Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Contemplation Indigo ❯ Symphony Rose ( Chapter 23 )

 

Symphony Rose

By DRL

 

 

Heero retrieved his jacket from the back of his chair. He slid his index finger through the designer label, slung the jacket over one shoulder and walked out of his office.

 

 

“I'm out to lunch.” He curtly informed his secretary as he passed through the outer office, which was her domain.

 

 

“Yes Sir.” She said and beamed brightly at him, completely ignoring his dour demeanour. After four years she was used to him.

 

 

As Heero made his way through the office to the lift, he contemplated his surroundings. The office, with its smartly contemporary interior décor, fully equipped with every modern, ergonomic convenience, was a bustling hive of activity. Each of his employees that he passed in the corridor greeted him with an affable smile and a polite greeting. He nodded absently to each one in acknowledgement, still deep in his own thoughts.

 

 

He was considered to be a successful man. He was master of all he surveyed within this office complex. He was well-to-do - perhaps not as wealthy as the aristocratic Treize and Wufei, nor yet the Barton-Winners but he and Duo certainly were no paupers. His clothes, though casual (the dress code in his office was relaxed, right up to the top), were well-cut and expensive. He lived in the penthouse apartment of an exclusive waterfront block in a highly fashionable part of town. He had enough money to ease himself quite comfortably through life. He owned a thriving, nay, a burgeoning business and he had a wonderful, loving husband. He nodded curtly as he proceeded along the corridor; yes, he was a man of pith and substance. So, why was he filled with dread and trepidation at the thought of a simple cosmetic procedure?

 

 

The restaurant was only a few blocks from his office building. As he approached the entrance, the door was opened for him by a stocky doorman dressed in a dark suit, dark roll-neck and dark glasses. Heero entered, exchanged a few words with the hostess, who was dressed in an identical outfit to the doorman minus the glasses, and was ultimately shown to a table. He was a few minutes early and was not surprised to find the table empty. He had time only to cast a cursory eye over the menu before he glance up and saw Trowa weaving his elegant way between the tables towards him.

 

 

Trowa looked particularly soignée today, Heero thought, and concluded that he had probably been a recent recipient of the attentions of Nicky, the image consultant that Quatre and he retained. The man, while fussy and effeminate in his manner, was an absolute master of his craft and he kept Trowa and Quatre groomed and styled to perfection. This was all to the good of course, because both Trowa and Quatre were media darlings. Their lightest word or deed was considered newsworthy and photographs of the golden couple regularly appeared in the society pages of the quality newspapers and magazines. Even now Heero could not help but notice the attention that Trowa attracted as he made his way across the dining room. Nicky had even begun to work his magic upon Duo. At Quatre's insistence, his husband had begun patronising Nicky's uptown grooming salon when, despite his best efforts, his waist-length hair had begun looking a little dull and ragged. As a result, Duo's hair, though now a little shorter overall, was silkier and more lustrous than ever before, free from split and damaged ends and softly layered around the face, so that it fell in a light fringe that swept across his brow, with longer tendrils floating around his jaw. Its natural chestnut colour had been enhanced and intensified, and was now enriched, with golden highlights. Even Heero had to admit that the effect was amazing and Duo looked more alluring now, at thirty, than he ever had in his younger days. Yes, the man good at what he did. `Hnn', Heero thought, `Just as well'.

 

 

Trowa clapped Heero lightly on the shoulder by way of a greeting and slid neatly into the chair opposite his friend.

 

 

“Trowa.” Heero said, with a curt nod of acknowledgement. “You're looking well.”

 

 

“Thank-you.” Trowa picked up the leather-bound menu (black leather, of course), and casually perused it. “How's Duo?”

 

 

“He's fine.” Heero replied. “Quatre?”

 

 

“He's well. Working too hard, but well nonetheless.” Trowa closed the menu, laid it aside, sat back in his chair and gazed steadily at Heero. “So what's up?” He asked. Heero looked up from his inspection of the menu and his eyes met Trowas.

 

 

“What makes you think something is up?” He asked. Trowa spread his hands expansively.

 

 

“The fact that we are here.” He replied. “You are not exactly a gentleman who lunches, so when you phone me up and ask me to meet you for lunch, it does not take a genius to deduce that there is something on your mind.” Heero smiled and nodded, but he was prevented from elucidating further by the arrival of a waiter who enquired whether they were ready to order. They confirmed that they were and both placed orders for chicken Caesar salad and Pellegrino. When the waiter had left, Heero resumed.

 

 

“Yes, you're quite right, there is something I wanted to talk to you about but...” Heero cast his eyes downward, “I don't quite know how to put it.” Trowa threw his head back and laughed.

 

 

“Why Heero Yuy, I do believe you're blushing.” He said, then he ceased laughing abruptly. “What is it Heero?” He asked with concern. Heero took a moment to compose himself, then he raised his eyes to meet Trowa's once more.

 

 

“Tell me about a full Brazilian.” He said.

