CHAPTER ELEVEN

Author's Note: Hi dearies, sorry for the long radio-silence. I've been crazy busy these last weeks. Also, I came up with a few changes about my storyline and well, this is the result. Its chapter 11 already and there's still so much to tell!

Enjoy :-)

Warnings: (lots of) m/m sexual content

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Sixteen years, eleven months, three days

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"You always were a worm." As if to reaffirm his own words, Matsuda Norihide spat on the floor of his prison cell. "I'll never understand what Ujimasa-dono was thinking taking you and your good-for-nothing brother into his bodyguard. Well, he came to regret it."

Matsuda Takahide's fingers curled painfully around the bars of his uncle's prison cell. They hadn't seen each other in almost two years – not since Takahide and his brother had left Odawara. The siege and surrender of the Hōjō castle had brought them close together again. The older man had changed since they had parted ways all those years ago. Back then he had been Ujimasa's chief of staff – a position he had held until the fall of Odawara. The tragedy of seeing the clan extinguished he had served faithfully almost since birth had turned Matsuda Norihide into a shell of his former self, Takahide thought.

"And Satomi must regret it, too," Norihide continued, unaware of his nephews thoughts. Takahide knew he was lucky to be allowed into Awa at all after his brother had very nearly provoked a war with the Uesugi clan. As it happened, Oda Nobunaga whom he regarded as their true supreme commander, didn't seem wholly dissatisfied. It appeared that he had already harbored schemes of engaging his former ally Kenshin in a violent conflict for rule over Echigo.

Satomi Yoshihiro had still been furious about Katsuhide's so-called foray and he held Takahide responsible for his brother's misdeeds. He'd been dismissed from Satomi's inner circle. His peers were regarding him with curiosity and thinly concealed glee. The whole situation he found himself in reeked unpleasantly of a different time in his life, at a different court. He had resolved his problems with his daimyō back then by turning his back on Odawara.

This time there was no place to go. Also, during the conflict with Hōjō Ujimasa, they had been a group of five. Most importantly he'd had his twin with him. He was thoroughly on his own now, without an ally. But he had been offered a last resort. If he could get Norihide to join Nobunaga's officers, the daimyō would put in a word for him with Satomi-dono.

"Is that why you come traipsing down here in the dead of the night?" Norihide asked as if reading his thoughts. "Did they send you to speak to me? To make me join their ranks?" He snorted when Takahide didn't answer. "You're waisting you time."

"And you're making a mistake, uncle. I understand you want to maintain your loyalty to Ujimasa-dono and the Hōjō beyond death," he started, carefully choosing his words, but his uncle interrupted him.

"You know that?" Norihide taunted, his eyes alight with contempt. "How would you know? Do you even know how to write the character for loyalty? You were chosen to serve a great daimyō, but you betrayed his trust because your stupid little pride was insulted. But you don't know much of pride either for you went straight to Satomi-dono -"

"Insult me any way you want, uncle. This is too important for us to fight over. Oda Nobunaga is offering you a way out of this prison cell. He has said it before, right after the siege and he will stand by his word."

"Oda Nobunaga," Norihide laughed. "Will stand by his word!"

"Norihide-dono!" The old man's stubbornness was grating Takahide's nerves. "You cannot through away your only lifeline like this!"

"I can and I shall. I will never swear allegiance to another daimyō. As long as there remains a single member of the Hōjō family alive, my suffering at least wasn't in vain."

"What are you talking about?" Takahide burst out. "Saburō? Are you talking of Saburō? He is likely spreading his legs for the Uesugi right now."

For the first time, Norihide showed a reaction other than ridicule. He came close to his nephew who involuntarily took a step back and grabbed the bars himself. "Are you proud of bringing that about? Of handing a daimyō's son over to his enemies like this?"

"I had nothing to do with that!" Takahide threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Don't take me for an idiot," his uncle growled. "Word spread among the Hōjō survivors. You offered him to Nobunaga yourself and then he bartered him away to the Uesugi. You'd better pray you depart this life before his return."

"Return?" Takahide repeated incredulously. "Saburō? What would he return to and how?" Had the old man lost his mind? Isolation in a cell, the trauma of losing the war - it wouldn't have been surprising if he had lost his marbles.

"Oh, he will come home." A triumphant gleam entered the old man's eyes. "He has a protector none of you bargained on."

