Well now, it seems that for once I'm actually getting inspiration to write! So, guess what readers? THERE'S ANOTHER CHAPTER HERE!!! YAY!!!

So, let's get ready to move it. x3

Disclaimer: All characters portrayed in this chapter are under copyright of teh Tri-Noms (aka Bandai/Namco and Tri Crescendo).

WARNING! Due to mature content, viewer discretion is advised. CITRUS!

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The bath certainly helped. Well, in some ways. The hot water made him feel less grimy, and he had scrubbed himself until not only the stain but the scent of the wine was removed from his person. Lying back in the deep pool that served as a tub, he could feel sweat dripping down his face and neck, his blonde hair starting to dry in damp clumps from the steam of the room. It was strange, though-- his muscles refused to relax from their taut anxiety, and his skin felt all the more heated. Despite resting here for the better part of a half-hour, he felt no more at ease or even used to the water's temperature. It seemed just as hot as when he'd first drawn it, and the light current traced over his skin seductively, as if a merfolk of legend had infiltrated the crystalline liquid to tempt him.

Shaking his head, he banished the thoughts from his mind furiously. What an idea, indeed! This was not the time to be imagining things that weren't there! Besides, he'd best be getting out of the water anyway. Waltz was going to wonder where he was… but it was so warm and comfortable in here…

No. I refuse to take his kindness for granted. I've been in here long enough. Forcing himself up, Crescendo ran his hands over his arms lightly, removing any excess water before stepping out of the inlaid bath. He repeated the gesture through his hair and over the rest of his body, his trained hands ignoring the familiar and light scars that touched his form. They were from rigorous training and fights from long since past, things that he could only remember if he tried hard enough. Jazz would remember, he knew, but then again his friend had one of the best memories he'd ever seen.

Picking up a towel that had been left on a shelf against the bathroom wall, he dried himself from top to bottom, wrapping the slightly rough cloth around his hips before draining the water from the bath. He even walked to the outside wall and opened a window to let out the steam that had gathered from the heat. Almost immediately, he wished he hadn't. The night air was a bit chillier than he'd anticipated, and his heated skin reacted sharply to the change in temperature. Retreating back into the warmth of the bathroom, he turned to pick up his clothing…

Only to find that it wasn't there.

That's odd, he mused, looking around curiously. I could have sworn that I left them right here… With a sigh, the man shook his head. Not only his nerves, but his memory as well? Just how tightly did the Count have him wound!

Sighing again, this time in mild frustration, the Prince scoured the bathroom for a few moments. Lack of discovery, however, embittered him a bit more than he would have expected. Perhaps I left them outside the room… I'd best check the Count's quarters. Even though he detested the idea of going anywhere within Forte Castle in this state of undress, he supposed that simply going into the adjacent room would be fine enough. So, better off to it.

Placing his hand against the door handle, he pulled the door open and looked inside the room. It was dark, but it seemed to be deserted. Letting out the breath he had been holding, he looked around at the floor and surfaces nearby the door. Once again, it didn't seem that his Baroquen garb was anywhere to be seen. Ah… now I seem to have lost my only set of clothing, he thought, disappointed in himself. Perhaps Waltz took them to be cleaned… But then, why wasn't there a spare set left for me in that case? Mentally, he shrugged and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him after touching the pad on the inside that would turn out the crystal-lights inside the bathing room, plunging the room into darkness. He placed a hand against the wall, searching for a similar pad when the sound of a soft chuckle echoed in the gloom.

"Lost your way, Prince Crescendo?" The man froze, surprise over his features and ringing in his thoughts. He could have sworn the room was empty! Where did he--

A loud scratch previewed a sudden spark of light, then suddenly the Count of Forte appeared, leaning against the door with a portable lantern resting in his hand. The flame cast strange shadows over the young man's face, over the smirk that had firmly fixated itself into the doll-like features. He had slipped out of his rather complex violet outfit into something a bit more serviceable-- a loose shirt with short sleeves and a pair of nightwear slacks, as if he were about ready to go to bed himself. Still, Crescendo straightened, watching the other with wary intensity.

"I seemed to have misplaced my garments," he answered cautiously, wondering if this as well would lead to an outburst like what had happened at dinner.

