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Slash and Yaoi Fiction
Title: Samui (Cold)
Author: Juxian Tang
Fandom: Fushigi Yuugi
Pairing: Nakago/Tomo
Rating: NC-17
Warning: this story contains a description of a sexual practice that goes beyond usual intercourse. It might squick you. Read it at your own risk.
Archive: yes
Series: The first of two stories. The sequel Atsui (Hot)
Feedback: juxiantang@hotmail.com
URL: http://juxian.slashcity.net
Summary: Tomo really doesn't know what he'll get when he turns to Nakago with a request. But, maybe, Nakago also doesn't know what he's going to give. Nakago/Tomo relations in this story spring from the relations described in Seiran Den novel. If you didn't read the novel, it's perfectly okay - I'm not fond of it myself.


He knew someone was there even before he entered the room. Nakago's steps, resounding in the silent arcade, didn't waver. He pushed the door open and came in.

The figure at the window turned back with a nervous, abrupt motion; as if Nakago's presence was disturbing - as if it was Nakago who was an unexpected guest there. A long tail of hair swept in the air, making a faint sound as the dark strands fell against the silk cloth. No muscle twitched on Nakago's face; his eyelashes lowered and went up in the usual steady rhythm.

The bastard didn't deserve to see Nakago's anger - his disgust at seeing the intruder. How dared he to come here? The painted freak... he must've been out of his mind - to sneak into Nakago's bedroom in the absence of the owner - and to wait for Nakago here.

He'd pay for it, Nakago decided. But it would be later; right now he just wanted to be alone.


His voice was flat, not raised even a fraction - but Nakago knew no one was stupid enough to be deceived with its calmness; not even the pathetic actor, his fellow seishi.

The narrow figure with the hair tightened in a high ponytail on the top of the head was outlined with the moonlight clearly, seeming drawn in ink against the dark-blue sky behind his back. Nakago saw Tomo shift minutely, as if in response to his words. The actor didn't have his usual outfit on, Nakago realized. Black instead of scarlet; a long robe falling down to his feet. A little change of Tomo's position made the moon catch on the glimpse of white skin at the open collar. It looked... almost like a dressing gown, Nakago thought. Which probably meant the man had nothing under it, right?

He must've been mad, the stupid slut.

"Did you hear what I said?"

The figure shifted again, somewhat awkwardly - and then the voice came - the voice Nakago had despised almost from the first words he'd heard it say. He remembered Tomo's greeting, on the first time they'd met: the clownish bow - and then the pale hand with blazing red fingernails reaching to him - and strange yellow eyes glittering from the painted face. The voice matched that freakish appearance so well: a lilting, fluctuating voice, as if ready to break to singing or moaning at every moment - insinuating something perverted even in the simplest things.

"Aren't you going to ask me what I want here?"

It was said with Tomo's usual attempt of arrogance, and yet something in these words was cracked, something sounded almost pleading.


"I see." The laughter flew up and broke in the middle. Nakago waited. He wasn't going to argue any more; he'd said as much as he intended - and if the fool knew what was good for him, he would just get out. Granted, Tomo never knew what was good for him - or he would've never said all those things he'd said to Nakago, would've never dared to rummage through Nakago's past.

What could he be doing here? Bringing another illusion of his? Another resurrected moment from Nakago's life? Another sick comment to it? Nakago felt his face ripple with disgust. He hoped he'd never let Tomo notice how much those memories hurt - he'd always just appeared disinterested at what the seishi showed him. But if Tomo had any brain in his head, he should've felt Nakago's hatred.

No, hatred was too strong a word, he interrupted himself mentally. Tomo didn't deserve anything so intense. Right, Nakago was just repelled with him - as anyone would be repelled at seeing the creature so pathetic as Tomo was, with his idiotically painted face, with his stage-borrowed manners.

"I'll tell you, anyway," Tomo said.

"At your own risk."

