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Warning: The following story contains scenes of homosexual interaction, bondage 
and light S&M. Please do not read if you feel that you will be offended by the 
story.



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REVELATIONS 
He has been avoiding me, and I know it. I have longed to see his face again, his 
eyes feral like a lion's, mouth that can be tight and cruel, yet full, sensuous 
and infinitely kissable. Yet he stays so far away, so aloof, so distant, like a 
ball of ice with a burning core. I long to reach that core, but what can 
possibly thaw the icy protection of the mysterious Trowa Barton?

If he will not come to me, then I will be forced to seek him out. So be it; I am 
not so proud that I will deny myself that which I want most. He is what I 
desire, for him, I would risk all. So I sneak away from those who seek to 
protect me; they mean well, but there are things that they can never hide from 
me, things that I have been curious about for a long time. 

I reach the circus with no troubles. I find it surprising that a young boy would 
be able to slip through the shadows of the dark streets without drawing 
attention, yet for this night, it is to my advantage. I breathe a sigh of relief 
when I reach Trowa's trailer; the inside looks dark, but I think there is 
someone inside--is it just wishful thinking? I knock lightly on the door.

The door opens and he is there. The inside of the trailer is dimly lighted by 
the flame of a single candle, which sits on the desk. The room is sparsely 
furnished; there is a bed, a desk, a chair, and a coathook on one wall. I look 
at his face, trying to judge his emotions, but there is nothing, no surprise, no 
curiosity, just those cat eyes, watching carefully, ready to eat me alive. He 
says nothing, but motions for me to enter.

He sits on the bed, but I remain standing. He watches me, still. I am nervous. 
Why did I come? What should I say? What words would express how I feel, this 
aching, this longing, that I have never felt before? I look at him, smile 
tremulously, and I begin.
"I had to see you. . . I missed you . . . Why have you stayed so far away?"
Those feral eyes seem to glow in the dark: "It was not the right time to contact 
you, Quatre. There are things that I must do."
"But why can't I help you with those things?" I move closer to the bed, closer 
to Trowa, as if being closer to him physically would somehow bring us closer at 
heart. "Don't you know that I want to be a part of your life? Since I met you. . 
. I just want to be with you all the time. You make me feel things. . . I have 
never felt this way before. I would do anything you ask me to, Trowa. You have 
that power over me." I look at him desperately, trying to will him into 
understanding my silent plea.

But still, so still, he sits on the bed, unmoving, unblinking, all glowing eyes 
and feline grace. Finally he speaks again. "Would you really do anything for me, 
Little One? Do you understand the ramifications of what you are saying? You have 
given me power over your life. In effect, I will be your master."

I nod my head vigorously: "All that I have, all that I am, is yours, if only you 
would be with me . . . anything you ask, I will do."
"Anything, you say." He moves towards the desk. He opens a drawer and draws out 
a white scarf. From the desk he picks up a whip that I had not noticed; He 
uncoils it and holds it by the handle. I begin to feel a tremor of fear and 
uncertainty. I look at him, and my fear must have shown. A leonine smile appears 
on his face. "You said anything, Little One. Your master orders you to remove 
your clothes."

I tremble with a combination of fear and anticipation, but I do what he asks. I 
wonder, what I am doing here? What insane impulse had urged me to bare my soul 
to this mysterious boy? When I remove the last of my clothing, I feel the cool 
night air hit my skin and I shiver-- from the cold, or something else? Still, I 
feel myself become aroused. The vague sensations of desire and eroticism are 
nothing compared to the want that I feel now, for Trowa. He approaches me, and I 
stare at the whip with dread. His fingers flex and unflex around the handle; 
will he really use it? 

"Turn around, Little One." I do so, and I feel the silk of the scarf come around 
my face to cover my eyes. I welcome the darkness it provides; somehow, it makes 
me feel more vulnerable, and yet more courageous at the same time. I cannot 
anticipate with dread the feeling of the whip against my skin, but I can still 
look forward to feeling Trowa's naked body against mine . . . that is . . . if 
that is what he is planning.

He leads me through the little room. He pulls me downward onto his lap. I think 
he is sitting on the edge of the bed, with me facedown on his lap, hands and 
feet on the floor, buttocks in the air. On these things, I can only postulate, 
for all I see is soothing darkness. I feel his hands caress my back, down to my 
buttocks. His fingertips trail lightly over first one cheek, then the other. I 
sigh with pleasure, moving my painful arousal against his thigh. His hands move 
to keep me still. "It will not be so easy for you, Little One. If you want me to 
be your master, there are lessons you will have to learn."

