WARNING: This fic is YAOI, which means there is SEX BETWEEN MEN in it. I will laugh and make fun of flames by people who: 1) don't leave a user name/email address; 2) are so narrow-minded that they won't let people enjoy harmless diversions without ruining it for them; 3) don't read the warnings on yaoi fics.
Confessions:
a "Fushigi Yui" prologue
By Kitsune
This is a prologue to a fic that hasn't been written! The idea is to write an epic in the FY universe, where Miaka does not exist, and Nuriko's sister (Kourin), never died. The Hotohori/Nuriko relationship caught my imagination almost immediately after sketching out a rough plot (REALLY rough!).
Part 1:
As he watched his best friend laugh, the sunlight turning his purple hair into a dark corona, Hotohori reflected that if it hadn't been for Nuriko, his life might have been a lonely chasm.
Nuriko loved life, and his ceaseless teasing and energy had proved over time to create in Hotohori appreciation for the finer things in life. Activities such as hunting, riding, watching theater or even just enjoying a fine meal had never taken on the importance they had now.
"You work too much; you work all the time!" Nuriko complained often enough with that light-hearted tilt of the head. He would barge into the emperor's room with none of the polite apologies required of a mere commoner (even a commoner who was the emperor's friend), take the writing brush from Hotohori's hand and drag the emperor after him to some pleasurable distraction.
This was such a day. Nuriko wanted to go riding in the rare sunshine, and Hotohori willingly became his hostage.
"Nee - Hotohori-sama," Nuriko said in that playful voice, "ever wondered where the other Suzaku no seishi are? Have you ever searched?"
Only Nuriko called the emperor "Hotohori," a name assigned to the God's warrior who bore the mark signifying "star." His advisers were aghast at such familiarity but "Hotohori" had a purpose, a destiny, hope. The emperor had a life of leaden duty.
To tell the truth, he had always waited for HER, and never thought to seek out the other seishi beforehand. Nuriko had been a fluke; escorting his sister, Kourin, to the capital, Nuriko might have remained one of the nameless relatives presenting daughters and sisters to the emperor, except that during their stay at the palace, a fire had broken out during the hot summer. Nuriko, shirtless, had dashed towards the royal quarters like many loyal retainers to help put out the blaze.
Nuriko threw aside falling timbers to rescue trapped nobles, including Hotohori, himself shirtless and groggy from sleep. There, on his collarbone, blazed the sign of "willow."
He would remember, possibly until the day he died, Nuriko's silhouette above him, lifting huge timbers with his slender arms. The blaze of red from his collar was evident even with the smoke and fire raging around them.
"I never thought to. SHE is to find them."
Nuriko grinned and shrugged. "Well, if SHE ever arrives, that is. Who's to know? I wonder if Seishi are ever born to a time when the miko doesn't appear?"
Hotohori frowned at his friend. He sometimes forgot that Nuriko, despite his unrelenting energy and cheerfulness, was in fact highly intelligent. Nuriko just never seemed inclined to reveal his deeper thoughts to most people.
"Gomen, gomen!" Nuriko put up his hands to Hotohori's expression. "I didn't mean to utter heresy."
"It's not precisely heresy," Hotohori replied. "Just unconventional."
Nuriko grinned at him. "Yeah, well, I'm an unconventional kind of guy, I guess." Something flickered in those violet eyes, but Nuriko turned his head and rode faster, outdistancing him enough that it was hard to see his expression.
It was curious, Hotohori thought, that he had often thought Nuriko to be prettier than his sister. He had a feminine face, rather oval, and wide eyes with long dark lashes. There was a distinct beauty mark under his left eye that called attention to those eyes.
In fact, there was speculation that the emperor preferred Nuriko's company because he was the only man in the kingdom at least as beautiful as Hotohori himself. Although the thought had occurred to Hotohori more than once, it wasn't really true. Once someone got to know Nuriko, it was hard not to want to be around him. He was as faithful and loyal a friend as anyone would want, and being a fellow seishi tipped the scales in his favor.
As for beauty, thought Hotohori vainly, one couldn't compare them. Hotohori had an elegant beauty: long dark bronze hair, high cheekbones and narrow gold eyes. Nuriko's beauty was more colorful, rounder. Hotohori could manage to look like a woman with his hair down, but Nuriko always looked like a woman, even wearing men's clothes and with his hair in a braid.
Hotohori had only seen Nuriko without his braid once, and had been amazed at the thick fall of wavy purple hair. He thought with embarrassment that the brief insane impulse to run his hands through it had come from mere curiosity.
It was hard to keep convincing himself that it was curiosity. Sometimes it was hard not to stare at Nuriko. Everything about him was a feast to the eyes, a very touchable feast. Hotohori had never met a woman who tempted him to throw aside convention and just touch, just to do it. Yet he was always thinking about it with Nuriko, although he had never once succumbed.
Being brought up as an emperor at least gave one massive self-control, and an intimate understanding of proper conduct.