"What do you mean by that?" In Takahide's eyes, Saburō was the worst-protected person on earth. In spite of the generally adhered-to opinion that the youngest of the Hōjō brothers was a curse to their clan, responsible for the death of Ujiyasu's true heir and exposable, he had been difficult to seize even in Odawara, but they had caught him eventually. Now he was in a hostile environment. Nobody would bat an eye to a slave being abused or even killed. Who was supposed to protect him and how would Norihide know about it?

"You needn't trouble your weak mind about that," Norihide reprimanded him. "Why don't you go groveling back to Satomi-dono - that is, if he wants to look at your face after all your brother did."

Takahide turned to go, understanding that he would have to find another way to claw his way out of the ditch Katsuhide's rash actions had landed him in.

"Give my most humble regards to Oda Nobunaga," his uncle called after him. "And to Satomi-dono, in case he wants to see your face. Tell them I will never recognize their rule over Odawara. And that my only desire is to be beheaded as soon as possible."

/\/

"Yield!" Jirō yelled at him.

Saburō found he wasn't in the mood.

His eyes narrowing, he kept resisting even though he was well aware that he was left with little option but to do as the old weapon master said. They were locked in a tight clinch. Any moment now, one of their training blades could slip. Considering that Jirō's physical strength by far exceeded his own, it was more than likely that Saburō would be the one suffering from that.

Still, he couldn't find the disposition to surrender. There were so many battles he had to give up for lost before they had even begun these days. He had to force himself to lower his arm.

"In a real fight, you'd be killed", Jirō spat at him.

Saburō returned his angry look defiantly, but cast down his eyes when he realized that the older man was justly concerned. The aggression Saburō had been building up certainly wasn't his fault. Jirō actually was the last person of the Naoe household Saburō wanted to spoil things with – especially not since they had started training together on a regular basis. Saburō understood that Naoe must have given Jirō permission to do so.

Naoe…

If he were looking for the true reason to his distress, he might start here, with the memory of the last night before the general went off to Kasugayama again. For as long as he could remember, nobody had ever held him to sleep like this. His mother maybe, or Ujiteru-ani, when he had been but an infant in arms, but he couldn't recall it, of course.

He hardly dared close his eyes that night, barely able to respire since every breath of air seemed to move the arm that was wrapped around his middle. There were other foreign impressions that he registered, above all the warmth Naoe's body radiated. He lay awake, bewildered, long after Naoe had fallen asleep like he didn't have a care in the world. To be subjected to Naoe's advances was one thing, but -

What did the man think he was doing? Using him like an object, then taking him into his arms as if it… meant something to him. Getting under his skin somehow without even trying. In Saburō's mind, there was no doubt that Naoe was emotionally distanced from what they did together. He wasn't haunted by the memory of it as he rode on to meet with Kenshin and the other generals or whatever he was doing when he went out.

Saburō on the other hand was just stuck here to clean the room they had slept in together and wreck his brains about what had happened and why. He became aware that Jirō was looking at him searchingly and bowed to escape this scrutinizing gaze. "It's time I return to my work, Jirō-san. Thank you for the training."

Jirō very much looked as if he wanted to ask something, but then merely took the bokken from his hand and nodded at him. Saburō bowed again and escaped from the training ground towards the main building, back to his work, hoping against hope that this would distract him. But once he had touched upon those thoughts, they wouldn't leave him alone but instead turned towards how said night had come to and end.

Naoe had mounted him again before sunrise, this time from behind. Saburō had been half asleep when the man reached for him, all his defenses down and his mind just as open and vulnerable to the incredible happening as was his body. His eyes closed, Saburō tried to block from his mind what was happening: the taken-for-grantedness with which Naoe had grasped him, the thickness of the man's organ, his body being penetrated deeper than ever before.

Throughout the act, there were always periods during which Naoe didn't move himself but instead pulled Saburō's hips against him. As was his habit, Naoe was quiet while taking him, he didn't utter a single word. As if in his mind, Saburō weren't really there at all, but just a shell, a body he made use of without considering his heart or mind.

For once, Saburō's pride had been silent. Instead, a strange sadness had gripped him at the thought of Naoe's indifference. It wasn't so much because of what had transpired between them in this chamber. But Naoe was the only person he had been in close contact with ever since he had come to Echigo. And this was how said contact developed.

Saburō pushed open the doors to the main building, aggressively. He wasn't sad now. He was angry at the world, at Naoe first and foremost, but also at himself and the fact that he had become such a weakling that he would fret like this over all Naoe's doings.

