Warnings: 13x6; NC-17; Yaoi
Disclaimer: Sadly, they are not mine.
Another long and heavy
day weighed upon the shoulders of General Khushrenada as he made his way
to his quarters. It was late, too late. The guard at his door was already
asleep. He pushed aside his envy, imagined the comfort of a hot bath,
wondered where his Second-in-Command would be sleeping this evening, and
swiped his clearance card. The door opened with a light whir.
The room beyond was pitch save for the thin light spilling in like so
much milky water, but he knew his way well and took three strides in,
one step right, a twenty-five degree turn , and with a graceful flick
of the wrist, the room was flooded in light.
Now, about that bath . . .
Treize turned to the bathroom and marched to his destination--ever the
General--but was stopped abruptly as he entered the room. It was there,
to his great surprise, that he found the bath already occupied. Not only
occupied, but filled to brimming with one very wet, very soapy, very,
very nude Zechs Merquise, who was presently exploiting the large tub to
it's fullest potential . . . and then some.
Zechs lolled his pretty head to the side where it rested on the rim, and
smiled a sleepy and welcoming grin through the steam, a smile that also
gave the General an idea as to why the water was stirring ever so slightly.
That guess was proven a moment later when his Second pushed his hips up
out of the water to show him that a hot bath was not all he had been preparing
Treize warmed and purred, "Zechs . . . is that any way to salute
Zechs dropped his hips slowly, sinking even lower into steaming water
until only his head and knees crested the surface. The water stirred quicker.
"You're dirty, General. A dirty man, no matter how bright the gleam
or great the--" Zechs paused there, closing his eyes and biting his
lip until the sensation passed and he continued a bit breathless, "
. . . the heft of his medals, does not deserve the respect of his soldiers,
and in particular those cleaner than himself."
Treize smiled at the throaty and wanton voice. The man sprawled in the
bath, water to his chin like a child tucked beneath warm blankets, was
affecting him in ways that made him forget how tired he was. Truly, his
uniform and everything beneath was impeccably well-kempt, but his mind
. . . oh how filthy a clean man can be.
"And how do you expect a dirty fellow, such as myself, to bathe when
I've had my bath so thoroughly commandeered?" Treize's pants were
becoming quite constricting, the evidence of which was probably quite
obvious, but he steeled himself and waited. It was a cat and mouse game
and he was never terribly fond of cheese.
The bath water finally stilled just before Zechs placed his hands on the
rim and hefted his long body up and out of the water. Outwardly, Treize
watched impassively. On the inside however, he marveled at the lean form
before him, the wet, white hair, the slick and glistening muscles that
were red from the heat and begging to be touched, the tall and thick and
surely aching proof of desire that jutted in Treize's direction, that
his fingers yearned to hold even as they itched to squeeze his own.
"By all means, General," Zechs was saying, "won't you join
Treize gave a crooked smile and paced slowly toward Zechs's wet figure,
"Such hospitality. . ." Steam drifted from the man's overheated
skin and warmed Treize's fingers where he placed a hand on his shoulder.
The flesh beneath was slippery slick and from this close Treize could
smell the faint scent of roses. His hand slid easily down Zechs's front
and encircled the slim waist, pulling Zechs close to him, feeling the
heat of him despite his coat, the wetness of him beneath his hands, the
hardness at his groin probing his own. He moved in close, his hand at
Zechs's back, his mouth at Zechs's cheek, but he did not kiss, not yet.
"A bit heavy on the bath oil weren't you?" Treize asked in a
hushed whisper at Zechs's ear. Indeed the body beneath his embrace was
slick with more than water.
"I hope so," was the slow reply as Zechs returned the embrace,
pressing himself into the taut front of Treize's uniform. The almost stifling
heat of the water, while it had so effectively roused his senses, had
indeed made him lethargic, and his head fell against Treize's shoulder
even as his eyes closed and he loosed a tenuous moan.
" . . .Treize . . ."
