"Hmn?" Tarragon was somewhat dazed by the kaleidoscope of light that had burst in his mind at the sight of Mas-- Genrou's smile.

"Uh. Well. I was wondering.." Genrou looked away, embarrassed. "I was uh... well."

"Uh-hmn?" Tarragon descended from the color drenched summit, and finally paid attention to the self-conscious Genrou. Genrou's cheeks were flushed and his eyes wouldn't meet Tarragon's. His curiosity twitched. Now what would make Genrou look so embarrassed?

"Well, did you and Grandfather, uh. You know. Uhmn. Did you two ever... I mean, you don't have to answer the question--"

"It would be nice to hear the question first," Tarragon sighed, a mock wistful tone in his voice. Then he flashed a devastatingly white smile at Genrou, who then wondered if Tarragon had ever thought of doing toothpaste commercials.

"Well, it's a personal question and I'm not good with that sort of thing!" Genrou said defensively, still trying not to look at Tarragon in the eye. "I mean, I usually don't ask people if they've ever had sex with my grandfather or anything!"

"Yes."

"What?" Genrou stared at a serenely composed Tarragon, confusion swirling through his mind. Then he gaped, realizing that he had put both his feet in his mouth and crammed his hands in as well. ::oh shit...:: He looked helplessly at Tarragon, silently begging pardon.

"Yes, I had sex with your Grandfather." Tarragon watched a myriad of expressions fly through Genrou's face. Shock, disgust, pity. Then understanding and sympathy. Tarragon looked away, not wanting any compassion from Genrou. "I don't want you to feel sorry for me."

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't." Genrou's voice was serious. "I can't help but be sorry. You're a slave. You couldn't do anything else. My Grandfather," Genrou spat the word as though it left a bitter taste in his mouth, "bought you with his money. What else could you do? I'm sorry."

Tarragon looked at him in surprise, a cold ball that he didn't know existed in the pit of his stomach thawed a little. Just a little; just enough for him to feel a twinge of pain long suppressed.

"Don't be. You're not him. And it isn't your fault, you know." Tarragon ignored the unsteadiness in his voice even as he turned his head to look away from the somber black pools that stared into the very core of his being. "I chose to be in this situation. I chose to be a slave."

"What?" A burst of surprise exploded from Genrou's mouth.

"It was either that or starve. Or whore for money and die from disease. Freedom is an overrated detail if you're hungry every night. It's easy to give that up in return for a safe place to live and plenty of food in my stomach." Tarragons voice was calm, distant, as though describing events that happened to someone else. The detached tones succeeded in making Genrou think twice about asking further.

Silence pooled in the tree-house, each involved in his own thoughts. Finally, Genrou stirred and stood up, stretching his aching muscles. Tarragon watched him from the corner of his eyes, hands gripping the fur covers of the bed, but not saying anything. He remembered the anger in Genrou's face and voice after Tarragon had commented on his looks. ::Though how Genrou could even think that he was unattractive, I just don't understand...::

"What's with the mud?" Genrou half-joked, trying to lessen the thick blanket of silence in the room. "Some kind of kinky welcome? SHIT!" Genrou clapped his hands over his mouth, suddenly realizing what just flew out of his mouth. "T-Tarragon, I'm sorry, I..." Genrou's eyes were huge with shock at the faux pas he had committed.

Tarragon laughed out loud, "You could say that. I like mud." He grinned slyly at a still-red in the face Genrou.

"I always put my foot in my mouth. Ignore me whenever I say stupid things like that." Genrou shook his head, hair flying out in a circle that finally settled into his usual sleek chin length bob.

"That's a really neat thing you do with your hair, Genrou." Tarragon said admiringly. "My hair is always snarly and tangled."

"It would help if you washed it once in a while." Genrou teased, as he picked up his discarded tunic and pulled it over his head with a sense of relief. He really didn't like walking around half naked. It exposed him too much. It made him feel too vulnerable.

Tarragon flushed as he picked at a patch of mud on his thigh but didn't say anything. Genrou glanced at the silent figure and changed the subject. "How about showing me around then? I know its dark out," Genrou walked towards the cut-out window and peered into the jungle. "Actually, it's not as dark as I thought. The moon is shining."

"Not to mention the special floodlights that mimic moonlight." Tarragon smiled as he left the bed to stand next to Genrou. He noticed again that they were about the same height with Tarragon only a shade taller than the other. He looked out of the window and saw that Genrou was right, it was bright enough outside.

"I'll show you my favorite place." Tarragon heard himself say. ::What did I just say? Thats _MY_ place. It's not as if Genrou was a close friend... or.. anything...:: The thought trailed off when Genrou grinned at him with delight.

"Really?" Genrou smiled into Tarragon's eyes. ::He has eyes like a cat. I'd always liked cats.:: The random thought buzzed through his conscious mind, then disappeared, quickly forgotten.

"Yes, really." Tarragon turned to walk towards the door. "You should change, Genrou. Silk isn't really good for hiking. It might get ruined."