Today in the afternoon, Tomo had tried to stalk him - as usual, promising to show him more things, to tell him stories - and Nakago decided he should've applied force. Sometimes you had to hit a dog to stop it from following you. He remembered the flash of 'ki' coming out of his body - and how the actor slumped in a heap on the floor with a strangled cry. After that he didn't dare to approach Nakago any more. And now - he was in Nakago's bedroom, babbling something meaningless.

"I want you, Nakago-sama."

His eyes must've blazed with blue flame. Nakago knew it by the body language of the other seishi, by the way Tomo stepped back, as if it could save him from Nakago in case of danger. But there was just the wall behind him and he pressed to it.

"I want you," he repeated. "No, wait!" A long-fingered hand flew up as Nakago was going to talk. He let Tomo continue; not because he was interested what the actor could say and not out of mercy - but rather out of disgusted fascination: what else could the freak come up with? "I know I didn't do it right, took a wrong tone with you, pestered you... You have the reason to be angry with me."

You bet you did, Nakago thought coldly. Anyone else would be dead for much more innocent things than Tomo used to say to him. If Tomo were not a seishi...

"I know I'm annoying... I don't have good - how would you call it? - social skills..." The laughter, sounding somewhat embarrassed, broke the hasty words and died out, unanswered. "But I'm not your enemy, Nakago-sama. I can make up for everything I've done to you. I want us to me friends... I... You... I have an affection for you..."

"I told you I don't need your friendship. I don't need anything from you until the miko is here."

Was Tomo so stupid he couldn't remember even it?

And was he, Nakago, stupid for letting the fool keep talking? Tomo had already said enough to sign his death sentence once the seishi wasn't needed any more. So, maybe, there was no difference.

"I want you... to have me, Nakago-sama. As a symbol of peace between us." The voice swayed and then dropped to almost inaudible - strangely sounding more sincere like that. "I want you inside me."

"Get out."

"I can make you feel good."

Seductive notes in Tomo's voice were so obvious. If he were on the scene and Nakago listened to him, he would cringe. Right now all he wanted was this travesty to stop.

"I'm not a homosexual." Nakago's voice was calm as always; he prided himself on the control he had over himself. "I don't do men."

He didn't add 'unlike you'. He didn't bother - it was clear.

If the bastard refers to something he's seen in my past, he's a dead man, Nakago thought as calmly as his voice sounded; seishi or not. But strangely, Tomo didn't say anything about the Emperor.

Instead of it, he stepped towards Nakago and the hand with brightly painted fingernails took Nakago's wrist.

He was barefoot, Nakago realized. It made Tomo look shorter; and in the black robe clinging to his body, without his bulky stage clothes, he seemed somewhat frailer. There was something else different in him, something... The moon fell on the white face, and Nakago realized it was unpainted.

"Please, Nakago-sama..."

The longing in this voice was far beyond a peace-making offer; it pierced through Nakago's mind right into the depth of his body, bothering him in a strange way.

What a bastard. How dared he make him feel this way, make his body react... Nakago felt 'ki' streaming through his veins and muscles, ready to hit. The desire to see the seishi crumpled on the floor and broken became overwhelming - and yet Nakago managed to control it.

The painted son of bitch won't make him snap... Okay, right, he wasn't painted at the moment.

Without the make-up, Tomo's face looked younger - almost boyish, in fact. Nakago nearly wondered how old Tomo was - but no, of course, he wasn't interested in this matter. He just thought that if he saw the actor like this in the palace, unaware, he wouldn't recognize Tomo. Pale heart-shaped face, pale pink mouth, thin long eyebrows...

But no, of course, it was Tomo he knew so well - with his obnoxiously long hair gathered on the top of his head and two thin strands falling on the sides of his face - with those yellow glimmering eyes, yellow like the moon that streamed its light onto them.

"Please," Tomo repeated.

The fuckin' homosexual was trying to entice him. Nakago clenched his fist, feeling the fingernails enter his palm. His other hand was still in a soft hold of Tomo's palms. Strange... his hands felt warm... and kind of soft - not bony and hard as Nakago expected.

