured. His fingertips grazed the tip, tickled
at the slit.
"Wait!" I don't know where the cry came from, but Quatre stopped immediately.
"I'm sorry, Trowa -- "
"No, no! That's not what I meant, I want you to! But -- I have
to tell you -- oh God..."
He sighed. He didn't withdraw his hand, and it stayed at the tip of my
cock -- tantalising me. "It's something to do with Duo, isn't it?"
I nodded, miserably. "I have to tell you -- that night --
when he -- he --"
Quatre put a finger to my lips, probably to reassure me. He started to
roll his other hand around my cock. To run it, lazily, slowly, up and
down the shaft. I could feel the tingle of delight down to my toes.
"Quatre, please forgive me... when he touched me ... when he did that...
I was excited! I hated him, I didn't want it -- but then I did
-!" I was burning with the shame, even as he continued to caress me; up
and down; up and down. "Are you disgusted with me?"
"Oh Trowa," he sighed. "Duo is very sexy. He's very -- experienced.
I'd be surprised if you hadn't responded. It's only your body --
it's a natural reaction."
"Be quiet!" he said, and I was a little startled at his firm tone. "Concentrate
on me, now. I'll be touching you now. Do you want me to do something different
He meant, different from Duo! I had upset him, I was sure, talking about
another man's fondling. I felt wretched, at the same time as the calm,
frank words made my blood boil.
"No...," I whispered. "I want that -- from you..."
He looked pleased. "Think of him if you like, Trowa -- if it excites
you. It doesn't worry me."
"No!" I gasped. "Just you!" How could he think I'd want anything else?
He laughed, and settled his knees on the bed between my naked legs. And
then he took my hand, slid one of my fingers into his mouth, and sucked
it hard. "This hard, Trowa? Or softer? What do you want?"
My head was spinning with excitement. "Harder, Quatre -- please
He put his hands back on to the bed, either side of my hips, and he bent
his head to my groin. He licked my cock. I flinched, yelped quietly. He
grinned, and licked again. And started to lap at me, hard, regular strokes,
his rough tongue running up and down the sides of my hot, throbbing member.
I thought I was going to die -- I thought my heart would stop with
pure bliss. I didn't dare say it to Quatre, in case he thought I meant
it, and stopped his torture. And, to be honest, if I'd died there and
then, I couldn't have been happier. But I wanted to stay alive --
to know more.
"Take it in your mouth," I groaned. "I can't hold on very long -!"
"My poor, impatient Trowa..." he murmured. "We must work on that --
I don't want you to miss out through your inexperience. You deserve hours
and hours of it; of my mouth; of my mouth plunging into yours, licking
all over your body; of my mouth sucking hard round your cock --"
and his lips came down over me, moulding to my thick, aching shape.
The sexy, brutal words from his angelic mouth were the final straw for
me. I cried aloud, tears squeezing out of the corners of my eyes, and
I came. It was as sharply consuming as when Duo had sucked me --
but oh, so much more poignant! And this time I had a different head of
hair to grasp, a different set of shining eyes to gaze into as I shot
out into a waiting mouth -- Quatre's!
I lay there for a few minutes, gathering my breath, praising myself that
I hadn't expired after all. That he was still beside me, wriggling out
of his shirt.
He laughed, the sound low in his throat. "So you like the dirty talk,
eh? That's good... Touch me now..." he sighed.
"Shall I -- suck you back?" I said, timidly. I suppose that I could
have done -- I think that I wanted to. But I wasn't sure what I
His hand was hot on my chest, teasing at my nipple. I felt a stir in my
cock again, marvelled at its resilience. "Trowa, would you -- could
you consider something more? I want to make love to you -- completely..."
I lay very still, even as the thrill ran up my spine. Make love to you...
he'd said. It made my heart soar. I thought I knew what he wanted to do
to me -- or perhaps I wasn't sure. Perhaps I was scared --
perhaps I was more thrilled. There was a warm ache between my legs --
but there was also a nagging question that I couldn't keep back.
"Quatre -- have you -- did you -? With Duo?"
For the first time that I could remember, he seemed cross with me. "Just
forget about Duo, Trowa, he's gone! That was then, this is now. That's
all it ever is, OK? And as for your question -- not often. Duo
likes -- liked me to play with him. But not so much for full sex
-- he preferred to fuck girls. And he never let me fuck him."
