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"Witness Protection"Written By: Snowdragonct Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing
or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved. Rating: R Warnings: Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots),
some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he
has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded
to the “pure, chaste” version of Duo, he might be a bit
dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters
in here…hey, Quat’s a lawyer…how much lower could he
get? Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2) A/N: I’ll apologize in advance that Zechs is, well, deceased right from the start. I like him a lot, and there’ll be mention of him…but mostly in the form of discussing/investigating his murder. Sorry. Summary: When Zechs Merquise is found murdered, detectives Heero Yuy and Wufei Chang are tasked with the unenviable chore of keeping the only witness to the crime alive long enough to testify against the leader of the Oz syndicate, Treize Khushrenada. A/N: Sorry the lemon isn’t too detailed...but
honestly, from Heero’s POV it’s a bit tricky. He’s
not that much of a voyeur. At least Trowa and Quatre have their moment
in the hot tub! "Witness Protection"
I woke to the smell of something delicious cooking, and sat up in bed, glancing at the clock and realizing it was early evening. For a moment, it felt like I was at a resort or vacation spot, lounging on the most luxurious bed I’d ever slept in (at least since the last Winner house) and listening to the faint strains of music drifting up the stairs. It really was a peaceful place; way too peaceful for our mission. I couldn’t afford to get lulled into a false sense of security. And as I got up and dressed, I tried to think of a way to impress upon the three men relaxing on the deck just how vulnerable we could be. Maybe if we discussed the case over dinner it would bring up old fears and remind everyone what we were doing out here in the middle of nowhere. We were definitely not on vacation. I pattered down the stairs, sniffing the air and trying not to drool. “Chang?” “At the laptop, Yuy. Just finished a complete survey of each and every camera angle.” “Except that one,” I teased. He turned as I walked up beside his chair. “Actually, I even checked the deck.” “And—?” “They’ve got enough clothes on for decency’s sake. I think they’re making dinner.” “God, is that what I smell?” I asked, glancing out the sliding doors to the deck. Sure enough, Maxwell was at the grill, while Barton and Winner lounged at the table. It looked like Trowa had been drafted to chop up some sort of vegetables, and Quatre was wrapping something in aluminum foil. “Any idea what we’re having?” I asked my partner, leaning past him to adjust the settings on one of the monitors. I don’t know if it was just my imagination, but it seemed like he shied away slightly. “I heard something about salmon, corn, and a rice and vegetable mix,” he replied, his gaze firmly fixed on the screen. “Perhaps I should go walk the grounds until it’s ready.” “If you like,” I shrugged, giving him the distance he seemed to crave. “I’ll take charge in here.” He got up and stretched, shaking out the stiffness from sitting. “When will we contact Po?” “I already e-mailed her that we’re secure,” I replied, settling into the seat he’d vacated. “I plan to ask Winner to fill us in on what he knows of the investigation over dinner. Then if there’s a need to contact the Captain, we’ll do it afterwards.” With a nod of acknowledgement, he headed off for his walk, while I started a quick diagnostic check on the security program running, and then headed for the kitchen to get something to drink. As I took a cold bottle of water from the refrigerator, I noticed a pan simmering on the stove, and edged over to see if that was responsible for the delicious smell that filled the room. I’d no sooner opened the lid than Duo came breezing into the kitchen, carrying an empty tray. “Uh-uh, Yuy,” he scolded, slipping up beside me and slamming the lid back down. “You wait!” I turned to face him, tempted to use his pouting tactic right back at him. But I had a little pride left. “How soon is supper? I’m starving.” “Fish is on the grill, along with the corn, and once I add the veggies to this rice, it’ll be about ten or fifteen minutes.” “Anything to snack on in the meantime?” I was thinking of the cheese and crackers they’d been sampling earlier. He was right next to me at the stove, and turned to look