"It's Kourin's birthday tomorrow," Nuriko said when Hotohori reined his horse in next to his. "I was thinking of taking her into the town. She doesn't get out much."
Hotohori nodded. He didn't speak of Nuriko's sister often, and Nuriko seldom ever brought the topic up. Kourin was one of hundreds of beautiful women paraded before the emperor in hopes of a marriage contract, or perhaps a concubine position. Hotohori wasn't interested in any of them, although he understood the importance of procuring a wife.
To tell the truth, he had always waited for HER. And he was too busy with his scholarly pursuits.
Well, he HAD been, before Nuriko.
"What does she think of me?" he found himself asking. "Is she upset I haven't chosen her?"
Nuriko was silent for a moment.
"Well, Kourin and I have the same tastes when it comes to people, so I imagine she likes you very well, but Kourin doesn't have a hateful bone in her body."
Nuriko was looking at the horizon as he said this, and his stiff back sent a shiver of apprehension through Hotohori.
"I apologize."
Nuriko turned, his eyebrows arched in surprise. "Why? For not choosing her?"
"For bringing up the subject."
The young man smiled sweetly, and Hotohori breathed easier. He wasn't angry after all. "I'm surprised it hasn't come up before. I just never wanted you to think I was trying to promote my own sister through our friendship."
"It's natural, isn't it?"
Nuriko shook his head. "Now where I come from. Kourin would never forgive me if she won a position at court through her brother's conniving. She's a rather . . . honest girl. She wants love, or she wants nothing. Can't say I blame her. I guess it's genetic."
The word "love" coming from Nuriko's was unsettling. Wives and concubines had come up in conversation before, in a general way, but Nuriko had never mentioned love.
"I guess you can't expect better from a cloth-maker's son , nee?" he went on. "They say: 'leave love to the common folk,' don't they? Royalty can't afford it."
"Not in wives, at least," Hotohori said with a sigh. "I think it's a dream we all wish for, but then reality sets in."
Nuriko nodded. "Yeah, I suppose so. I wonder what it's like?"
"You've never been in love?" Hotohori was surprised. Commoners were supposed to fall in and out of love all the time.
"Nah. Our province has the quota for the ugliest and most ignorant girls in Konan. I've had woman following me around, but I don't find them very interesting. Maybe I'm fated to be a bachelor."
Hotohori regarded Nuriko, a random thought surprising him. Why couldn't men marry their best friends?
And, even worse: It would be perfect if Nuriko were a woman.
He blushed at the thought. What was he, some kind of pervert?
"It's too bad," Nuriko said breezily. "Why can't women be more like men? I'd like a beautiful, thoughtful and scholarly lady; too bad you don't have a twin!"
Hotohori couldn't believe that they had reached the same thought almost simultaneously, and flushed deeper. Nuriko as a woman . . . Kourin didn't even come close. She was pretty and sweet, but she lacked something deeper that often came in a masculine package. The proprieties that sheltered women also made them shallow and uninteresting.
Hotohori had heard of men who turned to other men, but he had never truly understood the "why's" of such behavior until now. He had always considered men who chose other men to the exclusion of women as unnatural. It was actually fairly common for sexual relationships to occur between men, particularly in court and in the military, but these same men married as well, and fathered children. In their case, it just seemed to be a slightly twisted preference.
They slowed by the lake, dismounted as was their habit, and walked the horses along the shore in companionable silence.
"I have sisters," Hotohori said lightly.
Nuriko grinned at him. "You think they'd be interested in a cloth-maker's son?"
They'd be fools if they passed over Nuriko just because of that, Hotohori thought. But his sisters were not particularly intelligent; unfortunately, none of them had pursued the limited education available to princesses.
So he merely shrugged.
"Do any of them look like you?" Nuriko asked with eyes crinkling with amusement.
Hotohori smiled. "In what way? The eldest and I have the same eyes."
"Tall?"
"No. Petite."
"Ah, too bad. I like them tall."
Hotohori had to laugh at Nuriko's jaunty stride and swinging braid, and the wink that the commoner aimed at him over a shoulder.
They walked a little more and Nuriko sighed dramatically. "It's so hot! I wish we could swim." He was looking at the lake longingly.
"Swim in the lake?" Hotohori was horrified. Springs, yes. But a lake?
"Well, yes. We did it all the time back home. Can't you swim?"
"Of course I can swim!"
Nuriko looked at him doubtfully. "Are you telling me the truth? If you can swim, why haven't you swum in this beautiful cool lake?"
"Because it isn't done! It isn't . . . " Proper.
The violet-eyed seishi crossed his arms and regarded his friend. "For an emperor, you've had a really deprived life. There's nothing so nice as swimming in cold water on a hot day. In fact . . . " He glanced at the water. "I think I'm going to jump in."
"But that's not--!" Hotohori stopped what he was about to say as Nuriko casually began to strip on the way down to the water. He gulped.