/\/

"You're remarkably relaxed nowadays."

Naoe looked up from the map they were studying and cast a quick look around. Nagahide had spoken very quietly and they were almost on their own in the room with everybody else dispersing after their meeting. Still, his appearance wasn't something he felt comfortable talking in public about. "What makes you say that?" he wanted to know after the rest of the council had wandered off.

"You're not aiming half as many jabs at Norimasa-dono as usual," Nagahide replied.

Was that so, Naoe mused. The truth was, he felt very calm. He couldn't help it showing in his behavior to some extent, but maybe it would add only to his nimbus. Maybe they would talk about how Kenshin's youngest general gave off a relaxed air when everybody else was trying not to panic at the prospect of having to go to war against Oda Nobunaga soon.

Maybe this war – he was convinced by now that it could not be avoided – might bring about the change in the power structure of Kenshin's council Naoe was hoping for. In a way, Echigo was always at stake when they went to war with their neighbors. However, this would be the first time since Kenshin-kō had risen to power that an outward enemy had actually set sights on the heartland, the Uesugi core territory. Opportunities to distinguish himself further would be legion, Naoe mused.

So would the admonitions from his relatives. His father-in-law would put the screws on him about squandering his time elsewhere when he was needed at home and should finally get down to siring an heir. There was also a hint of a bad conscience towards Osen who would stay behind alone, as usual, and most likely again not pregnant.

About what to do with Saburō, he hadn't decided. He had grown rather fond of the idea of coming home and Saburō would be there, waiting for him. A laugh almost escaped him. Well, maybe not so much. Saburō was most likely busy with all kinds of things, cleaning, chopping vegetables, helping out in the stables, or whatever he'd been assigned to these days, and sparring with Jirō, of course. The chances were very small that thoughts of Naoe even crossed his mind – at least not until Naoe got home.

He wished he could have said the same for himself. Naoe had always prided himself on his unbreakable concentration, marveling at other people's ability to let themselves be distracted. Now he had found out that he hadn't left thoughts of Saburō at home where they belonged, but that the memory of the boys eyes, skin and scent had followed him here, to rise to the surface of his conscience at inconvenient times. When at nights he used to fall asleep the second his head hit the pillow, he now lay awake for a little while, entertaining thoughts of the boy. A little he resented Saburō for making himself at home in his thoughts like this.

He looked up top meet Nagahide's strangely knowing gaze and found himself wondering whether his friend had guessed at what he was thinking of. "I will be back at the beginning of next week for the council meeting. First, however, I must return to my estates to see how the conscriptions are progressing."

"And you wouldn't want to be late for that", he heard his friend murmur under his breath, but chose to ignore it.

/\/

They were out of oil.

Saburō nearly died of embarrassment when he had to ask Higan about this. It was either that, though, or suffering through intercourse without any relief. The older servant, to his credit, didn't as much as bat an eye. He handed a new flask over to the boy as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Maybe to Higan, it was.

Either way, Saburō's efforts were in vain. It was the bathhouse that Naoe commanded him to when he arrived, not his study. Saburō had been here a couple of times before but never to serve anyone. It wasn't an unusual request, though, and hardly difficult to carry out. And the rest of the procedure he was more than familiar with anyway by now. As he stepped closer to the tub Naoe was already sitting in, bringing fresh water for his bath, a sudden calm overtook him.

At that moment, he couldn't comprehend what he had worked himself up over these last days. Naoe's return seemed to put things into a different perspective. As if everything wasn't half as bad, Saburō thought, now that he was back. Even if he was the source of Saburō's distress in the first place. Even if it meant they would be doing… that again – well, it couldn't be avoided in the long run. His eyes widened when he realized that by now he had come to think of intercourse more as a necessary evil and not so much as a horror. Oh, he gladly would have done without it and he still felt an overwhelming reluctance, but…

He had lost his fear somewhat. It was true what he had told Naoe that evening in the woods.

I don't… mind.

"Once you're finished staring into space, you could wash my back, you know."

Yanked from his thoughts, Saburō hurried to follow the command. Naoe's skin reddened under the strokes of the brush, then began to glisten as Saburō soaked it with a cloth. He couldn't avoid touching the man with his hands from time to time, though, coming skin to skin with him. How odd, Saburō thought, that a bushi's skin should feel this smooth. His fingers twitched. Would Naoe notice being touched purposefully? Better not to risk it, he decided.