me full in the face. “That could be arranged.” Oh fuck. I knew exactly what he had in mind, and the temptation was nearly overwhelming. “You said before I smelled good enough to eat,” he reminded me in a husky undertone. Yes, you are. “I’d have to have a taste to be sure,” I answered ambiguously, slipping into the flirtation he made so damned easy. He edged a little closer. “How much of a taste?” Holding back a groan, I let my eyes drift to the parted lips and hazy, half-lidded eyes. “All of it,” I sighed, closing my eyes and turning my face aside. “Jesus, Maxwell, I can’t—.” “Yeah, I know,” he sighed in return. “You made that plenty clear.” “So why don’t you just—stop?” “Maybe I can’t.” He reached up to catch my chin and turn my face back towards him, his lips brushing mine. “Maybe I never found anything I wanted so badly before—that I’d do anything—.” The sound of a clearing throat made me jerk sharply away from him, and turn to find Barton leaning in the doorway, holding a bowl and smirking. “If you’re done molesting the hired help, Duo, Quat wants to know if it’s time to turn over the salmon.” I swallowed hard and moved towards the table, while Duo gave a frustrated little huff and grabbed the bowl out of Trowa’s hands. “I’ll be right out,” he growled, dumping the chopped vegetables into the pot on the stove and stirring it in. Then he slapped the lid back on and sighed gustily before brushing past Barton and heading for the deck. The exotic dancer eyed me appraisingly. “Don’t start,” I warned. He gave a shrug. “Farthest thing from my mind.” “I’m not going to encourage him.” “You don’t have to.” A faint smile twitched the corner of his mouth. “But remember, I warned you what I’d do if anything happened to him. And I wasn’t just talking about the Khushrenada thing.” I waved him away, not particularly concerned with his threats. “If you’re so fuckin’ concerned, Barton, go do what I let Winner bring you here for.” “What’s that?” God, did I have to spell it out for him? “Be the friend and fuck-buddy he needs, why don’t you?” I growled, glaring over at the auburn-haired man. “I didn’t come here to fuck him, Yuy. I came because he was lonely.” “Isn’t it the same thing to him?” Trowa just shook his head. “God, Maxwell knows how to pick ‘em,” he sighed under his breath, turning away. “Y’know what, Yuy? I was really trying to see what he saw in you—but I don’t.” He waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder. “I mean, sure, you’re hot—everything he looks for in a guy. But how he finds anything in your personality redeeming is beyond me.” “Since when did he see anything in me at all, besides someone he wanted a quick fuck from?” “I completely see why he called Hilde now,” said Trowa. “You are lousy fuckin’ company, Yuy. And your partner’s no better.” He fixed a stern look on me. “I may have to stick around just so Duo has someone who gives a shit about him…not about a court case, or his potential as a witness…and not about getting a conviction against Khushrenada at all costs.” “I won’t get a conviction without Duo.” “You say all you are to him is a ‘quick fuck.’ Well what about you? You took what you wanted, and still all he is to you is a potential witness!” He glared at me with those intense green eyes of his. “Or so you say.” “That’s right, Barton,” I lied, glaring right back. I’d slipped up that morning and used a word I had no business saying, even in passing. I didn’t want to love Duo, and I couldn’t afford to get attached, and I sure as hell didn’t need Barton knowing if I did and if I was. “He’s my ticket to any promotion I want. If I keep Maxwell alive and get him to the trial, and we put Khushrenada away, my career will be made!” At that moment, Maxwell walked back in, the glitter deep in the indigo eyes telling me he’d heard every word I’d just uttered. “Hey, Tro’. Gimme a hand with the dishes, will ya?” Fuck! The tightness of his voice was a tangible thing. Without even saying a word to me, he’d conveyed how very pissed he was. “Sure,” Barton replied, shifting uncomfortably. He shot an almost apologetic look my way, and I wondered what the hell he was sorry for. As he passed me, I caught his arm, leaning in close. “I’m here to keep him breathing, Barton—you’re the one who’s here to keep him breathing hard.” He narrowed his eyes. “Fuck off, cop.” Jerking his arm free, he went over to the cabinet to help his friend, and I couldn’t fail to notice the way his hand dropped to Maxwell’s ass as he eased up beside him. Good. Let him do what he was there for. And jealousy be damned. I