He wanted to play a joke on Nakago, to entangle him into a web of his lies - for an unknown purpose - but obviously Tomo could be up to no good. He deserved to be ruined, deserved a blast of 'ki' - and a blast that would leave him dead, not just hurt. Nakago calmed himself down.

Seiryuu still needed Tomo - so, killing him could wait. And, anyway, there were other ways to punish him.

Nakago shifted, relaxing carefully. What Tomo asked from him... well, what if Nakago was going to grant his wish? And let Tomo be caught in his own trap...

He waited for one more urging whisper.

"Please, Nakago..."

"But I thought you're hurt, from today's."

For now he even let the intimate use of his name to slip unnoticed. He saw how Tomo's eyes light up, the stare strangely defenseless on his unpainted face.

"It doesn't matter... All the same..."

The actor was trembling. Even his voice was broken, more faltering than usual. Did he need to overact like this, Nakago thought with irritation.

And then he felt suddenly that Tomo didn't act. He really was... exited with Nakago's compliance.

"I have... an affection for you..." he recalled the fluctuating voice.

Stupid homo! Well, so much the worse for him.

Tomo's warm palms cradled Nakago's hand, moved it with excruciating care, bringing it up to the actor's face. Despite Tomo's anxiety, the touch was so soft. Nakago felt a bit puzzled with the sensation of tender dry lips brushing against the tips of his fingers. It felt like a kiss; well, it was the only kind of kiss Nakago would allow, and Tomo must've known it. And yet the fluttering touches he placed on Nakago's fingers seemed to agitate Tomo even more. His breath came out ragged and almost like a quiet sob.

How pathetic the man was, Nakago thought, to relish even this little moment of intimacy, to build up the whole world of emotions from the tiny contact Nakago permitted. But then it was what Tomo was - a builder of illusions. Nakago's face twisted in hostility - but Tomo, his eyes half-closed, didn't notice anything.

"What are you delaying then?" he asked Tomo in his usual voice, unaffected. "Didn't you say you wanted me inside you? If you have second thoughts..."

He could see clearly a wounded expression in Tomo's eyes that looked up at him suddenly. The slut really should've worn his make-up all the time, not to demonstrate his weakness so openly, Nakago thought. This display of emotions was really distasteful. He defocused his gaze, looked through Tomo. This way the young man's face was just a stain of whiteness in the frame of rich dark of his hair - and even yellow gleam of Tomo's eyes seemed dull and distant.

Perhaps if he tried hard, he could defocus the perceptions of his body as well and stop feeling this abominably gentle hold on his hand, this vulnerable mouth pressed to his fingers. Soft warm lips opened and a moist, very hot tongue swept around Nakago's fingers.

He didn't miss a breath; he was pretty sure there was no even a faintest tremor going through his body that Tomo, even with his desperate concentration, could notice. It was just... a tongue on his fingers... one more of those unexplainable physical things that people were so fond of doing when having sex. Nakago had never enjoyed it; he was not going to enjoy it now.

He watched coldly Tomo's tilted up face, the expression of painful rapture and undisguised effort to please written on it; so, when Tomo looked up at him in hope, Nakago was ready, was sure his gaze was perfectly impassive. He almost expected to see Tomo's disappointment and hurt, expected just that to break their contact and walk away. But Tomo licked on his fingers with more determination, sucked on them diligently.

His gently colored mouth could be really pretty - with this soft bottom lip and slightly curved upper one, Nakago thought. And what this mouth did - it could be pleasant as well. Even when it just touched the fingers... For a moment this thought took over him, sending a wave of prickling warmth through Nakago's body. But he came round almost immediately; who cared what kind of mouth Tomo had? No one liked the pervert; even Tomo didn't like himself, Nakago was pretty sure, despite his pretension of being self-enamoured.

"How long are you going to lick them?" he asked in a sane, loud voice.

It seemed to him Tomo didn't want to let his fingers go - but was it because he really enjoyed what he did or was apprehensive of what was going to happen next, Nakago didn't know. And was not going to wonder, he added for himself.

