Disclaimer: The characters from Fushigi Yuugi are the creations and property of Yuu Watase and related enterprises. The characters from Doctor Who are the property of the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC). I do not own them and do not make any profit from this fiction except for my own enjoyment in spending time with them.
However, the plotline, as well as all original characters in this story, do belong to me and may not be used elsewhere without my permission.
This chapter contains quotes from the poem "The Two Trees," by William Butler Yeats, published in 1893 in the volume "The Rose."
Musical selection: "Ce he mise le unlaight?" from the CD "The Mask and the Mirror" by Loreena McKennitt
Warning: This chapter contains strong adult content--specifically, adult sexual situations--that renders this chapter unsuitable for young or sensitive readers. Please heed the M-rating of this story, and avoid this chapter if such content will offend you.
This chapter is dedicated to Kryssa, whose lovely singing voice inspired the Purification scene, and to CG, who has waited over two years for the publication of this chapter. Thank you, ladies, on behalf of Joss.
XxX
Chapter 20. Beloved, gaze in thine own heart
The figure stood waiting quietly outside the Shrine of Suzaku, head bowed. His clothes were clean but torn, dark in some areas where bloodstains had left their mark, while his silver-blue locks gleamed in the sunlight as they fluttered in the breeze. The ornate wooden door slowly creaked open, allowing a waft of scented smoke to escape, bringing a whisper of mystery out into the bright afternoon sun.
Four monks emerged from the shrine, two of whom were middle-aged men, their shaven scalps gleaming through salt-and-pepper stubble. The third monk's form was bent under the scourge of pain. He leaned heavily on a sturdy shakujou, resting his other hand on the shoulder of a young acolyte--but he was far from being a feeble old man. Lifting his deeply lined face to look across the courtyard, he gazed with alert, sparkling eyes at the strangely dressed man and woman standing near the monastery gates.
Joss looked away, suddenly ashamed of her ill-tempered scowl as she felt the Master's gentle wisdom rest upon her even at this distance. His keen gaze shifted to her left and paused, regarding the other visitor with an expression tinged with wonder. A gnarled hand squeezed the acolyte's shoulder, and the youth bowed deeply, subtly shifting his weight to support his master's bow. The Doctor met the Master's obeisance with a deep and reverent bow of his own. Obviously taken aback by the Master's action, the other monks hesitated--until a subtle gesture from the man turned them back towards the shrine to escort their guest into its hushed interior. The door creaked closed again, sequestering the ritual participants within.
The scent of incense lingered for a moment in the courtyard before dispersing in the fresh breeze. Joss clenched her fists at her side, her dark mood returning with the disappearance of the Master and Houjun.
"Joss, try not to be upset."
She kept scowling at the closed door, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze. "I just don't like it."
"Our exclusion from the ceremony isn't a personal slight. For the Monks of Suzaku, purification is a private ritual, closed to secular witnesses. In any case, it won't take long, and then--"
"That's not what I meant. Well, not all of it, anyway. I just don't see why Suzaku feels that Houjun needs to be purified. He didn't do anything wrong!"
"Joss, the powers that Magus taught Houjun to harness are not the powers of Good; you yourself have witnessed the evil effects of that kind of magic. But above all--and regardless of what Suzaku feels--Houjun himself wants the purification." The velvet tones darkened. "He feels that the Abyss has left its mark upon him, and he wants that brand erased."
"Fine, okay, fine; I can accept that. But did we have to take that side trip to Mrs. Toad's Wild Ride just so he could get that stupid mask?"
A deep sigh. "I do appreciate your honesty, but this is one of those times when it could do more harm than good. Apart from insulting the very wise and powerful Controller of this world, you are passing judgment on a decision that only Houjun can make. I thought you respected his intelligence enough to trust him." The mildness of the Doctor's tones did not completely obscure the rebuke.
Joss flushed guiltily. "I do! That's the problem: I appreciate his intelligence when he obviously doesn't. This mask makes him look like some vacant, happy simpleton! Why couldn't he choose a mask like his last one? That one looked more like the real him. And—and why does he need a mask at all? We don't care about his scar; we love him just the way he is!"
There was a moment of silence, the sounds of the chirping birds and sighing branches fading beneath the weight of the knowledge that both had tried to suppress.
The Doctor spoke first. "But it's not about us, is it?"
"I know." Joss unsuccessfully fought her tears. "We're not gonna be here to support him, so he has to do the best he can on his own." She kicked disconsolately at the pebbled ground. "You always know the truth, don't you? You know the real reason I'm upset: it's because this is the beginning of the end. Yesterday, in the butterfly room, I felt like we were going to go on forever like that—the three of us, together forever. But today," she swallowed a sob, "today we're starting him on his way. Alone."
She waited for the Doctor to impart his usual words of wisdom and comfort but heard only silence. Perplexed, she lifted her tear-streaked face to his and was stunned to see searing pain in those blue-green eyes before he lowered his glance, hiding his thoughts. Joss flushed at her realization: Houjun wasn't the only one wearing a mask. She reached out and took the Doctor's hand, squeezing it apologetically. "Yeah, I'm Miss Sensitivity as usual, the center of my own universe. I bet you'll be glad to see the back of me."
"Actually, I won't." He lifted his face and smiled sadly at her. "It never gets easier, you know: all the goodbyes. You'd think that after all the times I've heard those words, I would take them in stride, but somehow I can't... It seems to me that my lives are linked together by a lattice of farewells—and sometimes I wonder if that's all..." His voice trailed off.
