28 Jan 2001
Next chapter - the art gallery, and a midnight call.
DISCLAIMER: All Gundam Wing characters are property of Sunrise, Bandai Visuals, Sotsu Agency, and Asahi TV. This work is not written for profit, but for entertainment purposes only.
Warnings: Later bondage, lemon, lemon, lemon, sex, NC references.
Pairings: 6x5, 6x13, 13x5, 13x6 (I order of appearance ^_~)
At two o'clock, a short knock sounded on Zechs' door. It was light, and Zechs could almost see the long-used arrogant wrist flip used to deliver it.
Treize stood there, nervous, dressed as he'd been before -- but with a ring this time! -- waiting and reminding himself to not forget anything.
Zechs was at his desk again, trying to determine how to reprimand a man who seemed by turns snobbishly aloof and terrified out of his wits. He ran a hand over his forehead, dreading it even then, and called, "Enter."
The door opened, and Treize entered, wearing just the collar and those pants -- bare footed -- padded across the carpeted floor towards Zechs, and knelt, head down eyes down. "Master..." Treize could never really just state it -- it always trailed off, like he was cutting off part of some sentence or other -- perhaps he was.
Zechs regarded him for a moment, a frown worrying at his features, and then stood, looking out the window as he always did when he needed to calm himself and think clearly. "Treize... I want you to tell me about how it's been with Wufei. How are you two getting along? And I want the truth."
Silence for a moment, as Treize strained to not lift his head or eyes, wondering just what was going on. "He... doesn't like me at all, sir. Everything I do is apparently horribly wrong, and he's just waiting for me to be s-sold." Another pause, shorter now, before he went on, "I'm trying, Master -- I *like* him, a lot, I just don't know why he seems to dislike me so strongly."
/Oh, *lovely.* They *both* think the other one hates them.../ Zechs rubbed his temples, feeling a rather pounding headache coming on. The conference call to Paris had been... *odd* in someway he couldn't pinpoint and it was troubling him. Now this - something he hardly ever came across in his slaves. But he couldn't tolerate disrespect, especially to Wufei.
"Treize... you may get up. Take a seat please," he murmured, indicating the chair opposite his desk.
The man did so, sitting down carefully -- because he ached if he sat wrong, something he'd learned while working earlier.
"I've done something wrong again, haven't I, Master?" /Just one screw up after the other, Treize.... I'll never be right, never stop being a frustration.../
"Tell me something, Treize," Zechs began, trying to ignore the speaking out of place. "You say that Wufei believes that everything you do is wrong... What has been your reaction when he's pointed out these things?"
"I ask him why it's wrong and..." he trailed off, feelign a sudden urge to kick himself, if it had been physcially possible in any way. "Oh. That's wrong too."
Zechs wanted to be angry. He truly did. This was just more of the same - a simple way of thinking about things that this very intelligent man seemed unable to comprehend. But in place of the anger, was a strong but perfectly useless feeling of disappointment. Anger made him feel energized, as if he could do anything it took to right a wrong or seek vengeance. But this... what could he do with this feeling? *Ask* Treize to try harder? Whine to a slave about how he's not fulfilling expectations? Ignore it?
None seemed a good solution and now, strugging not to let the disappointment show, he leaned back in his chair and regarded the one he was coming to think of as his, "problem child."
"Treize, I'm going to try this one more time. It's simplicity itself, really. The running of my house is based on a strict hierarchy. Everyone here needs to understand that hierarchy and know his place within it. I am at the top, followed by Wufei, who takes orders only from me. There are several employees that are on that level as well - my personal secretary, my driver, and my security officer. They all take their orders directly from me. After that come the slaves, and their status is usually based on how long they've been with me, although sometimes there are other criteria. The boys in the back rooms are at the bottom always, because they are only here to make themselves a living by providing entertainment to my friends and colleagues."
He took a breath and leaned an elbow on the arm rest of his chair, staring into Treize's eyes. "So tell me, Treize - where do you think *you* are in that hierarchy?"