"Of course, you don't have to stand there, you know. You could always head on back . . . or join me."
Hotohori watched, outraged by Nuriko's audacity. Then he just watched. What right did a commoner have to have such white skin?
Nuriko's lean, pale form arched and dove into the water, vanishing momentarily. Hotohori waited, half-angry and half-apprehensive until the dark head broke the surface.
"Waah! Now that's COLD!"
"Nuriko, come out of there," Hotohori almost begged.
"But it's so NICE. Why don't you come in?"
Hotohori blushed.
"Ah, come on. You can't possibly be embarrassed!"
"I hate you."
Nuriko grinned at the emperor's sulky tone. "You know you want to. Don't be so proper." Nuriko vanished again under the water, leaving Hotohori to stew on the shore, sweat running down his back from the heat and from uneasiness. Finally, he untied his tunic, and removed the sash. Nuriko appeared again, waist-deep, and proceeded to remove the tie from his hair and unravel his braid.
Hotohori's hands stopped, suddenly self-conscious. Nuriko dipped back into the water, smoothing the hair from his face. Wet, it reached below the water and was the color of smoky amethysts, and his skin, in comparison, was luminous as if lit from within.
"Need help?" the seishi asked with a wicked smile.
The emperor quickly removed his shirt and began to work on his pants. Nuriko dove into the deeper water and began to swim along the curve of the shore, vanishing behind a steep bank. He hadn't lied; Nuriko swam as if he were half-fish.
The water was cold but felt wonderful. Hotohori waded in carefully, trying not to think about what he was stepping on. "Nuriko?" There was no sign of his friend.
Sinking down, he submerged his head briefly and came up, gasping from the cold. Nuriko was suddenly beside him, grinning.
"Nice, isn't it?" Water drops shimmered on the smoky eyelashes.
"Y-yes." He fought the impulse to watch droplets of water sliding down his shoulders.
Nuriko's eyes flickered. "Here. You forgot something." He reached out, making Hotohori step back in automatic alarm. His heel slipped and he found himself flailing backwards into the cold water. Strong arms pulled him back up, and a slender body steadied him.
"Hotohori-sama! Are you all right? What happened?"
He coughed. "Slipped."
"I was just going to show you that you left your hair ribbon in." Nuriko's expression was concerned and perplexed at the same time. He gently attempted to untangle the ribbon, which was now hopelessly entwined with the wet hair.
Hotohori had no idea what to do in such a situation. Nuriko's casual attitude about his own nakedness only increased his discomfort.
After a moment his friend recognized his stiff stance, stopped what he was doing, and dropped his hands. "Are you embarrassed?" he asked in an amazed voice. "But you're beautiful! What do you have to be embarrassed about?"
Hotohori blushed again, reacting to both the compliment and Nuriko's closeness at the same time. How could he explain the humiliation of being seen naked by someone not remotely a servant? How could he explain that he being close to Nuriko was addling his senses so severely, he did not know how to react?
The first seemed the easiest and safest excuse. "I'm not used to --" he murmured shyly, glancing up. And stopped.
Nuriko had the strangest expression on his face, and for once he was openly staring at Hotohori, really LOOKING at him. Hotohori had never seen that expression before; it was too complex. But he recognized hunger, the same longing he had experienced so often, the instinct to reach out and TOUCH.
Nuriko shook himself and averted his eyes, as if finally realizing what he had been doing.
"No one has the right to be so perfect," he said with uncharacteristic seriousness.
"Nuriko --"
His friend blinked, shook himself again and abruptly stepped away. "This isn't good," he said. "I shouldn't --"
"What?"
"God! How can you be so innocent!" Nuriko's vehemence startled Hotohori.
He found himself staring at Nuriko, so many emotions tumbling around in his chest he couldn't have sorted them out if he wanted to. Nuriko's intense expression melted as their eyes met; he began to look contrite.
"You are right. I AM innocent," the emperor said before Nuriko could stumble along some unneeded apology. "I've been sheltered all my life. Do you wish that I wasn't?"
Nuriko bit his lip and turned his head. Bright color stained his checks and worked its way down his neck. "Sometimes I wish you weren't so trusting."
"Of you? But you are my friend. Of course I trust you."
Nuriko merely shook his head and bit at his knuckles. Then slowly he whispered, "You shouldn't"
"But, Nuriko --"
Nuriko's eyes flashed hot as the seishi finally turned his face back to Hotohori. "You shouldn't! God, you have no idea!"
But Hotohori did have an idea, and it was being clarified by every tone and nuance of Nuriko's speech and expression.
"I think I do, if it has to do with being in love with your best friend."
Silence. Then: "Oh my god," in a whisper. "How long have you know?"
"I did not know, until now."
"Look, it's not like that! I mean, we can be just friends, right? I wouldn't . . . won't . . . ah, shit, I didn't want you to know!"
"Nuriko," he said gently, "I was talking about my own feelings."
"What?"
