Note and Disclaimer I don't own Amiboshi and Suboshi. This is only the
first chapter. There will be more coming, but I don't feel like putting a
disclaimer on all of them. So don't sue me, okay?
Beneath her hands, he was sinuous, lithe and sleek, like a pale cat. His eyes glowed the indigo of a midnight sky, and his hair was smooth as spun silk. As she kneaded the muscles in his shoulders and back, he gave a moan of pleasure, and a smile of satisfaction crossed her face. She knew her craft was pleasurable, and she gave to it her whole heart.
"That's perfect... right there," Amiboshi sighed, arching his back to guide her seeking hand to the sore muscle, then shivering lightly when she found it. He curled up peacefully among the multitudes of cushions, his eyes closing with the comfort as Kirai chased out the exhaustion from every part of him, leaving the pleasant enervation and sense of well-being. "You must read my mind."
Kirai gave a secret, pleased smile. Amiboshi was her favorite of the regulars, for his soft scent, his easygoing way, and his ability to make her feel like a princess. Her uniform consisted of filmy, diaphanous silk pants that swirled and ballooned around her slim legs, and a long tunic- like robe, that fastened six times down her front with silk ribbons. With a rich chuckle that ranged from coloratura to contralto, she dripped some warm, sweet-smelling lavender oils from a vial, rubbing them into the already-fragrant skin, eliciting another soft moan. He was all she dreamed of. He filled her days and whiled her nights away. His presence had become a heady sensation, a strong temptation. Kirai loved the feel of her hands slipping over the soft, smooth skin, loved to pull from him the soft whispers of pleasure.
She could tell when he slid into sleep, and gave herself a congratulatory smile when his breath deepened into the moth's-wing cadence of sleep, when his body relaxed entirely into the feline enervation and limp warmth. Gently she tugged a silken shawl from its tied position around her slender waist and covered his bare, glistening shoulders with it, smiling maternally. Amiboshi was so beautiful as he slept.
She was jerked out of her reverie unkindly by the seizing of her long, slim, strong hands. Kirai gasped in dismay, softly so as not to rouse him. Stifling an oath, she picked up a tiny pot of ointment and rubbed a drop into each palm, smiling serenely when the muscles unclenched and relaxed. A feeling of faintness came over her, and she wilted silently into the pillows. Her last thought was of how simultaneously strong and soft he was against her feminine form, before there was dim blackness as her world.
Amiboshi woke dimly, recognizing the feel of silk against his bare skin pleasantly. He inhaled the scent of jasmine, felt against his cheek smooth spun-satin and recognized it as her soft sparrow-brown hair. A pleasant thing to wake up to. He lifted one hand lazily to brush against her cheek and was concerned by the chill of it. "Kirai?" The one word took all the energy his drained body had to offer, so he hoped she could hear him.
She followed his example and woke, sputtering softly as she forced her way up out of the comforting black depths. "Yes?" What a wonderful dream she had been having, she reflected, in which she slept nestled against his comforting strength, breathing the inebriating scent that was entirely, uniquely his, and feeling his caressing hands upon her. Her voice was a coloratura murmur, soft and swirling. She was still dreaming, she thought, lying with her head against his shoulder.
Nor did Amiboshi wish to move her. "Nothing. Go on back to sleep," he whispered, his voice low and faintly seductive in his half-slumber. His indigo eyes fluttered shut, and before long he dreamed.
Docilely obeying, Kirai submitted to the arm placed protectively over her shoulder. His proximity was warm, sweet, and soft.
They next woke to the indignant screams of the mistress that ran the home in which Kirai was employed. "Kirai Chi!" Kirai's eyes snapped open instantly, and her body went cold. How could she have? What nerve did she have to sleep in his arms? Heavens, what a fool was Kirai!
"Yes, ma'am?" Kirai whispered, cringing. She was a meek creature by nature, but somehow Amiboshi managed to bring the seductress out of her as she worked her craft. Her gray-blue eyes stared at the floor through lowered lashes as she scrambled out of his arms, causing him to give a soft groan in his sleep.
"Get out! Get out! You and your lover!" the mistress screamed, shaking with fury. "You know the regulations! You may not pleasure our patrons, you're but a massage artist with no talent! You were supposed to send him upstairs... Go! Get out!" She left with a slam of the door.
Kirai shivered softly. "Yes, mistress." The tears slipped silently down her pale face, and she drew from under a pillow her sack, placing within it her few possessions. "Lord Amiboshi. We must leave. Mistress Arashira will be sending for the guards..." Desperation seized the soft coloratura voice.
Amiboshi eased himself up from the pillows, gazing at her with pity in his depthless indigo eyes. "I'm sorry." He stood, raking his hands through his hair, his expression worried. "Look, I really didn't mean to..." Stifling an oath, Amiboshi stared at the ground.
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "I shouldn't have given in to weakness. I'm not a courtesan like those upstairs!" Defiance caught radiant flame in her eyes, making them look, to Amiboshi, like twin sapphires for a single instant, then the gray weariness slipped back into them.
This poor beauty had often been beaten into submission, he thought, for it was apparent in those eyes. But she remained strong and sensitive -- the pleasant looseness of his muscles was due to this. Amiboshi slipped back into his tunic, fastening it close, and fumbling with the belt clumsily.
Another soft laugh, and Kirai seized the belt, tying it about his waist adeptly. "I'll see you... someday." Her voice was sorrowful, and she stood on tiptoes to brush her silken lips over his cheek before sedately turning to walk away. It was the last he ever saw of her.