"No, it's not! Between the goodbyes are, 'Hello, I'm the Doctor. Watch out! Yes, I've saved your life, but think nothing of it. Oh, I've also saved your planet and solar system, repaired your damaged psyche, and cured your nail-biting habit. All in a day's work, my dear.'"
The Doctor finally laughed at Joss' expert imitation of his accent.
Joss grinned back at him. "That's better. Now that we've set Houjun on the right course, I don't need you getting all brooding and melancholy."
The Doctor gave a secretive half-smile. "We're not quite finished with Houjun as yet; there are a few fine adjustments needed."
"Which means?"
"You'll see. To begin with, we're going to 'crash' the purification, in a manner of speaking."
Joss raised her eyebrows. "I thought that witnesses weren't allowed inside the--"
"Oh, we're not going to violate the monks' rules by witnessing the ceremony. We're just going to participate in a way. Now I can tell from your voice that you know how to sing; my question is, do you know how to sight-read?"
XxX
He knelt before the dais that supported the giant cauldron, firelight flickering across his masked face. Flames crackled around the fragrant wood stacked in the huge vessel, sending streamers of scented smoke drifting up to the opening in the vaulted ceiling. Beyond the dais stood a statue of Suzaku, the phoenix-god's golden wings spread wide as he reared up in challenge. The statue's ruby eyes reflected the firelight, seeming to glitter knowingly at the humbly dressed man before him.
The monks' voices rose in a rhythmic sutra of praise for their god. Houjun folded his hands in a meditative pose, feeling the mask settle into an expressionless façade instead of its usual demeanor of lips and eyes curved up in perpetual amusement.
A light touch on his arm signaled that the ceremony had begun. He bowed his head in response to the Master's silent instruction and removed the mask, laying the mystical item on the floor next to his ash staff. During this sacred ritual, one was expected to open one's heart and mind, hiding nothing, exposing all. Only then could the purification take full effect.
The young acolyte stepped behind Houjun and untied his hair, releasing the silvery blue locks to drift across his shoulders. Lifting a trembling hand, the youth plucked a single hair, not noticing the seishi's suppressed smile at his nervousness. The youth pattered up the dais and bowed, offering the hair to the middle-aged monk standing beside the cauldron.
The monk took a bamboo stick, lighting it in the holy fire and touching the small flame to the hair. The hair flared up, releasing a wisp of light grey smoke that spiraled up to the ceiling as if seeking escape.
The Master nodded, pleased. He leaned heavily on his shakujou, murmuring to the man kneeling beside him. "It is not severe; the standard purification will suffice."
Houjun raised his arms, signaling his readiness, but the Master shook his head. "Not yet. You need to meditate a while longer, Suzaku no Chichiri; there is yet much that clouds your thoughts. You must clear your mind and heart so that you can truly accept the purification."
The seishi frowned in confusion but obediently closed his eye, trying to join his mind to the prayers rising around him.
"No, that is not yet your way," the Master's gentle baritone sounded from above him. "Let your mind choose its own path."
Houjun bowed his head. He didn't completely understand what the Master wanted of him, but he released his mental control as ordered, slipping back into meditative thoughts as the chants flowed around him. He pondered the Master's words. Choosing his own path: wasn't that the reason he had stood fast against Taiitsukun's express wishes?
Taiitsukun's beady eyes shone with satisfaction. "While we prepare your new mask, Nyan will show you to your quarters, Suzaku no Chichiri. Your training will begin tomorrow, as your god has decreed."
Out of the corner of his eye, Houjun saw Joss stiffen in shock as she stood beside the Doctor.
"No." He bowed respectfully before the startled Oracle. "Gomen nasai, Taiitsukun-sama, but I have chosen another path."
"You dare to defy your god by rejecting your destiny?" Taiitsukun's jowls quivered with rage.
"No, Taiitsukun-sama. Suzaku has requested that I strengthen and purify myself spiritually, but he has not commanded that I do so at Mount Taikyoku. Right now, I need...a different path to peace. But rest assured that I will return here in due time."
"In due time!" Taiitsukun snarled. "You are insolent, Suzaku no Chichiri!"
"No, Taiitsukun-sama." Houjun's tones were unfailingly respectful. "Merely resolute--as a celestial warrior should be."
Taiitsukun paused, stymied by his logic, as Nyan managed to look both shocked and amused at the same time. The Oracle turned her wrath on the nearest object, pointing an accusing finger at the Doctor. "This is your doing, no doubt!"
The blue-green eyes widened innocently. "Chichiri has a mind of his own, as well you can see. However, if you choose to credit me for strengthening his resolve, I'm pleased to accept the honor. Thank you, Taiitsukun." And he bowed low, sweeping one hand across his breast in the courtly fashion that never failed to enrage her.
Houjun fought back a smile, amused at his memory of the Doctor's continual provocation of the Oracle. The time lord feared nothing and no one, and seemed to take particular enjoyment in needling powerful, egotistical beings. In some ways, he was as reckless and impetuous as Joss.
Joss.
For the past day, she had been subdued, not at all her normal self--and he knew who was to blame.
Nyan glided forward with feline grace, holding out the scrap of flesh-colored material. He raised it to his face and fought down the initial thrill of fear when it covered him brow to chin: cool, clammy, and suffocating. But it soon melded to the warm skin beneath, shaping itself to the contours of his bones, opening over his mouth and nose so that he drew in a quick, gasping breath of relief.
Taiitsukun's hooded eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she gestured Nyan forward with the mirror. He gazed at his masked face, one part of him flinching in distaste, the other accepting his new appearance.