Absentmindedly, he wondered how the bad mood he had carried around for days had magically disappeared. He was neither angry nor depressed anymore. It was most mysterious.

This close to Naoe without having to look him in the eye, Saburō could finally let his gaze roam over the man's body without risking to get caught. He practically couldn't avoid watching, he reasoned with himself. He should have been familiar with this body by now, but as a matter of fact he hadn't really seen it a lot. When they were together, he had turned his gaze away or closed his eyes most of the time. So in a way, all that bare skin laid before his eyes was unknown territory: the broad shoulders, the hard muscles of Naoe's back and arms, the moist hair curling in the nape of his neck. There was a faint scar here, an old one, possibly from a sword aiming for his neck, waged from the side, hitting his collarbone instead.

And it had been a close call, too. A little further to the right and that would have been the end of Naoe Nobutsuna. Before he could stop himself, Saburō traced the scar with his finger. "How did you come by this?" he whispered.

"At Kawanakajima," Naoe replied quietly. If he was surprised by Saburō asking him such a personal question, he didn't show it. "That was my first battle."

What a coincidence. It had also been Saburō's first battle. He had been with the Takeda only for a few weeks by then, but that hadn't stopped them from bringing him along when they set out to go to war with Uesugi Kenshin. The days following their departure from Kai were a blur in his memory. He did, however, clearly remember the intense fear he'd felt when Kenshin and his vanguard had stormed their camp. Hadn't Shingen himself and his closest officers repelled the attackers, Saburō, too, might have been slaughtered along with the rest of the men at the Takeda headquarters.

Then they would have never met.

Naoe's hand sneaked up his arm. Wet fingers stroked his skin through the fabric of his yukata. The grip tightened, slowly as if Naoe were in deep thought. Maybe he also considered the fact that he could have died that day, that their paths might never have crossed, Saburō thought when Naoe pulled him into the tub.

/\/

Between the strokes of the brush, he could feel Saburō's fingertips grazing his skin from time to time. He couldn't fight the tiny smile on his face even though he knew it probably wasn't deliberate. So far, Saburō had never touched him. It was part of why Naoe had chosen to order him to the bathroom. He rather liked the thought of the boy's hands on him, even if he had been ordered to put them there.

Beautiful hands, Naoe had noticed. Slender, with long, straight fingers. The nimble hands of a martial artist, as he had learned the hard way, even though their sight evoked images of brushes and fine paper. artfully drawn letters the same color as Saburō's hair. Not for the first time he wondered what might have become of Saburō had Hōjō rule over Odawara continued. Would he have been content with supporting his eldest brother's reign? Maybe he would have preferred to return to that temple of his? What had he seen in his future?

Certainly not this. Certainly not enslavement to an enemy clan, handing over command of his own body to an enemy general. Neither was this what Ujiyasu-dono and Saburō's older brothers might have pictured for the youngest member of the family. He wondered if Saburō ever entertained thoughts of how they might be judging the strange turn his life had taken.

It was usually so difficult to tell what he was thinking. Naoe was completely startled when the boy all of a sudden asked about his scars. He had easily identified the most dangerous hit he had taken, back then at Kawanakajima, at the age of seventeen, barely older than Saburō was now. A couple of inches closer to the neck and he would have been done for. Would Saburō have preferred that? If Naoe had perished long before their paths ever could have crossed?

It might well be. But he was alive, and Saburō was his to have at command. Naoe reached behind him, his fingers closing around Saburō's arm. The boy let himself be pulled closer, tension spreading through his body. Naoe knew without even looking at him. It had been like this from the start. Saburō froze when he was being touched. Which wasn't surprising considering the circumstances of how they had come together for the first time.

And he wasn't warming to Naoe over time, even though he must have noticed how the man had changed his mind about him. Someone else might have tried to use his looks and Naoe's obvious interest to his own benefit. Saburō was above such prostitution. He submitted because he had to, but he would never try to extract advantages from it because that would mean to engage willingly.

It seemed like a sign of strength to Naoe.

But it also meant, he suddenly realized, that Saburō would never touch him on his own initiative. It didn't matter if fear or pride were the reason for his behavior. It was just something he would never do, under no circumstances.

Except when ordered, Naoe thought and took a deep breath. If he had to order, that's what he would do.