Thankfully, the Count only shrugged, as if the matter unimportant. "I had Legato take them into the laundry room to be cleaned," he stated, walking over and placing the lantern on an end table next to the rather large bed that seemed somewhat out-of place in the cozy room. Perhaps he likes his space…

"Ah… thank you, Count Waltz," he replied, bowing slightly. "Are there, perhaps-"

"Please, sit down, Crescendo," the younger interrupted, motioning to the bed. "You must still be tired from the rather long journey you took these past few days." The smile that he gave was less than encouraging, but Crescendo once again nodded his thanks and sat (cautiously) on the edge of the bed, very acutely aware that he was still wearing absolutely nothing under the towel around his hips. That, and the room was a little chilly.

Strangely enough, his skin still felt flushed, hot even. As if he was sitting in front of a lit fireplace. It was starting to distract him, divert his thoughts away from his current situation. Why am I so warm?

He was so lost in thought he didn't realize until it had already happened that he was pressed against the bed, Waltz leaning with his full weight on his shoulders, arms pinning him while his leg had somehow found its way between his knees. Startled, Crescendo jolted, however the smaller man was stronger than he looked. "Waltz, what is-" The question was silenced by a stinging slap to his face. He didn't move, but stared in shock as the Count's smirk deepened into something twisted.

"Now, now, Prince Crescendo," he purred, reaching his hand back to caress the struck cheek with light care. "Remember, you told me that you were mine to do with as I please. Or have you forgotten?"

"Of course not!" Snatching the young man's hand, Crescendo frowned deeply, forcing himself up so that Waltz was no longer on top of him. This was rather unusual behavior for the Count under any circumstance. "But I don't ever recall-"

"Just because you never specified doesn't mean that I'm limited to what you believed to be the only circumstances," the blond crooned, lightly tracing his other hand over the prince's chest, delicately paying close attention to the faint scars. Heat flashed through him, the coolness of Waltz's hand making him realize just how warm he was. A shiver ran over his spine involuntarily, and the younger man smiled in satisfaction, his eyes still watching as his hand moved in lazy patterns over the pale, heated skin.

"A bit sensitive, are we?" His voice was a low croon, a gentle drawl that demanded nothing but gave seduction and soft whispers.

"Waltz, this-"

"Is well within my rights. If you recall, the bargain was unconditional surrender." Looking up, Crescendo saw the hooded expression in the younger man's eyes and swallowed, leaning back slightly to distance himself from the gaze. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, the Count sat up on his knees, rendering him taller than Crescendo as his fingers further played with the man's flesh. There was a tightening in the prince's stomach that he couldn't recognize completely… something more than anxiety, something different than fear (though he certainly felt both)…

As his grip relaxed and Waltz slipped his hand away, he began to understand what it may have been. Only when the other slipped his knee forward, parting the fold the towel and pressing himself against his inner thigh did Crescendo know what he felt.

It was pure, fiery, need.

And he had no idea why.

But, as Waltz pushed him back against the bed slowly, he almost didn't care. His protests went unnoticed as the count rested his cheek on his chest, continuing to stroke the exposed skin as if it were a drug of itself. Crescendo tried (and failed) to force back shudders as the hot, moist breath wafted over his muscles, then became cool in an instant. Just as Waltz had planned, it felt agonizing in a way that he never knew.

There was certainly no training on this as a White Knight.

Rational thought nearly ceased when the roving fingers of the Count returned to his chest and stroked over a more sensitive tissue, the same that he'd been breathing on for what seemed like the past era. Teasing the small nub of flesh, Waltz crooned a wordless sound of enjoyment, obviously taking pleasure in… well, whatever he decided he was doing. More and more, Crescendo felt his body tighten and his throat caught, unable to make a sound as his own hands went to Waltz's ribs, resting against the covered torso gently.

Saints only knew how strange, how wrong this seemed. But damn it all if it didn't feel so exhilarating, intoxicating…

Damn it, it just felt so good!

"Doing all right, my liege?" Crescendo opened eyes he had not realized were closed, heart pounding in his chest and gasping breaths ringing in his ears. This wasn't right. He had a fiancé… Waltz's own cousin for Saint's sake. He couldn't let this keep happening. It wasn't right.

Moving his hands from Waltz's waist (how they got there and under the Count's shirt was a mystery to him) to his arms, Crescendo pinned them together and forced the other leader off of him with a slight grunt of exertion. Sitting up and whipping around, he fought to catch his breath, looking at the Count with wary insubordination. He was prince of a nation, the heir to the throne and fiancé to a beautiful woman. He had honor and a warrior's heart, tradition and law burned deeply into his soul.

He would not succumb to this trickery!

