The Claiming of Prince Quatre part 3
By Tralla

Contains: 1x4 and 4?1

Lady Une was adamant. She wanted her bed sheet back and she wanted it _now_, meaning Wufei would have to find other means of hiding his bare flesh and young goods. It was settled. Duo would provide clothes. Because of that Heero, Duo, and Wufei were in Duo’s quarters and Wufei was in Duo’s borrowed clothing. Of course, they were clothes Duo had worn 4 years prior, when he was fifteen, the same age Wufei now appeared to be.

After taking in the black garb and the black boots he now sported, Wufei griped, “I have the guise of an undertaker.”

Duo snorted. “You’re too irritable to be morose. Just deal unless you want to spend the rest of your stay streaking.”

Wufei frowned at him and was about to go into a tirade about the kind of ceremonial garb he was entitled to as a member of the Dragon Clan when Heero interrupted him.

“We’re going to the dungeon.”

Duo waved Heero’s impatient glare away. “Yeah. Yeah. Ok, Wufei stop crotch checking and get a move on.”

“I was fastening--”

“Right. You were ‘fastening’ for the last 3 minutes while looking in the mirror.”

Apparently Duo assumed that since Wufei was now wearing his clothes the Oriental boy was now obligated to listen to him chatter on as they made their way to the dungeon in which Quatre was detained.

Duo glanced at Wufei, who was trudging along at his side, before asking, “Can you wish for something else with that sword?”

“I don’t want to be a panda!”

“For instance, wishing to be less high-strung?” Duo rubbed at his ears. His eardrums were ringing. “Hey, you were old before Une turned you into a bird. You were trying to give your stuff away because you knew you’d kick the bucket soon. But there’s one thing I don’t get. Why go through all this trouble of traveling across country just to wish on your swords to stay human? If you knew you were going to die, why care?”

“Who wants to be buried as a panda???!!!”

“Ok, calm down.” Duo was only silent for a moment. Apparently, he’d learned nothing from Wufei’s previous outbursts because he continued talking. “You said you have to wish every 25 years. So…you have the whole 25th year. What’s the rush?”

“I only have a window of one day to wish.”

“…” Duo chewed on his bottom lip for a bit before asking, “Why bother staying human? Think of the money you can make as a panda that can do kung fu.”

“Think of the size of the dent my fist can make in your head.”

That was the end of Duo’s suggestions and the end of their conversation, which was fine since they had reached the dungeon.

They entered the dungeon and, instead of finding the blond prince looking desperate and relieved to get out, they found him face down outside of his cell. The cell door was wide open. The blonde was 2 yards away from it. Apparently, he had escaped and was on his way to flee when something...happened. That or someone had let him out only to incapacitate him...perhaps permanently.

After inspecting the cell’s lock, Duo returned to the felled blonde, bent down, and turned him over onto his back before standing. His eyes were drawn to Quatre’s waist. As was Heero’s.

They both looked at Quatre’s sword. Or, at least it appeared that they were both looking at Quatre’s sword.

“It’s bigger than yours,” said Heero.

“Shut up. It’s not the size that matters. It’s how you use it.”

Duo nudged Quatre’s side with the tip of his boot. “Think he’s dead? Looks dead.”

“Dead people don’t drool,” remarked Wufei. “He’s unconscious.”

“Well, he’s a sound sleeper.” Duo continued to lightly kick him. “Still can’t figure out how he got out. I don’t see any tools. The lock’s not broken. He used a key. I’m sure of it.”

Duo ceased his kicking when Heero suddenly appeared at his side. Heero knelt, lifted Quatre, and slung the blonde over his shoulder. With ease, he carried him as though he was only a sack of flour.

Duo looked on in awe until he heard Heero say, “We’ll take him to my bed--”

“No,” interjected Duo. He then emphasized the denial by shaking his head ‘no’ just in case Heero was tuning him out, yet again. “We’ll take him to the bedroom _Iria’s_ staying in. Got that, Heero?”

Iria turned at the sound of her door opening. She saw Prince Duo, a strange boy with black hair, black clothes and a black expression, and Prince Heero carrying her brother over his right shoulder.

“What has happened to him?” she asked while stepping towards them.

“Who knows,” said Duo off-handedly. “We found him passed out just outside his cell.”

“His cell? He was really imprisoned?” Iria blinked back at him. She had believed her brother’s arrest was all in jest...or at least she had deluded herself into believing so.

“Pretty much. Or at least for awhile anyway. He was found outside of it, but the guards didn’t see anyone enter the dungeon. So, it doesn’t look like he was let out.”