 

 

Heero waited with growing impatience while Trowa laughed until his sides ached. When his mirth had finally subsided and he was once more master of himself, he regarded Heero intently.

 

 

“You really mean to do it?” He asked gravely. “I mean, really?” Heero nodded slowly.

 

 

“Why?” Trowa asked emphatically.

 

 

“Duo.” Heero replied simply. “But it's all your fault really,” He continued, giving his friend an arch look, “Ever since you started having this..., procedure, Quatre keeps telling Duo how good it looks and how..., well, suffice it to say that he now he wants me to do it. I've made an appointment for this afternoon.” He finished unenthusiastically.

 

 

“Well, in that case...” Trowa raised a hand and summoned their waiter. “This gentleman would like to change his order.” He said, indicating Heero with a languid wave. He halted Heero's protestation with further swift gesture.

 

 

“Certainly sir.” The waiter acquiesced and stood solicitously by, awaiting further instructions.

 

 

“He'll have a 10oz burger with everything on it, fries and a Budweiser.” Trowa supplied. “Oh, and while your at it, bring him a double bourbon from the bar - no ice or soda, just neat. If you're going for the full Brazilian,” He explained, in answer to Heero's quizzical frown, “You'll need something a little more substantial inside you than a salad and mineral water.”

 

______________________________

 

 

Quatre reached the end of the paragraph he was reading and looked up. He frowned and looked back to the page.

 

 

“What on earth did I just read?” He asked aloud as he realised that, although he had spent the last 10 minutes studying the document on the blotter in front of him, he still had absolutely no idea of the substance of the communication. That he was expected to sign it he knew, but exactly what he was signing...? It could have been his own death-warrant for all he knew or, if the truth be told, cared. He had been finding it difficult to concentrate on his work all day and now he gave up the fight completely. He pushed his chair back from his desk and placed his feet on the desk blotter, crossing them at the ankles. Interlacing his fingers behind his head, he lay back in the supple leather of his high-backed executive chair. The chair reclined easily beneath him and he struck up a gentle rocking motion by the slight flexing and straightening of his knee-joints. His eyes roamed desultorily around the room and came to rest on the wall space directly opposite his desk. He sighed wistfully and his lips curled upwards into a fond smile.

 

 

The executive floor of the WEI building had been refurbished and remodelled five years previously. Once installed in his new office, Quatre had regarded the bare expanse of wall facing him, his head cocked contemplatively to one side.

 

 

“I know what you're thinking,” Said his executive assistant, who stood at his shoulder, “It needs a painting.” Quatre shook his head.

 

 

“No, not a painting,” He replied, “A portrait - a portrait of Trowa.”

 

 

It took some little time for Quatre to have his wish fulfilled - five years, in fact. Though he wasted no time in eagerly acquainting his husband with his wonderful idea, Trowa, who usually denied his beloved nothing on earth, had too self-effacing and modest a nature to readily sit for a portrait artist so while he did not exactly refuse, he did demur somewhat and Quatre, ever sensitive to this aspect of his love's character, did not insist and the project was sidelined for some time. On the occasion of Quatre's 30th birthday however, the green-eyed ex-pilot overcame his bashfulness and actually sat for a portrait, with the idea of presenting it to the birthday boy as a gift.

 

 

He commissioned Duo to execute the work. Though Duo had made something of a name for himself as an abstract painter and sculptor, he was also an accomplished realist, which was all the more remarkable because he was self-taught, having received no formal tutelage. His portraiture style was `hyper-realistic' and the finished work resembled nothing so much as a blown-up photograph, so fine was his brushwork. He had painted Trowa in a relaxed, casual pose, which suited his insouciant personality. Seated on a high stool, one leg was folded elegantly over the other. He leaned forward slightly, one arm rested across his knee supporting his body, the hand hanging limply from the wrist. His other hand clasped the supporting arm lightly and on the third finger, the three rings that Quatre had gifted his husband could clearly be seen - a plain gold wedding band, a solitaire diamond engagement ring and a diamond-studded eternity ring. Duo had made a point of painting these love-tokens into the picture, knowing that this would particularly appeal to Quatre's romantic nature. Perhaps the diamonds did not sparkle quite as much in life as they appeared to do in the painting, but it was his best friend's birthday after all, and in honour of the occasion Duo gave full reign to his artistic license.

 

 

The painting proved a big hit with Quatre and at times when his mind strayed from stock prices, profit margins, mergers and acquisitions (such as now), he would sit back, look straight into Trowa's painted green eyes and say aloud `Trowa darling, I wish you were here. I'm sure you could think of something to distract me'. This was undoubtedly true, but today Quatre was alone in his office - alone and restless. Abruptly he swung his legs down from the desk, sat up and picked up the telephone receiver. He made a quick call, replaced the receiver, rose and walked out of his office, grabbing his suit jacket as he went.