had no right to be jealous anyway. I mean—it was just lust, right—what happened between Duo and me? At least to him. And frankly, I had a feeling that as annoyed as he was with me, if I asked him for a repeat performance of the wild sex we’d had on the safe house floor, he’d still be only too happy to do it. With anyone. I stalked out into the living room and threw myself on the couch, hard. There was some program on the television where a crew of mechanics was making over a piece of shit car, and I found myself flicking through channels without even seeing what was on them. I didn’t look up as the two men passed through carrying plates and cups, and talking about Winner again, and how Trowa could, to quote Duo, “snag himself a fine piece of that ass,” or his. Why did Barton try to claim Maxwell was anything but promiscuous? That morning, he’d asked me if I thought Duo threw himself at just any guy that came along. Well, hadn’t he? He’d been hitting on me since I shoved him in the back of the squad car. He’d commented more than once on Winner’s hotness. Hell, he’d even tried flirting with Wufei a time or two—until violence was threatened. Even if there were feelings involved on my part, and yeah, I know I’d pretty well admitted that much to myself by now, in spite of trying to cover it up for Barton—how could I ever be sure of his? And did I even want him to have feelings towards me beyond the obvious lust? We both knew he wouldn’t be staying after the trial, assuming we got that far. If I let myself get sucked in any deeper, it was going to tear me to pieces when he disappeared forever. Honestly, if he was angling for something more than lust between us, it was pretty cruel of him. If he wasn’t, then I was right and had been all along; he was a shameless exhibitionist and a compulsive slut. The internal conflict was nearly killing me, as I wrestled with my thoughts, trying to get them lined up in some kind of order—so I could shoot them. I kept seeing gestures between Barton and Maxwell that indicated a relationship consisting of more than animal magnetism, though there was plenty of that, too. And once again I felt that rush of jealousy at the casual intimacy between the braided man and his former lover. Hell—what was the point in saying “former?” With Merquise out of the picture, there was no reason Barton wouldn’t get his “benefits” back—probably that night. I’d practically dared him to pick up where they left off. I’d made sure he knew that’s what I wanted. He could fuck Maxwell senseless, keep him sated and calm until the trial, and then send him off to seduce the next hapless fool he came across. Knowing his track record, that’d probably be his relocation contact person. Damn it! I didn’t want to be bothered by Maxwell’s promiscuity. I didn’t want it to matter. But it did. Oh God, it did. I hadn’t been lying when I told Duo that I had to feel something beyond lust for my lovers. And while our frolic on the safe house floor had been triggered by adrenaline and testosterone, it still meant more to me than I wanted to admit. And I found myself wishing I knew what it meant to him.
“Supper’s ready,” Winner said, leaning in the doorway to the deck. I dropped the controller on the couch and stood. “I’ll get Chang; he went out to walk the perimeter.” He gave a curt nod. “We’ll be on the deck. Dinner’s at the umbrella table. We can watch the sunset over the lake.” I shook my head. “And you called Maxwell a sentimental sap?” It took only a moment to call my partner in, and then we joined our three companions at the table. They’d set five places and pulled up chairs—and the fresh rice and vegetables were steaming in a bowl next to a platter of grilled, unshucked corn. “You’ll have to peel your own corn,” Maxwell announced, turning from the grill with a serving dish piled with salmon fillets. “But it’s worth it—leaving it in the husk holds in the flavor.” Chang looked a bit uneasy, choosing a seat between Winner and me, and I almost gave in to the impulse to smirk. He had doubts about my sexual orientation, I was sure, and sitting smack in the middle of a table of gays just had to make his skin crawl. Frankly, if it did, it was no more than he deserved. I’d never been put off by heterosexual company—there was no reason for him to be so squeamish around gays. Yeah, he’d been traumatized by one—having his girlfriend stolen that way—but it was no excuse now. Enough time had passed, and he’d met enough reputable homosexual men that he should have overcome his exaggerated prejudice long since. How about