"Keep your hands from me, Waltz," he murmured, his voice emitting a deep growl he had not realized it could take. "While I may be your prisoner of my own volition, that does not mean that I will not fight your attempts, sexual or otherwise." The blond Count was glaring vicious daggers at him, but Crescendo didn't care for his childish wrath hidden beneath adult advances. Standing, he readjusted the towel at his waist and turned his back on him, striding towards the door.

"Good night, Count Waltz. I expect our negotiations to begin in the morning."

"You idiot," Waltz snarled back, clawing his way forward on the bed. "I only humor you with this bargain for peace! Defy me, and all of Baroque will be laid to ruin!"

Stopping at the door, Crescendo placed his hand on it firmly, glowering back at Waltz. "Once, I may have believed you," he muttered coldly. "You may yet still attempt to destroy my home. But I assure you, Baroque has more power than you will ever imagine." Jerking the door open, he flung it wide enough to walk through and stormed out. "Good night, Waltz. Maybe you'll regain some sanity by morning."

And with that, he was gone, leaving the young Count burning with rage.

After storming away, Crescendo headed for the only place that Waltz might not expect to see him. Following the winding, twisting staircases, he searched every room he was able to open, finally coming upon the laundry room Waltz had mentioned earlier. True to his word, the clothes were on a line next to a large broiler, already dry due to immense heat.

Heat… Shaking his head sharply, the prince snatched his pants from the line and donned them, feeling oddly tight as he fastened the buttons on the hip. Then, he reached up and withdrew the undershirt he'd been wearing prior (noting with only a slight amount of esteem that the stain was completely gone from the white fabric), putting it on as well. The towel he folded and set aside-- just because he was irritated at the Count was no reason to take it out on his hired help. Deciding that this was all that needed doing here, he left, going back out into the cold castle.

About halfway to his destination, it sank in exactly how detrimental this situation could be. He had just defied his oath of unconditional surrender by making his own ultimatums. Waltz could easily take that as treachery and have him killed, or simply start the war that could potentially kill thousands. Tens of thousands. He slowed his long strides to a thoughtful walk, stopping completely as he came upon the downward stairwell.

Was this really the wisest thing to do? Give away lives for his honor? Or perhaps give away everything he was in order to fulfill the fancy of a spoiled tyrant intent on plaguing the world with a devastating war?

…What should I do?

His skin tingled where Waltz had so tenderly rested his fingers before, and he still felt the deep thudding of his heart in his chest. The caresses had felt so soft, so sweet…

But how was he to know if it was really what he'd felt?

Unlike Crescendo, who had been brought up in the art of peace-keeping and just rule, as well as honorable combat and the ways of diplomacy, Waltz was a bit of a wild-card since before his birth. His parents, the previous Count and Countess of Forte, had seemed displeased with the idea of having children, at least that of the male variety. It was of their greatest ambition to create the perfect female spy to infiltrate the Baroquen Court as the prince's bride, thusly bringing power and wealth to not only Forte but to the Count's house as well. It was rather clear after Waltz's birth that his parents were displeased. Crescendo shuddered to recall a conversation he'd heard as his own mother and father spoke with the Count and his wife.

"So, Count and Countess, how is your son? I am surprised to see that you are traveling again so soon after his birth."

"I'm afraid you must be mistaken, my lord. We have no children."

The conversation had shocked the king and queen, as well as Crescendo himself. It made him worried for the son of those nobles, and his worry remained well into meeting the boy for the first time.

Unlike Crescendo, this boy had been taught to mistrust anyone he came across, familiar or stranger. And, of course, to despise Baroque with every fiber of his being. That much had been clear.

But… what if this wasn't the real Waltz? What if… what if this whole ploy was simply to have someone close, someone to take care of him… or maybe just care. The soldier part of his mind dismissed it as completely illogical, the diplomat as a bit too idealistic. But, for some reason, he couldn't get the idea out of his head.

What if all he needed was just a little comfort?

Risking that is certainly a better idea than risking lives, he thought, making up his mind. Still… do I really have the courage to do this? Can I really do this… for Count Waltz?

Taking a steadying breath, the heir to the Baroquen throne turned back around and walked back through the corridors, uncertain but intent on his mission.

I have to remain true to my word… Even at the cost of my honor and pride, I will uphold my word. Waltz… I'll do whatever you need, so please…

He didn't know what he was hoping for as he stood outside that door, gathering his nerves for what was to come. Taking a deep breath once more, he exhaled and pushed open the ajar door, having no idea what was to come.

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Hahahahahahah! I leave you with a cliffie! Aren't I just EVIL?! So, review and I will give you all the scene you want! Bwahahahahahaha!!!