Distracted by the strange boy with black hair, and the fact that he was vacillating between glaring at her and glaring at her brother, who was still hefted by Heero, Iria tentatively said to the boy, “Excuse me, I am Princess Iria of Sandrock. I have not been acquainted with you.”

Duo cut Wufei off. Wufei was looking particularly peevish and Duo didn’t want him using Iria as a sounding-board. “That’s Wufei. Quatre has his sword and he wants it back.” Duo scratched his nose as he glanced at Quatre. He got a good look at the sleeping prince’s ass, due to the way Heero was carrying him. He looked away and murmured to himself, “Still don’t know how he got out without help.”

“He must have summoned a locksmith,” said Iria as she watched Heero lay Quatre down on the room’s bed. She crept up to the side of the bed and smoothed back Quatre’s bangs.

“Summoned? He’s a sorcerer??”

Iria turned to face Duo. “Quatre possesses some magical ability, but not so much as to be called a sorcerer. I suppose with some training he might, but father is against the use of magic, at least among his children. He believes it breeds indolence.”

“Perhaps, he’s right…he’s drooling all over the place,” said Duo as he cast his gaze on the blonde prince.

Iria continued, “But Quatre has attempted to train in secret. However, he needs guidance. Occasionally, when he summons someone, he exhausts himself and falls unconscious, sometimes for days, even weeks at a time.”

“Weeks? I can’t risk weeks!”

“How much time do you have?” asked Duo nonchalantly. He was becoming accustomed to Wufei’s outbursts.

“18 days.”

Heero looked up.

Duo tossed a lazy grin in Heero’s direction. “Hey Heero, looks like doomsday for Wufei is b-day for you.”

It was apparent from the look on Heero’s face that he was willing to use physical force to shut Duo up. But he was composed as he asked Iria, “Is there a way to wake him up?”

She fidgeted. “We will have to wait.”

Duo snorted. “We don’t have to wait. We just have to take the sword.”

Duo approached the supine, dozing blonde prince, but before his hand got a chance to grasp the sword, a firm, yet monotone voice said, “Step away from the sword. You are too close to the sword. Step away from the sword…”

In surprise, Duo jerked away. “Umm, was that just a sword alarm?”

“Yes,” answered Iria. “I forgot to mention that the sword is protected by Trowa.”

“Trowa? Is that the brand name?”

“No, he is a friend of ours who can inhabit objects.”

The trio blinked back at her but it was Duo who spoke. “Uhh…so, how do we get the sword from him?”

“He doesn’t listen to anyone but Quatre. However, _you_ may be able to reason with him.”

“Me?” asked Duo while pointing at himself.

“Yes, you two have something in common: extravagant hair.”

“…” Duo snorted before glancing at Heero before returning his gaze to Iria. “Another person with a fetish? This time one involving hair?”

Iria shook her head. “I don’t believe it’s a fetish. As a child he was picked on…because of his hair. If you somehow assuage the wound…”

“You want me to stroke his ego?”

“I suppose that is apt phrasing for it.”

Duo turned to face Wufei. “Wufei. I think you’re going to have to deal with becoming a panda. There’s no way in hell I’m going to bat my eyelashes at some guy with freaky hair.”

“Do what you have to do in order to get the sword,” said Heero.

Duo appeared perplexed. “You don’t want Wufei to be a panda? He’d make a good pet. Although, he does look like a biter.”

“The swords have the power to grant his wish. Maybe they have the power to grant more than one,” said Heero. He appeared as though he could do without a panda as a pet.

“Wufei, is that true?” asked Duo.

“I never asked for more.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Duo shook his head. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Duo went over and knelt beside the bed on which Quatre lay and spoke to the sword. “So…yeah…I think weird hair is sexy…too sexy--” A hand shot out of the sword.

Duo yelped as it grabbed him by the hair. With ridiculous speed, the hand wrapped the long braid around itself before yanking Duo in, into the world within the sword.

Duo landed on a mound of soft, emerald grass. He looked up to see a tall young man, around his age, with a wild shock of brown hair. Duo stood up and looked at the part of the man’s face that was not shadowed by his spiky, gravity-defying coif.

“Is my hair really sexy?” asked Trowa.

“Uh…yeah. Whatever you say.” Duo tried to grin but it looked like he was showing his teeth so that Trowa could see if anything was stuck in it. “So, can we have the sword?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

Losing his patience, Duo griped, “Come on. Can’t you let up a bit? The guy who was the original owner needs it so he won’t end up in a zoo.”