He had been subconsciously wanting to say it for so long. "I love you."
Part 2:
Silence. Nuriko stared at him, eyes wide. Hotohori stared back helplessly, unable to think of what he should say next.
"Hotoho--"
"Your Majesty!"
Hotohori turned disbelieving eyes behind him to a pair of mounted guards and felt like screaming. "Yes?" He hadn't even heard them ride up.
The older of the two cleared his throat nervously, sensing that he was interrupting something important. "There is a standing order to inform your majesty whenever a message arrives from Mount Taisu."
"Yes, that is my order."
"The messenger just arrived."
Hotohori glanced at Nuriko, eyes wide. "I will be there immediately," he said. Without turning his head, he could hear the horses depart.
"It's about the miko, isn't it?" his friend asked, breathless.
"Yes, it must concern her."
Nuriko waded towards him, pushing his hair back behind his shoulders as he moved through the water. "Then I guess we'd better get back."
"Nuriko--"
The seishi met his eyes, something flickering there, uncertain.
"Do you want to talk about this later?"
Nuriko nodded, then waded past. Hotohori sighed. Why could he never predict how Nuriko would react?
The message was from Taisukun and it took him an hour to wade through her weighty prose. Finally, he sat back, rubbed his forehead and said to no one in particular. "I never understand what this woman really means."
"Your Excellence?" It was one of his advisors.
"I think she is warning me to keep watch for Suzaku no miko, that her emergence is imminent."
He yawned. "The Four Gods Earth and Sky always point to summer as Suzaku's season, and this is spring. The cycle is correct; the seishi would be in their prime. " He chuckled, realizing he was talking about himself as well as Nuriko.
"Perhaps you should rest, Your Majesty."
"Hm. Summon Nuriko to me first, then I will do so."
He waited until the room was vacant then moved through the door into the private chambers, loosening his hair and shaking it out. He stretched and yawned again, then heard the outside door open and Nuriko's unmistakable step pass through the outer chamber.
"Hotohori-sama?"
"Come in; I wanted to talk to you before bed."
Nuriko stood uncertainly at the doorway; he had never been in the bedchamber before. Hotohori smiled; this was the same man who barged into his outer chambers without hesitation.
"Was the message what you had hoped for?"
"With Taisukun, you can never tell. It is hopeful, that is all."
"Ah." The question in his tone remained unsaid. Why am I here, then?
Hotohori took a deep breath, and still without looking at Nuriko, said: "Do you want to forget this afternoon?"
A brief silence. "Do you want me to?"
The emperor traced the trim of his bed with a careful finger. "This is about you."
Finally, movement from the door. Nuriko was walking across the room towards him. Hotohori held his breath.
"Is it? This can be really dangerous for me, you know that? My other lovers couldn't have me executed by whim if I displeased them."
At "other lovers" Hotohori turned around, and at "executed by whim," opened his mouth in protest. Nuriko was right there, close enough to touch.
"You know me better than that," he whispered, entranced.
"Hotohori," Nuriko's voice was soft, his eyes narrowed, "I don't want to forget this afternoon, but you're in control. You tell me what you want."
"I want you to tell me what you feel," Hotohori breathed, swallowing heavily.
His friend regarded him with intense eyes, then he smiled slowly. "After the coitus interuptus of this afternoon, I'm almost afraid to say anything."
Hotohori blushed, leaning back against the frame of the alcove of the bed. Nuriko was subtly invading his space, and he was having difficulty breathing at the intensity of Nuriko's gaze.
"Why should I have to say it? Actions speak much more eloquently." Nuriko's eyes dropped and focused on the emperor's mouth.
Eyes wide, Hotohori simply watched as Nuriko closed the small space between them in one movement. He gulped.
"Don't be afraid. Hasn't anyone ever kissed you before?"
Hotohori managed to use his wit enough to whisper sarcastically. "Oh, happens all the time. Everyone wants to kiss the emperor."
Nuriko's soft laugh exhaled warm breath against Hotohori's lips, which parted in response without conscious decision.
"Oh yes," Nuriko hissed softly, "like that. You're perfect."
His lips were on Hotohori's with an alacrity that made the emperor almost flinch back, except he was already pressed back against the frame of the bed. Despite the swiftness, the kiss was gentle and tentative, and Hotohori relaxed, eyes closing dreamily.
Nuriko drew back and Hotohori opened his eyes, disappointed. That was it? Wasn't it supposed to be . . . more intense? He thought --
He gasped as Nuriko moved in again; this time the kiss was harder, more urgent. Hotohori moaned in his throat, raising his arms to slide them over Nuriko's shoulders and pull him closer. He had to feel Nuriko against him, had to . . .
Nuriko's tongue slid along his lower lip, exploring, then thrust in. His body was pressing him harder against the frame; it felt wonderful, like nothing Hotohori could have dreamed possible. This incredible warmth, this ache; instinctively, he rubbed his groin against Nuriko's and groaned, pleased, when the kiss plunged deeper in response.