 

 

 

Nicky Valentine's grooming salon was as discreet as its service was exemplary. No plate-glass storefront allowing passers-by to view the bustling activity in the salon in an attempt to attract passing trade here. Nicky's clients were admitted strictly by appointment only, and the ease by which such appointments were granted varied considerably depending on the client. The salon was situated on the most exclusive shopping street in town, between a fine jewellery emporium and a ladies' couturier. There was no visible signage - merely a large, black door with a brass plaque appended to the wall beside it. The plaque was impressed with the legend `101' deeply etched in cursive numerals, which was, in actual fact, its street number. Because of this, the salon was commonly referred to as `one-oh-one', although its regular patrons simply called it `Nicky's'. Below the plaque was a brass grille, and beside this a brass doorbell. Both Quatre and Trowa were amongst the small and extremely select group of clients who could secure an immediate appointment by merely stating their name, and Quatre now strode briskly along the street, bent on keeping the one he had made only minutes earlier. Clutching a small package that contained an impromptu gift he had just purchased for Trowa (he had glanced into the window of a gentlemen's outfitters as he passed, and caught sight of a silk necktie that perfectly matched his husbands eyes - he could not resist), he approached the black door, pressed the door-bell and spoke his name into the grille. A toneless buzzing sounded and Quatre pushed the door. It swung open on well-oiled hinges, and he ascended the single flight of thickly carpeted stairs that led to the salon proper.

 

 

The receptionist, an extremely beautiful young woman (everyone who worked at Nicky's was extremely beautiful) recognised him immediately, and bade him take a seat in the waiting area while she advised Mr Valentine of his arrival. As a privileged client, Quatre warranted the personal attentions of the great man himself. He turned to ensconce himself in one of the Josef Hoffman chairs in the waiting area, and stopped dead.

 

 

“Heero,” He exclaimed, “Whatever are you doing here?” Heero Yuy looked up from the copy of Esquire magazine he was desultorily leafing through, and gave his friend a look that was part scowl, part plea. “No, don't tell me,” Quatre continued without waiting for an answer, “You've come for a little wash and brush up in readiness for tonight.” He said as he sat down in the `quilted' leather armchair beside Heero. “Me too,” He said knowingly, as he eased himself into the chair and relaxed, one ankle raised and resting on the opposite knee, “I had the same idea. I thought I'd come in for a quick trim and possibly a manicure.” He leaned conspiratorially towards Heero. “I wouldn't want Trowa to be ashamed of me tonight.” Heero gave him a derisive look that said `Yeah, like that's ever going to happen'. Quatre, however, seemed oblivious to his irony and merely smiled brightly at him as he continued his light, cheery banter.

 

 

“It's your first time here isn't it?” He asked. “I'm so glad Duo finally persuaded you to let Nicky have a go at your hair. I kept telling him. `I'm sure Nicky will be able to do something with it,' I said, `He's an absolute marvel.”

 

 

Heero glared at the diminutive blond. It was news to him that his hair needed something doing with it, and he was not sure he wanted the shortcomings of his coiffure (not that he was convinced there were any) discussed between his friend and his husband.

 

 

As Quatre prattled on, Heero contemplated allowing him to labour under the misapprehension that he had come here for a haircut. The four of them, he, Duo, Quatre & Trowa were due at a gala awards dinner that evening. Trowa had been nominated for a humanitarian award for his work with the charitableWinner Foundation and he was current favourite and hotly tipped to win, hence Quatre's comment about Trowa's being ashamed of him due to his appearance. Earlier in the year he had picked up a Man of the Year award, also for his charitable work, and during his brief acceptance speech he had insisted that Quatre join him on the dais. Quatre in no way shamed him on that occasion, but he was ever mindful. Heero's haircut cover was plausible, but ultimately unnecessary. Trowa already knew the truth and Duo would know soon enough. Heero had nothing to gain by keeping Quatre in the dark, so he decided to come clean.

 

 

“Actually Quatre,” Heero interrupted during a pause, “I'm not here for a haircut.”

 

 

“Oh?” Quatre looked mildly surprised. “What then?” He asked, but before Heero could answer, Nicky Valentine, looking fashionably dishevelled with his ash-blond hair falling to his shoulders in a leonine tousle, facial hair carefully trimmed to look like at least 2 days' growth, crumpled black linen shirt tucked into eye-wateringly tight black leather jeans that were held in place (not that they were in any danger of falling down) by a black leather belt, studded along its length with the gold insignia of the fashion designer du jour, came out of a side door and minced across the reception area towards the two waiting men.

 

 

“Quatre, darling!” He drawled as he drew level. Quatre had risen as he saw Valentine approach, and the aesthetician now leaned in and kissed the air beside each of his cheeks. “Sooo sorry to keep you waiting but we are absolutely swamped. You can blame that husband of yours. Eeevery time he has one of his charity bashes it's the same.” Quatre's attempt to inform him that this was not actually one of Trowa's charity bashes per se fell upon deaf ears as Valentine turned to Heero. “And Heero, sweetheart, it's so nice to finally meet you. Duo has told me sooo much about you, I feel as if I've known you all my life.”

