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English
Series:
Part 7 of Acquired Taste
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Published:
2002-02-27
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1,471
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1/1
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9
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176

Every Sweet Its Sour

Summary:

Every white will have its blacke, And every sweet its soure.—Thomas Percy

Work Text:

Luis fell back on the bed with a satisfaction far more profound than could be attained by simply winning. But even with the familiar languor taking over his limbs, he questioned what it meant to win at this game. The look of fulfilment on Robert's face as he had surrendered, as he had said the words, made Luis wonder if perhaps he had been playing to the wrong end. Perhaps he could risk losing to this man. Perhaps....

"So you win after all." An ethereal touch skimmed across his forehead. "This round, anyway. Even if I'm not sure you played fairly."

"And you did?" Luis turned to look directly at his accuser as he responded, and found an expression of gentle amusement slightly crinkling Robert's features. "Men like you and I, querido, we like to win. Whatever it takes." He shifted imperceptibly closer to the heat radiating off the man beside him. Robert had rested his head on his bent arm and the other wrist now sat in his hip so that his hand hung relaxed in front of his belly. Luis' gaze couldn't help but be drawn to the softening, yet still temptingly full member just beyond the dangling fingers, then farther to the long sweep of leg. Even in stillness, Robert gave the impression of fluid grace. Oh, no –- he did not play fair. Luis tried not to leer as he looked back into the smiling eyes. "Besides, the more wily the quarry, the more sweet the victory, no? Perhaps next time-– "

The sound of running feet on the stairs wrenched Luis out of the far too brief state of blissful satisfaction. He grabbed his robe as he heard the phrase he had no longer even hoped of hearing. "Colonel! We've got her, sir! We've captured the Queen."

If those words had been uttered a few short hours ago, he would have been elated. At this moment, the phrase made his heart sink. He stopped a trio of paces from the door, tying the sash on his robe. "I will be with you shortly, Capitan." A quick glance to the bed prompted another question. "Is she injured?"

"Her horse threw her, but she's still breathing and even comes to once in a while."

"Put her in the jail. And do not take your eyes off of her, Grisham! I will inform the doctor myself as to the arrival of his newest patient."

"Yes, sir!" The captain's hardy endorsement of the plan and the sound of retreating steps let Luis take an easy breath. But only one, for he turned his full attention back to the bed.

Robert had swung his feet over the side and onto the floor. He sat immobile, his back hunched, his fingers gripping the edge of the mattress. Just enough of his face was visible so that Luis could see the jaw muscle working in agitation. It was difficult to believe that this was the same boneless wanton that had been lying beside him scant minutes earlier. The slightly accusatory tone was familiar though. "I guess any more than a twenty-four hour reprieve was too much to ask."

"A reprieve? The Queen?"

"No, Colonel. Us. From ourselves." Robert turned only his head to look over his shoulder, his expression as closed as the rest of him. "From the moment I caught you stealing chocolate sauce in your own kitchen we haven't been the commander and the doctor, we've been Robert and Luis." The sigh Robert gave could have come from the bottom of his soul. "It had to end sometime."

"No, it does not! What transpires out there has nothing to do with what occurs in here."

"Do you think I could come back here knowing that you killed a woman whose only real crime was following her convictions?"

The pain that welled in Luis' chest surprised him. Damn that bitch! Always disturbing what little contentment he managed to find in his life. It wasn't as if it were a revelation, but to see and hear Robert's passion for this woman -- at this moment -- caused emotion to override discretion. "Do you think I would let you back in, now knowing how distant a second I really am?" he snarled.

Robert's eyes opened wide, then narrowed as he taunted, "Jealous?" almost under his breath.

Turning to his wardrobe, Luis presented his back to the rest of the room; he did not have the time or inclination to deal with this now. "Get dressed, Doctor. You have a patient that needs your attention."

He made a show of choosing his clothes, though he really didn't notice what was in front of him. The rustle of cloth and stamp of feet being shoved into boots somewhere behind him took his full attention. Fortunately, Robert dressed with the same efficiency as he did most things, and at the sound of footsteps heading toward the door, Luis was able to turn with his uniform in his hands and not seem as if he had been stalling. He had no intention of removing the robe while Robert was still in the room; it was the only armour he had left.

"I'll be ready when you come by my office on your way to the jail."

A terse nod was the only reply Luis was capable of giving, but it seemed to be enough. Robert opened the door with caution and then slipped through it.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Luis hurled his uniform to the bed then rubbed both hands over his face. He had not expected this. Maybe it was because the experience was still too new, he hadn't had a chance to get Robert out of his system. Still, there was no reason for the jealousy, the anger...the panic at the thought of never touching or tasting that delectable body again. Never hearing the breathless moan when he discovered a sensitive spot. Never watching the wicked grin develop, the one that started with a flash of recognition in the keen eyes and finally reached competition at the eloquent lips. Never simply sitting across from the man, safe in the knowledge that the desire he felt was carefully concealed. Nothing to do with Robert Helm would ever be safe again.

Enough! Dressing was the most pressing task. He was a little disappointed that he had chosen the black uniform with the simple gold trim; a more formal military presence would have been better for this along awaited confrontation, but he didn't want Robert to have any idea of how distracted he had been. Oh well, he could wear his dress uniform for the execution tomorrow.

During the walk to the doctor's office, Luis steeled himself to look into those deep green eyes again. Under no circumstances was Robert -– he had to stop being so intimate -– was Helm to have any indication that the encounter had been anything more than a brief diversion. He would be courteous, professional, once again the committed leader of this community. There would be no need for any frivolous conversation. The capture of the Queen was the only concern. Luis started as he found the office door suddenly in front of him.

He reached to knock. The door swung inward and his fist followed, throwing him momentarily off balance. "You could at least let me make a show of it, Doctor," Luis said through his teeth.

"I know that's what you are best at, Colonel. But today you don't have an audience." The doctor closed the door behind him, medical bag in hand.

Luis pivoted on his heel and noted that Helm was right -– at this time of night the street was deserted. Luis started across the main square with a purposeful stride knowing that Helm's long legs could easily keep up. The memory of those limbs in subtle disarray flashed though his mind. He quickly replaced it with an image of the Queen at the gallows, but wondered how much of his thoughts had been evident in his expression. Thankfully, Helm had remained a pace behind.

Turning the corner at the church, a running soldier almost collided with them. The excitement in the corporal's eyes and his nervous energy was contagious. Luis quickened his step across the garrison square even as the man trotted beside and made his report.

"The capitan told me to tell you that she is awake, sir."

"Thank you, Cruz." He knew Helm had heard. There was no need to turn around.

The crowd of soldiers surrounding the jail parted for the colonel like the sea before the prow of a ship. The only thing that slowed his pace was the sight of the black garbed woman stretched out on the cell bunk. At least there was one prize that he wouldn't let slip through his fingers tonight.

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