It was unmistakably a mask, its smooth, smiling facade bearing no resemblance to the scarred features hidden beneath its surface.
He turned to face the Doctor and Joss. Joss looked stunned, her shock changing rapidly to anger, but the Doctor merely gave a brief nod to show he understood.
Houjun felt pain flare in his breast. He had known the Doctor would understand the new mask, just as he had known that Joss would not. But had he been fair to her? In truth, he wasn't sure he could explain himself clearly--that it felt less dishonest to wear an obvious mask than to present a false version of his own face to the world, the innocent face of a man who had never hated or killed or bled. That reasoning sounded convoluted even to his own ears, so he had kept silent, turning away from her confused and questioning gaze.
But at this moment, he realized what his silence had wrought: he never would get the chance to explain it to her, for they had no more time. She would go on into her future, not understanding it, not understanding...him.
He opened his eye, blinking rapidly to force back the tears, surprised by the wave of grief that had overtaken him. He'd become so accustomed to having Joss and the Doctor by his side that he wasn't sure he knew how to go on without them. Suddenly, he missed them horribly, aching for their physical presence as if they had already gone, and he now stood alone. He felt as if they were slipping away, disappearing into the mists of memory--and something in him wanted to bolt out of the temple, run screaming into the courtyard and beg them not to leave, not to go, not to...forget.
Don't forget me. Please.
At that moment, a deep, resonant note sounded through the temple, a mellow hum growing in intensity until a full-bodied chord rang throughout the entire monastery. It was rich and complex, a musical cry of passion and longing so intense that it brought tears to the eyes of all who heard it. He recognized it immediately: the Doctor's cello, speaking his heart, speaking to his heart--and as the bow drew the lyrical melody forth, Houjun thought he had never heard anything so beautiful, so pure and emotional...until the woman's voice joined in.
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart
The holy tree is growing there
From joy the holy branches start
And all the trembling flowers they bear
The changing colours of its fruit
Have dowered the stars with merry light
The surety of its hidden root
Has planted quiet in the night
Joss' voice soared through the temple, its lush mezzo-soprano tones vibrant with emotion, blending with the harmony of the cello to create one perfect song of yearning love. The monks paused in their prayers, mesmerized by the beauty and passion of the music.
The shaking of its leafy head
Has given the waves their melody
And made my lips and music wed
Murmuring a wizard song for thee
Houjun trembled under the caress of her voice, her words that sang out her love for him, their love for him--and he realized what they had been telling him all along. They would never forget him, for they loved him as much as he loved them.
Tilting his head back, he savored this moment, imprinting it on his memory for the days that loomed ahead. In the future, he would draw upon this memory for strength, even in his darkest hour--for now he knew he would never be truly alone.
He raised his arms in acceptance of the purification that would render him worthy of such love--and the Master signaled the younger monks to continue with the ritual. They approached Houjun and removed his clothing, stripping him of the garments whose folds were contaminated with residues of the dark power he had wielded in his recent battles.
Kneeling on the cold stone floor, he felt naked and humbled before the representatives of his god, yet warmed by the love song that flowed around him. He watched as his clothes were flung into the holy fire, the flames flaring high above the confines of the cauldron as they eagerly consumed the tainted garments. He could almost feel the darkness slipping from him, erasing the spiritual wounds inflicted by Kurayami, Maboroshi, and Magus.
Except...
Images rose in his innermost mind: a hand slipping beneath raging waters, a young woman crouched on a straw mat. Bitter grief rose once more in his heart, washing over the deep scars that no purification would ever expunge.
Once again, the rich voice soared to fill the temple, the melody darkening as if in concert with his thoughts.
Gaze no more in the bitter glass
The demons with their subtle guile
Lift up before you as they pass
Or only gaze a little while
For there a fatal image grows
That the stormy night receives,
Roses half hidden under the snows,
Broken boughs and blackened leaves
At a signal from the Master, the acolyte approached Houjun, holding a silver basin and a golden ladle. He bowed, offering the vessels to the Master. The Master dipped deep into the basin, then turned and lifted the ladle as if offering it to the statue of the phoenix god. Drops of clear liquid caught the lamplight, sparkling as they fell silently to the stone floor.
Turning back, he held the ladle in his trembling, knotted hands, the serenity of his features belying his obvious physical pain. He poured the water in a thin, shining stream upon the young man kneeling before him. Houjun clenched his teeth to keep from gasping at the cold sting of the purifying water.
For all things turn to barrenness
In the dim glass the demons hold
The glass of outer weariness
Made when God slept in times of old
There, through broken branches, go
The ravens of unresting thought:
Flying, crying, to and fro,
Cruel claw and hungry throat
The young acolyte lifted Houjun's damp blue hair, certain of himself this time, plucking another strand to present for the test. The flame hissed as it touched the silvery-blue thread, emitting a tiny, twisting strand of pure white smoke.
The Master nodded, and the acolyte ran to throw a white silk robe over Houjun's shivering form. The seishi pulled it closed, knotting the belt before bowing in gratitude before the servants of Suzaku.
Or else they stand and still the wind
And shake their ragged wings, alas
Thy tender eye grows all unkind
Gaze no more in the bitter glass
Joss' voice throbbed with yearning, pleading with him to keep his heart open despite the pain and betrayals of his past. She fell silent as the music of the cello rose up in her place, sweeping and lyrical.
Houjun felt the truth of her words resonate deep within him, and swallowed hard. Could he live up to that promise, leaving himself exposed, vulnerable to future heartache?
