A/N: A year ago, I had this really random idea about Nobunagun essentially being Oda Nobunaga and ruling Japan but as a girl (like all those gender-bend animes out there). I wanted to write a story around this idea of Nobunagun having a harem of beautiful men and women and how Adam somehow ends up becoming her favorite 'pet' so to speak, but I never did get around to it because a) I couldn't think of an overarching plot and b) I ended up pursuing a lot of other stories as well.
BUT. The idea stayed and scenes here and there kept forming themselves…but I never put them down simply because I'm not sure how they'll play out. And I still don't know, but I think, it's a waste if I don't put them down now so I am going forward anyway and I guess we'll see where it goes.
"Mmm…yes, that's good…you've learnt quickly, haven't you…?" Her fingers run through his silver locks, and he knows it's a sign of her affection–a 'good job', if you will. Still, he knows better than to stop–tired as he is getting, he continues to run his tongue on across her slim digits, a kiss into her palm, before tracing feather-light breaths across her porcelain wrist.
Vassal. Confidant. Lover. Pet. He doesn't know which title really fits anymore, because some days it seems like he is the only thing that matters to her and on others he lies in darkness, alone. His thoughts, history, even a sense of who he was and who he was meant to be seem all but erased ever since he floated into this strange realm, a place where a woman could hold more power than a man and topics like sexuality and gender roles hold no outside meaning.
Oda Nobunagun. A girl once, innocent maybe–but at least she must have been young too, once a upon a time ago–only now Japan's most feared tyrant and likely to become a major power player among the rising tensions in the lands of the Orient. Sometimes he thinks he can catch glimpses of who she really was–or perhaps still is–tender, vulnerable and loving when she pushes herself in between his arms and almost cries, but she never does. But more often than not, it's the ferocity that exerts itself, complete with her cruelty and sadistic language as she tortures him and yet he has no choice but to comply.
Knock knock. The sound is both abrupt and unwelcome, and he knows it by the way she suddenly tightens her grip in his strands and it becomes painful. To the best of his knowledge (and he is never wrong) there shouldn't be anymore plans, not at this hour. For why else would she have requested his company tonight, his and his alone?
"Fuzakenna…if this doesn't concern Mitsuhide or Uesagi, heads are going to roll…" All the warmth and tenderness she was just exhibiting vanishes in an instant, and with the fluidity of a tigress she rolls off him while pulling the silk kimono over her shoulders, the fabric making only the slightest of rustling over the tatami mats as she slides the shoji screen open just a touch.
He doesn't get up, for there's no need for him to show his face–his only role tonight, or at least in her private quarters, is to be her companion, a living doll. Whether it's pleasuring her or collaborating on strategies, the only thing that matters is that he does whatever she commands. It's not an easy task, and one that he actively resisted at first…but now, after all this time…
"Aho! I thought it was made clear that I am not to be disturbed after I retire…" There's a shout and then the sound of a human body hitting the ground, and he figures that it was probably some poor fool of a page who had just gotten promoted and was eager to prove their worth by delivering some mundane news or other. News that, not only is she already aware of, but nothing of any real importance–because who cared if one of the generals had been writing secret letters to the Rokkaku clan, if that general had already been executed just mere hours earlier?
'Those poor fools, bloody idiots for bargin' in at this time of night…' He hopes that Nobunagun is in a relatively forgiving mood, if only so he doesn't wake up to a bloody mess outside next morning. Luckily from the sound of her orders, barking at the guards to take the page away, it seems the young lad has escaped the worst of her wrath…for now.
"…Nothing of importance, I take it?" It's only because she has come to allow him some level of trust with her that he dares to speak like this to her, as if they are on the same level. But deep down he knows, that no matter how passionate their nights may be, or how much he believes her words sometimes, there will always be a line between them.
She scoffs and lets the robe fall into a pile on the floor, the black silk pooling over the red silk of his and for some reason he notices this and in his mind he thinks the colors are beautiful. "Tch…I think it's high time I started taking a more active role in scouting out the troops…too many idiots clogging the ranks these days…"
"…Sou ka…" His Japanese, not too shabby to begin with, but he has become fluent out of the sheer necessity of needing to just survive. Even though her English is impeccable, to be expected from one of her standing and her strange fascination with Western cultures, he never dares to ask her to repeat herself in his mother tongue, for how she chooses to respond is entirely up to her.