His hands continue to caress my buttocks. I begin to relax as I enjoy his tender 
ministrations; but suddenly, he spanks me, with a resounding slap! I shout, more 
with surprise than with pain; my cheeks sting, but he spanks me again. My 
buttocks begin to throb, but he stops, and begins to caress them again. "You see 
Little One, if you want to be with me, you must learn that life will not 
constantly be pleasure. As in everything, there are two sides; you must learn to 
enjoy both the pleasure and the pain."

I bite my lip to keep from crying out, not from pain but from embarassment. 
Trowa's arousal grows hard against my chest, a proof of his enjoyment. If he is 
happy, then I am as well. I feel something hard against my buttocks; I wonder. . 
. the whip! Trowa runs the handle of the whip up my thigh to my buttocks. I 
tremble with fear and Trowa chuckles huskily. "Trust me, Quatre. This is for 
your own good." He parts my cheeks and I feel the handle against the little 
ring; I am frightened. With his other hand, he reaches beneath me to my aching 
arousal. I moan at his touch, for my fear has not diminished my desire; far from 
it, I seem to want him even more! 

He dips his finger into the little hole at the tip of my penis; the moisture he 
finds there he rubs into my anus, preparing it for the whip? "Little One, don't 
be scared, remember, I am your master now; everything I do, you will obey." He 
inserts the whip inside me. I suck in my breath at the tightness I feel. Trowa 
reaches for my erection once again. This time he encircles it and pulls it 
slightly. I gasp, from the pleasure of his touch and the pain of the whip that 
he pushes further inside me. Soon, he finds a rhythm between his hand and the 
whip. I can no longer hold back my cries, as I feel myself moving closer to 
climax; pleasure and pain become one in my mind; I no longer know if I enjoy his 
touch in spite of the pain, or if the pain contributes to my pleasure. My eyes 
see only darkness, but my mind is exploding with so many new sensations. . . 
soon . . . I can no longer . . . Soon, he is done with this intermission. He 
takes my hands and puts them together, and I feel the whip encircling my wrists, 
tying them together. He uses the whip to pull me through the room. My back is 
against the wall. He asks me to raise my arms and he lifts me up; I am 
suspended, my feet do not touch the ground. Could he have hung me up on his coat 
hook? 

But I am distracted from my musings by the feeling of Trowa's hot breath against 
my skin. He runs those full lips across my abdomen and up to my chest, finally 
taking my nipple into his mouth. He nips it gently, sending little electric 
impulses of pleasure to my brain. He licks it, just the tip, then he sucks it 
hard, into his mouth, so hard it almost hurts. My hips thrust out away from the 
wall, my erection seeks some sort of contact, but Trowa will have none of that: 
"No, Little One, keep still; remember, I am the one in charge here, and I will 
be the one to decide when you can have your release." 

I feel his breath move lower, and his tongue dips into my navel. I can only hope 
where his tongue will next move to . . .

And I am rewarded! The tip of his tongue just lightly touches the tip of my 
penis, but the sensation is so exquisite, so welcome, that I weep from sheer 
joy. He takes the head into his mouth as he laughs, and I feel the tremors run 
up my spine . . . jolts of liquid pleasure. He opens his mouth wider and 
envelops all of me . . . I can take no more . . . I can't hold back any longer. 
. . I come, my climax seems never ending, thrusting deep into the wet velvet 
heaven of his mouth, trying to go deeper. Finally I am drained. Trowa moves away 
from me. I try to listen, to see where he has gone, but I can hear nothing; I 
can see nothing; I fear that he has left me. I cry out, "Trowa!"

"I am here Little One, did you think that I would leave without taking my 
pleasure?" He kisses me on the mouth and I taste myself on his lips, and I 
wonder if I will ever get a chance to taste him. He undoes my blindfold and I 
see that he is now naked, his erection hard and shuddering. He smiles when he 
sees what I am looking at. " See what you do to me, Little Quatre? Did you think 
I would leave without letting you satisfy me?"

I am still on the coathook, suspended in the air. He takes my legs and wraps 
them around his waist. I can feel his arousal nudging against my anus. I realize 
now that he was using the whip to prepare me to take his length. He looks at me, 
hesitating, but I laugh and I push against him. He spreads the little ring and 
pushes himself in. I am hard again; Trowa is much bigger than the whip handle, 
but the pain that I feel, the fullness of his arousal in me, is a thousand times 
more exquisite than that of the whip. His arms are braced against the wall on 
either side of me. My back thuds against the wall with the force of his thrusts, 
my penis rubs against his stomach, and I cry out my pleasure. We come together. 
I can feel him coming inside me, and I imagine that he has given a little piece 
of himself to me.

He takes me down from the wall, and we collapse together on the bed, laughing 
and giggling, touching and rubbing, a pile of sweaty limbs on a too small bed. 
Tonight, I learned more than just the mysteries of sex--Trowa says that he is 
the master, but by surrendering myself to him, I have succeeded in capturing a 
piece of his soul.

The end