A strong hand grasped his chin, turning his face to look up into the compassionate gaze of the Master. The monk leaned on his stick, speaking low so that only Houjun could hear. "Bitterness is easy. Faith and trust—those take courage. But what other path should one choose? The heart that remains closed to pain is the heart that remains closed to life--and love."
Houjun's answer was soft and sad. "I think I understand, but--I'm so uncertain, Master. I feel as if I've come to the end of everything, and now I don't know where to go."
The Master stroked the damp blue locks. "You are not at the end, young Chichiri; you are at a crossroads. For the first time in your life, you have a multitude of choices instead of one narrow path. You have only to choose where your heart leads you, then follow that road with passion and hope."
He turned the young man towards the door, his gnarled hands surprisingly strong. "Go now, Suzaku no Chichiri--and seek your path."
"But...but I thought--"
"Return when you are ready; we shall always be here. Just be certain that the next time you return, it is your heart that leads you instead of your sense of duty." He handed the seishi his mask.
Houjun bowed respectfully, then squared his shoulders and stepped out into the blinding light.
XxX
Joss took a deep breath, feeling the music of the cello vibrate throughout her entire body, soothing her wounded spirit. It was a funny thing: the Doctor had asked her to sing for Houjun's sake, but in singing those words of love, she had brought herself to a kind of peace. She only hoped her song had helped Houjun as well.
A movement at the temple door caught her eye, and she looked across the courtyard, her mouth dropping open in shock. Her first irrational thought was that an angel stood there, clad in pure white, his garment shining as if lit from within. Behind his shoulders shimmered two glowing scarlet wings. She blinked, and the wings disappeared, a trick of the slanting rays of the afternoon sun.
It was Houjun, clad in a white silk robe, his smiling mask once more in place. However, his posture belied the calm confidence of the mystical face; it was hesitant, uncertain, as if he couldn't find his way back.
"Go to him." The velvet voice was low, yet Joss heard him as clearly as if he had shouted in her ear. The music continued, never skipping a beat. "Go to him, Joss, and show him..."
"Show him what?" Joss' throat was tight for some unknown reason.
"I..." The Doctor broke off, although the cello never faltered. He tried again. "I can restore his faith in life, but only you can restore his faith in love."
Joss paled, shaking her head. "You don't understand, Doctor. I don't think he wants--"
"Then stop thinking. He needs you, and I know that you need him as well."
Joss finally took in the slight tremble in the Doctor's voice--and her lips curved in gentle understanding. "He needs you just as much. Why don't you--?"
"That path is closed to me." The blue-green eyes met hers, a wry sadness in their depths.
Her own eyes softened in response. "Somehow, I think you know a hell of a lot more about love than you let on. I can feel it."
"Joss, this isn't about me," the Doctor interrupted, his voice holding an almost desperate edge. "This is about Houjun and you and last chances. Can't you see how lost he is at this moment?"
She looked up to see the smiling mask turn in their direction. Houjun took a few steps towards them but stopped as he picked up on the agitation in Joss's ki.
"I'm scared," she admitted in a whisper. "I don't know how to--"
"Just take his hand and walk with him." The Doctor tilted his head towards the woods that rose behind him. "Follow that path until you find..."
"Find what?"
"What you're looking for. Now go; I have a song to finish."
Tilting his head towards his cello once more, he pulled the notes out with long strokes of his bow. He raised his eyes and smiled at her, then lifted his voice, letting his clear tenor ring throughout the courtyard.
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart
The holy tree is growing there,
From joy the holy branches start,
And all the trembling flowers they bear
She finally understood: he was singing to her as well as to Houjun. His love for them strengthened her, giving her the courage to take the next step. She squared her shoulders and marched up to Houjun, taking his hand in a firm grip. The mask looked down at her, the strange features now showing bland surprise.
"Don't say a word," she said breathlessly. "Just come with me, and...don't say a word."
She pulled him after her as she walked rapidly towards the woods outside the monastery gates. His mask swiveled to look at the Doctor as they passed, but the time lord merely smiled a secretive smile and continued singing.
Remembering all that shaken hair
And how the winged sandals dart
Thine eyes grow full of tender care
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart
XxX
She held his hand in a vise-like grip, pulling him after her as she plunged through the trees, her swift pace forcing him to follow without thought or protest. He reached out to tentatively touch her ki but flinched back from the burning intensity of her aura. She was agitated, determined, as tense and battle-ready as a drawn bow--and he dared not ask why.
She stopped so suddenly that his free hand shot up, ready to cast a defensive spell at whatever had shocked her into immobility. He followed her line of sight only to see nothing more alarming than a tiny clearing in the dense woods, consisting of a small thatch of thick grass lit by the burnished rays of the late afternoon sun. His heart caught in his throat as he finally noticed the silk blanket spread upon the ground. A small distance away lay an elegant lacquered tray, upon which rested an assortment of jars and small baskets, hinting at refreshments contained within. It was a place that had obviously been prepared for them--and by the startled look on Joss' face, she was not the one who had prepared it.
Houjun swallowed, his heart beating rapidly in his throat. This magical place with its simple, sensuous comforts--it could only have been arranged by one person. And that meant...
Joss released his hand. "You know, you could turn and run right now." Her voice was husky and low. "We could both turn and run, except... Of all that we've ever done, I think running away would be the one thing we could never forgive ourselves for." She kept her eyes fixed on her hands, clasped tightly together in a futile attempt to conceal their trembling.
He had never seen her so terrified, Houjun realized. She was terrified of him in a way that she had never been frightened of anyone--bandit, emperor, or madman--because she had just handed him the power to utterly destroy her.
A whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirled through him. Awe, at her courage and the depth of her trust. Humility, that a person as extraordinary as her could give her heart to someone like him. A searing tenderness, as he held her love like a fragile butterfly in his open hand.
Deep within him rose a vibrant hum, a song without words or melody, an insistent, pulsing rhythm that beat in time with his heart.
Desire.
He went with it, flowed with it, allowing it to surge through him and around him, driving him swifter than conscious thought. Before he knew it, they were kneeling on the silken cover, her shoulders clasped in his fervent grip. He pulled her into him, exulting in the feeling of her body, the places she matched him and the places she differed. Her softness yielded to his hardness; her breath came in rapid, eager puffs in his ear; her arms, pliant but surprisingly strong, wound around him, holding him as fiercely as he held her.
They had no yesterdays and no tomorrows: only this one moment in time, this tiny, finite place where they could come together and offer each other everything they had to give.
A place outside of space and time, whispered a velvet voice in his mind. In the distance, the sweet, musing notes of the cello rose and surrounded them, touching them as lightly as a whisper, a caress.
He pushed back from her to gaze into her face. Her eyes were dark, smoky with passion, lips parted and trembling. He leaned in to seize those lips but was startled when she drew back. Too late he remembered the mask, the mystical covering fitting him like a second skin. He knew that she hated it, so he reached up to tear away this last barrier--but she stopped him, catching his hand in her own.
"No, let me."
She touched his hairline, her lips curving in warm amusement as she brushed her fingers through his flyaway bangs. Ever since the confrontation with Magus, his hair had stubbornly refused to lie normally, instead rising defiantly skyward as if crackling with energy. He glanced away, slightly embarrassed.
"I like it," whispered Joss, surprising him by answering his thoughts.
She caressed the edge of his mask, murmuring soft words, too soft for him to hear--and to his surprise, the mask responded, detaching itself from his face. She turned and laid it gently to one side, treating it with unexpected care as she smiled at his questioning glance. "It's part of you now, so I don't hate it anymore, but--" She leaned forward, catching his face in her hands, moving her lips against his forehead. "You can hide from the world, but you can't hide from me."
He felt her lips trail down to his left eyebrow. Suddenly self-conscious, he tried to pull back, but she held him fast as her lips traveled, feather-light and gentle, along the rough surface of his scar. All the while, she breathed a litany of rapid, breathless words. "You're beautiful; I love you; you will always be beautiful to me. Don't hide from me; just trust me. Trust that I love you, the beautiful man you truly are." She pulled back and smiled at him, still holding his face, her eyes shining with tenderness and an emotion too deep for tears.
In that moment, he believed her. For the first time in years, in the warmth of her gaze, he felt strong, confident, secure in who and what he was. With that confidence, he pulled her close, unashamed that she could feel him hard against her through the thin silk of his white robe.
He seized her lips, plunging his tongue into the sweetness of her mouth, taking possession of her as his hips rocked against her, seeking an even deeper possession. His hands caressed her breasts, feeling their hardened peaks even through the thick material of her tunic. He broke off the kiss, growling in impatience at the barriers remaining between them. In one swift movement, he pulled her tunic over her head, fumbling in frustration at the contraption that still held her breasts away from him.
"Hanase, ima!" he commanded, and the material fell away, revealing her small, heavy breasts. They curved into his hands, as if they had been made for his touch. He rubbed his thumbs over their puckered tips, enjoying their warm weight, enjoying the gasps and shudders he drew from her. He responded with shudders of his own as excitement flared deep in his center. He ducked his head, kissing and sucking gently at her throat, his hands dropping down to pull at the stubborn toggles of her trousers--gods, would they never free themselves of these damnable clothes!
"Whoa, boy; down, Tiger!" Joss' voice was choked with laughter as she fended off his hands.
Houjun drew back, shocked. Didn't she want--?
"Of course I want you! In fact, I've wanted you far longer than you've wanted me; a truth for which I'm going to," her voice dropped into a throaty purr, "make you pay."
"Make me pay?"
She pushed him, and he fell back onto the silk blanket, unbalanced as much by his own confusion as the pressure of her hand against his chest. She straddled him on her knees, her weight pressing lightly on his pelvis, pinning him beneath her.
"Yes." Joss was smug now, completely unselfconscious of her naked breasts right in his line of sight. The passion flared in Houjun, and he reached up impulsively only to have his hand batted away once more.
"Not yet. First you have to ask me a few questions." Joss caught the lapels of his robe, running her fingers gently between the silk and his skin.
"Questions?" His mind faltered under the pleasurable shivers her fingers were drawing from him.
"Yes, like, 'How long have I wanted you?'" Joss moved her hands to his belt.
"How long...ah!" He gasped as Joss unfastened the knot in his belt with one swift tug.
"From the moment I first saw you. Do you want to know when that was?" She was slowly pulling the robe open.
Houjun nodded, his throat too dry for words.
"It was the morning after the Doctor rescued you from the river. You were in the hot spring, and I was in the lilacs, watching you. Do you want to know what I saw?" Her hands brushed over his skin, stroking him as lightly as feathers.
Houjun struggled to form a coherent thought, her smirk bringing back a dim memory. "Everything?"
"Ye-es...but not all at once. First, I saw," Joss leaned over him, her fingers brushing back strands of hair over his temples, her whisper tickling his ear, "your face." She traced one finger along the edge of his ear, then bit his earlobe gently.
"Unh!" He couldn't help it; he arched up into her, his hips thrusting helplessly.
