Disclaimers:  I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its characters.

Notes:  Quatre is presented to the Sultan.



Acquiescent Concubine



Part Nine


Wufei sighed as he approached the doors that led to the Sultan’s court.  Beside him, Quatre trailed, although his pace was slow,
his movements sluggish at best.  Wufei hated what he had to do.  His charge was ill and in desperate need of rest and a bath.  
The youth would get neither until after presented to the Sultan.

“Remember ... stay on your feet and kneel only when I direct you to.  Speak when prompted.  I will talk with the Sultan and
warn him of your condition.”

The veiled young Quatre nodded.  “I understand.”  He said, his breath already harsh just from walking the short distance from
the carriage.  “I am not afraid.  You have told me that he is gentle, and I have no reason to doubt you.  At least ... if I die ... I
will not die a virgin.”

Wufei snorted in amusement at the slight teasing tone in Quatre’s tired voice.  “You won’t die, my friend.  Already you are
regaining your strength.  Perhaps the change in environment has been as beneficial as I had hoped it would be.”  He looked up
and took a deep breath as the doors to the court opened.  “It is time.  Do not show fear.  Do not look at anyone but Rasid.”  He
smiled at the boy.  “All will be well.”

Quatre nodded slightly, lowering his head and following behind Wufei at a respectable pace as the other youth led the way into
the large room.  Wufei could understand Quatre’s nervousness though.  The  youth was surrounded on all sides by officials and
guards, by advisors and servants.  If he was thought to be doing something wrong, he could be severely punished, if not killed
outright.

Wufei quickly moved toward the Sultan’s throne, dropping to one knee with haste.  Behind him, Quatre stopped walking, staying
still where he stood.  Wufei bowed his head, laying his staff on the ground in a sign of supplication.

“Sire, I have returned with your bounty.”  Wufei announced.

“Rise, Wufei.”  Rasid bade, waving the young man to continue.

Wufei nodded, rising and bringing his staff up, then quickly down, banging it loudly against the stone floor.  “I give you your
newest concubine, my lord Rasid.”

With that, Quatre stepped forward, dropping to his knees rapidly, although it could very well have been more out of exhaustion
than respect.

Rasid frowned a little and glanced at Wufei.  It was as if he KNEW that something was wrong.  Then he smiled warmly for the
rest of the assembly’s benefit until he heard a low murmur.

“Three concubines in as many days?”  A whispered voice asked.  “It’s amazing he has any room in his harem at all.”

Rasid scowled and looked over to where the voice had originated.  “What I do in my own palace matters not so long as I do not
cause harm to my people.  Do not speak so again, or I shall have you banished from this court.”  He turned his attention to the
kneeling youth, smiling gently.  “Quatre Raberba Winner, you have offered yourself to me as a concubine in order to clear your
father’s debts and to save your sisters from servitude.  It is a very noble thing that you do.  If you have any objections, you may
speak them now before the assembly without fear of retribution.”

Wufei felt a sense of pride as Quatre raised his head.  He was proud to have met the brave young man, and he hoped to be able
to get to know Quatre better once the blonde was well again.

Quatre’s voice was soft, but it carried throughout the hall.  “I, Quatre Raberba Winner, give myself wholly to the desires of the
Sultan.  I do this of my own free will.  I have no objections.”  With that, he bowed his head again, quietly awaiting the end of
the ceremony.

It was no more than a brief few seconds that passed before Rasid ordered the court to be cleared.  No one lingered around after
Rasid gave his order.  And shortly, the hall was empty save for three occupants . . . the Sultan, Quatre, and Wufei.

Once the court was clear, Rasid turned to Wufei.  “What’s wrong with him?”

Wufei bowed.  “He is ill, my lord . . . has been for some time.  Although he has regained some strength during our travels here,
he is still a far cry from being healthy.”

Rasid rose and approached Quatre, dropping to one knee in front of him.  “Then I cannot claim you fully tonight.  I will not risk
endangering your health.”  

He lifted Quatre’s veil from his face and head, both he and Wufei frowning at the paleness in the blonde’s skin, the shivering
moving through his form . . . at the sweat that very nearly soaked his weakened body.  Rasid sighed, then placed a gentle and
chaste kiss upon Quatre’s lips.