Saburō's doubt showed on his face when he was pulled into the tub. There wasn't much space inside. With Naoe using up most of it, he had no choice but to sit astride the man. He looked appealing, Naoe thought, flustered, eyes wide and apprehensive, the wet fabric of his yukata clinging to his slender figure. Was he feeling exposed like this, even though he was the only one of them still fully clothed?

The pinprick from before when he had been thinking about Saburō's obvious reluctance disappeared without him even noticing. With a smile Naoe took one of the boy's lovely hands and placed it between his legs.

/\/

Saburō's heart nearly stopped beating. Not even they had demanded he do them this particular service. Due to that very reason, it should have been easier to comply with this particular demand of Naoe's, but the contrary was the case. During the last one and a half years, even washing that part of his own body had become a test of strength. And now he was supposed to touch another man's organ.

Naoe's grip around his hand was firm and allowed no retraction as he wrapped Saburō's fingers around his girth. Saburō's breath hitched. He could feel his stomach flip at the feeling of the silky skin and hard muscle underneath. It took all his strength not to withdraw his hand. He'd had the inexplicable impulse to touch Naoe from time to time but certainly not there! He felt that he was being punished for that odd sentiment by having to do this now.

Naoe was meeting his eyes now and again, but didn't seem to notice his discomfort. He showed Saburō how to move his fingers, guiding them around his stiff manhood, then moving them up and down the shaft. Carefully repressed memories surged of doing the same thing to himself, before… everything.

He grit his teeth, determined not to lose his nerve. He was Naoe's slave, his spoil of war. There were no limits to what that entailed. He couldn't very well protest, say that this revolted him after everything that had happened between them so far. And either way, it wasn't his place to voice his reluctance or to shun such requests.

Naoe demanded and Saburō did what was asked of him. Such was his fate as a non-person, a survivor of a war his side had lost, without a home or a clan to defend his rights. The thought of what his father and brothers would say if they could see him now sat like a heavy weight on his shoulders. The shame he had brought to his clan by submitting to this, all of this, haunted him.

So he concentrated on Naoe instead.

A faint smile on his lips, the man was watching what he was doing. Was it really possible that he didn't notice Saburō's reluctance? Or was he aware and taking pleasure in it? In any case, he seemed to enjoy Saburō's forced attentions. Saburō was bewildered by this, in strong doubt that he was doing a very good job of it… not that he himself would know the difference. It was a part of life he felt entirely excluded from, as foreign as another country would have been to him.

He'd been forced to watch other men's pleasure before, as they took it from him by force. There were echoes in his mind now of the disgust, hatred and shame this had induced in him back then. Only what he felt now was more similar to bewilderment and uneasiness. Looking down on their joint fingers was unthinkable, so his eyes were on the man's face that mirrored the sensations Saburō's touch caused him, his eyes half closed, his head lightly tipped back. And for some reason it wasn't disgusting to watch.

After a while Naoe let go of Saburō's hand, obviously trusting him to proceed with what he had shown him. Still feeling immensely insecure, Saburō continued to move his hand while watching Naoe's features from up close, his chest rising and falling with his now heavy breaths. There was a dreamy smile on the man's face, one of his hands stroking Saburō's arm, his shoulder, eventually gliding over the side of his face in an awkward, wet caress. Saburō couldn't look away.

Don't do that.

His obedience seemed to evoke Naoe's tenderness, glimpses of which he had caught before when the man had held him to sleep. It seemed as misplaced now as it had then.

It's not right.

His head sinking forward with a tiny groan, Naoe gripped his arm all of a sudden and gently shoved him back. "Get out."

Used to the man's unceremonious commands by now, Saburō obeyed. To his surprise, Naoe followed suit. Saburō looked around for a towel to hand to his master, but the man took it from his hands and spread it on the floor instead. Saburō's eyes widened. Of course, he hadn't been as naive to think he would get through the night without this.

But here, on the wooden planks?

He gasped as Naoe gripped the sash of his dripping-wet yukata to pull him close. Staring up into the man's eyes, he let Naoe pull the clothing from his shoulders and expose his body to the damp air of the bathhouse. The man's hand lingered on his neck for a moment before he nodded at him to lie down. Naoe's eyes on him, Saburō resisted the urge to cover his body with his hands as he got down on the floor.

He felt slightly dazed as he laid his head back on the wood, looking up at the ceiling. The damp heat in the air, the scent of the herbs, the pleasant warmth spreading through his limbs all helped him resign himself to situation he could do nothing to get away from. He closed his eyes, offering no resistance when Naoe spread him open.