"Mm-hm," Joss sat up, trying to look smug, but her eyes were burning with desire. "Yes, I know. I know you, Celestial Warrior Chichiri: all of your secrets, all of that sensuality you keep locked away. I know that you feel things--deeply--and I'm going to take you as deep as you can go."
Houjun gasped for breath, trying to match her sensual playfulness. "You'll be sorry when I disgrace myself all over your pretty trousers."
"You won't do that." She grinned down at him. "You're a celestial warrior--with celestial control. But if I break that control, I win."
"Win what?"
"I'll think of something." Joss tilted her head thoughtfully. "Now where was I? Oh, yes, the first time I saw you..."
She leaned back slightly, her flanks rubbing against his hardness. She pulled the robe down over his shoulders, running her hands over the swelling muscles of his deltoids, tracing the defined line where they curved into his biceps. Her caresses aroused delicate nerve endings, making every tiny hair on his body rise up in response.
"...the next thing I saw were your shoulders. Then, as you rose further out of the spring, I saw your chest." She ran her fingers lightly over his collarbone, then traced his pectorals until she brushed the dark, raised circles that ached for her touch--taut, aroused, needing...
"Gods!" His body rocked madly under the pulsating waves of sensation, his violent response flinging Joss forward. She took advantage of her position, her face pressed against his chest, her tongue flicking at his nipples, teasing, her teeth lightly scraping him. Sparks fired along every nerve in his body, lifting him up, sending an urgent tension rising in him until he knew there was very little time. In desperation, he grabbed her shoulders and forced her up.
She opened her eyes and grinned, slightly abashed. "Went a little too far that time, didn't I? We both almost lost it."
"Good thing that I have 'celestial control,'" he replied breathlessly, making her laugh.
"Yeah, good thing, but the time for control has nearly passed."
"Has it?" he rasped around the sudden tightness in his throat.
She nodded, retreating until she was straddling his thighs. The smile suddenly disappeared from her face. "I'm nearly finished with my story." Now serious, she let her passion blaze forth--pure, raw, an almost animal hunger shining in her eyes. She pulled his robe completely open, pooling the silk around his hips, exposing him completely.
He shuddered, buffeted by conflicting emotions: embarrassment, pride, desire, vulnerability. Her fingers traced his ribs, taking away his self-consciousness, replacing it with pure sensation.
"I saw your waist," she murmured thickly. "I saw these muscles," running her hands over his sculpted abdomen, "and then I saw..."
Her hand stroked lower, her fingers weaving through the soft, silvery-blue curls at his groin. He groaned at the intensity of his anticipation, burning with an aching, searing need. Just when he thought he couldn't bear another second, she reached lower and grasped him firmly, her hand sliding along his wet, slippery length.
"Oh, gods!" He wasn't sure which one of them had cried out first, but they were locked together now, his hands pulling her close as she continued to stroke him, her words rushing out in a torrent that matched the fire racing through his blood.
"Oh, God, you're so beautiful, so perfect; oh my God, I can't believe you! The way you feel, your skin... I can feel the way you want me as much as I want you, and I can't wait!"
She pushed away violently, breaking out of his grasp, moving swiftly below his line of sight...then he felt her mouth close around him.
He might have screamed in ecstasy; he didn't know, caught up in the sensations that crashed through him, leaving him spinning helplessly in their powerful grasp. Her mouth--warm, firm, wet--pulled at him, exploring him, rousing dormant nerves into furious, frenzied life. He bucked under her passionate assault, his hands clutching at the blanket beneath him. Through its soft folds, he could feel clumps of grass squeezed in his grip, a grip that spasmed in response to pressure building in his center, lifting him, igniting him...
"No!" He reared up and grasped her shoulders, forcing her away from him.
She gazed at him in foggy surprise. "What's wrong?" Her eyes were heavy-lidded with passion, her lips swollen, her features glistening with tiny beads of sweat. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, oh gods, no! It's just that--you're not sending me there alone."
"Alone?" She was slow to understand him, still stunned by passion, those bruised and reddened lips arousing warm, wet feelings deep within him.
It flooded his entire being, this dominating force, this aggressive need to overpower her, take her, and make her his own. He pushed her back onto the blanket, breathing out a spell that released the ties on her trousers. He plunged his hands down into the silk, pulling the garment off her, stripping her of all concealment, revealing her secrets to his burning gaze.
He raked her body with that gaze, letting his eye wander slowly, deliberately over her curves, her rounded contours, her half-hidden folds. She flushed under the intensity of his stare, squirming in sudden embarrassment. "Look, Houjun, I know that I'm not beautiful --"
He silenced her by seizing those tantalizing lips, licking along their full contours, plunging his tongue into her warm depths until she responded, growing pliant in his grasp. "Listen to me," he said, his voice low and intense. "Never say those words again. You're as beautiful to me as I am to you—"he paused, trying to think of a way to erase the wry doubt in her eyes.
The far-off music of the cello throbbed in a muted pizzicato passage, the fingers of the hidden musician plucking short, breathy notes from the rich instrument. Sometimes it is better to show than to tell, whispered a distant voice in his head.
He pulled her up before him, turning her body so that her back rested against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and grasped her wrists lightly, then moved so that his lips were even with her ear. "Let me show you what I see when I look at you."
He touched her hands to her hair, running their intertwined fingers through the tangled waves. "Brown silk," he said. "Soft and wild, just like you." Bringing her fingers to her face, he lightly traced circles around her eyes, pausing near her temples. "Clear mirrors into your soul, always holding out the truth for the world to see. Right now, they're brimming with so much passion," he leaned in and whispered in her ear, "that I could almost come just from looking into their depths."