“It is not mine to relinquish. Only Quatre can.”

“Well, blondie passed out. He won’t wake up for some time. And we have no idea when that would be.”

“I’ll wake him up.”

Duo’s eyes grew wide before they narrowed with skepticism. “Wait, you can do that?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, go to it.”

In a blink of an eye, Duo found himself back outside, in the bedroom that had been deemed Iria’s, at least for the duration of her stay. And beside him was Trowa.

Without paying heed to anyone in the room, Trowa walked around the bed and stood at its left side. Trowa stood there for some time, just looking down at Quatre. Finally there was some movement. Duo, Heero, Wufei, and Iria watched as he began to climb into the bed, to join Quatre. But he was interrupted by Heero.

“_What_ are you doing?”

Everyone but Trowa seemed to be startled by the gruff outburst. He addressed Heero. “Iria didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” snapped Heero.

“How he can be woken up.”

Everyone turned to look at Iria.

Her hands were clasped and her head was bowed. She looked up with her cheeks flushed. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears. “I am sorry,” she said in a low voice. “If I told you how he could be woken up, Prince Heero….Prince Heero would have wanted to do it himself.”

Duo looked at the way Trowa was positioned, how he was on the verge of getting horizontal with Quatre, and then back to Iria. “Uhh...yeah…_how_ can he be woken up?”

“By snuggling.”

“Snuggling??” Duo began to laugh. He even slapped his knee for good measure, which was odd since he was standing and didn’t double over to do it. “That’s rich. Aren’t people usually woken up with kisses?”

“My brother is a person moved by modesty. A kiss would be too licentious for him.”

All eyes moved to Heero as he approached the bed on which Quatre lay. Trowa gave Heero a look that spoke of his mild amusement before stepping out of the way.

“I suppose there are other things you don’t know,” said Trowa while relinquishing his position at the bed. “Anyone who wakes him up pays a price.”

“What price?”

“Your energy is sapped,” replied Trowa. He stood beside Iria and said nothing more.

It was Iria who finished the full warning Trowa should have given. “Prince Heero, there is a chance you might switch places with him.”

“Switch?”

“Yes, you could end up sleeping as long as Quatre would have without an intervention.”

“Everyone better cover their ears,” muttered Duo. “Heero snores like an elephant seal with a bad cold.”

Heero stood in front of the bed and, instead of looking down at the person who required his attention, he stared back at Trowa, Iria, Duo, and Wufei, who in turn stared back at him. Only Duo figured out what the delay was about.

Taking in the last of the dark look Heero was shooting their way, Duo said, “He wants some space, lots of space.” Duo snorted. “Right. _Now_, he’s bashful.”

As a single unit, Trowa, Iria, Duo, and Wufei moved until they were against the far wall. Heero followed them with his eyes before leaning forward. Without further delay, he began to climb onto the bed. He lay on his side, with his weight supported on his elbow.

His gaze took in what his hands were eager to touch.

What Heero saw before him was unnatural: heavenly creamy skin, touched with the blush of, a light kiss of, rose at the cheeks and lips. What Heero saw was androgyny personified in this sleeping prince’s form. He saw bangs, yellow and bright like sunlight resting against Quatre’s forehead, temples, and cheeks. He saw a defiant nose on an angelic face. He saw lips that were curved with a gentle smile even while the prince was at rest. He saw that he had to get Prince Quatre out of his clothes as soon as…possible. But he was thwarted by the one thing his hands should have been able to take care of: the blonde prince’s clothing. There were laces everywhere, zigzagging across his attire, as though he was strapped in by the male version of a corset…that would apparently, to Heero’s great misfortune, double as a chastity belt. Heero frowned, deeply, as he took in the quasi cocoon before him.

After much staring and frowning, finally, Heero came to a decision. He would have to cut his way in. He was about to commandeer Duo’s sword when he heard a soft noise from the sleeping blonde prince. And, with that single groan that masqueraded as a murmur, Heero found his attention back where it had its focus just seconds before.

He found himself making his own low noise. His hand hovered before resting on the area above the blonde prince’s collarbone. His hand gripped Quatre’s shoulder. Heero’s thumb swished over the only part of his neck that was not covered by the collar of his coat. The warm skin yielded to his touch. And Heero found himself awed as his fingers touched Quatre’s jaw.

