Continuity: Figurative Brotherhood
Length: One-shot
Pairings: 4xD, 1xR
Prompt: None
Teaser: Heero rummaged through his utility belt, refusing to look at Quatre.
"Beam knife or lockpick? Personally, I prefer the beam knife. Quick, with the
high risk of amputation on your part."
Link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5227951/6/F ... rotherhood
Disclaimer: GW = not mine
Author's Note: I've given Une the rank of Marshal in this continuity. Marshal happens to be "the most senior flag officer rank possible in an organization" according to Memory Alpha. Since, we all know Une's the head of Preventer, it's logical to assume that would be her rank. On an unrelated note, I served under quite the badass female Provost Marshall in our cadet corps. If and when I do decide to bring Une into the picture, I have a pretty clear idea of what she'll be like.
This one's 4xD with hints of 1xR. Trowa's single. I don't like having all the pilots paired up so neatly...Dedication: This one's for Cinnamon Selkie. Now that I've gotten you to like 4xD, it would be irresponsible of me not to feed the addiction. :p
Figurative Brotherhood
by mistress amethyst une
The Perils of Bondage
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~Article 146~
A Bro refrains from using too much detail when relating sexual exploits to his Bros.
Providing graphic detail when describing a sexual feat unconsciously forces your Bros to picture you naked...and there's no coming back from that.
HOW DETAILED CAN YOU GET?
LEVEL: Vague
SAMPLE DIALOGUE: "Got laid last night."
ACCEPTABLE? Thumbs up
LEVEL: Moderate
SAMPLE DIALOGUE: "Totally got laid last night."
ACCEPTABLE? Thumbs up
LEVEL: Specific
SAMPLE DIALOGUE: "She put her [censored] on my [censored], which made my [censored] [censored] [censored]ly."
ACCEPTABLE? Two thumbs down
--taken from The Bro Code by Barney Stinson with Matt Kuhn, p. 183
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Quatre Raberba Winner was starting his Monday morning in a less than dignified manner. For one thing, only a sheet served to hide his nakedness as he lay in bed. It had taken a lot of kicking and maneuvering to get the cloth over his hips to hide his equipment. Left arm cuffed to left bedpost, right arm to right bedpost. He was thankful Dorothy hadn't gone with the initial plan of cross cuffing his arms. That would have been-
He gulped. Either it would have been outrageously uncomfortable or scintillating enough to make him forget that pain was even a sensation. What was it about her that made him agree to these ridiculous things?
"Don't you think I deserve a turn?" she asked, employing that almost feline tone, purring under his touch.
As he trailed kisses over her rope burned wrists, he smiled against her skin. "If you can find bonds that can hold me, why not?"
He really should've known better than to challenge her. She stood at the foot of the bed, dressed for business in a smart navy pantsuit, her hair tied back. For a woman dealing with a visibly distraught naked man handcuffed to her bed, she was the perfect picture of calm. She had her cellphone pressed against her ear, tapping her foot as she waited for the other party to pick up.
"Your comrade's going to need your help getting out of bed this morning," she stated when her call was finally answered. "You'll probably need lockpicking equipment, maybe compact beam knives."
Loud muttering on the other end... It was impossible to discern what was being said from where Quatre lay.
"Why you?" she asked sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "The locks happen to be Preventer-issue. Also, I happen to know you're free this morning. I did help get you the day off."
More muttering. Quatre didn't need to use his rumored abilities as an empath to know the person on the other end of the line was very angry.
"In the middle of something? What could you possibly be in the middle of that's more important than- OH? You wanted the day off for that?"
OH? An "OH?" from Dorothy was never good.
"Right now? I caught you- Well! I hardly think your usage of profanity's justified, Mr. Yuy. Even if I don't have the option of taking advantage of your early bird special, I happen to be your client, too. Yuy? Still there? Yuy, if you don't answer me right- Oh hello, Miss Relena. Go to hell? Look, I understand you're upset but-"
Sighing, Dorothy clicked the phone shut and pocketed it. "I suppose they're not morning people."