Hands were in his hair, angling his head, rubbing against his skull. He sighed when Nuriko's lips left his and moved to his jaw. Teeth nibbled, lips sucked and tongue licked. He whimpered, grasping at Nuriko's hair.
His whole being was so focused on the pleasure Nuriko was creating that he was at first unaware that Nuriko was speaking, mumbling really, against his throat, the words indistinct. He strained to hear the words, to make sense of them as they vibrated against his flesh. When he understood, his eyes widened.
"I want you. I need you. I love you." Over and over again, a mantra. Nuriko had avoided saying the words, but was now giving them to him in the heat of passion.
"Nuriko," the emperor whispered, awed by the intensity, humbled by it.
Slowly his friend released him, but did not step away. Face to face, breathing hard, violet and gold eyes regarded one another.
"How did you learn to kiss like that?" Hotohori murmured, for lack of better conversation.
A puff of laughter. "That's hardly an appropriate bedtime story; if you're still interested, I'll tell you tomorrow."
Hotohori sighed, closing his eyes.
"You look tired; go to bed." Nuriko gently pushed the masses of freed hair from Hotohori's face.
"But--" Shouldn't there be more?
"Don't tempt me. You've already pushed me into going further than I wanted to tonight."
Hotohori blushed and Nuriko grinned.
"Sweet dreams, Your Excellency."
++++++++++++++
"You promised me a story," Hotohori reminded him the next day as they ate lunch in the courtyard.
Nuriko sighed. "You know, it isn't for innocent ears; you might not understand half of it."
Hotohori gave him a hard stare. "I am not an idiot."
Again the sigh. "No, you're not stupid. Okay, but I warn you, you'll probably be shocked."
Nuriko's Story
Well, I don't know if you knew this, but I was pretty much innocent all the way up to my trip to the capital with Kourin. It wasn't that I avoided girls or anything like that, it was just being a merchant's son, I had a name to uphold, and I was working most of the time.
Anyway, my father hired four guards, and with myself as escort, we took the trip down through the mountains. We stayed in village inns, because Kourin refused to camp out and my father was too proud to admit that we could save money by using tents. That's otousan for you.
This particular night we were staying at this inn at the foot of the mountains. It has been a hard leg of the journey because we kept hearing rumors of bandits in the area, and we were jumping at every loose stone. We had kept up a grueling pace because the inn was the only safe haven from the last one, and it was pretty far.
Kourin was understandably tired. We got her into her room and put two of the younger guards at the door and had the other two sleep so when the change came, they'd be alert.
I was tired, but also still keyed up from the whole nervous trip, and went down to the common room to relax and get a drink, hoping the landlord would have the ingredients to a "Nuriko Special."
As I passed from the back of the inn to the common area and bar, I passed two men who were sitting in the far back corner, as if they wanted to observe all the comings and goings of the place. As soon as I passed them, I had this strange awareness of those two in particular, as if there was some mysterious connection, but I shrugged it off as being tired and still feeling strange from the trip.
I sat at the bar and talked to the landlord for a bit; the typical pleasant nonsense one throws around when meeting strangers, and soon I was sipping on my Nuriko Special, and really half-asleep, head-in-hand.
Suddenly I noticed that there were men on either side of me. When I looked, I realized that it was the same two from earlier, now flanking me.
Now, I had never seen men who looked like this. Definitely mountain people from their speech (which I will explain later), with the look of people who lived hard, and had a good time at it. You know, lean, sharp, with quick eyes and easy smiles. Both looked as if they came from the same stock, similar in height, weight, dress and complexion, even the way they cut their hair. The one on my right introduced himself as Genrou, and the one on my left as Kouji.
Genrou was the one I felt an immediate connection with. His hair was the brightest red I had ever seen, you would say orange, and hazel eyes like dark amber. Genrou was the flashier dresser; he wore a long dark blue coat over breeks and high boots, and wore jewelry with distinction. Long aquamarine and ruby earrings and two strands of semi-precious stones as necklaces. Kouji dressed much more simply, and his hair was a dark violet, darker and bluer than mine; gray eyes. He had an interesting scar down his left cheek. Despite that, I got the immediate impression that Genrou was the "darker" of the two, the one that would fly into a temper the fastest, and would be the hardest to appease. Kouji was the lighter one.
Of course all of this I got in glimpses while the two ordered drinks and struck up light conversation with me. I answered carefully, because I suspected that these two were not what you call "honest men," that they could possibly have an unsavory purpose. They asked me if I was alone, and I lied and said "yes," and that I was on my way to the capital to keep a cousin company there. I told them the truth about what my father did; it's hard to hide the fact that I was wearing very nicely tailored clothes, and that I didn't have dirt under my fingernails.
All the while, I could see that although they never said a word to each other, they were communicating with glances over my head. I was understandably anxious; I had no idea who they really were, or what they wanted. Were they attempting to coerce me in order to rob me? That seemed the likeliest, though I don't know what I had that was worth all the effort. Most of the money was safely upstairs with Kourin and the guards. I'm not stupid.
