Chapter 2

After that, Trowa saw much of Treize during his shift. Each night, when Treize came home far too late, he would invite the young soldier into his suite, offer him coffee, and chat about nothing before going to bed. Trowa tried his best to chat easily with the General, though he didn't try to force himself - that would have been noticed by Treize and cause for suspicion. He did try to become his friend, however.

Treize never came back drunk after that first time, again.

Unfortunately, though Trowa was beginning to settle into his new life, he couldn't relax. While Treize fixed coffee, or otherwise left the room, Trowa would find himself staring longingly at the dark and silent computer on his desk. :If I could just somehow catch him while he's logged in, I could access all of OZ's files.: But, as Treize always seemed to come back after Trowa started his shift, he didn't know if the opportunity would ever come.

By the end of the first week, things were beginning to become desperate. He was unable to contact the other pilots from the base for fear of being caught, and there was no way to know when he would be reassigned. If that happened, he didn't know how he would ever complete his mission.

That night, however, Trowa had a stroke of luck. When he relieved the day guard, the other soldier gave him a grin and a wink. "Be warned, he's in there already."

"In there?" Trowa asked, momentarily confused.

"Yeah, the General is in his room. He's been there alone all evening. He must be writing a report or something."

Trowa almost smiled. :Perfect!: he thought, excitement overriding the small kernel of fear that was slowly growing in the pit of his stomach. To the other soldier, he nodded gravely.

"Acknowledged."

The other soldier gave him a quizzical look, but Trowa simply saluted and stepped aside to let him pass. He shrugged and returned the salute, heading down the hallway in the direction of the barracks.

Trowa waited exactly one anxious hour, then knocked politely on Treize's door. A moment later, Treize opened it and looked questioningly at Trowa.

"Yes, Trowa? I'm sorry, I'm quite busy at the moment, but we can talk afterwards if you wish. I should be finished within an hour or two."

Trowa moved his head fractionally and saw the computer on Treize's desk, on, and emitting a blue glow. He glanced back at Treize. "I won't disturb you, Treize. I understand that you have work to do, but I'll just sit quietly."

Treize gave him a searching look, then smiled. "Very well, come on in, then."

Trowa had begun insisting on making the coffee a few days ago, so he went immediately into the kitchen and fixed them each a cup, to Treize's profuse thanks. Taking his own cup, he sat down on the couch and watched Treize carefully, trying to decide how best to proceed.

In actuality, he knew he was stalling. He had had this plan worked out in detail for days. Instead, he told himself he was waiting for an appropriate length of time so it wouldn't look as though he had planned all this.

He had to admit, Treize was an incredible sight. Even with the blue light of the computer monitor casting his face in a ghostly hue, the lines of his face and body were utterly perfect. He was tanned without being dark, muscular without being bulky.

Now, he was sitting at the computer, sipping his coffee, a look of intense concentration on his face. He put down his cup, typed a few words, then reached back to massage his shoulder absently.

Trowa saw his chance. He put down his own, practically untouched, cup, and crossed the room swiftly and silently.

When Treize first felt his long-fingered hands settle on his shoulders, he started in surprise. His mouth opened to say something, which dissolved into a heartfelt groan as Trowa began expertly unwinding a tight muscle in his shoulder.

"Trowa..." Treize said quietly. "What are you doing?"

"You looked as though you needed it, Treize," Trowa replied.

"I do, but, ohhhhhh," he said as another stubborn muscle in his back relaxed. "This is classified material, Trowa, you can't look at it."

:Oh, but Treize, I will look at it.: The information on the screen seemed to be schematics for a mobile suit, though the symbols were obscure and complex enough that Trowa realized he would need to study it closely to understand it. "I won't look, Treize."

"I'm sorry, but that's not good enough." Treize seemed to be having a great deal of trouble concentrating. Trowa redoubled his efforts.

"Are you sure you want me to stop?"

Treize sighed. "I'm afraid I'm sure I *don't* want you to stop, my boy."

Trowa flinched at the wording, then leaned down to Treize's ear. "Then why don't we go elsewhere so I can do this properly, and without compromising security?"

"That sounds like an enchanting plan, Trowa." He reached out to the computer and flipped a switch, plunging the monitor into darkness. For one heartstopping moment, Trowa thought he'd switched the computer off, but a little flashing light in the corner of the screen reassured him that the General had only turned off the monitor. He was still logged onto the network.

He followed Treize into the bedroom.