There was no question of getting undressed; Nakago was not going to do it and Tomo apparently understood that Nakago wasn't interested in doubtful pleasure of seeing him naked. Well, maybe, it wouldn't be such a doubtful pleasure. The face Tomo hid under the make-up was surprisingly delicate; perhaps his body under this robe was attractive as well. Only Nakago didn't want to be attracted, didn't want anything from Tomo at all. It was Tomo who'd come to his bedroom begging to be taken - so, that was what he was going to get.

He didn't suggest moving to bed as well. He hoped Tomo perceived it as it was meant - this way an unwelcome supplicant is not even offered to sit down. But most possibly the young man was past caring of such things, Nakago realized, didn't hold them of any importance now, when his wish was going to be fulfilled.

It seemed he could feel heat emanate from Tomo's body, even though they didn't touch any more. Of course, it was an illusion, something that wasn't like Nakago at all to fancy. He bit the inside of his lip carefully, bringing himself back to composure. He didn't allow his face to change; but, maybe, even if he had, Tomo wouldn't have noticed it all the same. The actor was shaking now, like in fever, and his hands that hovered uncertainly at his collar seemed to disobey him.

Then he turned, with a strangely graceful movement, threw away the flap of his robe, baring his backside, and bent slightly, pressing his hands to the wall. For a moment Nakago felt his mouth go dry. It wasn't even the startling whiteness of Tomo's skin, accentuated with dark silks of the robe gathered at his side now, revealing most part of his body, that got to him; but the pragmatic efficiency of the pose. Readiness to be fucked - total convenience for the fucker... and disgraceful, undeniable submissiveness.

What kind of person was he that he took such a pose with this easiness - and willingly, without being forced into it? This was not really a question. Nakago didn't want to know what kind of person Tomo was. He recalled the actor's reedy voice offering to tell him about his life, reveal the secrets of his past. Nakago hadn't wanted to listen to it then; he didn't care now as well.

The saliva on his fingers started getting dry - yet it wasn't mercy that made him hurry up but the wish to finish it as soon as possible - or so he told himself. He forced his two fingers between Tomo's buttocks, slammed in.

The narrow body shuddered; the perfect stillness of the pose was ruined as Tomo rose on tiptoes, striving away from the brutal intrusion. He didn't keep a choked cry that resounded in the quiet room. This new proof of Tomo's weakness should've gladdened Nakago; *he* hadn't ever cried out, no matter what had been done to him. But already at the next moment Tomo seemed to regain control, pushed back, forcing himself on Nakago's fingers, his body eager again.

It still must've hurt, Nakago knew it, as he pushed his fingers deeper, until the last knuckle was in. He could've done it in a less painful way, granted; it was supposed to be preparation, not torture. But he hadn't wanted to do it in a less painful way; the slut begged him for sex - Tomo was only getting what he wanted.

The thin hands pressed against the wall were so strained that the bones clearly outlined under pale skin; and long fingernails, each like a smeared droplet of blood, dug unto the decorated wall convulsively. Tomo's breath was small hitching sounds - and through his hand, from his fingers embedded in Tomo's body, Nakago could feel him trembling unceasingly - like kittens of puppies tremble when cold or scared.

All of a sudden, he wanted to feel this trembling reverberate through his body, almost felt like opening his arms and wrapping them around Tomo - to absorb this shivering, this pain. It was a vague and illogical wish - and as soon as Nakago realized it, he had no problem with fighting it. He couldn't want such things - especially with such a miserable creature as the okama was; hence, he didn't want it.

He wouldn't have touched Tomo's body at all, as much as he could help it.

For a little while they both were still; Tomo apparently was getting used to the intrusion into his body - and Nakago just looked at him. Now, when the young man couldn't see him, there was no reason to have his face set in a grimace of loathing - so, he just looked, at the flood of hair streaming over Tomo's shoulder, at the subtle lines of Tomo's hips and the flexure of his waist. He saw how the young man's ribcage stopped heaving, heard the broken gasps steady.

