I do not Bakumatsu Kikansetsu Irohanihoheto.
Pairing: Eno/Sou, Hiji/Sou
WARNING! RATED M FOR A REASON!
Warning: non-con, yaoi (male/male pairing)
Read and Review if you enjoyed!
Verse: Job 39: 9-12
He Hath, As It Were, The Strength of the Unicorne
Will the unicorne be willing to serve thee, or abide by thy crib?
Alone -
He was sitting at his deask.
Writing.
As usual.
His long dark hair, hanging straight and still over his houlders - a perfect compliment to the neat, stark room. And the purple and white kimono - yet another disuise for the master playwright.
Enomoto couldn't help but smile to himself.
Perhaps it was the definace that was so amusing. Defiance in the straight bck, square shoulders and the uninterrupted whisper of brush on scroll, despite the obvious presence of the British commander.
The silence was filled with something Enomoto could not easily identify. It excited him.
"Ibaragi-kun," he said coolly, looming over the silent writer. "Why didn't you come?"
Soutetsu paused - looked up with surprise.
"I apologize," he said smoothly - his face as blank as the empty sheets on his desk.
Underneath his fingers, something lay, half-finished.
"I had no idea -"
"No..." Enomoto said idly, watching the pale lips stop moving.
Too bad -
Perhaps it was the lie. The insufferable calm - that sense of something dark, moving silently in the deep - something unfathomable. Unidentifiable. Untameable.
The silence grew heavier. Soutetu's eyes wandered to his play. Enomoto smirked.
As long as he stood there, he knew the playwright was conscious of his gze.
He must feel this.
He must -
He will -
So when Soutetsu rose, musing on what Enomoto-sama wanted so late in the evening, Enomoto watching the calm face, couldn't help but feel -
Angry? No... Thrilled. There is no thrill if there is no chase.
It only made him smile wider when he grabbed the man's wrists, jerking him roughly onto the bed.
"Eno -" Soutetsu's voice was silenced by a rough kiss.
Despite his apparent shortness, Enomoto seemd unmovable. Soutetsu tried to heave the older man off him - but, with one leg half off the bed, the other one spread awkwardly - Enomoto's knee in between, the playwright could find no leverage.
Keeping one wrist pinned down, Enomoto's other hand, grabbing Soutetsu's hair close to the scalp, pulled it back sharply, revealing his prey's long neck. Soutetsu gasped sharply.
It was enjoyable.
The uncomfortable squirming, the pants and gasps in the silence - Soutetsu's teeth clenched - eyes and eyebrows set in an expression of naked anger.
Naked.
Bending to this -
"Let me see your devotion, Ibaragi-kun," he murmured, before trailing kisses down the long neck, feeling the response of the body pinned underneath him - the hard nipples and tense body.
Already small bruises were beginning to show, marking painfully his desire - on collarbone, on the breast - and further done, where knees had dug into the tender flesh of bared thighs.
"I came at a good time..." Enomoto laughed.
Looking at his aide's outraged expression, he wondered briefly if the Japanese understood English.
It doesn't matter. He's just a temporary... obsession...
"Slut."
Soutetsu's eyes narrowed, as he lunged up, biting down on the collarbone above him, drawing blood. It only made Enomoto laugh harder, as he released the hair to slap Soutetsu across the face.
Hard.
While the man under him tried to recuperate from the blow, Enomoto pulled the kimono away.
Yes... he thought, eyes trailing over the bared chest, the heaving ribs and the pleasing line of muscle to the groin.
I did have good timing.
Soutetsu had been just out of the bath - and now nothing lay between him and his commander. Enomoto smirked.
"You have a choice, you know, Ibaragi-kun. On your back or on your knees..."
"Neither," Soutetsu gritted out evenly.
"Back, it is then - I want to see your face when you come."
"I have no choice then?"
"As you can see, no... my beautiful captive."
Already Enomoto had found Soutetsu' puckered entrance, and forcing first one, then two fingers deep inside - making room for his already eager body. Soutetsu responded with a sharp gasp. Perhaps, realizing that he was going nowhere, the man relaxed - and when Enomoto filled him with his hard length - pulling in and out rhythmically, Soutetsu's body responded just as eagerly.
When both found that white place of ecstacy, then pulling part to stare each other down before restarting the whole process of rejection and acceptance - and orgasm - Enomoto wondered.
What happened -
Canst thou bind the unicorne with his band in the furrow? or will he harrow the valleys after thee?
A month later, Hijikata arrived on board.
"Show him around the ship," Enomoto told the playwright. "Make sure he is comfortable - and feels welcomed."
Soutetsu smiled coolly and turned to Hijikata. With a slight bow, he motioned toward the hatchway.
"After you, Hijikata-sama."
And the leader of the Shinsengumi wondered.
What is this man doing here? This mere writer? Standing here in the thick of things? He said aide? What is that? Secretary? Lover? Is that what lies in Enomoto's eyes?