"Huh? Oh, sure. Gimme a minute."

Tarragon tried very hard not to turn around and watch. ::He doesn't like being looked at when he doesn't have clothes on. Don't look, don't look, don't look, oh shit.:: Tarragon peeked over his shoulder and clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a gasp.

Genrou was facing away from him, rump in the air, his tunic once again on the floor, as he rummaged through a bag he had placed on the bed. He was muttering to himself as he threw brightly colored clothing onto the furs. Tarragon spared a glance at the bright reds, greens, and blue clothing that Genrou was swiftly discarding with grunts of disgust. But Tarragon was far more interested in Genrou's back. Pale, pale skin that glimmered in the dim lamp light, the column of his spine a graceful arch, his muscles shifting under the thin skin. Genrou was lean, a body of muscle, skin and bone, with not much extra flesh anywhere. Tarragon's eyes ran down further, admiring the curve of his ass, the long legs that seemed to stretch out forever, the bare feet that peeked out of long silk trousers.

"A-hah!" The triumphant shout jerked Tarragon out of his worshipful daze, and he quickly swung his head back around. His heart was hammering, his breathing erratic not just from surprise, but from that electrifying shock of lust he had felt while looking at Genrou. ::No, I will not fucking fall in love with this man. Never, not ever god-dammit. He'll just hurt me in the end. He'll leave and I'll be alone again. Just like always.::

"What?" Tarragon was immensely proud of the fact that his voice was calm. Cool. Revealing nothing of the roiling confusion in his mind, in his body, in his heart.

"Found it! My favorite tanks. My favorite jeans..." Genrou crooned to himself even as he wiggled into the army surplus tank tops. He tossed a glance at Tarragon to make sure he wasn't looking, then pushed down his trousers and quickly pulled on a pair of boxers and his ripped jeans. He gave a small sigh of relief at the feel of the comfortable -- and comfortingly normal -- cotton denim. ::Silk's just too... too decadent. It made me feel too damn naked. Which I was, since Yoshino insisted that boxers were not meant to be worn with that stupid dress.:: He buttoned the fly, then turned to look at Tarragon, who was gazing intently out into the jungle.

He watched Tarragon for a minute, admired the broad shouldered, slim hipped body. ::He could be a model, outside. He's got the body for it.:: Genrou heaved a silent, envious sigh, then said out loud, "Hey, aren't you going to put some clothes on? That.. uh.. loincloth-thing that you're wearing wont be much protection either." Genrou pulled on some socks and rummaged through his suitcase for his boot.

"I'm fine. I'm used to getting scratched once in a while." Tarragon refused to turn around and look. He was still having a hard time breathing as images of Genrou bent over, half naked, swum in his mind.

"If you say so." Genrou said dubiously as he eyed the little apron-like garment that was Tarragon's sole covering. It was a skimpy little thing, something that even Tarzan would be embarrassed to wear. It looked like it was made of animal hide, a very soft leather. It barely covered Tarragon's butt, barely reaching the tops of his thighs. And it didn't look like Tarragon was hiding a pair of boxers underneath. Then Genrou gasped at his train of thought. ::Now why the fuck am I looking at his ass? Jesus.::

"Okay, I'm ready." Genrou announced as he walked towards the still figure. He dropped a friendly hand on Tarragon's shoulder and ignored the little buzz of pleasure at the feel of heat under his palm. Then he felt Tarragon tense, and jerked back his hand as though he had been burned.

Tarragon couldn't help but react to the feel of Genrou's hand on his shoulder, his body tensing with delight as pleasure coursed through his super sensitive nerves. He almost protested when Genrou snatched his hand away as though disgusted. Tarragon remembered that he was still mud-covered and dirty, and wished that he was clean.

"Let's go then." Tarragon shot him an unreadable glance as he began to descend the rope ladder. "It's a little tricky with this ladder, okay? So be careful."

***

Genrou was amazed at the size of the room and asked Tarragon why the place looked so huge in the inside. Tarragon, glad that his unintentional rudeness was overlooked, answered gaily "Oh, mirrors and paintings and stuff like that. It's a big room, but those other things make it look even bigger. C'mon. Hurry. We can really explore later. I wanna show you my favorite place."

Genrou watched Tarragon flicker in and out of the jungle, his movements sure and smooth. Once in a while, Tarragon would disappear then reappear with startling silence when Genrou least expected it. Tarragon would bring him fruit, and berries and nice smelling flowers he would gather during his forays.

Finally, Tarragon took Genrou's hand -- and both figures suppressed the shivers that ran down their spines at contact, firmly ignoring the shock of delight at the touch -- to guide him over a rough spot, then froze. Around the bed was the most beautiful place that Genrou had ever seen.

A tiny waterfall, straight out of a tropical fantasy, surrounded by flat rocks and flowers and small shrubs greeted Genrou's amazed eyes. ::I don't know why I'm so surprised after seeing this island, but damn... This is unbelievable!:: Genrou didn't resist when Tarragon tugged him towards the water.