"If you don't like what I do, you just have to say it," he said in a level voice.

It seemed to him Tomo shuddered - and his white cheek glimpsed under the loose strands of hair as if he wanted to look back at Nakago and didn't. His voice came strangely small, almost sad - but unexpectedly full of strength at the same time.

"I do like it. Oh yes, I do."

Fine; Nakago didn't deign to say it aloud - just jammed his fingers even deeper inside Tomo, even though they were already in to the hilt. He knew what kind of bruising pain it was - that's why he did it - and Tomo's body responded, like a finely attuned instrument, struggling to escape the pain, breath changing to little gasps again.

Nakago put the strength of all his body into this movement, pressing Tomo closer to the wall, twisting his fingers savagely. A whimpering sound broke from Tomo's lips, and he stifled it almost immediately, pressing his mouth to his hands. Nakago kept working his fingers, twisting and circling, stretching the tender entrance brutally.

Of course, Tomo wasn't a novice. For someone less experienced than the slut was, the pain would become intolerable a long time ago. Well, it was bad for him as it was, no doubt - Tomo couldn't hide it, no matter how he tried.

What was the reason to endure this pain? Nakago wanted to ask it but decided that a question like this would show that he cared - and he didn't want Tomo to get any fancy ideas about the interest he caused. The slut was fucked up in his head - it was the only answer. What else could it be? Nakago hadn't forced him, had said it clearly that one word was enough for it to stop.

"I have... an affection for you..."

Affection? If Tomo had chosen this way to show his "affection", along with his pathetic attempts to impress Nakago with his powers and his rude intervention into Nakago's past - well... Then Tomo was getting what he wanted.

He turned his fingers again, scissored them - and finally something warm dripped onto his hand. He'd torn the slut.

Tomo didn't seem to notice, probably was in enough pain as it was - and then Nakago changed the angle of his thrusting motions, brushed the tips of his fingers against the sensitive spot inside the man. This did reach Tomo, even in the haze of pain. His body spasmed, the ring of his anus clenching on Nakago's fingers. How easy he was... hurt him and he'll shudder and whine; give him a tiny promise of pleasure and he'll go for it all the way, forget about pain immediately. It almost wasn't interesting to watch him, Nakago told himself. Really, it wasn't interesting, was it?

He lined his fingers in a proper way and rubbed the necessary spot again. Just look at him... look how he claws the wall, now in pleasure, not in pain - how his shoulders tremble finely under the loose strands of dark hair. A slave to his body, a mindless slave. No one with dignity would willingly agree to have such things done to him, Nakago thought.

And this slut dared to delve into his past, to drag things out of it that no one had the right to recover - and offer Nakago to share his own past in exchange? It would be almost funny - only Nakago didn't feel like laughing. He wondered if Tomo had any idea how much cold anger there was in his eyes as he looked at the other's compliant body. But no, of course, how could Tomo know? And Nakago's fingers continued their work, as merciless in bringing pleasure as in inflicting pain.

A tearing moan that Tomo made came up all of a sudden. Nakago's hand lost the careful efficiency of its movements. This sound was louder than the cries of pain Tomo had made before - and the timbre of it, for some reason, was no less excruciating than the moans of pain.

It seemed to slice through Nakago's composure, reach him right in his core, in the place where he hadn't let and wasn't going to let anyone reach him. His body responded to this moan as if it was a physical touch - but even more intensely, even more unabashed.

Wrong... He couldn't allow it; he would be aroused only when he wanted it, not when some pervert triggered it, moaning in a sweet voice. If Tomo wanted to manipulate him - he would be in for a surprise.

"Have you said something?" He almost wanted Tomo to confirm it - he let a threatening note creep into his voice. If the slut knew what was good for him, he would give up.

The long strands of hair swayed as Tomo shook his head. It took him a few moments to find the voice, to whisper:

"No... Please don't stop."

Please... This request wasn't as humble as it sounded at all. In fact, it was completely outrageous - a challenge, almost. Please don't stop... Did he even know what he asked for?

