Title: Samui (Cold)|
Author: Juxian Tang
Fandom: Fushigi Yuugi
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.
Series: The first of two stories. The sequel Atsui (Hot)
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
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
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
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
"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
"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."
"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.
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
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
He waited for one more urging whisper.
"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
"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
"I have... an affection for you..." he recalled the
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
"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
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
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
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
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
"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
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
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
"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
"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... 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.
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.
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
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
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
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
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
"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.
Go to the sequel: Atsui (Hot)