* * * * * * * * * * *

Quatre jerked as he felt himself nodding off once again. Damn, it wouldn't do to be seen falling asleep during... he squinted up at the stage to see what long-winded idiot was blathering on this time. Oh yes, the director of the Colony Coalition for Children, Martha what's-her-name, a fifty-ish white-haired woman who really should not have chosen that shade of red to wear. The woman no doubt worked tirelessly to help the children of the colonies, but she also loved the sound of her own voice. Quatre tried in vain to focus on what the woman was saying, but it only made him feel even more drowsy.

He shifted in the uncomfortable chair, discreetly trying to loosen his bow tie slightly. He hated wearing this tux, hated the cummerbund and the tie and the starched shirt. By looking at him, you'd never know that just a few years ago he was one of the most wanted people in the system, a renegade Gundam pilot unwanted by both Earth and its colonies. Now he was Quatre Winner, young charismatic heir to the Winner fortune, spending his time signing papers and attending fundraisers like this one. He wished he could just give his generous donation and leave, but Relena had insisted he attend the function at her mansion, and Quatre hadn't come up with a good enough excuse to put her off.

He glanced down the table at Relena Darlian, youngest member of the Earth-Colony Senate, and had to admit her heart was in the right place. Since she'd finally stopped combing the galaxy for Heero (who had mysteriously disappeared right after peace had finally been achieved, and so had Duo) and pining, she'd thrown herself into making the world a better place. It seemed the woman had to have an obsession, and now hers was children's charities.

After he'd finally convinced her that he wasn't marriage material (and *that* was a close call), they'd become friends. They often had lunch together, and with the combined might of their two huge companies they really could accomplish a great deal.

Like this fundraiser dinner, which was going to raise enough money to make sure no children had to sleep on the streets any more, an admirable goal.

But, unfortunately, a boring one at the moment.

Scattered applause followed the end of the woman's speech and Quatre seized the opportunity to get up and sidle over to Relena, two seats down from him, and mouth, "Bathroom."

Relena flashed a brilliant smile and nodded in understanding, and turned back to the introduction of the next speaker.

Quatre beat a hasty retreat before the man began.

He slipped through the massive double doors into the relative sanctuary of the ornate hallway; Relena's decorating taste was anything but subtle. But he really didn't care right now. He just needed to get out. He really didn't even have to use the bathroom; he just thought he'd splash some cool water on his face, try to wake up a little bit.

He made his way down the hall; he knew there was a bathroom somewhere down here. He finally located it, but when he reached to turn the handle it was locked. No doubt it was occupied by some other guest who had felt the need to for a break. No matter; he'd been at Relena's mansion many times and he knew there were bathrooms on the second floor. Relena's staff knew him and wouldn't mind him wandering around, and it would give him an excuse to be away from the dinner for a bit longer. He walked up the grand, curving staircase, taking his time, trailing his hand along the marble balustrade.

He reached the top and turned left, walking along the hallway, taking his time, looking at the no doubt priceless (but hideous) artwork proudly displayed.

He had no idea that there was anyone else nearby when he heard a familiar voice, one that made his heart pound and his palms sweat, and other body parts sit up and take notice.

"Hello, Quatre."

Quatre spun around to see a real work of art: Zechs Marquise, in the flesh and oh fuck so much of it. The blond man stood in the doorway to an opulent suite, leaning against the doorframe, and all the blood rushed to Quatre's cock as he took in the fact that Zechs was dressed only in pants. Tight pants. No shirt, and the man's upper body was to die for, all smooth hairless rippling erection-inspiring muscles. Not to mention the pants that hugged his slim hips, clearly outlining his...

"Z-zechs," he managed to mumble, dragging his reluctant eyes back up to the man's equally gorgeous face. "I didn't know you were here!" Obviously, or he wouldn't have been wandering around. He had always had a bit of a crush on the older man, and he always felt as if he were about to say something stupid when in his presence.

"I'm on a bit of a holiday," explained Zechs, walking forward and extending his hand. "Came to see my baby sister, rest up a bit."

"T-that's great!" Quatre said, trying not to look like he wanted to jump Zechs. He shook his hand as firmly as he could manage. He must have let his eyes stray down to the man's chest again, because Zechs laughed apologetically.

"Sorry about this," he smiled, spreading his hands and looking down at himself. "I don't usually run around half-naked. My uniforms are being washed and the old ones I keep here don't fit any more. I seem to have bulked up a bit while I was on the asteroids." He flexed his biceps, and Quatre had to bite his lip to keep from moaning. "Plus, it's too damn hot in this place."

It was a good thing that after years of public functions, Quatre's brain could run on automatic because there was certainly no blood left in it. "How were the asteroids?"

"Boring. Cold. Monotonous," smiled Zechs. "I wouldn't want to bore you with it. You're here for the fundraiser?"

Quatre couldn't hide a grimace. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Relena insisted."