 

Relieved as he was that Valentine had opted to moderate his greeting in Heero's own case and had not subjected him to the air-kisses he had bestowed upon Quatre, Heero scowled. Firstly, there was only one person on god's earth that he would permit to address him as `sweetheart'. Secondly, he was none too happy about Duo discussing him with this man either. He made a mental note to speak severely to his husband about it.

 

 

“Candy here will take care of you.” Valentine continued, and for the first time Heero noticed a young woman standing a pace or two behind the aesthetician.

 

 

Heero's eyes widened with shock and horror. A woman? Trowa never said anything about a woman! That did it - he was cancelling his appointment immediately and getting the hell out of this benighted place. Heero cast wildly about him for aid in the shape of Quatre, but Valentine had placed a proprietary arm around the blond's shoulders and was leading him away. As they retreated along the corridor he turned back to Heero and threw out over his shoulder,

 

 

“Don't you worry about a thing. Candy is the very best we have and her touch is as light as a feather. You won't feel a thing.”

 

 

Heero rose abruptly and looked at the girl named Candy. She looked immaculately clean in a spotless, white, form-fitting, zip-fronted dress, which Heero assumed was some form of uniform coverall, since the legend `101' was embroidered in black silken thread above her left breast. Her platinum blonde hair was scraped neatly back and twisted into a bun and her make-up was expertly but subtly applied. The dress/coverall was hardly that, however. It barely covered Candy's modesty, leading Heero to wonder whether the uniform actually came as a two-piece and Candy, for the sake of fashion or perhaps for some other reason known only to her, had omitted to don the trousers that came with it. Either way, he was not having her fiddling around with his `meat `n' two veg', however pristine her appearance.

 

 

“Miss, er..., Miss Candy,” He stammered, feeling that as an opening, it left a lot to be desired, “I'm sure you're an extremely capable young woman, but I'm afraid there's been a mistake.” She said nothing, but she looked at him just a shade too knowingly for his liking. He ploughed on. “Well not exactly a mistake, but... well yes, a mistake. I've just remembered something else that I have to do. Now. I have to do it right now, so I can't do this. I'm sorry.” `Heero Yuy, you are a babbling fool' he thought as he spoke, but this self-chastisement did not help the flow of his rhetoric one little bit. Candy merely smiled at him, slid her arm through his and led him in the opposite direction to that in which Valentine and Quatre had just gone.

 

 

“Come along now Heero,” She said with perfect ease, “There really isn't anything to be afraid of.” Afraid? This slip of a girl had the temerity to call Heero Yuy afraid? Since this is exactly what he was, righteous indignation swelled within Heero's breast. He stopped walking and wrenched his arm away from the girl.

 

 

“I'm not afraid,” He stated coldly, “I'm just busy.”

 

 

“I'm sure you are,” She said placating as she slid her arm through his again and proceeded to lead him along the corridor once more, “And as soon as we have taken care of you, you can get on with whatever it is you have to do.” She stopped outside a door and opened it. “This way.” She said, and preceded him inside, leaving him no option but to follow.

 

 

Heero had subconsciously expected something akin to a torture chamber, but he was pleasantly surprised. The room was more like a hotel suite than anything else, with a bed in the centre and doors leading off from the central area. From where he stood he could see a small lounge area through a square archway, with two arm-chairs and a low table between them, strewn with magazines. Candy had released his arm and walked confidently across the room to one of the doors, which she opened and then stood back to allow Heero to enter.

 

 

“You can undress in here.” She said. Take everything off, even your underwear, then put these on.” She handed him a small, sealed plastic packet. “You will find a bathrobe inside, which you can put on before you come out. Take your time, and come out when you are ready.”

 

 

Heero entered the little room and Candy closed the door behind him. He looked down at the unmarked packet in his hands, not daring to open it. Finally plucking up the courage, he tore open the packet and found it to contain a pair of briefs..., made from paper..., a pair of thong briefs. Heero squeezed his eyes shut. “I can do this”, he whispered, “If Trowa can do it for Quatre, I can certainly do it for Duo”. Slowly, he began to disrobe.

 

 

When he emerged, with the fluffy bathrobe belted tightly round his waist, Candy was arranging a variety of pots, jars and utensils on a table beside the bed. Heero had at first taken it to be a bed, but on closer inspection he saw that it was more akin to an hospital gurney than an regular bed. He also noticed that, ominously, it was wider at the foot than it was at the head; he did not even want to think about why this might be so. However, he did think about the fact that if Trowa were lucky enough to win the award later that evening, it would be a short-lived victory, because by tomorrow Trowa Barton would be dead - very, very dead indeed. He thought about that quite a lot and it gave him a certain grim satisfaction.

 

 

“Ah, there you are.” Candy said as she glanced up from her work and caught sight of him. “If you'd just like to slip your robe off and jump onto the table.”