Both of them had accents, but also had the strangest vocabulary I ever heard. My father would probably call it the language of "the gutter." Genrou swore every three words, as if he was completely unaware of it, and Kouji wasn't much better. It was rough language I wasn't used to and caught myself almost blushing at the word choices.
Finally the drinks were almost finished, and despite the fact that these two men were honestly fascinating, I was wondering how I was going to get away from them, when Genrou's hand "slipped" down from my shoulder to my waist.
Now I was innocent, but not naive. I knew what some men found attractive, I just never realized that it could be me who attracted them. I was pretty much stunned.
Genrou suggested that we buy a couple of bottles of wine and take them up to their room, where we could get to know each other better, and so forth. Genrou wasn't too good at being subtle at this point, either because he was drunk or because there was just no way to subtly proposition a stranger you've just met in a bar.
Now, had it been a week before, in the village where I grew up, I would have automatically said "no thank you" and run for my room. After all, one doesn't publicly walk off with strange men and expect it not to get around. But for some reason, my natural resistance wasn't as keen as usual, and I actually thought about it, looking from Kouji to Genrou and back again.
Then it occurred to me. I KNEW Genrou. I don't know how I knew him, I just did. I knew he had a hot temper, and a foul mouth, that he was a fighter, and hated injustice. And I knew he wasn't going to hurt me; he was in the mood for fun, and wanted me to join in. Both of them did.
So I said "yes."
Oh, I know that look. You're thinking: How could he go off with two strange men, who obviously plan to seduce him? Well, the strangest thing is, I don't know why I did it. Or at least my reasons don't stand up in the sober light of day. Sure, they were attractive, Genrou in particular, and they had that air of reckless adventure about them that you hear stories about and then say: "I wish I could be like that," but was that reason enough?
I guess for me it was enough.
We got the wine, and went up to their room, which was thankfully not anywhere near my own and Kourin's. Both of them had their arms around me and were laughing and joking with each other, and with me. Kouji had the key and unlocked the door, and we went inside.
Are you all right? You look flushed. Is this an embarrassing story? I guess it kind of is, isn't it? You're wondering what happened next, though, but it might be too much for innocent ears.
Should I stop here?
Part 3:
Nuriko's Story (thankfully) continued:
Well, I'll go on then, but stop me if it gets . . . too much.
Where was I? Oh yes, we went inside.
The next thing I knew, the door was shut, I was up against the door and Genrou was kissing me. I never knew people kissed like that! I mean, I used to watch my parents . . . it always seemed very sweet and light and . . . you know, well, ROMANTIC.
This wasn't sweet, and it wasn't romantic by a long shot. It was plainly sexual. His body was against mine, and his tongue in my mouth, and I didn't even struggle. I didn't want to struggle. He took his time, and it was a while before my brain caught up and by that time I could feel Kouji on the other side of me unbuttoning my shirt and untying my pants. By that time it was far too late to protest. I was kissing Genrou back, exploring that hot mouth.
Kouji pressed up on the other side, biting at my ear and neck, and pushed his hand between our bodies and squeezed me. My knees buckled.
Genrou chuckled, breaking off the kiss and moving away. I would have protested but Kouji took his place, as if it were all planned, pressing against me. He didn't kiss me on the mouth, but instead kept sucking on my throat and handling me with a slow inevitable tidal grip. When I thought to open my eyes, I saw Genrou sitting on the edge of the bed, watching. He took a drink from one of the wine bottles and wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand, smiling.
Kouji pushed my pants down and knelt. My eyes went wide as he took me in his mouth. Genrou grinned at me and began to slowly take off his coat, his hot amber eyes never leaving mine.
To say I had been innocent before now seems to be a vast understatement. I really had no idea. I wasn't one of those boys who continually groped himself; my libido wasn't that demanding. My idea of sex was marriage with a virtuous girl, and only on the wedding night. Having a man suck my . . . excuse the vernacular . . . cock wasn't something I would have anticipated.
Ah, but it was a dazzling experience.
Imagine all the feeling in your arms, your legs, your head, everywhere . . . all the possibilities of pleasure . . . go straight to one part of your body, and then have someone knowingly play upon that potential with all the sensual force of years of practice, and you might have some inkling of what it was like to have Kouji go down on me. Adding to that, Genrou was deliberately tantalizing me, slowly removing his clothes, and then his jewelry, all the while staring at me in the height of my pleasure.
"Bring him to the bed," Genrou said, naked by now and standing with arms akimbo and that damned grin, completely unselfconscious.
Kouji backed off, and I protested feebly. He helped pull off the clothes that still hung on me, guided my feet from the tangle of my pants and then pushed me to the bed. Genrou followed.
When I was prone, Genrou climbed over me and said, "Stop fucking around already, and get naked, Kouji."