It was shocking to him how such soft, smooth skin could be on a young man his age. It seemed that Prince Quatre’s skin was loath to allow hair that did not reside on the crown of his head or the area of his brows or the locale of his thick dark lashes… But Heero wondered, as his hand began to snake down the blonde prince’s length, if Quatre had hair…further down. Heero’s hands moved over the blonde prince’s jacket and the many laces crisscrossing the rich velvet-like fabric. But the descent was not a smooth one. Here and there, Heero’s digits caught on the laces, snagging them, causing them to strain against their holdings. Somehow, Heero had caused them to loosen, loosen enough that he was quite sure he could sneak his hand underneath Quatre’s clothing. He wouldn’t have to cut through them as he had initially thought, which was a shame, he licked his lips, he was quite sure he would have enjoyed doing so.

He urged his hand under that tight nest of clothing and what his fingers came in contact with caused him to murmur the blonde prince’s name with burgeoning need, desire, and admiration marking his tone.

The feel of Quatre’s abdomen, the warmth, the strength evident even while he was at rest… it told Heero so much, the details his eyes could not see. Quatre’s body was sleek but strong, belying his slight form and apparent gentle nature. As Heero’s hand continued its travels, his mind said more about the tantalizing flesh at his fingertips. It whispered to him sacrilege. It told him that Prince Quatre was a god who had fallen to the earth, that his smooth but toned physique and the unreal, otherworldly charm of his slumbering blissful features were too much to deny. There was one more seductive insinuation from within and Heero listened with a cocked ear as it whispered to him, urging him to wonder what other secret delights Quatre’s attire kept hidden…

It was evident from Heero’s suddenly dutiful expression that he was in a state of wonder as his hands continued to wander. He found the waistline of the blonde prince’s breeches. But he was, once again, thwarted by more lacings. But he was resourceful and let his hand travel from Quatre’s waist, over the frustrating laces, to the region that seemed to respond instantly to his lingering touch.

Heero drew closer to Quatre. He had heard it: a slight intake of breath as his hand rubbed Quatre’s crotch. Heero felt it: the blonde prince’s burgeoning desire even while he was still asleep. Heero drew even closer, just inches away from Quatre’s mouth, looking on intently as the slow birth of color marked the blonde prince’s face. It was slow and subtle, causing his cheeks to grow pinker than before, causing his lips to bloom with the same color and intensity. There was a temperature increase working its way upward from the blonde prince’s skin. Heat seemed to waft from Prince Quatre. And then Heero saw more; it was movement.

It was there, just a flutter of Quatre’s eyelashes. It was there, the pulse of his fingers against the fabric of the bed. The blonde prince was awakening. Slowly, he opened his eyes and first he saw a high ceiling that was partially obstructed by a shock of unruly chocolate hair. His eyes moved, searching for the owner of such a rakish-looking coif. What he saw caused his eyes to spring wide and his mouth to open. He let out a soft “oh” in surprise. But instead of backing away with a start, as would have been normal for anyone who had awoken with Heero only five inches away and breathing heavily, Quatre remained quiet against his pillows. He began to accept what his body was already telling him. Heero’s hand was still below, stroking him into fullness. He stared back at Quatre without stilling his hand.

He held the blonde prince’s gaze as Quatre began to speak in a low voice that was barely audible beyond the ellipse their two bodies made.

“My father believes that… when I use my powers ill fortune ensues. To prove him wrong, at the age of 12, I went to an Oracle. I was told that there was…one person who could come to my aid without suffering any ill effects. I...was told...that this person... that this person would lead me to the root of my power...” The blonde prince appeared particularly uncomfortable and confused. His cream complexion gave way to red as Heero continued to stroke his bulging-- “I never imagined that this would be the root spoken of...But given how I have responded to you...it must only be natural-- I suppose…it is best to believe in the Oracle and--” No sound came from Quatre. In one instant he had lost his voice and his train of thought. And the reason was close to him, obstructing and grabbing his attention.

Heero’s eyes were the color of a midnight sky; there were stars like glowing rhinestones in his eyes. Quatre became lost in them. He was stilled to the point where he could not breathe; his heart appeared to stop in that one instant. But he recovered, slowly. He swallowed, trying to will away the sudden dryness in his throat, trying to stir the rest of his body into functioning. Slowly, he felt the saving breaths, the weight of his clothes against his now restless skin, the heat wafting from Heero, and the breath passing from between Heero’s lips to caress his own quivering and undeniably hungry ones. Heero was close, too close and also seemed to be in a daze, like a spell was cast and he was bound. Heero appeared to be lost in emotion as he moved forward to close the gap between their lips. But Quatre raised a hand to stop him, but the hand was not entirely dismissive.