“Do not fret, young one.”  Rasid whispered, ghosting his fingers through Quatre’s damp hair.  “I will see to it that you regain
your strength, and you will not want for people to tend your needs.  You have an air about you that will draw others to you.”  
With that, he straightened and clapped his hands twice.

Wufei looked over as the servants in charge of preparing new concubines entered the hall.  They paused when they saw Quatre
and looked in askance at the Sultan.

“This is Quatre.  Bathe him and make sure he rests.  Do not prepare him for claiming as he is in no condition for that.”  Rasid
reached down and caressed Quatre’s face, causing the pale blonde to look up, his eyes showing nothing but weariness.  “After
tonight . . . no one but Wufei, my healer, and I will be allowed to see your face unveiled.  When you are well enough, someone
will explain the rules to you.”

“Y-Yes, Sire.”  Quatre spoke quietly, lowering his head again.

Rasid turned to look at the servants.  “Take him.  And be gentle.”

The servants rushed forward, easing Quatre to his feet and escorting him off.  Wufei watched as Quatre was taken away,
hoping that the youth would be well.


*****


Quatre was barely aware of anything.  He simply lay there, allowing the servants to tend to him, drifting in and out of
consciousness.  He was too tired to care what was done to him, too weary to worry about being seen without garb by these
strangers.

He was taken to the baths and stripped of his coverings.  Gentle hands led him into the water and he was guided to sit, one of
the servants taking a place behind him.  Quatre tiredly turned, blinking when he found a young woman to be holding him, her
bare form pressed fully against his back.  The hands of the other servants moved across his weary form, cleansing him of dirt
and sweat, their movements never anything other than gentle.

Quatre must have fallen asleep, for he didn’t remember when they stopped their washing.  It was only when they pulled him
from the soothingly warm water that he regained a sense of himself again.  He smiled shyly.  Hands, as always kept him from
toppling over as drying cloths were wrapped around his form and rubbed against his skin.

He was led away, down a strange hall and into a rather expansive bedchamber.  It must Rasid’s bedroom, Quatre thought.  
However, he was only able to look around briefly before he was taken through a door to the side of the chamber and led into a
hall, and finally to a smaller bedchamber . . . his own, he decided, not bothering to let his gaze wander around the room.  He
would be here for a long time; there would be time later to view his surroundings.

The drying clothes were pulled from his form and set aside.  Quatre was guided to lie on his stomach on one of the softest beds
he had ever had the pleasure to sleep in.  Hands, covered in scented oils, pressed against his back, massaging his tired muscles,
spreading the oils over his sickly frame.  When they were finished with his back, he was rolled over and they continued their
massage with his chest, their hands slipping and sliding as they caressed his arms and legs.

He was pulled to a sitting position briefly, just long enough for a flimsy garment to be drawn onto his body.  He sat there
obediently as his arms were pulled through the sleeves, as a servant kneeling before him tied each of the delicate laces so that he
was given the slightest hint of modesty.

Quatre allowed his eyes to fall shut as he was pushed to lie down, his body arranged comfortably and ready for the Sultan’s
visit.  He briefly flicked his eyes open to smile at the servants gathered around him, sighing a little.  “I thank you for your
kindness.”  He whispered.

The servants smiled but said nothing.  They quietly filed out of the room, the young woman who had held him in the bath
brushing her fingers across Quatre’s cheek in a gentle manner before she followed the others out of the room.

He slept for a while.  He didn’t know how long he had been asleep though, but it was dark out when he felt the bed dip.  He
blinked up at Rasid, and gave him a weak smile.  “If you don’t plan on claiming me tonight what is it I am going to do?”

Rasid’s hand was gentle as the tall man caressed Quatre’s face.  “Tell me . . . have you ever pleasured yourself with your
hands?”

Quatre blushed at the question.  He had been raised well and had never spoken of such things . . . much less done something like
Rasid had suggested.  “No, I have not.”  He replied quietly.

Rasid smiled warmly and leaned over to kiss Quatre’s forehead.  “Then I will simply have to teach you, my lovely.”

With that, Rasid helped Quatre to sit up with the aid of many pillows.  Then Rasid removed his garment and knelt beside Quatre
on the bed.  Quatre’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as he surveyed Rasid’s nude form for the first time, finding
himself somewhat frightened with the idea of having to be in this man’s bed now.