God, I ached...! That word from Quatre's soft, boyish lips made my flesh
burn. He bent over me again, and the fingers slipped down towards my groin.
Tugged softly at the curls under my navel.
"No more questions...?" he breathed hotly into my ear.
"No," I gasped. "Do it to me! Fuck me! You will, won't you?"
"I will, indeed," he smiled.
The next hour was the most amazing of my life.
Quatre stripped off his own clothes and at last I had that perfect, fit
young body all to myself. He pressed against me, drew his limbs slowly
around mine -- caressed me as if I were some kind of treasured
possession. We hugged and touched and stroked like that for long, gorgeous
minutes, until he only had to touch the skin of my neck with his lips
to make me moan aloud.
"Trowa, you are a dark and delicious secret," he sighed. "Would you have
thought you could be so sensitive? So sensual?"
"No," I tried to laugh, but my voice was shaky. I'd never seen myself
as physically sensual in any way. Not before Quatre came.
"Let me down your back now," he smiled. "I must touch everything..."
I was rolled over on to my stomach, pulled up on to my hands and knees.
Every bone in my thin, ill-covered back was sensitive, and he seemed to
know this. He dragged his rough-smooth tongue all the way down, from my
twitching neck to the small of my back. And then downwards again --
he licked greedily all over my buttocks, under the join with my thighs,
and up between them, all along the crack of the cheeks. Licking, sucking
-- and then a little gentle teasing with his tongue, around my
Oh God... and I think I may have gasped it aloud.
"Uh-huh..." his whisper was almost a growl. "Find me some cream..."
He had teased me before that my dresser was full of creams and medicines
and oiintments -- like a girl's, he said, but kindly. Now I grabbed
at something I knew was only a cleanser, it had no medicinal properties.
I knew he wasn't looking for it for that. Just something cool and lubricated
and easy on the skin -- how did I know that?
"Trowa... don't be frightened... it'll be so good..." His voice sounded
strange -- a little restrained.
I shut my eyes. I listened to his heavy breathing, the quiet twist of
the cap. I imagined his hands, spreading the cream over -- what?
Over me? Over his cock?
I didn't imagine for much longer, because his hands were on me immediately.
His long, thin fingers, slippery from the cream, back to tease at my crack,
to spread the soft, untouched flesh. To slip into my hole, slowly, hungrily...
I was whimpering, I think -- the fingers up inside me tugged at
the muscles around my entrance like an alien invader. But as they moved
further in, as they probed around at me, stretching me gently, I felt
the strange tingling reaction in my groin.
"I want to tell you, Trowa, what I want. Will you like that?"
"Wh -- what do you mean?" I instinctively leant back against him,
drawing in the invading digits.
"I want..." he said, relishing the words, leaning down to whisper in my
ear. "I want my cock up inside your ass. I want to fill you --
I want to come inside you. Burst out inside you, all my cum, up inside
"Anything, Quatre... anything you want..." And I meant it, of course.
His hands were slippery with the cream, clutching my buttocks, peeling
them apart. I couldn't help but be shocked when something far wider than
his fingers pressed at the entrance. Something warm, even through the
coating of cream. Hot -- thick -- velvety smooth as protected
flesh is. But I didn't protest. I think I actually spread my legs wider.
I knew it would hurt when he pushed in -- I knew it would be difficult,
because it was my first time. Pleasure would come later, I knew. But I
welcomed it all -- welcomed the pain and the groans from both of
us, because it was what we both wanted.
And he fucked me. At last!
There were only minutes between him entering me fully, and our respective
climaxes. A few, hot, moaning minutes, full of ecstasy and astonishment,
until his hand round my cock brought me back to full erection, and a pumping,
panting spasm all over his fingers and the bed sheets. Until I felt him
slam much harder against my buttocks, his skin slick with sweat, and he
grunted a deep, primal sound that I would never have imagined he could
It didn't sound like Quatre at all. For that one blessed second, as I
felt his cock thrust so hard up into me that I thought our bodies would
fuse together; as I felt the warm rush of his seed filling me inside,
and dribbling down my legs, shaking with the tension of holding myself
up on miserably weak arms --
For that one second I was shocked to imagine that I really didn't know
him at all.