For the General, the sleepy and sensual sound was the mousy squeak he
had been waiting for and he gave into the urge to taste the water dripping
from the man's ear and skimming down his neck and throat. It was still
very warm and almost sweet from the abundance of rose oil, and beneath
that lingered the soft and delectable taste of flesh . . . of Zechs. He
kissed his way across a pale and arched throat, lifting Zechs's head from
his shoulder and holding it in place. Then up the noble chin, dipping
Zechs's head to finally taste the pink lips, the open mouth, slick teeth
and familiar tongue. The hand at Zechs's back strayed lower and pulled
the his hips suddenly forward.
Even with Treize's mouth firmly sealing his own, Zechs's moan filled the
room and echoed back at him from the gleaming tile walls.
Treize, for all his quiet control, was losing his mind on the inside.
The day, to this point, had been so trying and heavy, like a thick syrup
he trudged through, feet laden with stones. But now, the warm and willing
man in his arms had undone most of the day's efforts to squash him into
the black and stagnant mire. Just seeing him there had lightened him significantly.
Smelling and touching and tasting, that would surely be the panacea for
his weary spirit . . . catnip for a most deserving and eager kitty. When
had this happened? When had Zechs become such a salve for his wounds,
a soothing sight for eyes that "sore" could not begin to describe?
Their kisses became feverish, Treize all but devouring the other man,
hot, damp skin beneath his fingers, on his lips. He began to forget himself
and groaned when Zechs's hands (which had been busy at the General's coat
buttons) found their way past the barrier that was his uniform and warm
palms slid across his breast, his nipples, strong fingers with neatly
manicured nails running soft down his back and then pressing into his
stomach, ebbing at his pants line.
Zechs's breath came came quick and heavy, punctuated by little gasps and
tremors, and it became all of Treize's focus--that heat on his neck in
his mouth, the sound in his ear and at his cheek--except the hand that
had finally burrowed it's way past the trappings and clasps of his uniform
and caught Treize in the most commanding and urgent of grips.
That was the straw that broke the cat's back.
Suddenly, Zechs was both tumbling backward and caught at the same moment,
held close and pushed down, and when he found himself once again sitting
in the chest-deep and still-hot water of the massive bath, he also found
Treize there with him, forgotten clothes and all.
Treize leaned Zechs back against the expansive rim of the tub, kissing
that beautifully surprised face and thrusting into the knowing fingers
that still held him firmly. Churning water spilled out of the bath, splashing
dully onto the carpet, and soaked into his coat, making him feel heavy
again. This was madness, he knew, a show of abandon and unrestraint, but
that's precisely the way Zechs made him and he felt it dishonest to deceive
the other man any longer.
Zechs was smiling uncharacteristically wide as he worked his hands inside
Treize's now-wet trousers, a chesire's grin that made him seem wicked.
"You might have at least removed your boots . . ."
Treize heard the wry comment, saw the grin spread wide on his lover's
face, and somewhere in his mind he angered at being needled by that tone.
After all, he still had his pride. But so much more of him was focused
on the body beneath him, the hand gliding easily around his heat, and
the lips and throat he so loved to taste. This was not the time for anger.
Zechs was shifting under him, his less occupied hand adjusting the General's
pants with some unknown intention. A second later and he learned it. Zechs
had managed to push his trousers down enough, lift his own hips enough,
and now . . . now. . . ohhh what heaven!
"Milliard . . ." Treize managed as he thrust even more fiercely
into that recess, where he now slid snugly alongside Zechs's own heated
silk. God but this man was incredible, always knowing just how and where
to touch . . . even if it went deeper than mere flesh, and the moment
when he'd said that name, that forbidden identity, the body beneath his
The water skimming between their bodies, splashing up into their mouth
from time to time, was still rich with oil and the slick stuff made friction
easy and smooth. Treize reached his own hand between them to aid in their
release, and finding Zechs's own, interlaced their fingers, suddenly realizing
that it was the first time they had ever held hands.