a little immersion therapy, eh Chang? We passed around the food, helping ourselves, and within minutes were digging in to the most delicious meal I think I’d ever had. “Oh—,” Winner moaned, closing his eyes and savoring the first bite he’d taken. “Duo, this is magnificent.” Maxwell hadn’t taken the empty seat next to me. Instead he’d carried his plate to the chaise lounge next to the grill, and settled in comfortably, stretching his long legs out on the cushions. “Aw, thanks Quat. It’s pretty easy to make, really.” “Don’t sell yourself short,” Trowa urged. “You did great, Shini.” He knew how that nickname bothered me, and flicked a mocking green gaze my way. “You can pay me back later,” Duo crooned, giving his friend a steamy look and a warm smile. Barton glanced from me to Winner and back to Duo. “You’re on,” he said carelessly. “Y’mean on top?” came the sly response. Wufei choked on a bite of rice, and I occupied my hands by pounding on his back until he recovered. “That was uncalled for,” I said in a low, angry voice, glaring over at Maxwell, who was grinning unrepentantly. “Not my fault the big, tough detective missed sex ed, Yuy. I can say what I want,” Duo shot back. Yeah, he was still royally pissed at what I’d said to Barton—at me in general. And I had a feeling he’d take it out on anyone who got in his way just then. Quatre was frowning, looking warily around the table, and over at Maxwell. “Um, maybe certain subjects aren’t really meant for the supper table, Duo,” he said carefully, a faint blush on his fair skin. Maxwell rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re a fuckin’ virgin too, counselor,” he chided. “I am not a—,” Wufei blurted, before catching himself and snapping his mouth shut. Duo gave him a sly look. “You dog, Wufei! Who was she?” “None of your goddamned business!” “Ah. So there was someone.” “Let it go!” I snapped, giving Maxwell a look that made most men cringe. He met it steadily, opening his mouth for a snide comment, and then pausing, apparently catching on to the fact that I knew something he didn’t about Chang’s history. And in a move that reminded me of the time in the car he’d instinctively known not to touch Wufei’s bicep, he backed off. “Jus’ curious, Yuy,” he muttered, holding out his wine glass for Trowa to refill it. “Fuck. A guy can’t even make conversation any more.” “Wait’ll the detectives get back to work,” Barton said soothingly, topping off the glass and giving his lover a warm smirk. “You, me an’ the counselor can find plenty to talk about.” Maxwell subsided into a rather sulky silence, accepting a reassuring smile from Winner in addition to Barton’s. “Perhaps now would be a good time to tell you the latest from Captain Po?” Winner said tentatively. “Yes!” Wufei and I exclaimed nearly in unison. Quatre looked relieved. “First off, the case against Khushrenada is shaping up pretty well. They were able to recover a shoe print from the bloody rug, and it belonged to a very exclusive style of custom made Italian shoes…very expensive…and the maker has a record of selling a pair to Khushrenada last year.” Duo perked up appreciably. “So all they’ve gotta do is search his place and find a shoe with Zechs’ blood on it.” “Yes—except they already tried, and didn’t find the shoes.” “He got rid of them,” Wufei guessed. “It makes sense.” “Only if he knew about the shoe print,” Quatre disagreed. “They were five thousand dollar shoes.” Duo’s jaw dropped. “Five grand?! Who the fuck pays five grand for shoes?” “Treize Khushrenada,” I said tightly. “But—five grand?” Duo persisted. “Jesus. The orphanage could run for months on that kind of money. And Treize is wearin’ it on his feet?” He looked so horrified at the concept that I felt a stab of pity, forgetting how annoying he’d been only moments earlier. “More to the point,” Quatre cut in. “He threw them away. At least that’s all the investigators could conclude, since they weren’t in his house, car, yacht, or limo…” “We get the picture,” I interrupted, still fascinated by the sick look on Duo’s face. “How would he know they’d found and identified a shoe print?” Barton asked, bringing up a question to which I was afraid I already knew the answer. “Someone in forensics or on the investigative team must have leaked it,” Wufei said, looking every bit as sick as Maxwell. “Fucking cops!” Duo spat, shoving himself to his feet. I’d known he was looking for an outlet for his anger, and I was sorry Chang gave it to him. Barton caught his wrist. “Shhh—relax, Shini. You already knew you couldn’t trust cops.” He gave me