"Take off your shirt, sir," Trowa instructed. He felt himself relax finally. Now that the operation was about to commence, he was falling back into the old patterns easily. Though it frightened him *how* easily, he also rejoiced; it would make all this that much easier to pull off.

Treize gave him a sidelong glance as he complied. "Sir? I thought I told you to call me Treize."

Trowa felt his stomach clench. :No! I want to call you sir. You aren't a person! You're a master,: he thought in sudden panic. He forced himself to calm down. :If he wants me to call him Treize, then that's what I'll call him. It's just another order.:

"Gomen, Treize," he corrected.

Treize smiled and turned away to hang up his uniform jacket. "There's a bottle of massage oil in the drawer beside my bed. Will you get it for me, Trowa? I keep it for, uh, special occasions."

Now *that* was more like something Trowa could deal with. "Hai," he replied.

He opened the drawer and pulled out the massage oil. A part deep within him saw the pair of handcuffs and tube of lubrication and quaked. The rest of him noted them dispassionately and continued its analysis of the situation.

He poured out some of the oil on his hands and rubbed them together. He looked up, noted that Treize was lying face down on the bed, and nodded. "Are you ready, Treize?"

"Quite ready, Trowa," came Treize's amused response.

Trowa straddled the General, sitting on the swell of his buttocks, and began massaging his shoulders again. The oil smelled, predictably, of roses, with an undertone of vanilla and the scent filled the room pleasantly. Treize seemed to enjoy every minute of the ministrations and he sighed with obvious pleasure as each muscle relaxed under Trowa's fingers.

Finally, Treize levered himself onto his elbows and twisted slightly in an attempt to look back at Trowa. The pilot obediently climbed off of him, but not off the bed, and sat silently, his hands in his lap, as Treize sat up.

"Well, dear boy, what do you have next on your agenda?" he said, more than a hint of amusement in his voice.

Trowa was floored. Had he been that obvious? Concern rose within him. :Does he know? Can he know I'm a Gundam pilot?: "What do you mean, Treize?" he asked innocently, not knowing what else to do.

Treize reached out and gently pulled Trowa into his lap. The tall pilot sat sideways, leaning against one of Treize's arms while the other arm caressed the side of his face. "Is this what you want, Trowa?"

"I, uh," Trowa felt suddenly like he was playing a game where he'd forgotten the rules. "Yes, Treize, if that's what *you* want."

Treize nuzzled his neck. "It's a serious crime for a superior officer to fraternize with his soldiers. What if you're only doing this for advancement?"

Trowa pulled away slightly as though he were insulted. "You know I'm not, Treize," he said seriously.

Now Treize pulled away. He turned Trowa's head to look at him and regarded him gravely. "Trowa, there is nothing I would like better but to ravish your beautiful body, but I need to understand why *you* are doing this."

Trowa was stumped. He didn't know what to say. "I-I just want to, Treize. You're very attractive, and..." he thought for a moment. "And you're my friend." :And now for the killing blow.: Trowa reached up and caressed Treize's smooth cheek. "What better reason is there?"

Without giving Treize a chance to answer, he leaned in and kissed the General softly. He responded immediately, encircling Trowa in his arms and pushing his tongue insistently into his mouth. :Now that's more like it!: thought Trowa in triumph as he allowed Treize to lower him gently to the bed.

Treize seemed to like to do everything himself, so Trowa didn't lift a finger as the other man carefully undid the buttons of his uniform and divested him of the rest of his clothes. He lay unblushingly under Treize's frankly admiring gaze, glad that he was on his back so that his scars weren't visible. He'd have to find a way to get the light turned off soon, but for now it would be all right.

"You are absolutely breathtaking," said Treize.

"Thank you," Trowa said quietly. Treize kissed him gently and then moved down, nuzzling his neck and then moving on to worship his chest.

As Treize suckled gently at his nipples, Trowa found himself actually beginning to enjoy himself. He'd never slept with anyone so gentle, so willing to put his partner's pleasure before his own. His conditioning prodded him, telling him that this was wrong, that he should be giving Treize pleasure, not the other way around, but his mind acknowledged that Treize was obviously enjoying things the way they were.

Suddenly, Treize looked up. "Is something wrong, Trowa?"

Trowa frowned, utterly confused. "No... what do you mean?"

"Aren't you enjoying yourself?"

Now Trowa was even more confused. Hadn't he just been thinking that he *was* enjoying himself. "Of course I am. You're very good at that, Treize," he said.

Treize shook his head. "But you haven't made a sound."