"Is mud on it?" Treize asked, trying to make light of it but unable to under the intensity of that blue gaze. "Lower than Duo," he said, seriously, with certainty, keeping his eyes on Zechs'. "I know now to respect them more. I'm... sorry, Master, that I seem to cause so much trouble. It... has only been a few days, and I spent so long in places where all slaves are equally low, so..." Firm lips thinned. "But that isn't an excuse for my behavior."
Getting up from his desk he walked around to sit on the desktop in front of Treize's chair. He grasped the older man's hand and pulled him up, into his arms, hands sliding around the trim waist, azure eyes still staring into sapphire. "You're new here, sweet man," he said softly, eyes betraying an bemused exasperation. "You're on a level with the backroomers and you've been acting like you're status is equal to Wufei's. That's probably why you and he aren't getting on. Things will become so much easier, Treize, so very much more pleasant for you, when you submit to me completely and that means abiding by the rules I've made for my house."
Tentatively, Treize's arms came up, sliding around Zechs' waist for more contact. /So I'm just supposed to flow with it,/ he mused quietly, eyes barely slitted open. It was so pleasant and relaxing to be there in the man's arms...
Zechs pulled Treize closer to him, nuzzling into his neck and running his hands over the broad chest and humming softly with the pleasure of it. "My dear Treize... what *am* I going to do with you..." Smiling at the other man, he stole a kiss and then murmured, "Are you done with your report yet...?"
"All done," he murmured quietly. "Had it done by lunch. I'm a little familiar with the area itself and that helped. Their company has a rock-solid history -- typical continental way. Started out with a loan and a tight knit family, and just grew. They still think of it as a 'family' thing..." He trailed off as he realised that he was starting to give the report.
Zechs put a long, golden finger up to Treize's lips. "Plenty of time for that, dear man. I thought I might show you something pretty this afternoon before we begin our work..." Breathing softly in his slave's ear, he asked, "Would you like that, Treize?"
"Oh yes," Treize murmured quietly, shifting his arms a little closer around Zechs' waist. "Yes, Master, I would." /Will it be you? You're so pretty yourself... You never wear little enough, Master./
"Good," Zechs breathed, placing a kiss along Treize's jaw. "Come with me."
He led the way out of the room, back to the elevator which they rode to the second floor. There a large hallway that ran to the left and right of the elevator doors and Zechs took the right-hand side, walking slowly, and holding Treize's hand close in his. "Do you like paintings, Treize?" he said voice soft in the hushed atmosphere.
"Very much so," Treize murmured, shifting his hand a little to hold Zechs' hand better. It was strange, to hold another man's hand, but there was comfort in it, too. "Art is such a beautiful thing -- life caught in still. So much better than photgraphs, really."
A faint smile from the tall blond - "True, and yet... photographs have their place..." /As does video. Like the ones I have of you - being cleaned by my angels, fucking Wufei, showering.../
"Ah, here we are," Zechs murmured as he opened a double door at the end of the hallway. Beyond them was a large room with walls the color of palest cream. The furnishings were minimal, limited to graceful but solid wooden benches arrayed around the room and a desk in a corner by another door. The far wall was almost entirely windows, and the light they brought in was breathtaking in its loveliness, golden, with a touch of green from the large trees nearby. Heavy drapery of dark, forest green had been pulled back and the sweep of landscape beyond the paned glass made the room seem almost out-of-doors.
But the focus of the room was not the lovely woodwork, or the delicate, gold-leaf accents on it, nor even the spectacular windows. The focus of the room was the art that lived within it and sang from its walls. All of it was pre-modern, many items coming from the Renaissance period and a great deal of pre-Raphaelite as well. The only concession to the modern day were a small collection of originals for book illustrations by N.C. Wyeth.
"Well," Zechs murmured happily, admiring his room, "what do you think of it?"
"Gott," Treize murmured, hand almost slipping within from Zechs' in his shock. He walked slowly towards it all, eyes wide and expression lit with pure awe. Every piece was framed -- likely in the original frames themslves -- and there was a thin piece of fade-protectant glass atop each painting. "Where did you get all of them?!"