a sharp look and a chilling smile as he said that. Chang’s hackles rose at once. “Just because there’s a bad seed in the department—.” “Bad seed?” Barton shot back, meeting him glare for glare. “Try bad roots, stems and leaves!” “We are not getting into this!” I snarled, still irked at the way Barton was provoking the situation. “If you don’t trust us, Barton, feel free to leave.” “If I don’t trust you, it’s all the more reason to stay!” “Chang and I have kept Maxwell alive just fine without your help!” “Well whoopti-fuckin’-do, Yuy! What about tomorrow? Or next week? What about the next time someone in your department leaks your whereabouts? Are you gonna be able to protect him then?” “You and Winner are the only ones who know our whereabouts!” I assured him. “Are you planning to leak the information?” “Fuck no!” he exploded. “And how dare you even ask?” “Tro’—easy!” Duo said, turning to face his ex-lover and grab him by both hands. “It’s okay! God, I can’t believe you guys are bickering about who’s gonna fuck me over! I know you won’t, love. And neither will Yuy or Chang.” He spared a wary glance at my partner. “Yeah—even Chang wouldn’t sell me out. He’s got too much of a sense of honor—responsibility. And he hates Khushrenada even more than he hates me.” The indigo eyes flickered over me briefly. “Yuy just hates to lose. He’ll keep me alive for braggin’ rights, if nothing else.” Why was I surprised at the conviction in his words—especially after I was the one who put that idea into his head? “Gentlemen—,” Quatre cut into the tension with a calm, diplomatic tone. “I think we all can at least agree that Duo’s survival is our main concern at the moment. Correct?” Chang, Barton and I all nodded. “Then please, let’s just finish going over the case and enjoy our supper.” Barton reluctantly took his seat, looking down in surprise as Winner put a hand over his in a soothing gesture. Meanwhile, Maxwell settled back into the chaise lounge, keeping his attention firmly affixed on his meal, as Quatre filled us in on the preliminary hearing results. There wasn’t really much to tell. Treize’s team of attorneys had pushed for the surveillance vids from the penthouse building, and when told the tapes were useless, they tried to claim the police purposely destroyed them since they would have confirmed that Khushrenada never went near the place. The District Attorney countered with the fact that there was an eyewitness, a bloody shoe print, and a business association that would net Khushrenada millions of dollars from the shared enterprises he stood to inherit. Ah, motive! While it could be argued that Merquise’s perceived betrayal wasn’t reason enough for Khushrenada to kill him, one certainly couldn’t overlook financial gains. That was something a jury understood. Winner also mentioned that the police had been unable to locate either Trant or Otto, the two accomplices Duo had named besides Une. She, of course, was out on bail along with Treize himself—both backing each other’s story to the hilt. “So, it’s gonna be my word against theirs?” Duo asked, picking at his rice and looking a bit discouraged. “More or less,” admitted his attorney. “That’s why you’ll need to try to project a positive image on the witness stand,” Chang spoke up sternly. “You won’t be able to swear, or make suggestive remarks, or act like anything less than a reputable gentleman.” He caught himself sharply, slapping a hand over his face. “We are so fucked.” “No we are not,” Winner disagreed. “For heaven’s sake, Chang, give Duo some credit. He volunteers at an orphanage. He’s gainfully employed. He no longer has any gang associations; nor does he use drugs. And his last arrest for anything serious was over a year ago.” “Uh huh,” drawled my partner, giving Maxwell a scolding look. “Would you care to take a drug test right now, Maxwell? Marijuana can show up for weeks after you’ve smoked it, depending on the frequency and quantity.” Duo looked studiously at his plate, blushing a little. “Um, Quat—Yuy and Chang kind of confiscated my stash of pot back when we were on the road.” He looked up through his bangs. “It was just an ounce or two—purely recreational.” “Well, fortunately, they won’t be called to testify regarding your road trip,” smirked the lawyer. “If they are on the stand at all, it will be to discuss the evidence in the case and tell the jury about the attempts on your life.” His aquamarine eyes narrowed slightly. “However, don’t even think about procuring more marijuana. You will need to pass a drug screening, if the DA demands