She shuddered and moaned at his words, struggling to reach down, touch, and hold him. But he kept his firm grasp on her hands, forcing them back towards her own body. He trailed her fingers over her collarbone, then drew them down between her breasts. "Silken skin," he said, as he cupped her hands around her own breasts. "Beautiful, can't you see? Can't you feel their softness, heaviness," he brushed his own fingers over her hardened peaks, "hardness, sensitivity?" She moaned again under his touch, pushing her hips against him.
"I'm getting there," he promised. He trailed her fingers down past her ribs, pausing at the soft mound of her belly. "Everything here is moving, fluttering, responding to me...calling to me." He drew her fingers through her own dark curls--then suddenly released her.
"No," he growled, his voice raspy with passion. "This is for me alone." He stroked deep into her hidden folds, his fingers gentle but insistent, sliding into her, playing her, drawing out the music of her gasps and soft cries. She threw her head back against his shoulder, her cries intensifying, going higher as she writhed against him, rocking against his fingers--until suddenly she pushed away from him.
"No," she choked, flashing him a trembling grin over her shoulder. "Two can play at this game. I'm not going there without you, either." She twisted around to face him, seeking his lips--and her hand slid down between their bodies, grasping him where he pressed hard against her thigh.
They groaned into each other's mouths, shocked at the overwhelming pleasure of this simple touch. She leaned back on the blanket, pulling him towards her. He followed eagerly, surging over her as she guided him to the intense liquid heat between her thighs. He gazed deep into her eyes as he pushed deeper into that warmth, pulsing against her, seeking to move close, closer, even closer still...
The music was suddenly right there with them, carrying clear across the distance to surround them. The wild, sweeping melody drove them, pushing him, pushing...
Her eyes opened wide, her lips parting in a breathless 'Oh!' of wonder, reflecting his own amazement. This was it. They were joined, and nothing had ever prepared him for this! Her body enveloped him, tight around him, sending delicate shivers of ecstasy up his spine. Oh gods, had anything in his life ever felt so right? Her legs tangled with his, her wet warmth surrounding him, her breath puffing warm and sweet on his cheek as she traced her fingers in urgent, erotic patterns on his back.
He moved slowly, sensually within her, savoring the rush of sensation from each stroke, the arousing feel of her breasts pressed against him, the hot dampness of her skin against his. But the delicate sensuality began to disintegrate in the heat of the fire burning deep within him: hungry, devouring, driving him forward with insatiable need. His strokes turned into urgent thrusts, increasing in speed and intensity. She mirrored his urgency, picking up his rhythm, encouraging him with whispers and caresses.
He felt it building in him again, that growing pressure, that molten fire raging through his veins--but no, he refused to leave her behind! He was determined to bring her to ecstasy, but he didn't know how close she was or how to... He damned his inexperience, reading her pleasure in her glowing face but not knowing how to drive her beyond that point, to the rapture that he could feel growing in his entire body--
Open yourself, urged that inner voice. Open your minds to one another; touch each other, share everything.
He slowed his rhythm, caressing her face and turning it to meet his gaze. He reached out with his ki, lightly touching the barrier that veiled her personal thoughts, asking silently, gently, for this ultimate joining. She flushed even deeper but smiled her assent, cupping his face in her hands and drawing his forehead to rest against hers. He reached in with his mind, carefully, slowly...
...and shuddered violently, nearly losing control as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through him. He felt as if he were drowning in a sea of sensuality, his every motion bringing another wave that diffused throughout his entire body, making even his fingertips and scalp tingle with delight. He couldn't believe how good she felt; how good he was making her feel. Her pleasure mingled with his, twining around him until he almost lost himself in her.
Almost--but he could still tell the difference. Her pleasure was more diffuse than his, spread evenly throughout her entire body, while the rising, focused tension belonged to him alone. Not for long, he vowed to himself. He began to read her, using the thrills of sensation she reflected back at him as a guide to his own movements.
There. And there.
Her mouth dropped open as she sucked in a surprised breath.
Good. Try again. Again.
The music swept around them, rising in a passionate swell, matching the sweet urgency of their dance. She gasped and arched against him, seeking, reaching...
A little deeper. Harder. Right there. There.
Now.
"Houjun!" she screamed, her body convulsing against his, tightening around him, sending jolt after jolt of ecstasy arcing through his entire body. He fought it one last time, thrusting deeply once, twice before surrendering, letting the incandescence burst through him, shouting in joy as he poured himself into her. Holding her tightly, he shuddered in her arms, riding the aftershocks of their explosive climax, feeling her aftershocks as she spasmed around him. With every pulse, he whispered her name as a prayer, an incantation of gratitude and tenderness.
The rapture stayed with them, holding them breathless, locked together, until gradually they returned to earth, filled with a muted, sensual glow. He felt the tautness fade from his body, yet he stayed with her, reveling in the warmth of her skin, the soft touch of her lips against his. Finally he slipped from her, rolling on his side and pulling her close so that she rested comfortably in his arms. Lightly caressing her, he coaxed the tension from her body so that she drifted with him in a state of semi-conscious bliss.
In the distance, unheard by the lovers, the cello finally hummed one low, last note that spiraled up to unravel in the light breeze. The musician leaned wearily against the warm wood, the bow slack in his grip, damp curls clinging to his brow and a small smile trembling on his curved lips.
XxX
"You know, I won."
"Won what?" He rolled his shoulders gently, careful not to dislodge her while enjoying the bone-deep languor of muscles wearied in intimate battle.
"I broke your celestial control. I'm the champ!"