Hijikata got the full tour - the lower holds of the ship with the rooms for the men and the sailors and the stores. Where the gunpowder was stored. Where the galley lay... And even which rooms were used for conferences, the master cabin, belonging to Enomoto and eventually, his own room. It was quite comfortable - if less luxurious then Enomoto's cabin. But it made him wonder what lair the playwright lurked in.
"Your room is -"
"Not a real highlight of this ship," Soutetsu said smoothly.
"I see."
There was a silence.
Hijikata's eyes wandered over the dresser, his trunks now neatly placed at the foot of the bed, the bed itself - It was a nice change from the hard ground. The hard ground - the forest, laying there with Akidzuki-kun and Kokunojo-chan... and the boy... and her gentle voice as she sang the lullaby -
"Well," Soutetsu smooth voice broke into Hijikata's thoughts unpleasantly. "I best be leaving you - dinner is served here around 6:30, early enough for some late-night discussions on strategy with Enomoto. If he is disposed to talk with us."
Hijikata watched the playwright leave, full of misgivings.
That person... Ibaragi Soutetsu - what is the meaning behind you? Where do you fit in?
A week passed by before the two men were alone again. Not that Hijikata was seriously missing the playwright's company. But he was concerned. Not only was Enomoto rather distant in relation to his men, but the playwright seemed to have his own agenda - coming and going as he pleased, practically unsupervised. Hijikata knew that war bound all of them together - regardless of past - but running recklessly into battle with possible traitors - seemed irrational to the level-headed commander. He was after all a leader of men - and responsible for those lives.
This was not a trip because of someone's fancy - this was for Japan. And the playwright seemed... off...
For all we know, he might be selling us out.
"Leading so many men - truly a very huge responsiblity," Soutetsu murmured, as he watched the sailors, now swarming the deck, as they went about their daily duties.
"Why would you say that all of the sudden?" Hijikata asked, turning away to find the hatch.
Soutetsu followed him down.
"You looked worried. Second thoughts?"
"What do you take me for?"
"Nothing less than who you are," Soutetsu said cryptically.
And Hijikata frowned.
"Come," he said abruptly, remembering Enomoto's eyes as they followed the long black hair, the sharp, crisp maroon suit and the relaxed hand on the sword hilt.
What had been in them? Lust? Anger? Fear? What are they hiding from me?
He could feel the playwright's eyes on his back - no doubt wondering what the great Hijikata - the Shinsengumi leader - wanted with him. Opening the door to his quarters, he waved Soutetsu passed him, politely, and followed in, shutting the door firmly behind them. Tetsunosuke was there, already preparing, as expected, Hijikata's afternoon tea. But there was sake on hand if he wanted it - a comforting thought.
The dark eyes dwelling on the young boy unsettled him.
"Tetsunosuke," Hijikata said kindly. "You've been hard at work all day - perhaps you would like to relax - or find some food in the galley?"
The young boy's face lit up at the thought of food - but he paused.
"Hijikata-sama doesn't need my services for the rest of the day?"
He sounded dissappointed.
Soutetsu chuckled.
"Perhaps later," Hijikata promised. "I hope to have a good talk with Ibaragi-san here."
Tetsunosuke stared uncertainly at the visitor. He'd seen the tall man from afar - the long hair, pale face and foreign clothes...
"Yes, Hijikata-sama. Just send word and I will come!"
"As I thought," Hijikata said warmly. "Now go. Enjoy yourself!"
"Thank you, Hijikata-sama. And a good day to you, Ibaragi-san."
The young boy bowed respectfully and left the room.
And they were alone. Again.
"Let's see if Tetsunosuke has managed to make good tea this time around... or whether sake is going to be in order."
"He has not been trained?" Soutetsu asked curiously.
"I do not raise boys in the arts of pouring tea, Ibaragi-san. Japan needs men and soldiers - not women - however beautiful and uplifting their company..."
"Well said," was the short rejoinder.
The Shinsengumi and Soutetsu sat at the small table bolted to the floor and after a moment, Soutetsu did the honors.
A servant then... rather fitting for a civilian... Hijikata pondered as the fine hands carefully balancing the tea pot, poured the liquid gracefully into the small cups. And yet...
"You pour a fine cup of tea yourself," Hijikata said archly, raising an eyebrow. "But that doesn't fool anyone. I warrant you can wield that sword of yours as gracefully as that teapot."
"Hm. Perhaps. But nothing in comparison to yourself."
"Have you ever been to dojo? What is your fighting school?"
"I am one who knows that a name doesn't matter -"
"Ridiculous."
A name does not matter? Perhaps not - but in a way... names mean tradition and honor - names are history and identity. If you have no name, what are you? Nothing but mere darkness... no past and no future...
Hijikata watched the playwright, set the pot down silently.
"Although... you write plays, I hear?" Hijikata asked coolly.
"For a troupe which has been gaining alot of acclaim..."
A pause.
Hijikata's eyes narrowed.
So the bastard is saying he's good?
"Hm. Well... I guess one should do what suits one best," Hijikata sipped the tea and grimaced. "But there is something more honorable about men facing each other on the battlefield..."