Those fiery eyes were directly above mine, and so was the bare and lean body. You notice I don't go into raptures and describe Genrou's . . . accoutrements. Let's just say I was awed and almost salivating, looking at him.
"You're really too god-damned sweet, you know that?" he said to me. "Take down your braid."
He watched, poised above me, while I twisted about to pull the braid from underneath me, and then unraveled it, combing my fingers through the loosening strands.
"Very nice," was all he said and kissed me thoroughly, lowering his body on top of mine.
I was vaguely aware of Kouji, the rustling of his clothes; Genrou's mouth had the power to center my focus just THERE, wherever he kissed. I suppose that answers your question: I learned to kiss from Genrou.
You don't want me to stop? Hm, well, I just don't want to shock you.
For instance, ever heard of "double-teaming"? That's what those two were doing, double-teaming me. Genrou kissed me for a while, then moved off and let Kouji pleasure me some more . . . back and forth until I was whimpering, almost crying. Finally, they took pity on me. Genrou got behind me so that I was sitting up between his knees and Kouji knelt down in front of me and seriously sucked me while Genrou pinched my nipples and scraped his teeth along my shoulders and up my nape. Genrou's teeth were sharp, you know, almost like a wolf's, which made his grins seem somehow more feral than someone else's.
I had long since shut my eyes and was existing on sensation alone. Kouji was humming as he worked me, and then Genrou began to hum too, against my neck.
I think I screamed.
It was a little like dying from pleasure, when I finally came, my head back against Genrou's shoulder and Kouji's arms around my waist as he swallowed me.
I think if people knew about Kouji's talented mouth, he'd be rolling in wealth by now. He could hire himself out, except that Genrou might feel a little possessive.
Well, no, that's not the end, but I imagine you really don't want to hear . . . You really want to know how it ends?
I guess I can do that, but I'll need another cup of wine.
Anyway, that was the first time for me, that is with other people present in the same room. You know what I mean; any boy that says he hasn't made himself climax has a reality problem.
I think I blacked out, because the next thing I knew I was lying in the bed with the two of them at the foot, drinking. Kouji saw me stirring and said something low to Genrou who grinned at me and offered me the bottle. I bonelessly maneuvered myself toward their end and took it.
"Having fun yet?" he asked with a smirk.
While I drank I did my best to get my hair out of my face, but sweat and hair just don't help each other. "Leave it," Genrou advised me. "I like it that way."
You can't imagine what I looked like, or maybe you can . . . I've always been rather . . . okay, you can say it. Vain. I admit it. I don't like thinking that I look a mess.
With a grunt of disgust at my continued fussing, Genrou got up and came back with a comb. Sitting behind me, he gently combed out the tangles. Kouji watched us with a little smile.
"Where did you come from?" he asked, but it wasn't really a question. He knew what village I was from. "That was your first time, wasn't it?"
I nodded and Genrou hissed behind me, either in response to the answer or because I moved my head during his ministrations.
"Don't think much of your fellow villagers," Kouji remarked. "You're like a beautiful dessert right in front of a starving man; yet nobody thinks to eat you up."
"Sharp comparison," Genrou stated with a laugh.
"I've never been . . . attracted to . . . men before."
Kouji looked at Genrou over my shoulder; again that silent communication. It was rather eerie.
"Never thought about it?" Genrou asked.
"Well, no."
He set the comb on my knee and I took it up to attend to the hair around my face. "But you came here with us."
I didn't answer.
"Ya knew what we wanted."
"In theory."
Kouji finally said: "That mark on your shoulder."
I couldn't help it; I froze. Usually my clothes covered it up. Unlike yours, mine is more conveniently placed. "What about it?"
"Don't go cold on us! It's just . . . unusual."
"Yeah, I know."
Genrou asked: "Always had it?"
"Yeah."
"Then ya know what it means."
"Yeah."
That was it. They both dropped the subject as if it never came up. Genrou took the comb from my fingers, passed it to Kouji. "What's your opinion on me fucking you, Ryuuen? Thought about it recently, say in the last hour?"
Genrou certainly had a way with words. His hands began to pinch my nipples, bringing a surge of sharp-edged pleasure through me. I gasped.
"I think he's warming to the idea," Kouji said observantly.
"On your hands and knees," Genrou told me. "Kouji, get me the oil."
"Taking a virgin really turns you on, doesn't it?" Kouji remarked as he did as he was told.
"Fuck yes," Genrou replied, "and no, ain't 'cause he's tight, though that's good too." He helped me into position and pushed apart my knees with his. "With anyone new to this, ya know exactly what he's feeling. Can't cover it up."
His rough hands rubbed over my ass appreciatively. I shivered.
"See?"
A chuckle from Kouji.