"Suck." Kneeling between his thighs, Naoe held two fingers to his mouth. Saburō understood that he needn't have embarrassed himself about the oil.

One finger went in, then the other. Saburō immediately decided he preferred oil. Thankfully, Naoe seemed to realize as well that access to Saburō's body wasn't as easy as usual and took his time widening him. Saburō was watching as Naoe gave his own manhood a few strokes before moving in between his legs. He slid the tip into Saburō, then withdrew, only to come back inside again, a little deeper each time.

A surprised sound escaped his lips when Naoe suddenly pulled him down. His eyes flew open. With Naoe sitting on his heels, Saburō found himself half in the man's lap. His legs were wrapped around Naoe's waist, his buttocks rubbing over the man's thighs. The man entered him deep like this – not as deep as when he'd been taking him from behind, but still. Something was missing, he decided absentmindedly, Naoe being joint this intimately with him and still so far away, their bodies barely touching. He preferred the man's body to cover him.

Saburō blinked. Where on earth had that come from? What was wrong with him? To think a thing such as this. That he would like to be closer to Naoe than was absolutely necessary. But his memory promptly provided him with a series of happenings that had evoked a similar emotion: Naoe hiding him from Oda Nobunaga, stepping in when his father-in-law had tried to force Saburō, Naoe's warm, firm body covering him completely for a few heartbeats after intercourse. Was it possible to feel guarded by an enemy? By someone who did this to him on a regular basis?

At the thought of this, his attention returned to what was happening below his waist. With his hands on Saburō's hips in a hard grip, Naoe thrust slowly, his eyes closed. Watching him, the man's organ invading him, Saburō wondered how the same thing could feel so differently for them. He couldn't even begin to imagine how this felt for Naoe, the pleasure the man must be drawing from this. The best he could say for himself was that he wasn't in pain and that he could feel the touch on the inside again in that… area.

Frowning, Saburō understood that he hadn't made a mistake the first time. There really was an area inside his body that felt different when touched upon. The touch was barely there each time Naoe came inside, as was the sensation. Without thinking, Saburō lifted his hips from the floor ever so slightly. Yes, it became more distinct like this.

If he had taken the time to question what he was doing, Saburō would have realized how odd it was for him to listen to his body. He remembered, however, that the last time he had been having this strange experience, it had been brought to an abrupt end by Naoe's climax. And the man's thrusts were coming in short frequencies by now.

Unaware of the changes in his breathing, Saburō moved again, intently cataloguing the different layers of sensation this brought. Naoe's member was still merely grazing him there, still barely touching flesh that was urging his owner to seek out that touch again and again… This was it, then? Or was there more? A strange warmth pooling in his stomach, Saburō inched closer.

As if complying with his experiment, Naoe gave three short thrusts right there, each feeling better than the one before, as if setting the scene for the third one which finally hit home. Saburō was gasping for air, completely unprepared for the onslaught of pleasure that spread through him.

With a sharp intake of breath, he came up from the floor.

/\/

One moment Naoe had been getting lost in his pleasure, eyes firmly closed to better focus on the tightness of the body he was thrusting into, the next, he had his arms full of Saburō.

His amber eyes dark in the dim light of the bathhouse, Saburō's hands were clutching Naoe's shoulders, close to his neck as if he couldn't quite decide to strangle him or trying to squeeze out the answer to a question he had yet to formulate. Saburō's fingers were painfully digging into his collarbones. Naoe gasped, realizing he had never felt the strength of those delicate-seeming hands before. They stared into each other's eyes, locked as if in combat.

It was then that he understood that they were both wondering the same thing.

What is happening?

The boy seemed almost outraged. Or upset, really. Even though fascinated, Naoe was at a loss. All he understood was that this was different from before, that for the first time Saburō seemed to direct his attention to what they were doing while doing it. Saburō's reaction must have had something to do with what he'd been doing earlier. So maybe it was best to keep at it.

He had remained in Saburō's body throughout all this, but stopped moving at the boy's unexpected assault. Now he looked into the his eyes questioningly as he lifted Saburō's light weight from his lap so that the tip of his member was still inside. His hands were gliding over the boy's lower back and came to rest on his buttocks. Saburō's grip hardened. Never taking his eyes off him, Naoe spread his cheeks apart so he could recommence thrusting inside. Fresh lust coursed through his veins.

Saburō's eyes still piercing into him, Naoe held him open as he started moving in and out of him, carefully controlling his own urge to speed up and penetrate the boy more deeply. He distracted himself by studying the reactions that showed on Saburō's face.

