It just didn't seem right.
It was like he was looking at himself in a mirror… but it was a mirror that reflected everything he wished he was, but wasn't allowed to be.
"Are you okay?"
Her soft voice hit his ears and he let out a small gasp, startled out of his reverie. "Yeah, I'm…sorry, this is just…"
"Different?" she supplied, smiling. Her delicate features raised slightly as her lips curled, her cheekbones highlighted by a thin layer of makeup. Not that she needed to wear any; she was beautiful all on her own.
Like himself.
He wasn't used to this. It was going to take time to adjust. Good thing they were hidden away in one of the spare rooms, away from prying eyes and overhearing ears.
"Identical," he countered, raising a hand to touch her cheek. The skin bore no mole, which was the only way he knew he wasn't dreaming. "Are you sure about this?"
"We both know what it's like to feel alone," she said, holding out her hands. He moved his down to wrap his fingers around her wrists, squeezing lightly. "I don't think he'll notice either of us."
"Hey, stay positive." He frowned. He'd been working so hard on getting the Emperor's attention; any day now, surely he'd call for him—her—to come to his bedside…
"I apologize." She was always so formal, it threw him off. He was supposed to act like that, but usually let his façade fall in her presence. After all, she was the sole keeper of his secret.
"It's all right."
She leaned forward, kissing his chin, her lips softer than her hands in his own. He tilted his head down and their lips met, neither of them putting more pressure than was necessary to show that they both wanted the same thing. They were very nearly the same height, which made it easy for them.
He unwound his fingers from around her wrists and placed his hands on her shoulders, firmly pressing against the thin nighttime robe that covered her skin. The cloth pushed away with a slight touch, allowing his hands underneath, roaming over her flawless skin.
Her smile faded as she leaned upwards, pressing their lips together again. This time they were less gentle and he pushed her back against the wall a foot behind them, both stepping in unison to avoid falling over. He worked his tongue over hers, exploring her, moving down to kiss her chin, her cheeks, her neck; her smooth throat, so similar to his, yet missing one of the many important things that kept them from being identical. The hollow of her throat, curving towards her chest, the skin raised as she breathed deeply, somehow controlled—
"Wait," she whispered, and he felt her shaking her head as he breathed lightly on her skin, his lips less than an inch away from the swell of her breast.
He reluctantly took a step back, raising his head to see her reaching out, wrapping her hands around the mass of lavender hair that fell around his shoulders, forcing him to turn around to face away from her. He was still dressed in his concubine robes, the same as she had been wearing earlier that day, only in a darker shade of royal blue and purple, with hints of green around the trim. It complimented his hair, which made him feel like he stood out more, since getting noticed by the Emperor was his primary goal.
She quickly worked it into a long braid, tying the end off with a small piece of cloth she'd produced from somewhere. His back was to her and he took the opportunity to take a deep, calming breath, trying to force the calm down through his body.
"There."
He turned again to look at her, reaching up to touch the newly-gathered braid of hair, smiling. "Thank you, Houki," he said quietly.
"It makes you look more like…you," she replied, crimson staining her cheeks.
"Would you like to stop?" he asked, disappointment surging through his chest.
She moved a hand to his waist, reaching around the layers of cloth to press her palm against the front of him, and a gasp escaped his lips at the unexpected touch.
"We're not identical," she whispered, and he nodded. Her fingers continued to hold their position, massaging lightly, and he leaned forward once more, pressing his lips to her neck, running his tongue over her skin. His hands went different directions; one to guide her own against him, and the other to glide over her breast, now exposed, the thin cloth having been shrugged aside.
Her skin was supple, pleasing to the touch, and he found himself wishing he could see himself like this in the mirror, but only for an instant, because his mind instantly clouded as she began to work her hand in a lengthwise motion, and he let out a gasp, his body shuddering. He closed his eyes and stopped breathing for a moment, unable to focus on such a daunting task. He could hear her laughing quietly and he cracked open one eye, looking at her smiling face.
"Are you all right?" she asked in a teasing manner.