 

 

She spoke in a casual, offhand manner and carried on her preparation as she spoke, paying Heero no more attention beyond the initial glance. Relieved that he was to be spared her scrutiny for the nonce at least as he sat before her, stark naked but for a pair of paper briefs, Heero unbelted the bathrobe, shrugged it off and laid it across the back of a nearby chair. He sank slowly onto the `table' as she called it, but just as he was beginning to wonder whether he was supposed to lie prone or just sit, Candy looked up from her pots again and handed him a small, cordless device.

 

 

“You can adjust the table with this.”

 

 

Heero looked at the brushed aluminium console in his hand. It bore two arrow-shaped buttons, one pointing up and one pointing down. Each button was labelled in bold text,'UP' and `DOWN', presumably, Heero thought, because the device had no obviously discernable top or bottom.

 

 

“Now,” Candy said as she turned her undivided attention to him for the first time since he had emerged from the dressing room. It was very slight, but Heero caught her hesitation as she saw him seated on the edge of the table. Her eyes widened as they lingered on his lean, well-muscled physique. She shifted her gaze from his torso to his eyes in a heartbeat, and smiled to cover her little slip. “Lie back,” She continued in a brisk, professional manner, “And remember, you can adjust the table so that you feel comfortable.”

 

 

Thus began what Heero was convinced would be the most humiliating experience of his life to date. He had felt bad enough when Duo had dragged him to a marriage guidance counselling session, convinced that their marriage was on the rocks. On that occasion they had been sent away with what amounted to a flea in their collective ears, having been told that they were perfectly happy together, their marriage was rock-solid and they ought not to waste the counsellor's precious time. Not in so many words of course, but that was what it amounted to. This time, once again at the behest of his husband, it was not his innermost soul that was stripped and laid bare in front of a total stranger, but his naked body! As he lay on the table, he listened as Candy snapped on latex gloves, and decided against adjusting the bed. Lying in his current prone position, he was not able to see what was being done to his nether regions. He could feel though, and that was quite enough.

 

 

Actually, it wasn't nearly as bad as he had thought it would be, due in no small measure to the wonderful Candy. He had been afraid - well, more apprehensive than afraid, but not in anticipation of the pain that the procedure would undoubtedly involve. He was no stranger to intense physical pain, although he had not experienced any such for a good many years. The only pain he felt these days was emotional, and that none too frequently either. No, what he had been afraid of was the humiliation. The mortification of having to lay on a table mother naked while a stranger manhandled his privates. Manhandled! The last thing he had expected was that the person performing the procedure would be a woman but now that he thought about it, he saw that it should not have come as such a shock. He should have suspected it, should have expected it. Women were the ones who usually underwent such depilatory procedures so it stood to reason that the practitioners most skilled in the art would be women. Valentine had said that Candy was the best they had. Under the circumstances, the best they had was unlikely to have been a man. Trowa had known this, of course. He had known and he said nothing. Even as he gave Heero a rundown of the procedure, explaining the different levels of service offered, from a simple chest or back waxing to the full Brazilian, he had not breathed a word. Heero now recalled the strange, enigmatic smile that had played around Trowa's lips as they parted after lunch. Now he knew what his friend had been smiling at. Well Heero would give him something to smile about when he next saw him.

 

 

Until that time though, Heero concentrated on the moment and as he had previously observed, it was not as bad as he had expected it to be. Before beginning Candy had confirmed with him that he did indeed want the full Brazilian wax. She then explained to him exactly what this included, making quite sure that Heero was under no misapprehension about what was about to happen to him. He gave his curt ascent, then she began. She started with his upper body, smoothing on warm, honey-coloured wax, applying a strip of bleached cotton to the molten wax, then, stripping it off with a firm up jerk of the wrist. It hurt. It certainly did hurt, but not as much as it would when she started on his lower body, Heero was certain.

 

 

As she worked Candy talked, and her calm, soothing voice exuded comfort and served to put him at his ease completely. The action of her hands was light and delicate (just as Valentine had promised), but brisk and precise at the same time. She worked with the practised ease of a consummate professional, swift and decisive, and all the while she talked. She talked, but she made Heero talk too, which was no mean feat. She asked him questions about his life and his work and to Heero's surprise, he actually answered them. Before long they were chatting and laughing together like a couple of sailors on shore-leave. Heero's thoughts were completely deflected from what was happening to him and any apprehension he felt soon melted away. That is, until she reached for his paper underwear and gently eased the pouch aside, exposing his genitals.

 

 

“Oh good,” she said airily, “You have very little pubic hair, so this should be fairly easy.”

 

 

Heero had relaxed to the extent that he had adjusted the table so that it elevated his upper body to an approximate 45 degree angle, his head lolling comfortably back against a pillow, his eyes closed. As Candy pulled aside his underwear, his eyes flew open and he stiffened visibly, though thankfully not in the area currently under scrutiny. As Heero lay wide-eyed and staring, he prayed that this remained so. Candy had delivered the statement about his lack of nether hair as though making a pronouncement on the clemency of the weather for the time of year, and as she went about clipping such hair as he did have in the region down to a scant quarter inch using a pair of scissors (which she wielded with worrying speed), she continued their casual conversation.

