Lust
A/N: I miss Sengoku Basara. . . So why not write a fic? May or may not be a "prequel" to Silenced, which I suggest you read after, or not.
Disclaimer: I only own what I have created.
Warnings: OCs, possible OoC-ness and cliché-ness
Lust
The dead of the night and they are still those beautiful, pained screams of life being destroyed. I couldn't possibly sleep with all that, I kept my ears open for the melodious symphony of screams. I smiled at the thought, reveling in the feel of My Lord's steady breathing on me and of his arms around my waist.
I turned to stare at him, with that childish expression of innocence on is face, I could hardly recognize him; the so-called 'Death God' I was in love with. Surely, he did not feel the same; his feeling were strictly platonic, but often were they bent and broken—not for love, but for the next best thing; lust. From his point of view, it was never out of love; but it was out of the sexual desire. It wasn't love, but it was the next best thing. I became content, if not out of love, then let it be out of lust.
I shivered, recalling the 'private meetings' he and I shared. Cold, frozen-over nights from all the carnage quickly turned carnal.
Bare bodies pressed against another in a needing force.
Lips smashing onto one another in need, in lust.
Mouths possessing each other, dominating each over in a never-ending game.
Eyes completely shut in sheer ecstasy.
Hands roamed over each other's body, the touch electrifying to the skin.
Whispers of such vulgar and carnal topics deafen the surroundings.
Screams, moans, groans, hisses, and grunts fill the ears.
Such heat, such passion, such lust radiating from one another, but never escaping the dim room.
Lust; that's all it was and all it will ever be.
His arms tighten around me as his cold, moist lips met my forehead. To think that such passionate heat from the night would turn into frozen air in a matter of hours.
The day turned out as it would always do, the feelings kept hidden away and the platonic, emotionless face masking everything. Somehow I cannot stare at him without turning away immediately, it's his eyes; they're boring into me, hints of the night's possible activities here and there.
He cornered me once during the day. It was midday, the sun beating hard onto the earth; I was making my way to the infantry barrack until there was a sudden pull on my wrist. Then I found my back on the heated wall, a cold blade on my neck, pulling my head upward, his sadistic visage painfully close to mine, lips ever-so-tempting with pants of hot air onto me, bodies merely inches apart, a cold trickle of sweat fell from my jaw and down to my chest.
I could feel his stare, that deadly stare, follow the bead down my chest; he really was—other than the Death God—the King of Sin. I nearly shivered under him, then suddenly the blade flew away from my neck, and his body crashed onto mine. His lips were hungry; they devoured my own—forcefully, almost begging me to respond. I did, just thinking that this was actually out of love. My hands searched for his face, possessively grabbing him, pulling him ever so closer. His were at my back and the other around my waist—which in turn tightened as sinful desires flew out of each other.
This wasn't wrong, this wasn't unlawful; he didn't have any wives, and I was forever "protected" from the ritual of marriage, so this wasn't unlawful, this was perfectly legitimate. Most of the troops wouldn't dare prod into My Lord's personal matters and affairs, but if they did. . . Well, let's just say he would regret being born.
But, speaking of "marriage", there have been complications in that matter. The single complication would be of the Juoni-Chisio alliance. Since the Chisio was already allied with the Oda—specifically Akechi—the Juoni would want to ally itself with the Oda, else they would perish in the war. So the Chisio elders met with the Juoni elders, agreeing that the alliance be from marriage. The marriage wouldn't be for the sake of love, but for the sake of creating a more powerful army. Basically I had no choice, I was well-aware of the situation, so I agreed. He, however, had a drastically different reaction.
"She is of my possession. Her body, mind, and soul belong to no one but me. As she is mine, I am hers. We are contracted to each other, and not a soul can break it. As I am the Death God, she is the blood that gives life to war, to death, and to me. If you intend to break the bond, then prepare yourselves for war."
I could only stare in shock and have my mouth be agape. Of course, the Juoni immediately declined the alliance and preferred to die in war. But, if what he said is true, then there must be love. There must be love, there must be, it's impossible to just simply say such meaningful words then have them disappear.
I asked him, if there was any meaning to what he said during the day, as I calmed the rising tides of tears in my eyes. He simply smirked, his eyes reverberating a sudden desire that reminded me of weeks before. Then, almost predictably, I find myself tangled in his sheets, his body painfully inches apart from mine, I wanted to pull him closer, force to answer out of him, and revert to the little girl who wishes to find her other half just once more.
So I did, I pulled his face down forcibly—catching him by surprise for once—meshing my lips with his, rubbing my tongue on the insides of his lips, the teeth on my lower jaw scraping his lower lip, coaxing him to do everything that he did before. It was my turn to be surprised, he didn't follow, he didn't take over, but he moaned—such a sound would never come from him during these times—he sounded as if he was begging for more, and he never beg, not even once. Tears were streaming out of my eyes as I continued, pushing him over, so that I was above him, but never breaking the contact. Curse for being human, I needed air, I broke with a sudden pant from him. My face was flustered, quite embarrassed at what I was doing—I was straddling him, the man, the god, I was in love with—usually he would be the one over me, but now, it feels severely different, too different.
I broke down, I cried loudly—I never cried like that, until now. I tightened my hold on his neck as I pressed my cheek on the pillow, so that I wasn't facing him; he always regarded crying as a weak act. But I couldn't take it anymore, I wanted to tell him, to show him, to give him, everything that I've been keeping for all this time—I loved him, more than anything.
He didn't do anything; he didn't say anything that he usually would with the others. But, as usual, he held my cheeks and forced me to face him; the single contact with those eyes only meant one thing—lust, a needing, painful lust. He kissed me, wiping off the tears as his tongue met mine. Hands moved further down on each other, down each other's chests, feelings of exhilaration coursing through each other as several items of clothing were slowly being pulled apart, leaving bare bodies in each other's tangled embrace.
"If not for love, then for lust."
A/N: Well, that was long. . . Hehe, read and review? I have a big feeling that this sucks :( No flames please, only constructive criticism. Thank you :D