"Oh," Trowa blinked. "I'm sorry. I'll be louder from now on."

"You don't have to do anything that's not natural to you, Trowa. I've just never met anyone as quiet as you, that's all. I thought perhaps I was doing something wrong."

Trowa hastened to reassure him. "No, Treize, it's all right. I was just trained to be quiet, that's all."

Treize's eyebrows lifted and Trowa belatedly realized he'd said too much. "Trained?"

Trowa summoned a small smirk. "I don't know what to call it. My last boyfriend hated it when I was loud..." he shrugged. "I was with him for a long time."

The General gave him a speculative look, then shook his head again. "Well, Trowa, please don't hesitate to tell me if you wish me to do anything different."

"I won't." :I wonder if he'd actually change what he was doing if I did.: Trowa thought curiously. :That would be different, but I'm starting to realize that Treize *is* different.: Still, he had no illusions. Some of the men who had used Trowa had wanted to feel as though Trowa wanted it too. It was all just a comfortable fantasy, however nice it might seem at the moment.

This time when Treize ran his tongue over the hardened nub of Trowa's nipple, the pilot let out a gasp as the jolt of pleasure ran through him. This seemed to please Treize, who redoubled his efforts. Trowa felt himself sinking into the sensations like a warm bath. It was easy to forget that this was his enemy and that he was only doing this to get information out of him. It felt... good.

But when Treize's hand wrapped around Trowa's member and began pumping slowly, Trowa's eyes flew open and he protested. "Sir! Treize, I mean! Don't you want, uh..." he foundered, unable to concentrate.

"No, Trowa, it's all right."

"But Treize, I... you..."

"What do you want, Trowa?" Treize asked gently.

"I want what you want," Trowa said automatically, then gave a heartfelt groan at the waves of pleasure crashing over him.

"I want *this*, Trowa. I want to give you pleasure, dear one."

Trowa shook his head, negating the words, not accepting them. "But, I have to..."

"Have to what?"

"I have to give *you* pleasure, Treize."

"You are."

Trowa shook his head again, violently.

Suddenly he felt the hand leave his shaft and Treize lay down beside him, pulling him into his arms. "Trowa," he said softly.

"Yes?"

He ran his hands gently down Trowa's back, sucking in his breath sharply as his fingers encountered the ridges of scar tissue there. He buried his head against Trowa's neck.

"Oh, dear one, you have been abused."

"Yes," Trowa acknowledged. "But it was a long time ago, Treize. You don't need to concern-"

"Then with what should I concern myself?" asked Treize sharply, pulling back to look at him. "Why should I not concern myself with the feelings of my friend and, now, my lover?"

Trowa stared at him, dumbfounded.

Treize looked back, sadly. "Do you think I don't care about you, Trowa?"

Trowa had no idea how to answer that, since he *had* been thinking just that. :What is he doing?: "No, Treize, I know you care about me..." he protested.

"Do you?" The General asked sharply.

Suddenly, it hit him. :He *does* care about me, or at least about the person he thinks is me. This isn't a game to him,: he realized with shock, and the realization told him how to deal with this. He buried his head in Treize's chest.

"Yes, Treize, I do," he said quietly. "I-I've just been conditioned not to be... normal. I really do want this, Treize." He pulled away, sitting up and putting his back to the General. "But you must be disgusted with me. I won't force you to deal with this." He began to stand up and, as he'd hoped, he found his movement arrested by the firm pressure of a hand on his arm.

"Don't be ridiculous, Trowa. I'm not disgusted with you." He pulled Trowa back into his arms. "I *am* disgusted with whoever did this to you, but I assure you, you are quite 'normal'."

Trowa tried to deal with all of this dispassionately. He had used the truth to explain his actions and it had worked, but much of what was going on was hitting too close to the mark. He could see Quatre's smiling image against his eyelids. :Quatre was supposed to be the one to say things like this,: he thought in despair. Trowa was still trying to regain control over his emotions when Treize kissed him lightly on the lips.

"I will not put you through this, Trowa. Perhaps one day, but you are obviously not ready. I do not wish to put you through more pain."

"No!" Trowa cried, feeling his mission slipping through his fingers again. He locked lips with the reluctant General, exploring him with his tongue and hands. When their lips parted again, Trowa continued more softly. "No, I *want* this, Treize. Please."

Treize regarded him for a long moment. "You are sure?"

"Yes," Trowa replied boldly.

|Prologue| |Part 1| |Part 2| |Part 3| |Part 4| |Part 5| |Epilogue|

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