"My sympathies," said Zechs. "She wanted me to go, too, but I got out of it."

"How did you manage that?" Quatre asked in admiration.

Zechs grinned more widely and spread his arms wide, indicating his bare chest. "No clothes, what a shame!"

Quatre certainly didn't think a half-naked Lightning Count was a shame at all, but he didn't think he should say that. He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I ducked out to use the bathroom, but accidentally on purpose got lost. I was falling asleep."

Zechs laughed. "I don't blame you. Those people would bore anyone to death. I don't know how you stand it."

Quatre shrugged. "It's for a good cause," he offered.

"True," nodded Zechs. "But hey! You're welcome to use the bathroom in my suite, while you're here!"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to inconvenience you..." stammered Quatre, thinking of being alone in a room with Zechs. He pulled down on his black jacket to make sure it covered him because he was hard as a rock. It had been too long since he'd been with anyone. Too many obligations, too few opportunities.

"No bother at all," insisted Zechs, taking Quatre's arm and guiding him into the room. This close, Quatre could smell him, and he smelled glorious. Like a man.

There was no way to resist Zechs' firm grip and Quatre really didn't want to. The bigger man's proximity did nothing to alleviate his problem, however. "Well, ok," he sighed, caught up in a fantasy where the next thing Zechs did was throw him down on the bed and ravish him.

They walked into the lavish suite. Quatre looked around; the place looked like a dusty old museum without the dust. Dark, old cabinets, heavy brocade drapes, priceless-looking vases on every available surface. He must have winced, because Zechs, still at his elbow, laughed.

"Yeah, it's a bit much, isn't it? Relena doesn't know the meaning of the word understated."

Quatre found himself smiling. "I didn't say that," he said diplomatically.

"But you thought it," Zechs replied. "It was written all over your face."

Quatre's eyes widened and he looked back up at Zechs. He hoped the older man couldn't read him that easily, or he'd be in trouble very soon. He was saved by their arrival at the door to the bathroom.

"Here you go," Zechs announced. They stood at an ornate door. Zechs reached out and swung it open, revealing a black marble encrusted bathroom beyond.

Quatre caught himself staring once again at the play of muscles under Zechs' golden skin and the way his platinum hair cascaded down his back, and he missed his cue.

Zechs looked at him with a small smirk and said, "Unless you need some help?" The tone was light, teasing, and made Quatre flush guilty red.

"N-no, I'll be fine," he said, mortified, and made himself walk past the sexy man into the bathroom. Yes, he wanted Zechs to help him, all right...

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, breathing hard. What the hell was he doing here, other than making a fool of himself? Well, at least he was doing a good job of it. He unbuttoned his jacket and shrugged it off for a moment, gratefully. He was overly hot for some reason.

Well, at least he had time now to catch his breath and get his body under control. He moved away from the door, wandering around the massive room that also seemed to hold innumerable breakables, but these were all crystal.

He picked up a green crystal vase, wincing as he saw the name on it, and set it carefully back down. Who kept a three-hundred year old Baccarat vase in a guest bathroom?

Relena. Who else? And if he smashed it, no doubt she'd just smile sunnily and say she didn't really like it anyway, it was no problem, and refuse to let him pay her back for it. And she'd mean it.

He looked at the toilet, a hideously complex combination toilet/bidet/god knows what else with more buttons and knobs than his Gundam. He could actually use the toilet, ostensibly what he was in here for, but given his current condition, if he could actually manage to go, he'd make a big mess. He rubbed at his erection through his trousers, moaning softly.

It wasn't going away.

There was only one way to make a hard-on go away, he reflected, and that was the old-fashioned way. With a guilty glance at the door, he fumbled with his zipper, pulling his cummerbund off and freeing his aching cock as quickly as possible. He moaned with relief as he wrapped his fingers around the hard flesh. So good... this wouldn't take long and then he could go out and have a reasonably intelligent conversation with the walking wet dream otherwise known as Zechs.

He stroked quickly, biting his lip to keep quiet, and it felt so good that soon his knees started to wobble. He backed up, feeling behind him for a solid counter, lost already in the overwhelming need to come, and quickly.

He realized his mistake even before he heard the shattering crystal.

Fuck. He whirled around, hand still wrapped around his arousal, to see with partial relief that it wasn't the Baccarat vase that he'd destroyed but a slightly less expensive Saint Louis goblet that held clear crystal beads. But between the crystal breaking and the beads scattering across the floor, it made an awful racket, one that Zechs was sure to hear outside the room.

Good thing he'd locked the door, or by now the blond man would be barreling in here, concerned, saying ...

"Quatre? Are you ok?"

No.

He had *not* forgotten to lock the door.

He hadn't.

Had he?

The question was moot now, anyway, as Zechs was standing, in all his half-naked glory, in the open (unlocked) doorway of the bathroom, looking with amusement at Quatre Winner, former teen Gundam pilot and savoir of the world, surrounded by broken glass, with his pants undone and a hand wrapped around his hard (still hard, part of his mind noted proudly) cock.