 

“I've seen your husband in here haven't I?” She asked as she applied molten wax to his genital region. “He's the guy with the beautiful long hair right?”

 

 

The whole table where Heero now lay was illuminated by a bank of overhead lights, much the same as an operating table, but Candy now angled a small lamp so that it shone directly on his groin region, bending low over her work so that her face was inches from his body.

 

 

“Dear God!” Heero murmured and all of his previous anxieties came flooding back as he realised that he now had another dilemma. As Candy lightly handled his genitals in the course of her work, Heero felt himself `stirring'. He did not find her ministrations, gentle though they were, in any way sexually arousing, but his groin obviously had its own ideas. Her question about Duo served to focus him, however. Duo - what would Duo say if he could see him lying here getting a hard-on while a woman shaved his balls? He would say plenty, and Heero's ears would not stop ringing this side of Christmas. As thoughts of himself being sent to sleep on the couch for the next two weeks ran through his head, he managed to get a grip on himself.

 

 

“Yes, Duo comes here to have his hair done.” Heero replied, and his eyes suddenly narrowed. Had Candy mentioned Duo just at that moment co-incidentally, or was it by design? Either way, it had had a desirable result, but Heero still wondered. He hadn't noticed it before, but although he had mentioned Duo several times during their conversation, she had not pressed him further about his husband until now but now, as she worked on his groin region, all of her questions centred on Duo. Although thoughts of Duo would usually give him an erection at the best of times, getting one under these circumstances seemed to indicate a disloyalty to Duo that Heero found unconscionable. Even afterwards, when Candy was massaging a soothing finishing lotion into the newly waxed areas, applying it to his scrotum as well as up and over his penis shaft and head (although this was not waxed), he managed to avoid a full erection, although admittedly this was difficult. He rose almost to a semi-erection at one point, but he managed to master himself when Candy mentioned that she had been to see a recent exhibition of Duo's art, and asked him what he thought of his husband's latest work.

 

 

Heero found it difficult to keep up his end of the conversation when, in order to allow Candy access to the hairs between the cheeks of his buttocks that he was certain he did not possess, he found himself lying prone, his legs bent at the knees and elevated until his thighs lay against his chest. Despite all he had been through this past hour, he did not feel quite up to making smalltalk while in this position. However, it did occur to him that he had seen Duo in this position a good many times, while Heero himself thrust relentlessly into him... He swiftly expunged all such thoughts from his mind because nothing but danger lay in that direction. He turned his attention back to Candy, who during this time had been telling him about her training at beauty school, holding forth in such a way that Heero's input was not required. At the time he thought nothing of this, but afterwards he wondered...

 

 

When it was all over, finishing lotion applied and paper underwear re-positioned, Candy snapped off her gloves.

 

 

“There,” She said with finality, “As smooth as silk. Are you feeling any discomfort?”

 

 

“Nothing I can't handle.” Heero replied distractedly. He only half-listened as she continued to relate a list of aftercare tips and product recommendations. Having run the ultimate gauntlet of a full Brazilian wax, Heero was feeling somewhat adventurous and a kernel of an idea was forming in his mind.

 

 

“... you can purchase all of these products at the counter out front.” Heero tuned back into Candy's litany just as she tore off a leaf from a pre-printed pad, folded it in half and handed it to him. “You can get dressed now.” She took his robe up from the chair and handed it to him.

 

 

“Actually,” He said, making no move to take the robe, “I'm interested in something else...”

 

___________________________________

 

 

The awards ceremony was just as lengthy and monotonous as Heero had expected. He had enjoyed the dinner portion of the evening, during which he, Duo, Trowa and Quatre had a good laugh together. Although they lived in the same city, they didn't get together as often as any of them would have liked and whenever they did, they invariably had a merry old time. Wufei had recovered sufficiently from his recent health setbacks for him and Treize to have returned to their home, and they were both conspicuous by their absence at the gathering, and sorely missed by their friends.

 

 

The presentation of the awards took place after the dinner and during the lengthy ceremony Heero allowed his eyes to glaze over and his mind to wander. He came to life when, as predicted, Trowa won the humanitarian award he had been nominated for. A very popular choice, he received a standing ovation and Heero rose to his feet and joined in the thunderous applause. Subsequently, he returned to his catatonic state and remained there until the end of the ceremony. During the post-awards party, Trowa took Heero's arm and drew him aside.

 

 

“How was it?” He asked. Heero shot him a dark look. This was the first opportunity he had had to pick this particular bone with Trowa.

 

 

“You bastard!” He hissed. “Why didn't you tell me that the person who did the waxing at Valentines place was a woman? And don't tell me you didn't know. Of course you knew - she `s the same one who does you.” Trowa gave a wry grin.

 

 

“Yes, I knew,” He replied, “But before you blow my head off, answer me this. What would you have done had I told you at lunch?” As Trowa waited for Heero's answer he swept up two glasses of champagne from a circulating tray and passed one to Heero before taking a sip from the other.