I sat at my personal desk, looking out over the garden. It was going to
be a wet September. I had started to write a diary. I thought it was probably
a little childish -- definitely self-indulgent. But I wanted to
shout my feelings out, and I had no-one to listen to me. Quatre didn't
count, because the feelings were about him! And sometimes even he looked
embarrassed at my outpourings. I felt that I'd been released from prison
-- from a prison of my own body, of my own life. And it continued
to amaze me.
Read me, flickered the words of the diary. Read me, and be comforted.
"What could be better?" I read, with a rueful smile. "I have a thriving
business, with stocks that are topping the markets. A beautiful home,
the respect of the community. Most of all, I have Quatre. The most beautiful
man in the world. And he's with me every day, sharing it all with me.
And the nights -- oh God, yes, the nights! He's in my bed with
me, and he's a tender, exciting lover. He's taught me everything --
and perhaps I've taught him some things too, in my naïve way. I never
knew it could be like this, but it's more than I could ever have wanted.
"George still prods me gently about starting a family, every now and then.
The doctors say it may be possible, so long as I -- you've guessed
it -- rest a lot, and get my strength back.
"I seem to have enough strength to love you, I joke to Quatre. This has
been such an education for me! I can touch him for hours -- I can
take his cock in my mouth now and caress it until he comes. I can turn
my back for him to stroke me and open my legs, and press his fabulous
cock into me... he says I've become quite uninhibited over the last few
months! And even when he's driven me wild with it, and my heart is crashing
in small, shattered pieces around me, along with pools of my seed --
I can lie in his arms and be restored again.
"I don't want a family, I should say to George. I don't need it. I have
"This is my good fortune, Quatre, I said last night to my lover. Not money,
not treasures. It's you!"
The autumn was fading gently into an early chill, and I had taken some
kind of an infection in my chest. I had been ordered to rest in bed, but
I'd dragged myself up from sheer boredom. And a desperate need to see
Quatre, as soon as he returned from the lawyers. I missed him; I lived
for him. Everything else was perfect. Business was good, Quatre was my
constant companion. I'd not replaced staff who left me, because I no longer
seemed to need them. Quatre would even cook and clean for me, though I
didn't see why he should. The bodyguards were an embarrassment, so I dismissed
them -- and, to be honest, I didn't leave the house very often.
Yes, my health was the only concern. I had lost more weight, and my breathing
was harsher than ever. I took the medication, I rested as much as I wanted,
for Quatre was running most things by now. But still I deteriorated, and
no-one seemed to know why. They all agreed that I was happier emotionally
than I'd ever been -- even George Nicholls could see this. But
my body was dying faster than anyone had ever thought likely.
"It's not the sex, is it?" Quatre would ask me, his face screwed up with
worry. "I -- we're not always gentle..."
What can I tell him? That sometimes he bruises me too easily, that sometimes
it takes me an hour or more to gather my breathing pattern again? I won't
tell him, because it's the only delight of my life, and because I know
he would be so upset. He has no idea what a toll it takes on me, or I
know he would stop it. Though it seems I only have to touch his hand sometimes,
or breath lightly beside his ear, and he's pulling me over to him, to
fondle him, to lay me back over the bed -- or a table or chair,
depending where we are! -- and he awakens every needful nerve in
The voices came through my sleepy consciousness. I must have drowsed off
after my afternoon tea. I feel like some kind of old man, on these days!
I wondered whether to call out, to ask who was there. I thought I could
hear Quatre's voice, but there was someone else, surely -? I raised myself
up with a bit of an effort, but I was determined to greet visitors to
my own house while I was able.
I wished I hadn't.
Even as I reached the door of the drawing room, I recognised the voice.
I slowed my step; I deliberately lowered my eyes as I stepped into the
hall. But it was because I already knew who I would see.
He was there, standing in my hall, leaning in towards Quatre, who had
obviously just returned from town.
He looked taller -- that was likely, of course, because he would
still be growing, in his teens -- and it had been almost nine months
since he left this house. Since the night he abused me; the night that
Quatre threw him out.
They had both stopped talking, the minute I appeared. Quatre looked as
if he'd move towards me, but Duo grabbed at his sleeve and held him there
"Hiya, Rich Boy," Duo drawled. "Lookin' like shit, I see! Life with my
friend here not doin' you any favours?"