Rasid smiled, easily taking hold of the ties of Quatre’s garment and pulling them apart, spreading the now open edges of the thin
garment to either side of Quatre’s body to expose his ill form to the Sultan’s eyes.  “I will guide your hand, my precious one.  
All you need do is keep it tight enough to give me the friction needed.  Technically, you are not doing much, but it is enough to
satisfy the laws of my land.”

Quatre nodded, shuddering as Rasid’s hand grazed over his chest lightly.  The touch did not linger though, and soon enough,
Rasid grasped Quatre’s wrist, slowly bringing the young man’s hand closer to himself.  Quatre held his breath as he timidly
curled his fingers around the thick length, biting his lip as Rasid closed his hand over Quatre’s.  With Rasid’s guidance, Quatre
began to stroke it, watching in fascination as it grew harder beneath his touch.

Rasid’s hips shifted forward slightly, pushing the rigid length deeper into the fists that were quickly pumping him.  The sight
alone was enough to excite Quatre, bringing strange feelings to course through his blood.  The Sultan’s moans reached his ears
and Quatre found himself becoming short of breath, sweat beading on his brow.

It didn’t take long for the Sultan to find his release though.  Most likely, the man had not held back in the slightest, probably to
give Quatre a break and allow him rest sooner.  The larger man’s seed splattered across Quatre’s chest, dripping along his
fingers as Rasid slowed their hands, eventually ceasing the movement altogether.

Rasid took a breath, releasing his hold over Quatre’s hand.  He smiled, reaching over to the side table and retrieving a soft cloth
to wipe the seed from Quatre’s body.  A moment later, he tossed the cloth over his shoulder and bent to kiss Quatre’s cheek.

“I look forward to the day that I will not need to guide you, sweet Quatre.”  Rasid whispered huskily.

Quatre blushed a little and smiled gently.  “What now?  Do you need anything more from me?”

Rasid chuckled and shook his head.  “No.  But I never leave a concubine unfulfilled.  It would be unfair of me to seek pleasure
without giving any in return.  All you need do is lie back and relax.”

Confused, yet grateful that he didn’t have to do anything, Quatre relaxed against the pillows behind him and closed his eyes.  He
could feel the bed shifting as Rasid moved, but did not open his eyes, trusting that the Sultan would not hurt him.  He wondered
what the Sultan had in mind.  However, nothing his imagination could conjure could have prepared him for what the Sultan
actually did.

Quatre gasped, his eyes flying wide as a deliciously slick heat encased his half-erect length.  He looked down, his mouth opened
in a soundless cry as he watched the Sultan pleasure him with his mouth, the man’s tongue slithering along Quatre’s hardening
shaft in wicked ways.  Quatre dug his nails deeply into the blankets below him, his hips raising and falling as if they had their
own mind, driving him deeper into the hot cavern that surrounded him.

“Ah!”  Quatre all but screamed, tossing his head from side to side as he fought his own bodily instincts, trying to still his hips so
as not to hurt the man that knelt between his legs.  “I-It feels so good.”  He panted, his back arching.

Rasid’s hands gripped his thighs, his mouth hastening along the column of flesh he sucked so thoroughly, so devotedly.  Quatre
had never felt anything this wonderful in his entire life.  He wondered if he had made the Sultan feel even a fraction of this.  He
hoped so . . . this was simply so incredible.

A litany of incoherent nonsense fell from Quatre’s lips.  He couldn’t grasp anything, couldn't focus on anything other than the
flames coiling in his belly, the tingling that spread throughout his bones.  And then finally, as Rasid’s mouth descended on him
one last time, Quatre screamed his release, shooting his fluids into Rasid’s mouth, only to feel as the man swallowed against him.

When the intense sensations ebbed, Quatre fell back against the bed bonelessly.  He breathed raggedly, his body feeling so very
weary.  Distantly, he felt as Rasid closed the flimsy garment over Quatre’s body once again, tying each of the ties with
patience.  Blankets were swept up over Quatre’s body, his form arranged so that he was lying once again.  Before Quatre knew
what was happening, he felt a hand settle on his forehead, a soft cool cloth dabbing at his sweat-soaked skin as he fell deeply
into unconsciousness.



To Be Continued . . .