Oh, he would find out soon. An ugly smile flickered on Nakago's lips. Only Tomo probably would get not quite what he expected.

He added the third finger as savagely as he'd done with the first two. The subtle dance of Tomo's body - changing from pain to getting accustomed to pleasure - was already familiar to Nakago and he didn't dwell on it, didn't let it last.

The slut thought it was just to prepare him, that next thing it would be Nakago's cock that would enter him. No way. Nakago wasn't going to connect himself to this desecrated body, to derive any pleasure out of it. It became obvious for him now; of course, Tomo had a habit of using his body to get into favor, considered himself irresistible, thought he won as soon as he had a chance to bend over for someone. But with Nakago, he didn't have a chance. Nakago wouldn't let some sick pervert have this power over him, even the short half-power as it would be once he'd submerge himself into this slim, white body.

He'd do it in a different way. Deftly, he added the forth finger to the previous three, forced it inside Tomo's body. Through the way Tomo's back arched, his head tossed back, Nakago knew it maybe took just a moment or two for the truth to down on Tomo. He waited for this moment, feeling heavy silk of smooth strands pool on his wrist. He expected a question, at least an objection - as soon as Tomo's breath normalized again.

It never came; Tomo slumped against the wall, his hands not holding him any more - clinging to the solid support with all his body. But he never did anything to escape Nakago, not a movement.

What was he trying to gain? The actor wasn't that weak - he wasn't that stupid; even if he didn't believe Nakago's words that he would let go - he still could struggle! Rage flooded Nakago, hot breaking through cold - his inside calmness cracking like ice on a river in spring. He didn't think, didn't reason any more, just grabbed Tomo's high ponytail, yanked it back savagely.

The motion was so hard it seemed Tomo's neck could snap - Nakago himself felt worried momentarily. He didn't have a right to kill the seishi, not yet, anyway. Tomo's cry was choked - but otherwise he wasn't harmed, and Nakago calmed down. He pulled on the hair, making Tomo bend backwards, until Tomo's very pale face, eyes very big and dark, was upturned. The soft lips were compressed in torment, and Nakago thought this sight pleased him - even if it didn't.

"Still don't want me to stop?"

He could see how Tomo's throat fluttered as he tried to swallow - which was nearly impossible in this position. His eyes looked positively... haunted, as if seeing Nakago's face hurt him.

"You said you wanted me inside you, right?" he said levelly. "I just do what you asked for, right? Right?" He yanked the ponytail some more.

"Right." The answer came almost listless - or, maybe, it was just the excruciating position; and anyway, it wasn't the answer Nakago expected. He wanted Tomo to admit his defeat, wanted to drive the slut away, to scare him enough not to approach Nakago ever again, other than on business. This stubbornness of such a wretched being as the actor was - it was unacceptable.

He had to teach him a lesson.

So let it be. Nakago didn't say it aloud, just shoved Tomo back against the wall, letting the hair go. His hand inside Tomo was all wet with blood - hot and slick - and became even wetter when he tucked his thumb in. He could see the trickles of red running over Tomo's white thighs - and in the dim light they seemed drawn with a thin brush. On the floor, the trickles gathered in small pools under Tomo's bare feet. There was really a lot of blood, wasn't it? But not enough for the slut to bleed to death.

He applied some force, pushing his hand in, tearing the passage for it. It didn't cause Tomo to cry out; he probably was on overload with pain by now. But Nakago knew he could make him feel. He withdrew, balled his hand into a fist, and entered again, like into a warm wet glove.

This time Tomo screamed. His body thrashed so violently that Nakago had to apply some effort not to slip out. Tomo's hair lashed over his face as the young man shook his head violently, incoherent sounds breaking from his lips.

A terrible wave of pity surged through Nakago's body. Yes, Tomo was worthless - a mistake of a seishi, a sorry excuse for a person - and yet... He didn't deserve to be hurt like this. Only there was a reason why Nakago hurt him; had to break him, to show who was the person in charge here, not to allow Tomo's insolence any more ever.