one.” Maxwell sighed, glancing over at Barton. “Guess that kills our plans for a ‘soak and a smoke.’” He grinned wickedly at Winner. “We were gonna hang out in the hot tub after dinner and maybe split a joint—try to mellow out a little.” Winner sighed deeply, glaring at Barton. “Get rid of it.” He looked at Chang and me. “Forget you heard about it.” “Forgotten,” I assured him. “Especially considering it would be in Barton’s possession rather than Maxwell’s.” My partner hesitated and then shrugged helplessly. “I suppose in the interest of convicting Khushrenada, I can forget hearing a passing admission—as long as the substance in question disappears permanently.” “I’ll toss it in the lake right after dinner,” Trowa offered with an apologetic smile at his ex-lover. “Feed it to the fishes.” Maxwell perked up appreciably, and looked over at me, a touch of defiance in his eyes. “It’s okay if I take a walk down to the dock with him, right? You got all your fancy camera shit put in place.” “Yes, you can go that far,” I relented, vague worry gnawing at the edges of my mind. “But just for a little while. It’s seriously not good for you to be out in the open any more than necessary. This deck is barely acceptable.” “This deck is keeping me sane,” he shot back with a scowl. “Remember what happened the last time I got cabin fever!” I didn’t know if he was talking about sneaking off to go clubbing, getting into a fistfight with me and stealing my gun, or coercing me into sex. All right—I had to admit, there was very little coercion involved. It was more like persuasion—with a gun. “There will be no repeat of last time,” Chang said firmly. “No sneaking out, and definitely no clubbing. You’ll have to find another way to alleviate your stress.” His dark gaze shifted between Barton and Maxwell, and a look of distaste crossed his features. Maxwell’s gaze slid towards me and his pretty eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry, Wu-bear. I’m an expert at stress relief. Just ask anyone I’ve ever fucked.” Chang looked expectantly at Barton, and I swallowed a curse. “Are we about finished discussing the case, Winner? It’s Chang’s turn to sleep for a few hours, and I’m going to be on watch.” “I think I’ve covered as much as Captain Po was able to share with me,” Quatre replied. “I suspect there’s additional forensic evidence, or the judge wouldn’t have agreed to proceed to trial. But since I’m only Duo’s lawyer, and not part of the defense or prosecution in this case, I’m not privy to all the information.” I’d finished my food by that time, and even helped myself to a second serving, amid the bickering and discussion. I was ready to step outside and do a quick night patrol, wanting a chance to clear my head with a walk in the fresh, cooling air. But first—. “The meal was great, Duo. Wufei and I will take care of the dishes.” I stood up and began gathering empty plates, realizing after a moment that Maxwell was staring at me. “What?” “You—never called me by my first name before,” he said with a frown. “Not even—.” He caught himself, turning away and shrugging nonchalantly. “Glad you liked it.” It took only moments for my partner and I to clean up the supper dishes, while Winner, Barton and Maxwell disposed of the empty wine bottles and gathered towels for their foray into the hot tub. I had a feeling clothing would become optional shortly. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that Maxwell didn’t even try to tease me about joining them. Right. As if using his first name once was going to win me any brownie points. Maybe with Barton, it would—but I had a feeling Duo wasn’t going to get over my earlier comments any time soon. I mulled that over as I walked the area around the cottage, trying to ignore the laughter that floated up the hill from the lake as Maxwell and Barton traipsed down to the dock to get rid of the exotic dancer’s contraband. It sounded like they made an amusing project of it, and once again I envied their comfortable friendship. Why was it so hard for me to breach Maxwell’s defenses? We’d had a few non-confrontational talks—and yet I still couldn’t relax around him. And it was for damn sure he didn’t relax around me. The task of securing our borders kept me occupied enough that I eventually pushed my issues with Maxwell to the back of my mind. And, in fact, by the time I’d spent a couple of hours traipsing through the dark woods, I was fairly relaxed—ready to settle in at the laptop and simply keep watch through the night. Yeah, no one was going to harm Maxwell on my watch.