Beneath her hands, he was sinuous, lithe and sleek, like a pale cat. His eyes glowed the indigo of a midnight sky, and his hair was smooth as spun silk. As she kneaded the muscles in his shoulders and back, he gave a moan of pleasure, and a smile of satisfaction crossed her face. She knew her craft was pleasurable, and she gave to it her whole heart.
"That's perfect... right there," Amiboshi sighed, arching his back to guide her seeking hand to the sore muscle, then shivering lightly when she found it. He curled up peacefully among the multitudes of cushions, his eyes closing with the comfort as Kirai chased out the exhaustion from every part of him, leaving the pleasant enervation and sense of well-being. "You must read my mind."
Kirai gave a secret, pleased smile. Amiboshi was her favorite of the regulars, for his soft scent, his easygoing way, and his ability to make her feel like a princess. Her uniform consisted of filmy, diaphanous silk pants that swirled and ballooned around her slim legs, and a long tunic- like robe, that fastened six times down her front with silk ribbons. With a rich chuckle that ranged from coloratura to contralto, she dripped some warm, sweet-smelling lavender oils from a vial, rubbing them into the already-fragrant skin, eliciting another soft moan. He was all she dreamed of. He filled her days and whiled her nights away. His presence had become a heady sensation, a strong temptation. Kirai loved the feel of her hands slipping over the soft, smooth skin, loved to pull from him the soft whispers of pleasure.
She could tell when he slid into sleep, and gave herself a congratulatory smile when his breath deepened into the moth's-wing cadence of sleep, when his body relaxed entirely into the feline enervation and limp warmth. Gently she tugged a silken shawl from its tied position around her slender waist and covered his bare, glistening shoulders with it, smiling maternally. Amiboshi was so beautiful as he slept.
She was jerked out of her reverie unkindly by the seizing of her long, slim, strong hands. Kirai gasped in dismay, softly so as not to rouse him. Stifling an oath, she picked up a tiny pot of ointment and rubbed a drop into each palm, smiling serenely when the muscles unclenched and relaxed. A feeling of faintness came over her, and she wilted silently into the pillows. Her last thought was of how simultaneously strong and soft he was against her feminine form, before there was dim blackness as her world.
Amiboshi woke dimly, recognizing the feel of silk against his bare skin pleasantly. He inhaled the scent of jasmine, felt against his cheek smooth spun-satin and recognized it as her soft sparrow-brown hair. A pleasant thing to wake up to. He lifted one hand lazily to brush against her cheek and was concerned by the chill of it. "Kirai?" The one word took all the energy his drained body had to offer, so he hoped she could hear him.
She followed his example and woke, sputtering softly as she forced her way up out of the comforting black depths. "Yes?" What a wonderful dream she had been having, she reflected, in which she slept nestled against his comforting strength, breathing the inebriating scent that was entirely, uniquely his, and feeling his caressing hands upon her. Her voice was a coloratura murmur, soft and swirling. She was still dreaming, she thought, lying with her head against his shoulder.
Nor did Amiboshi wish to move her. "Nothing. Go on back to sleep," he whispered, his voice low and faintly seductive in his half-slumber. His indigo eyes fluttered shut, and before long he dreamed.
Docilely obeying, Kirai submitted to the arm placed protectively over her shoulder. His proximity was warm, sweet, and soft.
They next woke to the indignant screams of the mistress that ran the home in which Kirai was employed. "Kirai Chi!" Kirai's eyes snapped open instantly, and her body went cold. How could she have? What nerve did she have to sleep in his arms? Heavens, what a fool was Kirai!
"Yes, ma'am?" Kirai whispered, cringing. She was a meek creature by nature, but somehow Amiboshi managed to bring the seductress out of her as she worked her craft. Her gray-blue eyes stared at the floor through lowered lashes as she scrambled out of his arms, causing him to give a soft groan in his sleep.
"Get out! Get out! You and your lover!" the mistress screamed, shaking with fury. "You know the regulations! You may not pleasure our patrons, you're but a massage artist with no talent! You were supposed to send him upstairs... Go! Get out!" She left with a slam of the door.
Kirai shivered softly. "Yes, mistress." The tears slipped silently down her pale face, and she drew from under a pillow her sack, placing within it her few possessions. "Lord Amiboshi. We must leave. Mistress Arashira will be sending for the guards..." Desperation seized the soft coloratura voice.
Amiboshi eased himself up from the pillows, gazing at her with pity in his depthless indigo eyes. "I'm sorry." He stood, raking his hands through his hair, his expression worried. "Look, I really didn't mean to..." Stifling an oath, Amiboshi stared at the ground.
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "I shouldn't have given in to weakness. I'm not a courtesan like those upstairs!" Defiance caught radiant flame in her eyes, making them look, to Amiboshi, like twin sapphires for a single instant, then the gray weariness slipped back into them.
This poor beauty had often been beaten into submission, he thought, for it was apparent in those eyes. But she remained strong and sensitive -- the pleasant looseness of his muscles was due to this. Amiboshi slipped back into his tunic, fastening it close, and fumbling with the belt clumsily.
Another soft laugh, and Kirai seized the belt, tying it about his waist adeptly. "I'll see you... someday." Her voice was sorrowful, and she stood on tiptoes to brush her silken lips over his cheek before sedately turning to walk away. It was the last he ever saw of her.