He struggled to form words but gave up, tilting his head to bring his lips to the top of her breast, kissing the top of it, pressing his hand against the underside, relishing the softness of it. His tongue flicked out and she released a heavy sigh, moving the rest of her body closer to his, a thin layer of goosebumps rising along her skin. After moment her hand pulled away from him and he felt a sudden ache of emptiness, looking up at her with inquisitive eyes.
"What's wrong?" he asked, straightening, his hand dropping to his side. She smiled at him sadly and pulled her robe closed around her chest.
"I want…" She fell silent, and he understood. She really only had eyes for him, the Emperor, the same man he loved as well. He nodded, smiling.
"Don't worry. I don't regret it."
"I don't either," she said quietly, shaking her head. "But I'm sorry."
"Please, don't be. You're incredible."
Her cheeks were instantly streaked with crimson once again. "Kourin—"
He placed a finger against her lips, pressing their bodies together. As he shifted his body he moved his finger away, replaced by his mouth against hers, their lips working together. She may have said she wanted him, but he wasn't there right now.
He expected some resistance, but she gave none, which surprised him. He started to pull away but she lightly bit his bottom lip, drawing him back towards her. He slid his fingers in between the folds of her robe, slipping down against her waist, dancing his fingertips along her firm stomach muscles. She tilted her head back as though giving her permission and he smiled, curious to explore.
A moment later she was gasping as his fingers brushed against her, and a wave of pleasure ripped through his own body, momentarily blinding him. He'd never thought to enjoy the pleasure of a woman's body—he'd been so focused on the Emperor, so unassuming of his own sexuality, that he hadn't seen what was literally right in front of him.
It may have been narcissistic, but he couldn't help it. Curiosity had gotten hold of him, and he wanted to see it through.
However she had decided to justify it in her own mind, she reached up to pull his robes down around his waist, quickly working to untie his sash binding the thick cloth together as he pushed away her own binding robe. As the fabrics fell to the floor they stood, staring at each other.
It was as though he were looking in a curved mirror, giving him a distorted view of how he saw himself through others' eyes, how he wished to see himself when he stepped out of a bath or got dressed in secret every morning.
But with her, he didn't have to hide.
They drew each other into their arms, skin pressed against skin, and he carefully lowered her onto the ground, using their discarded robes as makeshift blankets. Her fingers wound themselves through his hair as he pressed his lips to hers, feeling the excitement building in his lower body, and she let out a noise of approval. They continued kissing as he slid himself inside of her, relishing the feeling of her body tensing in response, and he moved his head away from hers for just a second, long enough to see her face light up with pleasure and happiness.
They moved together, quietly, assuredly, enjoying the feel of each other, sharing something that they knew no one else would ever be able to offer them—security in being completely vulnerable, completely honest, each knowing the others' past with no judgment. They cherished that moment, him dropping his face to rest against the crook of her neck, her pressing her hands into his, winding their fingers together, each listening to the other exhale emotions of longing, pleasure, regret, love… things they would likely never speak of again.
Finally he came to rest beside her, his skin slick with sweat, her mouth open in a crooked smile, and he reached up, poking her cheek where his own reflected mole would rest on her flawless skin.
"You're too perfect for anyone," he whispered, tracing a small circle along her skin, just underneath her eye.
She looked at him, an amused light in her eyes. "Are you trying to scare me away from him? So you can have him for yourself?"
He blinked, caught off guard. "That wasn't my intention, but if you want, I'll take your place—"
She hit him lightly on the arm. "We both have a chance," she insisted, shaking her head once.
"If you insist."
His voice was full of sadness, and he hated that his emotions were betraying him at that moment, but it couldn't be helped.
"Don't."
He looked her in the eyes, shaking his head a little. "No, it's okay. Really. I understand." He sighed. "He'll never feel the same way."
"But he doesn't know you to know that yet."
"He knows Kourin," he said bitterly, the name tart on his tongue. He hated admitting it out loud, but it was past time he did. "He'll never know me."
"Stop."
Her hands traced his chin, moving down his neck onto his shoulders, tracing patterns along his skin. As they approached his chest she pressed her palms against him, smiling.
"He'll know you soon," she said. "You won't stay hidden for much longer."
"What do you mean?" he asked, puzzled.
"I just have a feeling."
They lay together in the darkness, a thin beam of moonlight filtered through the window hitting the wooden flooring beside them.