 

 

“I would have cancelled the appointment and not gone anywhere near the place, of course.” Heero's reply was quick in coming. “Thanks.” He added as he raised his glass to Trowa.

 

 

“Exactly.” Trowa said. “But now, let me ask you this. Are you happy with what she did?” Heero shifted his gaze, looking away from Trowa and out, unseeing, into the throng of guests. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he replied.

 

 

“Yes, very happy.”

 

 

“And you think that Duo will be happy?” The smile grew and became a definite grin.

 

 

“Oooh yes.”

 

 

“Well then.” Trowa said with an air of finality. “No harm done, I take it you'll agree.” Heero nodded thoughtfully, then he leaned conspiratorially towards Trowa although there was very little chance of their being overheard since the party was in full swing and the room was filled with revellers.

 

 

“Er, Trowa,” He began, “You undergo this procedure regularly right? Do you ever..., I mean, how do you stop yourself from...” Trowa halted him with a raised hand.

 

 

“The answer is I don't. Candy does it all for me. Whenever things begin to get a little out of control...”

 

 

“Such as when she rubs in that finishing lotion?” Heero interposed.

 

 

“Yes, that's always a killer,” Trowa agreed, “And it happens no matter how often you have it done, believe me. Well, whenever I begin to... rise to the occasion, let's say, Candy just starts talking about Quatre, or about hearth and home or something. That usually does the trick.” Heero made a pensive moue and nodded sagely in agreement. Both men observed a contemplative silence for a moment while they sipped their drinks.

 

 

“She did the same with me.” Heero said eventually.

 

 

“Did it work?” Trowa asked.

 

 

“Yes, it did.” Heero replied “Good old guilt eh?” They sipped in silence once again, both lost in their own thoughts, then Trowa spoke.

 

 

“She's great, isn't she?”

 

 

“That she is.” Heero replied. “Cheers.” The two friends touched the rims of their glasses together, then tipped them up and drained the contents.

 

_____________________________________

 

Heero and Duo arrived home in the small hours of the following morning. On entering their apartment, Heero headed directly to the open-treaded glass steps that led up to the gallery level, where the bedrooms were situated. Duo headed for the kitchen.

 

 

“I'm gonna get a glass of water,” He called to Heero, “Do you want anything?”

 

 

“No thanks.” Heero replied and went on up the stairs. He had been wondering all evening how best to unveil his newly waxed body to Duo but now he had been handed the ideal opportunity on a plate. He took the stairs two at a time, while hurriedly loosening his clothing. Unless he decided on a snack, which was unlikely under the circumstances and given the hour, Duo wouldn't be too long in the kitchen, so Heero knew he had only a very limited amount of time. He was shirtless by the time he reached their bedroom, and he crossed the room to the dressing room, where he completed the job, flinging his evening clothes across the back of a chair rather than putting them neatly away for the first time in his life. Stark naked, he went back into the bedroom and lay down on the king-sized bed manoeuvring himself into the centre. A moment later he shook his head, sat up and laid back against the pillows instead. Still dissatisfied, he then lay back down, this time on his side facing the door, his hand supporting his head and propped up on one elbow. No, still not right. He rolled onto his back and lay with one leg slightly crooked at the knee and his fingers interlaced behind his head.

 

 

He was just in time. Duo entered the room seconds later. He was carrying a water glass and the myriad of tiny, satin-covered buttons on the black silk-velvet knee-length, full-skirted Nehru jacket he was wearing were unfastened.

 

 

“Phew, what a night.” He said with a yawn as he crossed directly to the dressing room as Heero had done, without vouchsafing a glance in the direction of the bed. As he watched him disappear into the dressing room, Heero was willing to bet that Duo's clothes would go the way of his also, i.e. flung carelessly across the back of a chair. Unlike himself however, this was something that Duo did with infuriating regularity, and a look of chagrin crossed Heero's features. He knew that he would be the one who would end up having to hang them up.

 

 

Within a few minutes Duo emerged, drawing a large, bristle hairbrush through his un-braided hair. He was clad only in a pair of light, cotton shorts, held up by a narrow drawstring at the waist. This was evidently only barely doing its job since the shorts rode so low on Duo's hips that only the moderate bulge of his genitals seemed to stand between them and disaster.

 

 

“I think Tro was a little...” He began, but stopped short as his eyes fell upon the bed... and Heero. A slow, predatory grin spread across his features and he moistened his lips hungrily. “I thought I was too tired for sex, but...” He had begun advancing towards the bed, but he stopped short again and his eyes widened. He took a step or two closer, stopping at the edge of the bed, and peered down at Heero through narrowed eyes. He frowned. “Heero, did you...?” He broke into a manic grin. “You did!” He crawled excitedly onto the bed and knelt beside Heero, the hairbrush falling to the floor, forgotten. His eyes fastened onto Heero's genitals. “You got waxed - cool!” His eyes travelled up Heero's body to his chest, lingered there only a moment before travelling back down to Heero's groin. Wide-eyed now with wonder, delight and fascination, Duo reached out and ran a tentative finger across Heero's mons pubis. His smile broadened. “Shit babe, that feels amazing. It's so smooth.” Heero said nothing. He submitted to Duo's inspection with silent satisfaction. “Did it hurt?” Duo turned to look Heero in the face, his voice filled with awe. Although he had torn his eyes away, his fingers still lightly stroked Heero's genital region.