Zechs leaned against the door frame for a moment, letting Treize take things in before they began walking the room. "A number of them have been gifts. There are the requisite amount of Sotheby's and Christie's pieces of course, and some I've bought from estates... and some... well, let's just say I have some very helpful connections in the art world."
Pushing himself away from the door he walked forward slowly. "Any particular painter or style you favor?"
There were just so many of them all to look at! "Durer -- I doubt you have any, though..."
The blond man smiled, self-depricatingly. "Alas, only two. Would you like to see them? They're down this way..." He walked away, long hair swinging behind him for a moment as he headed for the far northern corner of the room.
For a moment, Treize just watched Zechs' wonderful backside, before walking smoothly after him. "Could I see them? This is very nice of you to show me this..."
He stopped as he saw the two pictures. One was a landscape of a pond, with ferns and a reflection in grass-coated water. /Beautiful./ The second was better -- a picture of Durer himself.
"My god..."
Zechs laughed softly. "Yes, when I was getting my degree I took art history for my second program - and Durer became my god as well." He took a step towards the painting, labeled "Self-Portrait at 28" and his hand ghosted over Durer's hand, which rested on the front of a furry tunic. "His hand here was what did it for me..." he murmured, voice sounding dreamy. "It's as if I can feel that fur he's touching... and I can also feel the touch of that hand. So soft..."
/That painting was reported stolen five years ago,/ Treize thought to himself, agreeing with every word Zechs spoke. "More real than a painting," he murmured at last, wanting to touch the glass there, but not daring to. "The hair... so intricately painted, gleaming locks..." /Much like yours./
"He would have painted you beautifully," Zechs said, voice deep and soft. He reached over and traced a finger over Treize's cheekbones. "You have such an amazing face. Beautiful lines and angles... all put together so exquisitely. I could look at you for hours..."
A tiny beep interrupted Zechs' words and he pulled a tiny phone out of his pocket. There were a few brief exchanges and then he looked up. "Feel free to look around, Treize. I have to take this call - shouldn't be long." With the phone still to his ear, he walked off towards the opposite end of the room and took a bench by a sunny window.
Treize wanted to snatch the phone from his fingers, break it in half, then toss it out the window.
But that was a whim and not a wise idea at all.
Twenty minutes later, Zechs was off the phone. "Would you like to come and sit for a moment?" he called to Treize, who had been wandering among the pre-Raphaelites. "Only the sun feels delicious right here and there's a good view of the gardens."
"They're very beautiful, the gardens," Treize murmured, turning around at the sound of Zechs' voice -- it wasn't like he would pass up a chance to sit with the man. And Zechs was right -- the bench was warm and the view was magnificent. /I didn't know before we were so high up.../
"Yes... much like the ones I grew up with," Zechs told him. He was sitting sideways on the bench, on foot up on it and signaled for Treize to sit practically in his lap. "Did your family have formal gardens?"
Treize sat, and let himself lean back against Zechs carefully. /No reason not to.../ "Rose gardens -- expansive ones, with winding stone pathways..."
"Sounds like a good starting point for adventure... what were you like as a boy, Treize? Did you get into mischief or were you the rule-following type?" As he talked, Zechs's arms wound somewhat protectively around Treize's shoulders. It was a light touch, but his skin was warm from being in the sun and it the coolness of the older man's arms felt good under his.
And the heat of Zechs's body felt better than 'good' to Treize, as he made a soft sigh and leaned just a little closer. "Neither -- I was precocious, I suppose. I... really don't remember much of being young. I was always... doing things."
"Doing things...?" Zechs laughed lightly. "Treize, you sound positively *cryptic.* What kinds of 'things' are you talking about?"
Treize shrugged a little, though not enough to move those warming arms. Sapphire eyes drifted to the garden, remembering many long and relaxing walks through similiar ones. "Reading, riding, shooting... I never really played. I was always just busy."