The broken sounds falling from Tomo's lips acquired coherence now - and Nakago realized suddenly it was one word he repeated, over and over.

"No... n-no..."

No... Wasn't it what Nakago wanted to hear from him? The acknowledgement of defeat, the plea for mercy. He stopped moving, stood very still as Tomo thrashed between him and the wall. He waited for the young man to speak clearly, waited to hear the whole request.

Instead of it, there came silence. Almost in charitable mood, Nakago wanted to prod Tomo, to ask if "no" meant "please stop" - but at the next moment he suddenly felt how Tomo's body shoved back towards him, hips moving wider to accept his entering fist.

"Stupid bitch."

Nakago liked how his voice sounded: cold as always, not giving away anything. He heard the breath caught in Tomo's throat - and it came out with a word, whispered agonizingly.

"Yes... yes."

Nakago drove his fist in. And at the same moment, he made a step forward, covering the distance between him and Tomo, trapping the thin body between him and the wall. He couldn't feel much anyway, because of the armor - just the echo of the heat of Tomo's body, just a whisper of the soft hair against his cheek.

Inside Tomo's body, he searched for the angle, until finding it and applying pressure against Tomo's prostate gland. Brutality of his thrusts, sheer size of his fist - it could bring nothing but pain. Yet he knew there was pleasure as well, starting almost reluctantly and spreading through Tomo's body. He continued thrusting - and soon he already couldn't tell whether the bird-like shrieks falling from Tomo's lips were of pain or ecstasy.

He reached around Tomo's body, under the opened robe, found a hard nub of a nipple and squeezed it. A part of him wanted to inflict more pain but a part almost wanted to be gentle, and Nakago's own fingers warred this battle, twisted painfully and then stroked, teasing and caressing.

He felt heaviness of Tomo's head tossed back, fallen onto his steel-covered shoulder. He didn't seem to notice the hard ridges of Nakago's armor wedge into his body, deeper with every movement. His breath was torn, jagged sounds; the cries so pitiful that Nakago wondered what anyone who heard them could think.

The slamming motions of his hand already didn't meet any resistance - but curiously, it became difficult to continue. Nakago felt worn out, even though his body barely participated in this act at all. He leaned with his weight against Tomo - and it was almost impossible to say which of them supported the other.

The singled out strands on Tomo's temples were getting wet with sweat, dark against the marble-white of Tomo's skin. Nakago could see Tomo's face so well, with the young man's head on his shoulder - lips bitten through and bloodied yet half-parted in pleasure now, eyelids fluttering over unseeing eyes. He suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to press his mouth to Tomo's cheek, to feel the moist soft skin, to crush his lips against the hardness of the collarbone.

What a sick thought it was, wasn't it? He wasn't going to kiss the homo... It was all just to teach Tomo a lesson, nothing for pleasure, still less for Nakago's own pleasure. He resigned to brutality habitually; twisted his hand inside Tomo and flicked his fingers skillfully on his nipple, bringing out a shriek of pain. Tomo's huge eyes opened, yellow like moonlight, and he suddenly searched with his gaze, until finding Nakago's face.

There should've been hurt in these eyes - hurt and accusation. But Nakago wasn't prepared to see what really shone at him from Tomo's eyes. Hope; like he looked at something most precious in his life, something that he almost despaired to find.

"Nakago-sama..." he whispered.

Nakago's hand never slowed down its motions. And then Tomo's eyes just rolled up, showing whites, and without a sound he came, spilling warm fluid on the wall on front of him.

So, that was it. Nakago understood it, feeling how Tomo's body sagged onto his hand and against his chest. Doing anything else would be a waste - the man had passed out.

Swiftly but without bringing more damage, Nakago pulled his hand out and stepped away. As he supposed it would happen, without his support Tomo's body just slipped on the floor listlessly.