He *had* zipped his pants and made himself decent, hadn't he?

Nope.

Damn.

"Quatre?" repeated Zechs. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Just my pride, thought Quatre, and his mouth kicked in well before his brain. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I'll pay for it, I didn't mean to, I just leaned back and..." He finally stopped talking, realizing he was completely ignoring the fact that Zechs had just caught him wanking off.

And he'd like to keep ignoring it.

But Zechs was looking at his arousal, still helpfully peeking out of his trousers though he had somehow managed to remove his hand (but not put it away, and the damn thing was *still* hard).

"I think I should be the one apologizing," Zechs purred, dropping so low that Quatre fancied he could feel the vibrations all the way through him. "I'm a terrible host. If I'm the cause of your problem," he glanced significantly at Quatre's erection, "Then the least I can do is offer to help alleviate it."

Quatre stared back at Zechs, his mouth hanging open. He couldn't think of a thing to say; his brain had shut down.

"Unless, of course, I'm mistaken and I'm not the cause, then by all means accept my apology," Zechs went on softly, looking disappointed.

"No!" blurted Quatre, not wanting to see Zechs hurt. "You are the cause!" Then he realized what he had just admitted, and he managed to blush even redder than before, quite a feat.

Zechs grinned lazily, and took a few steps forward, nimbly avoiding the glass. "Well, then, what are we waiting for, sexy?" He reached Quatre's side and took his arm, gently guiding him through the glass and out into the bedroom.

Quatre's brain finally caught up with reality when Zechs pulled him into his arms and kissed him.

He opened his mouth and let himself be wrapped in those strong arms. He put his hands on Zechs' chest, not to push him away but to feel those chiseled muscles. God, they felt even better than they looked, and Quatre hadn't even thought that was possible. What felt even better was Zechs' tongue invading his mouth, exploring it thoroughly.

By the time they pulled back from the kiss, Quatre was shamelessly rubbing himself against Zechs' thigh and there was a massive arousal pressed into his stomach, and they were both panting.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," breathed Zechs, looking down at Quatre.

Quatre would have replied had he been capable of intelligent speech at that moment. But a big strong hand had just slid into his open trousers, intent on finishing what he himself had started.

Quatre could only cling to Zechs' broad shoulders as the taller man stroked him expertly. Zechs leaned forward and murmured in his ear, "I've wanted you forever, Quatre. Even when you were so young, is that awful of me? But I didn't think you felt the same..."

If Quatre could have spoken, it would have been to say something incredulous about how could anyone *not* want the blond god Zechs Marquise? But all he could do was moan, and nod, and pant, and thrust helplessly into Zechs' hand.

And then it was too much, he was coming, climaxing convulsively in Zechs' hand, coming in long spurts and breathy gasps and it felt so fucking good.

Zechs pumped him until he was finished, then held him close, unmindful of the sticky mess.

"That was..." Quatre tried for words but they failed him. "Thank you," he settled for.

"You're quite welcome," Zechs grinned. "You're incredibly sexy."

Quatre looked up in amazement. No, Zechs was the sexy one, and he wanted to make him feel just as good... without another word, he dropped to his knees on the plush carpet and looked up at the man. He reached for the button of his tight trousers and unfastened it.

"Fuck, Quatre..." hissed Zechs. "You don't have to..."

"I want to," assured Quatre, unzipping carefully so that the blond's hard length surged out. He had been right, no underwear.

"God..." Zechs buried a hand in Quatre's hair and groaned as the younger man licked and sucked at him.

Quatre loved this, and the fact that the impressive cock he was worshipping was one he'd wanted for ages made it even better. He'd just gotten a good rhythm going, his head bobbing up and down, when an unmistakable voice cut into his reverie.

"Zechs, sorry to bother you, but have you seen.... Quatre.... Oh..."

"Damn doors in this house never lock properly," Quatre heard Zechs mutter before speaking more loudly, though not bothering to cover himself, "Hello, Relena. Do come in."

Quatre leaned his head against Zechs' washboard stomach and blushed profusely.

Relena stammered, voice high, "I was worried about Quatre and came to ask if you'd seen him and he's supposed to be at the fundraiser and oh my god what are you *doing*?"

"I would think that would be obvious, sister," Zechs smiled, running a hand through Quatre's hair in a way that made his cock harden again.

"But..." squeaked Relena, and Quatre almost felt sorry for her.

Or he would have, if she hadn't just walked in on him sucking her brother's cock.

"Lighten up, Relena," Zechs laughed. He waited a beat. "After all, charity begins at home!"

He laughed, and so did Quatre, and Relena ran away.

And they continued what had been so rudely interrupted.

After Zechs secured the door not only by its lock but by a solid wooden dresser as well.

Quatre never did make it back to the fundraiser.