Soutetsu, cup raised half-way to his lips, paused. He stared at the innocent green-tinted water.
"Perhaps there is a time when those that hold pen can go to war as easily as those that hold the sword?"
"Perhaps," Hijikata said after a moment. "There are people who play important roles in this war, no doubt... but - some people... I wonder about."
"I'm sure."
Hijikata watched the playwright as the small cup tipped, then lowered, empty to the table.
"Well?"
"Hideous," Soutetsu said reflectively. "I hope the boy makes up for it in battle."
Half an hour later, Hijikata's already short patience wore away as time wasted away in meaningless, circular conversation. Hijikata could appreciate the irony. He was like the sea, battering itself like with useless force against the smooth grey rocks of the earth - revealing nothing, but the durability of stone.
When Soutetsu rose, a polite farewell on his lips, Hjikata rose as well - hastily, shaking the table. The teacups rattled as he pulled the playwright down, his hand strong as an iron shackle around the playwright's wrist. Soutetsu twisted away - but found no place to go. Already Hijikata had jerked him down, spilling the tea everwhere - now cold beneath them. Rolling off the table, the pot landed with a thunk and cracked.
And through it all, there was only silence, broken by the gasps and pants of the two men as they struggled for dominance. And Hijikata, trapping both of the man's hands, bending over the man's shoulders could only glimpse the naked fury in the playwright's eyes.
Show me your true self, Ibaragi-kun. Who's side are you on?
"This is ridiculous," Soutetsu finally gasped, trying to hook Hijikata's feet out from underneath him.
The samurai merely fell forward pushing the taller man down on top of the table.
"You would have come if I had asked?" Hijikata whispered harshly in the man's ear. "But... you don't seem surprised. You've had practice maybe? This is your role? Doing service for Enomoto?"
Soutetsu stopped struggling - his tense shoulders relaxing in a chuckle. Hijikata bit his lip as warmth spread over him - and his mouth and nose, pressed down close against the long hair, the muscled nape of neck, now revealed by the bent head. The scent of green tea, ink and sea mixed in with some foreign smell...
"You are disappointed?" Soutetsu laughed. "Or jealous?"
Hijikata released the wrists.
"I'm sickened, but -" He paused as he let his eye travel slowly over silky black hair, straight shoulders and trim frame. "Not surprised... nor displeased. As I said, one should do what suits one best. You have the look of a bedroom around you."
He laughed derisively as he looked down at Soutetsu, now seated on the low table.
"When you said that Enomoto was your master, I should have guessed that you meant it in more ways than one."
"Does it matter?" asked Soutetsu.
"Hm. I will think on it," Hijikata straightened up. "Personally, to have an attachment like that - a weakness, I would think. A man should be uncomplicated by such things when he goes into battle."
"But that is what you fight for, is it not?"
"Ah. So you are a budding romantic?"
"Hardly." Soutetsu rose carefully, his eyes sharp and on the alert.
Hijikata's fingers entangled themselves in the long hair.
"Then we are more alike than we seem."
Soutetsu didn't answer at first, then: "I'm honored."
"Still..." Hijikata paused, standing behind the still playwright. "Enomoto has proven himself - the men will follow him. You on the other hand..."
"I serve -"
"Words are one thing - but... actions speak louder than words."
He finished the circle around Soutetsu, and leaning in, hand hard against the playwright's neck, forced a long, hard, bruising kiss. It was started by him and ended by him - leaving both gasping - even Soutetsu seemed shaken. And slightly pissed. It made Hijikata smile.
Tapping Soutetsu's chin, he nodded.
"Come, Ibaragi-kun. Let us test your mettle."
Wilt thou trust him, because his strength is great? or wilt thou leave thy labour after him?
He was alone finally. Soutetsu felt stiff all over - not just at the wrists - but there was the annoying burn that had turned into sharp pains in the small of his back.
So he lay there on his bed and thought - trying to take those memories -
Hijikata's hard hands on his waist pulling up and pushing down as they found some sort of rhythm between them.
Hijikata's lips on his own - always commanding - always the first one to force open his own unwilling ones -
Trying to take those memories and regulate them to mere facts that had been expected, enacted... and now... labelled as history.
Soutetsu had been glad for the emptiness of the hallway - his hair was a mess. It would need to be brushed again. And his lips were swollen - and ever so slightly bruised.
But Enomoto would guess - and be pleased.
Soutetsu smiled.
It was all working out.
Enomoto was satiated. Hijikata's fears were allayed.
It's all working out.
Just as I had planned.
What did you say, Hijikata-san? Actions speak louder than words? But what of -
What of the words written on the page?
The pen mightier than the sword.
The writing of the ultimate play - right here - and these bedrooms are merely the stages...
What is my role, Hijikata-san? Where do I belong?
Not on the battlefield... no. But here, writing something that will be immortalized forever. And nobody will write it but myself.
Wilt thou believe him, that he will bring home thy seed, and gather it to thy barn?
Canst thou bind the unicorne -
Canst thou bind -
No.