When I got back to the house, I decided to slip in through the basement, figuring I could check that entryway for security and accessibility. I didn’t count on anyone else still being out and about. I was leaning on the corner of the house, letting my eyes casually sweep the shadows under the deck for the slightest disturbance, when I heard a laugh and then a splash. So Maxwell had finally lured Barton to the hot tub. Fuck it anyway—none of my business! But God, it hurt, wondering what they might be up there doing. All I needed was to hear Duo’s husky voice moan in ecstasy; talk about rubbing salt in an open wound! Not wanting to be a voyeur, especially of whatever Maxwell and his lover might be up to, I turned to go around the front of the house to let myself back in. Then I heard Winner’s voice, and paused. “You really didn’t know anything about it before you two met?” he was saying. “Nope,” Duo replied. “Tro’ taught me everything.” “Wasn’t hard,” came Barton’s quiet baritone. “You had the balance and agility for it. Just needed a little work on rhythm.” Yeah, Duo had rhythm all right… “The toughest part was getting over the inhibitions,” Duo added. “First time I tried, I was so fuckin’ embarrassed I couldn’t go through with it. Lucky it was just me an’ Trowa practicing backstage.” “So how did you work up the nerve to do it?” “First, Tro’ had me watch him at work for a night.” Duo chuckled warmly. “I had to slip into the bathroom three times to jerk off. God, he was hot!” “Duo!” came Barton’s embarrassed protest. “Just tellin’ it like it is,” Maxwell said nonchalantly. “Right Quat? Isn’t he drool-worthy?” “Yes—very,” came a prompt, fervent reply. “Almost as drool-worthy as you are,” crooned Duo. What the fuck? Was he hitting on Winner or setting him up with Barton? It was getting hard to tell. “Oh—th-thanks,” came the stuttering response. “Don’t be shy, Blue Eyes,” Duo purred. “You are one fine-looking legal eagle. If you ever wanted a night job at The Jungle, I’d be happy to teach you the ropes.” I could just imagine what kind of “ropes” he was talking about—probably the literal kind. “Um, no Duo. I don’t think the Bar Association would be pleased with my taking that kind of job on the side,” chuckled Winner, regaining some of his composure. “Uptight twits.” “Yes, but with the power to disbar me.” “Anyhow, the way Tro’ got me past my shyness…” Duo paused for a wry chuckle. “He let me just strip for him at first…put on some soft music and talked me through it. After that, it was easy.” “Not exactly,” chided Barton. “You did chicken out the first time on stage.” “Yeah, well—if I hadn’t recognized someone in the audience—.” All three of them laughed, and I tried to tear myself away; their conversation was none of my business. And yet, I couldn’t help picturing a body-shy Duo Maxwell, unable to make himself strut around naked on a stage—and it was kind of—endearing. Of course when I glanced back as I quietly padded up the lawn, and saw Duo nestled up against Trowa, his braid carefully laid over the taller man’s shoulder and out of the hot tub so it wouldn’t get soaked, that warm feeling immediately dissipated. Quatre was on Trowa’s other side, though not nearly as close as Duo—and from the scattering of clothes across the deck, it wasn’t hard to deduce that all three were naked. Okay—so maybe I’d misjudged the lawyer. He obviously wasn’t as shy or straight-laced as I’d thought. But Barton had talked about a serious relationship with him—I was surprised he’d want to start it with a ménage a trois. When the laughter subsided, Quatre started saying something about how sweet Trowa had been to help Duo into the job at The Jungle—about what a good friend he was. “And—.” Here his gaze flickered between the two. “No matter what—I never want to come between you.” Duo’s laugh was throaty and low. “Aw, baby,” he crooned. “You between us? That could be so hot! Fuck—you could do me while Tro’ does you…” He moved around Barton so that he was apparently straddling Quatre’s lap, running slim fingers back through the soft blonde hair. I don’t know if Winner blushed, but I know I did. And I was reacting in other ways I just didn’t even want to think of. “Shini, you’re making him blush,” chided Barton, his voice just as seductively low. “I could make him do a lot more than that,” came the teasing reply. “Couldn’t I, Quat?” “Fuck yes,” came a breathless reply. Jesus fucking Christ—he was hitting on Winner. And he was making progress, too. I couldn’t listen any more—I turned sharply and stalked towards the corner of the house, heading for the front entrance to let myself back in where I wouldn’t have to listen to the seduction. I barely heard the murmur of the voices as I glanced back—Maxwell saying something about Barton—and Winner responding with a hopeful and disbelieving look at the auburn-haired man. And Trowa just smiled and tugged at Duo’s braid. “You talk too much, love.” No shit. “Well then screw talking,” he said in a honey-rich voice, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on Quatre’s cheek, and a slightly less chaste one on Trowa’s lips. “Sometimes ya gotta let your actions do the talking.” He fondly ruffled Barton’s hair before turning a warm gaze back to Winner. I was glad I didn’t have to listen to or see more, as I turned the corner and went completely out of earshot. But I fumed at the thought of