 

 

“Yes, but nothing I couldn't handle.” Heero replied.

 

 

“It just looks so...hot!” Duo said, his voice still filled with awe. He ran the fingers of one hand lightly along Heero's arm, then took hold of his hand and gently raised the arm. He leaned in close and inspected Heero's satin-smooth armpit. “Awesome,” He whispered, “Just awesome. Q-man was right, this is fucking sexy.”

 

 

“Quatre said that?” Heero asked incredulously, but Duo ignored him. His attention had been arrested by something else as he let his gaze wander across Heero's body once more.

 

 

“Oh my god!” He said in a strangled whisper. Heero had been in the process of adjusting his position so that his back was against the headboard, and as he levered himself into a sitting position, Duo's eyes fell upon something, which had prompted the exclamation. “Oh. My. Fucking. God,” Duo repeated profanely, punctuating each word, “Is that what I think it is?” Heero smiled and forbore to reply. Duo had found the other little surprise - the `something else' he had asked Candy about after she had finished waxing him. Duo leaned in, once again staring hard at Heero's groinef area, but not at his genitals. This time his gaze concentrated on a small tattoo on his husband's inner thigh, near the apex where his legs joined his torso.

 

 

The components of the tattoo's design were simple - the Roman numeral `II' and a scythe. The handle of the scythe was entwined between the vertical strokes of the numeral and the long, sweeping blade of the scythe arced backwards over the top forming an arch, of sorts. The whole design was rendered in black ink and was no more than around 2 inches in height by an inch and a half in width. The tattoo stood out in stark contrast against the light honey-gold of Heero's skin, and this, coupled with the simplicity of the design and the intensity of the ink combined to produce a dramatically powerful image. Duo raised eyes glistening with brimming tears to look at Heero.

 

 

“It's me isn't it” He stated in a voice that quavered with emotion. “You've had me tattooed on your body.” Heero nodded. “Oh Heero, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me.” Duo's face crumpled and he fell weeping into Heero's arms.

 

 

Surprised and somewhat bewildered, Heero held Duo close until the sudden wave of emotion subsided. He had not anticipated this. He had expected some reaction from Duo of course - surprise, delight, or possibly even disapprobation (although he doubted this), but he had not anticipated... this. Duo wept freely and for quite some time, and Heero began to worry for his husband, wondering whether perhaps his brilliant idea was not quite as brilliant as he had thought. He did all that he could, which was to reach out and grab a handful of the tissues kept within easy reach on the nightstand for quite a different reason, and handed them to Duo. Other than that, he was powerless to offer any comfort since he was at a loss regarding a possible reason for Duo's sudden display of emotion. If not for Duo's last words prior to bursting into tears, Heero would have assumed that he disapproved of the tattoo, but his last words belied this. His husband, Heero thought, even after all these years, was an absolute enigma to him at times.

 

 

As abruptly as it had begun to flow, however, the tide ebbed and Duo, after a sniff or two, spoke, his voice hoarse and rasping.

 

 

“I'm sorry Heero.” He said.

 

 

“No I'm sorry,” Heero replied, “I really thought you would have liked the tattoo, but...” Duo raised his head from where it lay tucked under Heero's chin, and looked up at him.

 

 

“What do you mean? I loved the tattoo. I loved it, and I love you.” He rewarded Heero with a watery smile and a peck on the corner of his mouth, which was all that Duo could reach without any actual effort besides raising his head a little higher. “It was just that the thought of you doing all that for me, you know, first the waxing then the tattoo - those things hurt you know...”

 

 

“Yes, I know.” Heero interjected in a dry undertone.

 

 

“...It just made me cry. Then looking at the scythe made me remember stuff - horrible stuff that I hadn't thought about for a long time. That made me cry some more. But I'm okay now.” He sniffed again. Heero cursed himself.

 

 

“I'm sorry, I should have thought.” He said glumly. “It was just the first thing I thought of when the tattooist asked what design I wanted.

 

 

“No babe, I'm okay I said” Duo replied, then added gleefully, “It's a great design. Just wait until Q-man sees it.” Heero blenched. He was not at all sure that Q-man was going to see it, nor anyone else for that matter. He had deliberately had the tattoo positioned where only an intimate would see it, and only during the most intimate of moments. As he pondered this however, he realised that just such a moment was fast approaching. Duo had extricated himself from Heero's embrace, had slid down the bed and was now running his tongue lightly along Heero's penis. “Quatre says that waxed skin feels great during sex. Let's see if he's right.”

 

 

Heero just interlaced his fingers, placed his hands behind his head once again, lay back and allowed Duo to test the theory.

 

 

 

 

 

 

17