"Dorothy!" bellowed Quatre, struggling against his bonds.
"Don't you dare snap off those bed posts!" she warned, pacing back and forth before the bed. "It's antique cherrywood. Been in my family for centuries. I was conceived in that bed."
"Then what do you expect me to do?" he bit out. "These cuffs are Gundanium! I can't break them. If you hadn't lost the keys-"
"I didn't lose them. My purse ate them."
She looked at her watch. "Hm...well, I'm running late. I'll give Marshal Une a quick call. She can probably bully someone into coming by later this afternoon."
"This afternoon?!"
"Don't complain. I know better than to schedule something this physically draining before any important business engagements. You have the day off. Meanwhile, I'm off to toil. The sacrifices I have to make..."
"So you expect me to stay home while you go off to work?"
"Precisely. Always knew you'd make a good housewife."
"Dorothy!" he growled.
Why did it seem like he only screamed her name when he was either in the throes of ecstasy or at his most pissed off? Would it kill him to whisper it sweetly more often?
"I'm joking," she chortled. "Lighten up. Just relax. I'll get you uncuffed in no time. Patience, darling."
The way she said darling wasn't the least bit comforting. She might as well have used slave.
Before he could issue any more protests, she was out the door. Stealing a glance at the clock on the bedside table, he let loose an anguished scream. It was nine in the morning. How long would he have to wait for freedom from his Gundanium bonds and this antique cherrywood four poster prison?
Somewhere along the line, he dozed off. He awoke to the loud pounding of feet against the hardwood floor. He kept his eyes snapped shut. Whoever it was, maybe they couldn't see him if he couldn't see them.
"Do we even want to know?" asked Trowa's familiar voice.
"Doubt it," replied Heero, persisting in banging his boots against the floor. "Wake up, Mr. Winner. Your vindictive fianc?e requested me specifically, and I won't have my work go unappreciated."
Quatre opened his eyes, groaning as his two comrades glared down at him. "May I explain?"
"Explain why you're handcuffed to Dorothy Catalonia's bed in only a sheet?" snorted Trowa. "The situation sort of speaks for itself."
Heero rummaged through his utility belt, refusing to look at Quatre. "Beam knife or lockpick? Personally, I prefer the beam knife. Quick, with the high risk of amputation on your part."
"Lockpick," swallowed Quatre. "About Dorothy. This morning-"
"This morning, she interrupted something very important," growled Heero. "Today's my day off. Or so I thought..."
Heero handed Trowa a lockpick. Taking that as his cue, Trowa moved to the left side of the bed as Heero stayed on the right. Together, they began working the locking mechanisms on Quatre's cuffs.
"She didn't know any better," reasoned Quatre. "I'm sure she wouldn't have called if she'd known you were-"
Quatre cut himself off.
"Known I was?" inquired Heero, still fiddling with the lock.
Trowa played the part of silent observer, enjoying his neutrality in this conflict. The discomfort emanating from both his comrades was- Well, it was amusing.
"I don't think we should discuss that," snapped Quatre.
"Playing the prude now, Mr. Bondage?" smirked Trowa.
"I thought that was your title," jabbed Heero good-naturedly, referring to Trowa's regular gig tied down to a giant dartboard.
"Quatre's stolen it, I suppose," remarked Trowa, laughing mildly. "All right, my side's done. May I recommend that you use your free hand to hike that sheet up higher?"
Quatre flushed angrily at the comment but saw fit to keep silent as Trowa disposed of the cuffs. He did as Trowa advised and used his reacquired mobility to gain a bit more decency with the covers.
"Hn," grunted Heero, taking the cuffs off on his side as well. "Job's done. I have a frustrated vice foreign minister to go home to."
Both Trowa and Heero turned to leave as Quatre gathered the covers around himself. "So neither of you is going to let me explain?"
"What's there to explain?" shrugged Heero. "You got laid last night."
"That's all we need to know," added Trowa. "Anything more detailed would force us to see mental images we'd rather not."
Quatre breathed a sigh. "So...this never happened?"
They walked out without another word, Heero slamming the door behind him.