I was listening to this conversation in a sort of pre-orgasmic state. I was turned on and at the same time highly nervous. I knew what Genrou was going to do, but also knew I wasn't going to like it much, just from things I'd heard. Despite that knowledge, I still wanted it, badly. I guess the idea of being penetrated, being made a thing of pleasure, synched with my libido. I liked the way those two looked at me, the proprietary way they took control of me. They knew what they wanted, and what's more, what I wanted, and they didn't hesitate. It was as if a whole new world had opened up for me.
Yes, I know that look. Again you're wondering . . . wondering how did I talk myself into this situation. I suppose this is a sort of confession, because . . . well, there's always a chance that you'll look at me differently because of this.
You know what they call a woman who would do this sort of thing on the spur of the moment? A little unfairly, too, I've always thought. Slut. Am I a slut for this? I wonder.
The oil was for my benefit, and later I would understand that Genrou was being extremely considerate to me for taking the time to prepare. In fact, he was being almost inhumanly patient. To this day I wonder if he also felt that sensation of connectedness, if he knew me in the way I thought I knew him.
He rubbed it into me, slowly stretching me with his fingers and even that, in its own strange way, felt good. He muttered obscenities to himself as he did this; half of the words were ones I didn't know.
When he finally entered me, I was so shocked I couldn't say a thing. You get to a point where a feeling completely overwhelms you, and you can't express it, like when you're laughing so hard that no sound comes out, or when you're in so much pain that you can't scream. This was somewhere in between. Genrou just groaned down deep, pushing himself deep within me. Now, he's big, but the feeling was magnified so that it felt as if he was the size of a broadsword.
It was slow at first, a slow penetration, and then a slow withdrawal, almost to the tip. Again and again like this; Genrou was swearing again. His hands gripped my hipbones hard. All I could do was lay there and pant with my mouth open.
I think he was taking it slow for both of our sakes, but it came to a point where he could no longer keep that sedate pace. He actually muttered an apology in my ear. He thrust hard and fast, moaning in his pleasure.
This is when the true pleasure began to sing in me; it was if before I had only had echoes of ecstasy, and here was the true thing, blazing like fire up my spine and making me cry out. He pounded into to me with predictable vigor, hard and fast, and the feeling blazed in me higher and higher, heavy in my cock.
He came, and I couldn't help but whimper. I was on the precipice, hard as stone, and he stopped me just short of heaven. He slowly slid out and I could feel his warm seed slide down my thighs. "Kouji," is all he said, still panting.
Kouji was going to take his place. That was what I thought. But the dark-haired man instead got onto the bed in front of me, on his belly, presenting himself in the unmistakable position.
I was shocked. Aroused, but shocked. Genrou got back up on the bed behind me and pulled me back into a seated position, his chest against my back. His voice was calmer now, but still husky from passion.
"Kouji likes it like this," he told me in my ear. "He likes it rough, too. I'm not normally this staid." At the time I didn't laugh, but now thinking back on it, it was pretty funny. I don't think anyone would use the term "staid" for Genrou.
"He wants ya to fuck him," he whispered. "Look at him. He's tight, too. Mmm. Ya think he's got a talented mouth; ya wait 'til ya put it in him. The best mouth and tightest ass, that's Kouji."
I didn't need that much encouragement. I was still strung tight as a wire from Genrou's tender treatment, my cock in control of my every thought. With Genrou whispering instructions in my ear, and Kouji's delectable round posterior beckoning me, I was soon pushing into that tight opening. Kouji mewled when I had seated myself fully, and the sound electrified me.
I fear I didn't do Kouji justice; I had hoped to hold out long enough for him to come, but his tightness, and the friction, and that damned Genrou whispering in my ear all conspired to set me off sooner than I liked.
They say it's like fire, but I don't agree. It's lightning. It's sharp, and strikes fast, makes you want to scream. Afterwards, it's like you've been drained of your vital energy.
We all slid down onto the bed afterward and slept.
That wasn't the end of what we did, but you can imagine the details of waking to find both of them together, Genrou taking Kouji on his back -- which I had not considered before, naive as I was. When they were done, I was ready to scream, I was that turned on. Kouji took care of that, as he had before, and afterward took me as Genrou had.
I was exhausted but strangely clear-headed early the next morning. Leaving them was actually far easier than you would think. They wished me a safe trip, Genrou kissed me and I was off to my room for a few hours of sleep before we had to leave.
The rest you know; how I got here, and our friendship.
What do I feel for Genrou? Affection, I guess. After all, he WAS my first, and he made it fun. But I didn't fall in love with him; there's only one person whom I love like that, and it's you.
. . . you have to think hard about it, you really do. You're an emperor after all, with more at stake than just your own feelings. If you feel that this sort of thing is . . . beneath you, I would understand. I'd love you, but I would understand that this is where it stops.
I guess this is more confession than story. I've never loved before, only played around that once. I don't think I'll ever love anyone like I love you. What you do with that love, that's your decision.
That's your choice.
End "Confessions" -- Fushigi Yui prologue
If you think you've read this fic before under another name (particularly one beginning with an "s"), you probably have. I have used several online names in the past. No, it's not a stolen fic. J