Dark silks of the robe and dark strands of hair mixed on the floor, sharply accenting the whiteness of Tomo's face and body. Briefly, Nakago thought that even when unconscious, Tomo didn't look like a broken doll - but rather like someone fallen asleep, so smooth were the lines of his body. His legs were parted slightly, revealing his groin - but even with the obvious obscenity of this sight Nakago couldn't work up his usual contempt to the homosexual actor. He followed with his gaze the trickles of blood smeared on the insides of Tomo's thighs, glanced at the swollen, inflamed nipple.

Yes, it was the truth - he couldn't resurrect his distaste to Tomo any more. He felt worn out - as if it was him who'd had sex just now. It wasn't right, was it? He'd decided to do it this way exactly not to shorten the distance between himself and Tomo, not to feel even a shadow of dependence from the slut. What was wrong then?

Nothing; nothing was wrong. He looked at his hand, smeared in blood badly, and bent towards Tomo, wiped it on the young man's hair. He liked the gesture; it constituted all the contempt he should've demonstrated to the bastard. Only Tomo was out cold and didn't feel it.

Well, not really out... Schooling his features into a mask of cold composure, Nakago watched how Tomo's eyelids fluttered, his quiet breath getting a hitch in it. As consciousness returned to him, pain returned as well. Nakago stood and waited until the yellow eyes opened and found him.


Yeah right. He liked when Tomo called him like this, with such awe. See, the plan worked, after all. Nakago needed to subdue him, to teach him some respect. This stupid homosexual boy wouldn't dare any insolence now.

"Did you get what you wanted?" he asked.

It seemed to him something broke in Tomo's eyes - as if he expected something different from Nakago; but then the light brightened in them again. With his arms crossed and feet planted apart, Nakago towered over the crouching figure, looking down at the tilted up face.

"Yes," Tomo said quietly.

"And did you like it?" He shouldn't have asked this question, what did he care if Tomo enjoyed it. But it was too late - the words already dropped.

White face seemed to glow inside with a smile that never reached the lips but still was felt there, underneath, shone from the eyes at him.

"Yes," Tomo said. "I did."

Seiryuu, I'll snap his neck now, Nakago thought, and damn the miko. But of course he didn't - he could control himself better than that. He stepped back, turned away, and felt strange relief and almost pain of not seeing Tomo's obscenely revealed body and almost childish face any more. But he was well aware of Tomo's presence all the same.

"Then get out of here."

What if he messed him up too badly? What if he couldn't stand up? But Nakago heard a movement behind him, slight rustle of the clothes. It still took Tomo more time to get up than it would take an uninjured person - but finally Nakago felt barefoot steps behind him, a displacement of the air as Tomo walked past him to the door.

With his peripheral sight he saw a flash of swaying hair, long dark strands nearly brushing against him. The smell was the one he recognized - of camellia and white rose - the smell he'd felt from Tomo's hair all the way as he'd fist-fucked him. Nakago's hands clenched. He wanted to feel the silk and heaviness of these strands in his grip again, wanted to feel the yielding warmth of Tomo's body against his.

Don't think about it...

He wondered if Tomo knew how close to danger they both were. Some more - and Nakago would let his control go, would let himself do what he wanted, what his body and mind urged him to do. And then Tomo would likely be dead.

Damn slut, stupid jester... with the face gentler than any woman's and body accepting and enduring everything that Nakago brought onto him. Next time... next time he'd maybe let himself kiss these lips, check if they're as soft and tender as they seem to be.

Next time? He felt his face distort. There wouldn't be next time; for the sake of both of them - there wouldn't. He would stick with Soi - it was safer and in any case more useful for his 'chi'. There was no way he would allow the worthless son of bitch anywhere near to him.

Nakago realized suddenly he still wasn't alone. Tomo was still in the doorway, looking at him - Nakago could feel it without seeing. He asked, not turning back:

"Anything else you have to say?"

The lilting voice sounded so quiet that Nakago could fully believe he only imagined hearing it.

"You'll be mine all the same, Nakago-sama."

Then there were soft steps and Tomo was gone.

The End

Go to the sequel: Atsui (Hot)

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