He felt her grin against his chest, and smiled up into the deepening shadows. "Hmph. As I recall, I broke your control first."
She sat up, her eyes sparkling in the last red rays of the setting sun. "So you're saying I'm not the champ?"
"I didn't say that. I just said I got you first."
"Hmm..." She tapped her chin thoughtfully, then broke into a wicked smile. "I demand a rematch: best two out of three!"
"Oh, dear Suzaku!" He laughed out loud. "Even a celestial warrior has his limits, Joss."
"Limits, huh?" she repeated dreamily. "I can't say that I noticed any limits earlier, but," she brushed her fingers across his knee where the sign of sho flickered dimly, "I did notice this. Did you know that you glow when you--?"
He rose up on his elbows and grinned back at her. "No, I didn't, but I can honestly say that I wasn't paying much attention to my knees."
"True." She leaned forward and kissed him, then frowned. "Your lips are dry. Thirsty much?"
"Mm-hm. But don't worry, I'll..."
"Too late." She had already risen and was rummaging through the jars and baskets at the edge of their clearing. She held up a ceramic jar, its surface gleaming with cool drops of condensation. "Here you go, Celestial Warrior Chichiri. One quick drink, then let the rematches begin!"
"It's going to take more than that," he growled in mock exasperation as he accepted the jar from her. Gods, had water ever tasted so cool and sweet? He shivered as he quenched his thirst, his body humming with the onslaught of so many sensual pleasures.
"Well, well, well, where did he find these so late in the season?"
Houjun looked up to see Joss grinning at him, a tiny, ruby fruit held delicately between her fingers. "Wild strawberries, Houjun!" She slipped it between her teeth. "Want one?"
He was on her in a flash, his arms holding her fast as his tongue snaked around hers. He withdrew just as quickly, retreating to the blanket as she gasped for air.
"You stole my strawberry!"
He grinned, the fruit gripped lightly between his teeth. "Come and try to take it back."
She got up, but at that moment he bit into it, letting the pleasure spread across his face as its taste and fragrance filled his senses.
"Mmm, you're too slow. But it was very sweet and very good!"
"That's it!" She straddled him, tickling his sides until his mouth dropped open in laughter. She seized his lips, taking possession of his mouth.
"Mmm, you're right: that is good. You taste wonderful." She sat up, smiling. "And guess what? Somebody's ready for round two. I'm impressed!"
"Don't be. The flesh may be willing in some places, but it's still pretty tired in others."
"Well, then," her teeth gleamed in the evening light, "I guess I'll go down with the sun."
"What do you mean by--Oh, gods!"
XxX
"That was wonderful."
"Incredible."
"Unbelievable."
"Amazing."
A deep, indrawn breath from the two bodies entangled in the bright moonlight.
"I can't move."
"Neither can I."
"I mean, I don't think I'm moving ever again. The grass and flowers will just have to grow around me, because I can't lift a muscle to budge from this spot."
"Well, you won't be lonely, because I'll be right here with you. Not moving."
A long pause, followed by a muffled giggle. "I should've known you'd be a screamer. It's always the quiet ones."
"So how do you explain your own screams? You're not exactly known for your shy personality."
"Oh, let's just say I was inspired."
"I won't argue that. But I have to admit you surprised me. I didn't expect you to be a biter." He shifted one shoulder.
She sat up in horror. "Did I really?" She traced the darkening bruise in the smooth expanse beneath his collarbone, the small indentations visible even in the moonlight. "Oh God, I'm so sorry! I never meant to hurt you!"
He pulled her back into his arms. "Don't worry, it didn't hurt that much. In fact, it was almost...stimulating." He smiled as he felt her burrow into his warmth. "And you don't have to keep calling me 'God'."
He felt her body shake with laughter. "At the risk of turning you into a hopeless narcissist, I have to say that the title was fairly earned. How many times did we--?"
"I lost count. Four, maybe?"
"Wanna go for five?"
"You're joking, right?"
"Yeah," she yawned. "My spirit is willing, but my flesh..."
"Mine even more so. Let's just rest a moment, all right?"
She snuggled deeper into his embrace, savoring the feeling of his skin warm and smooth against hers. "Okay, but only for a moment, because I don't want to fall asleep."
"Mmm, fine, we won't sleep."
A long silence as two hearts beat in synchrony with one another. The wind rustled through the clearing, sighing a soft lullaby of trembling leaves and whispering grasses.
"Mmmm, Houjun?"
"Hmmm?"
"We're not asleep, are we?"
"No, of course not." He yawned and pulled her closer.
The moon sank beneath the trees, leaving the night to hold the lovers in its concealing embrace. An owl tilted its head in a nearby tree, hooting a soft question at the strange intruders in its domain. It flapped its wings and retreated on its branch, startled by another intruder moving silently toward the entwined forms.
He held out a small bundle, snapping it so that the breeze unfurled the folds of a shawl woven in the light of a distant star. He settled it gently over the lovers, its gossamer silk caressing their skin so that they smiled in their sleep.
And if his fingers lingered on their smooth skin, sharing in their human warmth for one brief moment--no one would ever know, for the owl would never tell.
XxX
XxX
Credits: Italics indicated quotations from the poem "The Two Trees" by William Butler Yeats, published 1893.
x
Author's Note: (11-13-04) Sleep well, lovers. Oyasumi nasai.
Thank you once again to Ryuen and Purple Mouse for their supreme efforts in beta-reading.
Next time: After almost two and a half years, the conclusion of "Bridge Over the Abyss."
Ja ne,
Roku