"Treize . . ." Zechs panted between kisses and attempted to
catch the other's gaze, "look at me . . ."
The General reluctantly pulled his mouth away from a soft, sweet throat
and looked into his lover's eyes, eyes so deep with lust and . . . what
was that other thing there? He couldn't place it. But it wasn't long before
he was swimming, diving into waters deeper, hotter and more brilliantly
blue than the liquid they moved in now. He felt himself warming beyond
the temperature of the water, beyond the heat of climax. He could tell
that Zechs was close to release and something caught in his chest even
as it burst in his groin, and he pulled Zechs into a sudden and tight
"Treize!" Zechs shouted as he stiffened under Treize's hold
and Treize did the same, groaning that taboo name once again. Their hands
were moving now of their own volition, milking the last of the fire from
each of their bodies. Somehow, in the midst of the frenzy Treize had remembered
to keep his eyes open. It had not been easy but the view had been splendor
itself, delightfully spectacular and far worth the effort.
Long moments passed until Zechs finally went a little lax in Treize's
embrace, and the General lowered him back down to lay against the rim
of the bath.
Treize watched him in quiet awe, the pretty mouth that hung slightly open
as Zechs breathed, the hair that clung to everything it touched, pink
cheeks, red lips and white porcelain alike. He knelt over the other man,
realizing that the water was cooling, that he was itching to get out of
the damp and heavy uniform, and still felt that ache in his chest that
had come with his climax. The blue eyes beneath him opened slowly and
"Treize . . . are you well?"
Treize thought for a moment and then scavenged in the waters around him,
searching for the other man's hand. Having found it, much to Zechs's confusion,
he moved aside the damp cloth of his coat and shirt, and placed the palm
to his left breast.
"Does it feel . . . odd to you?"
"My heart." He was watching the man in front of him intently,
as if that beguiling face suddenly held the answers to all the mysteries
of all the worlds, as if it's owner had just slapped him into wakefulness--unblinking,
unguarded, and not unlike a child.
The muscles beneath Zechs's hand did indeed thrum with the steady beat
of the General's heart, but no more or less than normal for their recent
"It doesn't seem abnormal," Zechs commented, worry slowly creeping
into his features. He sat up and Treize's gaze lost him, eyes still fixed
where Zechs had just lain, as if staring through him now. "Does it
hurt, Treize? Should I phone the paramedics?"
Treize was thinking again--damn that habit of his--and wondering if perhaps
they should call for an ambulance. But no, he was young . . . healthy.
Even with the stress of war and the responsibilities that dogged him daily
he should not be having heart trouble at such a young age. No. In fact
. . . he took a deep breath, testing the waters of his own body. . . yes,
he was fine. There. It had passed.
"No," Treize said finally, eyes snapping back to Zechs's worried
face as if they had never left, "I'm fine . . . just . . . just tired,
Zechs's concern did not dissipate so easily, it seemed. He found Treize's
wrist, his pulse, and studied the rhythm until he was satisfied that it
was similar to his own. "You're certain?"
"Yes," Treize smiled gently and pulled his hand away, "now
let me be so I can undress properly."
Zechs breathed deeply as he let the General go and watched him stand and
strip. The coat, made an even darker shade of blue from the water, was
the first to go, landing in a wet clump next to the bath, the medals and
decorations clinking against one another. The carpet was surely already
ruined from the excess of water that had spilled from the tub, a few wet
clothes would make matters no worse.
A white shirt was next and Treize stood topless before Zechs, gentle wisps
of cinnamon curls sprinkling his chest lightly, running in a line down
his abdomen to congregate in the damp patch about his now idle sex. Only
the sodden white pants remained (which hid nothing as they were still
open at the zipper and clung diligently to every curve elsewhere), and
the tall, black boots to his knees that shimmered prettily in more than
a foot of water. They, like the carpet, were ruined.
He sat on the rim opposite of Zechs, careful not to impale himself on
the faucet and lifted one leg in the other man's direction.
"A little assistance, perhaps?"
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