There's a pause in her movements as she lays her nude body across his, and he instantly feels the tension in the room. Is he out of line, again, somehow? No matter how well he thinks he can read her these days, there is always that underlying fear, that just one thing will set her off and she will go from placid to uncontrollable rage in the blink of an eye. However, maybe he is overthinking things–for the next second she settles her warmth on his, the softness of her breasts pressed against his hard muscles as she resumes stroking his face.
"…Hmm…perhaps I should put you in charge…" She sounds amused, although the tone is also the same one she uses when she's on the verge of spilling over. "Well? What say you?"
He doesn't respond right away; for he is sure now, that her mood for the evening will depend entirely on how he responds. If he's too yielding, she'll fly into a rage about him being a spineless, useless lump of flesh, but too aggressive and she'll have no qualms about spending the rest of the night reminding him just who exactly is in charge.
"If that's what you wish, milord…though I feel you may be too generous in praising my abilities on the field…" Acquiesce to her demands, but not without doubts. It's a fair compromise he thinks, or rather, can only hope.
A low purring vibrating against his chest, and he feels that he has escaped her temper…for now. "Oh~? Being modest, are we…" She sticks her fingers in his mouth and he sucks on them automatically, carefully using his tongue but not his teeth. "I do not make such decisions lightly, no matter where we are." Suddenly her fingers withdraw and the next thing he knows she's straddled on top, teasing his length with the soft wetness of her entrance and he can't help but quiver.
"…Sumimasen, Nobunagun-sama—!" Too late, he knows he's messed up–or maybe it's not even anything he could have controlled, knowing her unpredictable personality–but in any case, the fingers that he was just pleasing earlier are now wrapped around his neck; nails not yet digging in, but one more wrong word out of his mouth and he knows he'll be paying for it.
"Ah ah ah…you would do to watch your tongue, pet…" Her maroons are glowing in that insanely dangerous glint, the halo of platinum that's starting to drape across her shoulders only adding to the aura. "Tell me again…who is the one that has allowed you to live as you have so far?" The nails dig in a little more, a warning that signals he'd better respond and not take the time to think of something flowery just to please her.
"Y-You…Lord Nobunagun…aah…"
"Yes, that's right, isn't it? Oh my, look at how hard you're getting…" She grins and rubs herself a little more, coating him with her juices. "A dirty, gaijin masochist like you…how shameful, getting turned on while being dominated like this…"
How has this become his life? Once, he was just a simple sailor aboard a ship that had the misfortune to crash on the coast of one of the most isolated kingdoms–Japan, Nippon, Land of the Rising Sun or whatever you want to call it–and now he is a plaything, a pet, just one of the many warm bodies that Oda Nobunagun keeps in her harem, nevermind the rumors that swirl with how he is the fastest to attract her attentions.
"But that's all right, because you are my dirty masochist…my pet…" And then she changes into affection, cooing and slowly moving her hips so it sends waves of pleasure that runs through his entire body.
"Y-Yes…Lord–hnng–Nobunagun…" There's no denying how hard he is now, and with any luck, the night will be more pleasure than pain.
Her pupils are dilated and they make her orbs glow, somehow. "Remind me again, who are you?" Her hips settle into an even rhythm but despite his pants, he knows she still expects him to answer.
"I-I–Adam Muirhead…ah, ahh…"
"Yes, that you are…and to whom do you belong?"
"You…Nobunagun…"
She smiles that enigmatic smile, where he's never sure if she's actually happy or just being sarcastic.
"Very good. You are truly one-of-a-kind, aren't you…" She only stops temporarily, but it's so she can sheath him inside her and he moans when his cock is surrounded by her inner heat. "But you were rather rude to me earlier, were you not? And all pets, no matter how sweet they may be…need to be disciplined, now and again…"
She tears off the robe that's been hanging loosely across his body and narrows her eyes. The scent of sandalwood incense, combined with the musk of her arousal and their sweat, and everything takes on that hazy, dream-like quality that seems to descend upon him whenever they fall into their sessions. Adam is not sure if she's the same with her other pets, or if it's just him–maybe that means something, maybe it doesn't. For all that matters now is that he is not her confidant, or her most trusted vassal, right now he exists solely as her amusement.
"You belong to me; your body, your mind, your very soul…they are all mine. Do not forget that, Adam Muirhead." Even as the pace becomes frantic, her back arching and their moans falling into sync as she pushes for that edge, that undeniably intense edge that they both seek, he knows he must answer her.
"Of course…Sio…"
And then he comes and he is spilling himself into her, and his mind sees nothing but a flash of a girl who must have once been pure, with eyes that smiled and hair that was the color of silken earth, and then it's just darkness.