"Isn't it great?" Tarragon didn't relinquish his hold on Genrou's hand. This was his place, his private retreat. Sure the entire room was his, but this was the place that he felt most at home. It was his dream come true.

"Wow. This is fucking amazing." Genrou seemed unable to say anything more, but took came closer to the water. He was so close that a few more steps would bring him into the pool, and so close that he could feel the spray from the waterfall.

"It's nice to bathe in." Tarragon followed Genrou, their hands still linked. "It's pretty warm water actually. Though if you move closer to the other end the water gets a lot cooler."

"This is so awesome." Genrou's voice was filled with childlike excitement. He looked at Tarragon and grinned, "Can we..?" and tilted his head towards the water.

For a split second, logic demanded that Tarragon say no - the mud would wash away, so the test would be null and void, he didn't want to get into the water with Genrou -- but Tarragon realized that there was no point in testing his Master. He was hooked whether he wanted to be or not. Denial would avail him nothing. He might as well -- and he _will_ , he swore to himself -- make the best out of this situation.

"Sure. Why not." Tarragon smiled back, and Genrou was a little flustered at the sight of that catlike smile of anticipation.

***

Genrou suddenly realized that he was still holding Tarragon's hand in a tight grip, and he transferred his uneasy stare at their joined palms. ::I should let go, I really should. Tarragon is a guy. I'm a guy. Guys shouldn't be holding hands...:: He loosened his grip reluctantly, but was astounded when Tarragon tightened his grip. Genrou's eyes flew up to meet Tarragon's, and froze. A fever began its slow burn in his body.

Tarragon stared intently into Genrou's eyes, aware of a singing uproar of triumph in his veins, realizing that Genrou was equally trapped in this cage of nerve-thrilling awareness between the two of them. ::Mine.:: He whispered in his mind. ::Genrou, you're mine now. And I won't let you go.::

Genrou made a convulsive movement, as though to break free of the spell that held them both motionless in that taut plateau of sexual awareness. The challenge was set, Genrou the Prey, Tarragon the Hunter. The game was in play, and Tarragon reveled in the opportunity to lead rather than follow.

Tarragon released Genrou's eyes and hand, and turned towards the water as though nothing had happened. Genrou's knees shook at the implicit promise he had seen in those green eyes, and dammed himself for his weakness. And dammed himself for wanting to be weak.

"Well? Don't you want to?" Tarragon's teasing voice pulled Genrou out of his daze, and startled his heart into a staccato rhythm at those words.

"W-want to what?" Genrou croaked, even as his body sung an unwilling tune of feverish heat.

"Swim, of course." He gave the flabbergasted Genrou a sloe-eyed smile, even as his hands moved to his loincloth. "What did you think?"

"N-nothing," Genrou stuttered, his mind trying desperately to grasp at reality and logic. ::I'm a guy, he's a guy, I am not turned on, no I'm not going to look, oh god, he's going to take off his clothing...:: His eyes dropped helplessly to watch those long fingered hands, graceful even under the thick layer of mud.

"Hmn. If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were thinking improper things," Tarragon teased, his fingers playing with the ties at his waist.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" Genrou blustered as he tore his eyes away from those marvelously dexterous fingers to stare unseeing into the water.

"I don't know. What do you think I'm talking about?" Tarragon left the ties knotted and stepped closer to Genrou, and watched with amusement as he retreated two steps.

Genrou kept silent, staring at the water with a horrified look. Tarragon became alarmed at Genrou's fear-filled expression, and turned to look what had scared him so.

Genrou's face snapped around, and grin of retaliation covered his face. He took a silent step forward and pushed Tarragon into the water. Genrou was immensely gratified at Tarragon's startled yell as he windmilled his arms to prevent his fall. Genrou was so intent on his victory, that he didn't see Tarragon's foot fly out to hook around his ankle until it was too late.

Genrou's arms shot out to grab anything, and only succeeded in getting entangled in Tarragons arms, as they both fell with an enormous splash into the pool. They flailed underwater for what seemed like forever until they finally surfaced, Genrou holding onto Tarragon, Tarragon's arms around Genrou's waist. Genrou leaned his head against Tarragon's shoulder, coughing as he tried to clear his lungs and realized that Tarragon's chest was moving in an erratic beat.

He looked up in alarm, afraid that Tarragon's lungs were filled with water. He froze, his entire body locked into a silent keening cry of awe at the sight of Tarragon's newly washed face. Tarragon was the most beautiful creature Genrou had ever seen -- man or woman. Golden, like the sun. Fiery as summer, eyes the color of a wild cat, face molded from a feline cast of high cheekbones and pointed chin and a mouth with a lush lower lip. And he was afraid of the intensified heat that pounded in his skull. A thought was quickly suppressed ::I don't care if he's a man. I want Tarragon.::