"Come on, guys, Hakuyuu's just a man like any of us!" Hakuren laughs, elbowing his elder brother in the process. "With how much you all kow-tow to him, I imagine the next thing is that you'll all form rank and file to suck his dick!"
The men roar with laughter, but Kouen clenches fistfuls of his pants and glares daggers into the roaring blaze instead.
Hakuyuu is the only other one not to laugh, rolling his eyes instead. "Honestly, Ren, knock it off," Hakuyuu shoves his brother, but the small smile on his face shows he isn't really offended. "They wouldn't do something like that."
"I dunno, Yuu, the men always seem to be lifting you up like some sort of god. Even Kouen does it sometimes!"
Kouen feels his ears turn red, as though Hakuren's words are some personal attack. He knows it's just words, just Hakuren talking, but he still feels singled out from the crowd. Some soldier whose name Kouen never cared to learn calls out that he'd beat everyone to be first in line, and soon everyone is clamoring to play along with Hakuren's stupid joke. They're not worthy of Hakuyuu, none of them are. Hakuyuu is the sun, the radiant beacon that will guide Kou out of the violence ncessary to achieve Emperor Hakutoku's ideals and into a golden era of peace and prosperity where the world is one.
Though to be fair, Kouen is far from worthy himself.
Kouen gets up from his place by the fire and retires to his tent, shucking off his outer robes and pants and diving under the covers for protection from the mountain chill. The thought of getting to suck Hakuyuu's cock won't leave his mind, and it vexes him.
He isn't worthy; he could never be worthy.
Hakuyuu is forgiving where Kouen is ruthless; he is wise where Kouen is foolish. Kouen scarcely feels worthy of fighting by Hakuyuu's side, let along worthy of becoming so intimately acquainted that Hakuyuu would allow them to share a bed. And yet that is the only thing Kouen can seem to think of these days when he lays awake in his tent, staring at the canvas cieling.
If it were Hakuren, it might be different. Hakuren's younger, for one, only about a year and a half older than Kouen himself. More importantly though, Hakuren is approachable. He shares his love and his dreams with everyone, and it's no secret that he plays with the men under his command. "Always happy to boost morale!" is how he jokes about it when he walks away with his arms around two attractive men. Kouen closes his eyes against the mental image. Hakuren's dalliances are not what he wants to be thinking about.
Hakuyuu is seemingly above all of that. He doesn't accept women as spoils of war, he doesn't fool around with the men under his command, and as far as Kouen knows he doesn't even have private dalliances in his chambers. It feels like a grievous transgression to imagine one such as himself partnering with such a fine man. And yet here Kouen is, laying pantsless under his coarse blanket, daydreaming of what it would be like to play suitor to the crown prince.
He would be good to Hakuyuu, as good as he could possibly be. Kouen hasn't really had much experience either, save for his own fumblings in his tent with his hand. But as he curls his fingers around his half-stiffened cock, he pretends that he would know exactly what to do with Hakuyuu if such a thing could happen. There would be words, he's sure, and they would be the right ones. Hakuyuu would know just what to say to make Kouen feel like he wasn't imposing by asking for Hakuyuu's company, and Kouen would say something witty and insightful that would make Hakuyuu laugh and love him.
He knows he's good with words, it's just so hard to make them come out right aloud.
Kouen's hand works slowly, trying to match his mind's idea of the slow way he and Hakuyuu would start, with Hakuyuu slowly curling a fist on his shoulder, guiding Kouen down to his cock. Kouen would obey, the picture of a loyal right hand man. He'd undo the sashes and ties of Hakuyuu's clothes, freeing his erection, and then he could... put it in his mouth? He feels like there's something that should come before that maybe.
It's a fight to keep his hand slow; he wants to give in to the lustful indecency of it all, but he knows he can't. Hakuyuu would make him go slowly- relishing the privilege of getting to swallow his cock all the way down to the hilt. Kouen would take his time, too. He'd want to make such a momentous occasion last. He'd kiss the inside of Hakuyuu's thigh, trail his way close... yes, that's much better than just rushing straight into it. Kouen bites his lower lip to stifle a gasp. He's sure his brow is furrowed. It's always furrowed, too worried and serious for his own good. Hakuyuu would probably comment on that, smooth the worry from his face, and for once in his damn life, Kouen would be able to just relax.
He knows for a fact that that at least is impossible. He can't let his guard down for a second, not with how noble and important his task of serving and defending the crown prince is. But he can dream, and that is enough to take some of the stress from his shoulders.
His hand moves faster now, pumping up and down as he imagines Hakuyuu's words of encouragement, his noises of pleasure as Kouen works his mouth on his cock. Hakuyuu's voice is clear and grand; Kouen is sure it would sound delightful in the throes of ecstasy. The thought startles and excites him, and his hips jerk as his free hand grips at the blanket.
"Hakuyuu..." he whispers, forcing himself to keep quiet. He needs to say the name though, to hear it aloud. In his mind, Hakuyuu breathes his name in return. Kouen has to grit his teeth again to keep from saying more, from making a ruckus. He can distantly hear the sounds of merriment from the campfire, but they are a world away right now.
He pries his free hand away from his grip on the blanket, brings it to his lips to imagine it's Hakuyuu's softly brushing his face. His fingers are more calloused than he would imagine Hakuyuu's to be, but he knows that's ridiculous. They both swing swords all day; they both know the labor of war.
He's close now, his breathing pitched and heavy, and he just needs to figure out how to push himself over the edge. Kouen pushes his calloused fingers into his mouth, sucking on them, and imagines that they're the Hakuyuu. His own hips buck again into his fumbling, frantic strokes, and he imagines the moment of ecstasy when Hakuyuu would come, moaning Kouen's name and clutching at sheets. Kouen doesn't come then; real life isn't like the erotic scrolls he's caught Koumei hoarding, but his own orgasm isn't far off. The moment of bliss, of emptiness and release, doesn't last nearly as long as he'd like. Still, it's good, and he lays there panting in the dark. His cold bed doesn't feel quite so cold anymore.