A soft nuzzle to Treize's ear and then Zechs was speaking. "Are you really going to tell me you never imagined that you were the captain of a pirate ship attacking a ship on the Spanish Main? Or that you were a famous explorer tramping through the wildest of darkest Africa in search of the rare jungle treefrog or some such thing?"
"Not really," Treize mused whistfully. "I played games like that when I was very young indeed... And then my parents stopped me every time I started and drilled me on what I had to do when I grew up, and how I should behave and what I should do..." He trailed off, and gave another shrug. "So I read after that, and rode, and learned archery and how to shoot a gun. I tried doing many things, but I was rather well thwarted at every turn," he mused further. "Thankfully my parents encouraged the arts, and let me learn to draw and made sure I could dance and sing."
"Ahhh," Zechs said, snuggling closer, a touch of mischief in his voice. "I'll bet you went to fancy balls and broke the hearts of all the young girls... a very elegant young gentleman, weren't you?"
"I suppose," he drawled carefully. "There were always lot of women who wanted to dance with me."
"And you? Who did you want to dance with, Treize?"
Silence then, and Treize gave a cool shrug, even as he pressed closer to Zechs' utter warmth. "Looking back on it, the other young men -- but they were all very... snobbish, really. But at the time I just didn't want to dance with anyone, really."
"Oh. I see," Zechs said, not seeing at all, but feeling the other man pulling back and not wanting to press. "Well, I suppose we should go back and hear that presentation of yours..."
"Can't you hear it here?" came the honest question. "It's... very nice to just sit like this, with you, master."
/Treize... why do you blow hot and cold like this...? Can't you pick an attitude and stick with it? Makes it impossible to get any sort of read on you.../
"I suppose I could listen here," Zechs sighed. "So - what have you found for me?"
"Do you want the business angle first, or the personal angle of them, master?"
"Why not the business first..."
Later that night, when he and Wufei had played with Treize until they were all exhausted, Zechs sat in his room and puzzled. Most of the lights were off, with only a small table lamp beside him as he stared out of his windows into the midnight garden.
It was time to talk to someone, someone who would understand, so he picked up the phone nearby and dialed a number in Mayfair.
"Winner Residence."
"Hello Ram, this is Zechs. Would your Master happen to be available to talk?"
"Good evening, Master Zechs. I believe he has not yet retired for the evening, please hold and I'll transfer you."
There was a few moments of silence and then Zechs heard his friend pick up the phone.
"Hello, Quatre Winner speaking," the smooth voice uttered into the phone.
"*Bloody good*, old man - you *almost* sound grown-up when you do that!" Zechs teased. Quatre was a breathtakingly good businessman but looked and sounded more like a 16-year-old and Zechs never tired of teasing him about it.
"Oh, hell. It's *you*, Zechs -- have the hair dye fumes gotten to you yet?" he teased back, laughing quietly. There was a rustle of papers. "So, what's going on with you?"
"Mmm - trying to train the new pet I picked up on Thursday. Say, how did those twins work out? Were they worth the risk?"
"Let me assure you that they are *very* much worth the risk -- They trained quickly, and it's quite good to sandwhich with them. They seem to share some sort of link and that only makes things *better*... but sadly, they're not Trowa." That was added on whistfully -- Quatre had quite an embarrassing crush on the slave. "So, how's your new buy coming along?"
"Uhhhhg!" Zechs moaned dramatically. "Well, let's just say that as far as training goes, he's way behind your twins. He's already gotten Wufei upset and seems to feel it perfectly acceptable to criticize training techniques and tell us what we *ought* to be doing instead... *Damned* infuriating, really."
"Dear god, where the hell did he *come* from?" Quatre asked. So seldom were slaves hard to train. "I mean, where did you buy him from, and what was he before? Not some crabby street boy I hope. Becuase I wouldn't put up with him if *that* was the case."
"Hmm, no - that would make it easier, I think. No, quite the opposite. He comes from nobility, I believe, somewhere in Russia. Went to school, ended up as a lawyer, of all things," and here Zechs made a face into the phone, "and ran afoul of the wrong person in court. Ended up kidnapped and sold to a complete bastard who abused him terribly, and passed him on the more bastards who did the same thing... So I have a cool, aloof nobleman who normally wouldn't give my sort the time of day with a layer of trauma on top of him that makes him almost unusable for bondage."