Quatre reached out, cautiously at first and then with curiosity. His fingers touched Heero’s chin before they grew daring enough to stoke the side of Heero’s face. Quatre watched the path of his fingers. He could feel the weight of Heero’s stare as his fingers drew closer to Heero’s mouth. And, finally, one single finger moved against the curve of Heero’s bottom lip.

His finger toyed with Heero’s lower lip, exploring it, caressing it, moving it lower to cue Heero to open his mouth. And the usually surly prince did. He took Quatre’s playful, graceful finger into his mouth and began to show him that his tongue could be used for something other than ill-humored barbs. It seemed like a hungry snake as it curled around the blonde prince’s finger before retreating. Heero began to suck as he slowly moved his head so that Quatre’s finger appeared to go in and out of his mouth, like a lollipop teasingly offered and then pulled out.

From their secluded area on the other side of the large room, Wufei, Trowa, Iria, and Duo watched on with apprehension, curiosity, disbelief, and shock, respectively. The quartet watched as Quatre began to show Heero all that the Oracle had told him, which was even more alarming given the fact that the blonde prince was informed at the age of twelve.

They watched as Quatre used a hand to undo the fastenings on Heero’s coat.
He parted the lapels as one would push open a set of double doors. He helped Heero shrug his way out of the garment. Quatre leaned forward. He was whispering to Heero words the others couldn’t hear. But they could guess the nature of his communication, because Heero turned over to lie on his stomach. They watched as the blonde prince lifted the back of Heero’s shirt away to tug at the waist of Heero’s breeches. The upper half of Heero’s buttocks made a slow ascent into view, a view that was soon blocked by Quatre as he began to settle himself over Heero.

It was Duo who suddenly managed to say what the others were thinking. “Moved by modesty, my ass! He’s about to mount Heero!”

Somehow, Iria also found her voice. “Quatre is only half awake.”

“Why???”

“Heero didn’t just snuggle him…he…”

“Yeah, we all know what Heero did…”

Both Iria and Duo suddenly realized that Quatre was staring back at them. His face was ashen and his mouth hung open. Apparently the blonde prince hadn’t been half awake…just unaware that there were other people in the room.

Quatre glanced down at Heero before putting a hand on the hilt of his sword, as if to assure that he had his prized belonging with him. It was still attached to his waist, as it had been when Heero first awoke him. He closed his eyes and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

With his stance rigid, Wufei spoke to Iria without looking at her, “You forgot to mention that he can transport himself.”

Quatre found himself in a lush green field. He had no idea where he was and he could not explore. He was spent but still conscious. Was it because of Heero that he had managed this second magical feat without passing out? Perhaps, but what did it matter given what consorting with Heero ultimately meant? He had broken his vow to Hilde, undoubtedly scarred Iria by attempting to ravish the one man she had shown any romantic interest in, and finally he had proven what his other sisters had teased him about for years: he had a budding taste for men, or at least this Prince Heero who was bent on putting him in a dress. Quatre closed his eyes. The Oracle had never warned him about _this_. Quatre heard the sound of feet treading over grass. He opened his eyes just as a shadow was cast over him.

He looked up. The sun was behind the figure’s head but the sight of a long dress, boobs, and half undone long hair gave him more than enough reason to assume that a woman was standing over him. His guess was confirmed as the figure spoke to him.

“I watched the entire spectacle from my cauldron. To think someone as slight and gentle-looking as you could handle Prince Heero in such a lusty fashion. I am impressed, Prince Winner.”

The woman moved. The sun was no longer behind her head. Quatre could see that she must have left wherever she was in a hurry. Her attire was disheveled. And her blonde hair was askew with half of it in an upsweep and the rest free and blowing in the wind.

“I didn’t think you would transport yourself. I’m hardly ever wrong.”

Quatre looked back at her. He got the feeling that his time for talking would come later. She wanted him to listen and to listen well. Or, so her stance told him. She was standing over him as though he needed to be reprimanded.

“You have gotten yourself into quite a situation. What will you do, given a fiancée and a sister you have to explain to? Not to mention a prince who has now gotten a taste of you?” She paused, taking in the slow burn of embarrassment creeping up the blonde prince’s face. “I can offer you asylum until you decide what it is you need to do. It’s mutualism. I get an apprentice and you get my guidance.” The woman’s gaze roved over the supine blonde prince. “One hand washes the other. But where else you want me to wash is another matter entirely.”

Countdown: 18 days remaining

Part 4a