Is this it?

Saburō's eyes half-closing, his breath escaping in tiny gasps from his slightly parted lips seemed to indicate that it was. His death-grip on Naoe's shoulders loosened. Spellbound, the man watched a fine blush spread underneath the boy's ivory skin. Even though he still couldn't figure out in which way, he understood now that he was pleasuring Saburō from the inside like this. Why it was only happening now and not one of the earlier times, he couldn't guess at, but he made sure to keep up the same rhythm, touching the same spots on the inside. To his immeasurable delight, the slender body on top of his arched and moved against him, almost as if Saburō wasn't even aware of doing so and much less able to stop himself.

It wasn't enough, though. He wanted to have Saburō on his back underneath him as he thrust into him. Seeing the boy react to him like this, had awakened a strange hunger inside him, somewhat similar to what he had felt when he had taken Saburō for the very first time, when he had unexpectedly crossed that line between duty and desire. This heated response came just as unexpected.

Naoe carefully shifted, supporting the boy's back when he leaned forward. Never breaking eye-contact, Saburō let himself be lowered back on the floor, the tendons in his neck straining, the tips of his silky hair brushing against the wooden floor of the bathhouse. His amber eyes were still holding Naoe's, alight with an argosy of emotions that Naoe could only decipher after returning that fierce gaze for several heartbeats. Defiance, suspicion, hesitation, nervousness and… desire. Desire for him. Naoe marveled at the change in his prize who was usually the epitome of indifference.

He pulled the boy's legs wide apart before inserting himself inside. It took him a small while to find the right spot again, but when he did there was no mistaking it. Saburō's features contracted, his mouth opening in a soundless cry. Naoe could feel his hands in his back, clenched to fists. He could have penetrated Saburō much deeper but contented himself for now to keep up that angle that seemed to bring his prize pleasure. He kept it up, his own pleasure cresting higher and higher as if feeding on the barely suppressed sensations that mirrored on Saburō's features.

Then he made the mistake of looking down to where their bodies were joined. An almost painful groan escaped him at the sight of Saburō's erect member. Saburō had never been aroused before when they were lying together. The physical proof of the boy's desire was all it took, in fact. With a low-pitched moan, Naoe was sent over the edge, his body convulsing as he spilled himself into Saburō.

That much for self-control, he thought wistfully as he tried to catch his breath. Brushing back Saburō's hair from his face as if in a wordless apology, he made up his mind. Leaving him like this was hardly fair. He let his fingers glide down over the boy's stomach and wrap around his still hard member.

The reaction was astounding, to say the least.

/\/

A man's hand was on him.

"You don't even know what that's good for, do you?"

"No!" Saburō gasped. Not that, not that! Propping himself up on his elbows, he scrambled to get away from the nightmare that suddenly played out before him, from Naoe's touch that suddenly felt so similar to back then. It was unbearable.

Only later Saburō would take notice of how the man let go of him immediately, no doubt amazed by his outburst. Saburō stopped, an arm's length away from him, coiled up as if expecting an attack. Abruptly, he realized where he was and with whom, the offense he had committed by rejecting Naoe's touch. Especially after -

After before when all those overwhelming feelings had been coursing through his body that had temporarily shut down any doubt or even conscious thought. Now it made him sick to even think of reacting in such a manner to having Naoe inside him. A wave of self-disgust washed over him.

"Forgive me, tōnō." The words weren't an empty phrase at this moment. He felt as if he had lied to the man earlier. Horror at the touch had been replaced by relief at getting away from it only to be followed by this hollow feeling that he had disappointed someone again. Naoe was keeping away from him, sitting on his heels as he had before. He was watching him intently as if trying to make sense of his behavior. He couldn't understand, Saburō thought. Something wasn't right about him to react in this way. Even if he hadn't known that himself, it was written all over Naoe's face. And Saburō knew he could never explain his reaction, exactly what had made him panic like this.

The thought of being touched there, just like it had happened that night. Their hands playing with him, playing him. Restlessly, he ran his hands over his body, as if trying to get clean, never making eye contact with Naoe.

He was so cold he started shivering, right here in the middle of all the steam of the bathhouse.

/\/

Author's Note: yeah, well… not that easy, right? Poor Naoe totally doesn't understand what's going on. And Saburō doesn't have much of a clue, either. Hope you liked it anyway ;-)