Zechs gave a huffed sigh and ran his hand through long, pale gold bangs. "It's been difficult..."
"I'm sure it *has* been," Quatre murmured. "What a pickle you're in, friend. Truth be told, if I were you, I'd have never bought him -- But that's just me. I don't like old men but so much." A little teasing there, and Qautre's smile could nearly be heard through the phone. "Is he even trying at all to let himself be trained?"
Zechs took the phone and tumbled onto his bed, ending up lying on his back, still staring out the window. "He is... to a point. It's just... well, he's said some odd things, things that are completely unacceptable for a slave to say... He told me he was perfectly willing to be trained to be a lap dog but that he wanted 'more,' whatever that is. He seems to feel there is more than one option for him and... I'm afraid I haven't helped on that account."
There was a sigh into the phone. "Heavens, Zechs! I've never known you to be one to be *less* than firm with a slave!" There was a lengthy pause, then another sigh. "Hmn. 'More' could be physical, or emotional, Zechs. And I'm sure you're giving him a lot of physical, so, taking into account that he was abused by other owners, I'd say he wants emotional attachments with you."
"That's what I was afraid of," Zechs said quietly. "That's bad isn't it? Masters don't have real attachments to slaves, do they? I mean, I've had Wufei forever and he and I are very close but... it's not like I'm in *love* with him. And I'm not saying that that's the kind of thing Treize is talking about. Probably not, but... ah, Quatre tell me that pursuing anything *close* to what Treize is talking about is *bad.* Tell me that please. I need a lecture on keeping an arm's length emotionally, because... because..."
"Would you still be able to train him and have him do work around the house?"
"What do you mean? Surely you're not saying that it's *good* to fall in love with a slave? I mean, really - look at you and Trowa, hmmm...?" The wink that accompanied the comment came through well in Zechs's voice.
"There are down points to it, I'm aware," Quatre huffed. "But there are *many* up points. But if you don't start to give that slave some attachment of some sort, he'll be useless to you."
On the other end of the phone, Zechs frowned. "Why do you say that?"
"Becuase until you do, he'll see you, subconsciously only of course, but it's enough, like all of those other bastards that owned him," Quatre said reasonably. "It's impossible to develop trust without *some* sort of attachement."
Zechs considered this for a moment. "So, you're saying it could be any kind of attachment? So I could, oh, act as a father figure, say, or a brother, or just a good friend, and that would make it easier to train him?"
"If you're having sex with him, and if he came from nobility, I'd say don't touch the idea of father figure or brother," Quatre chuckled. "But at least let him be a friend to you, yes. At *least*."
A long sigh came from the blond. "Well, it's a strange idea. I've never had to do anything like this before... but I've got to change what's happening if only for Wufei's sake. Thanks for listening to me moan, Quatre." Zechs raked through his bangs again and smiled into the phone. "You're very reassuring, even if you *are* a hypocrite where Trowa is concerned."
Another hard sigh. "Someday, Zechs -- I'd buy him from you, but frankly, I'm scared of what may happen if I *did*."
"Hmm, afraid to take your own advice? Really, you *are* something. But again, thanks for letting me bother you with all this. Will I see you at the stockholder's meeting next Monday?"
"Mmmhmm. You know me. I may sleep through it like always, but I'll at least enjoy the money that I'll get," he drawled, laughing a little.
"Impossible brat," laughed Zechs. "See you soon then. Goodnight."
"Oh, I'm sure it will be!" With that impossibly inuuendo laden reply, Qautre hung up.
Zechs put the phone down and frowned in thought. He sat there, frowning, for nearly twenty minutes, pondering what to do, and then had a rather wicked idea and decided it was late enough to not care about consequences. Giving himself a decisive nod, he rose and headed to find something to wear.
End of Chapter 15
(:./kumiko/velvet15)