Maxwell and Barton dragging the lawyer into some sort of three-way relationship. Or worse yet, Maxwell stealing Winner right out from under someone he called his best friend. How low could he get? When I settled back in at the laptop, relieved that I couldn’t hear the conversation outside the closed doors, it took all my willpower to force myself to focus on my work. I didn’t even want to think about what was going on in that roomy hot tub. I’d been right all along…Maxwell was just after the most convenient fuck he could find. But the realization left me feeling strangely hollow—and a bit lost. I guess I had wanted our “moment” to mean something to him. It was nearly fifteen minutes later that Maxwell walked in the door, a towel slung carelessly around his waist, and headed for the kitchen. I ignored him and kept scrolling through my security feeds, determined not to let him see a reaction. But when he came out seconds later with a bottle of water in hand, turning towards the stairs, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “Just can’t help yourself, can you?” I muttered as he passed. He turned a questioning look to me. “Hitting on Winner,” I clarified. “That’s pretty low, considering you know your buddy’s interested in him.” The indigo eyes flashed with anger. “If I was hitting on him, we’d be in bed right now,” he said cockily. “Not if the way he was looking at Barton yesterday was any indication.” Maxwell leaned back against the stair rail, smirking snidely. “If I wanted him, Yuy, I’d have him.” “Well you were sitting in his lap naked, Maxwell. Sure looked to me like you wanted him.” “You know who I want.” “I don’t know a fucking thing!” I snapped, glaring up at him. “Aw, c’mon,” he growled, letting out an exasperated breath. “I made it plenty clear, Yuy. You want me, you can have me. Consider it a bonus—you get a witness, brownie points with your boss, and a piece of ass on the side!” His face was flushed with emotion by this time, eyes alight with anger. “Since all I am to you is your ticket to a promotion, why d’you keep pushing me away? You can have it all. No strings attached.” I shoved my chair back from the computer, and stood up. “You expect me to just fuck you and throw you away?” “Well why not?” “Because that’s not the way I am!” I snapped. “I can’t play the games you do!” “You think this is a game—that you’re a game?” “Everything’s a game to you, Maxwell. You’re playing with Winner…Barton…me…and even Chang. Do you even know what you want? Because you’re not making it clear at all. After your little heart to heart with Barton this morning, I’d have thought you considered Winner off limits. But there you were, all over him.” I gestured to the monitor, and caught the sudden flicker of a question in Maxwell’s eyes. He walked over and looked down at the screen, which currently was focused on four views, one of which was the deck. “You were watching?” he demanded. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or intrigued. “That’s kind of the point of surveillance,” I said dryly. “Watching three naked guys get it on in a hot tub is part of your job?” he scoffed, but I could tell he wasn’t completely furious. “So you were trying to seduce Winner.” I shook my head. “Some fuckin’ friend you are. Barton bares his soul—tells you he’s genuinely interested in Winner—and you go right for the throat. Or should I say dick?” “Like I said, if that’s what I wanted, I’d have it.” He gestured to the screen. “Does it look like a threesome out there?” I looked down at the screen and my breath caught in my throat. Winner was facing Barton, kissing him, and judging from their position, and the way he was working himself up and down… Fuck! I could feel the heat rush to my face at the same moment Maxwell gave a low chuckle. “Hot damn,” he murmured. “I knew I was goading Tro’ into making a move—but I never dreamed he’d make it that fast. Way to go, lover.” “You—aren’t you—?” I shook my head, looking helplessly at the braided man. His gaze was still fixed on the monitor, his lips slightly parted and a feral gleam in his eyes. “You’re not jealous? And what do you mean ‘goading’?” He flicked a glance my way, narrowing the beautiful eyes. “I mean, if you got your head out of your ass, you’d have seen I was just playing. I wanted Trowa to get past all his insecurities and admit to Quatre that he was interested. But he’s not the aggressive type. He’s strong, and quiet, and confident—but not daring. He needed a little incentive. And if he thought Quat might be getting interested in me, I figured it’d push him into action.” A slow, sensuous smile spread across those perfect lips. “An’ that’s some first-class action goin’ on there.” He lifted a frank gaze to me. “How ‘bout you? Does it turn you on—watching?” He licked his lips, waiting for an answer. I opened my mouth for a cutting reply, but nothing came out. Fuck watching Winner and Barton! I was imagining myself in that hot tub, with Duo on my lap, and I think I was actually trembling with the effort it took to keep from grabbing him and devouring him on the spot. “I—have to go.” I stepped around him and grabbed a flashlight, practically running out the door to find a place to hide in the darkness. Fuck it anyway! Why couldn’t I control the attraction
I felt for him? Why was he so completely under my skin? And why the
hell was I fighting it so hard anyway?
tbc... |
