"M...Mori...na...ga…Mori...naga...Morinaga…!"
My name came in breathy pants from his lips, parted and vulnerable. Beads of sweat rolled down his heated cheeks the same way drool trickled from the corners of his mouth. Redness stained his cheeks, and the intensity of summer radiated from his skin. His body twitched and tensed beneath my own, completely open for me to violate to my heart's content. And those eyes...so wide and glazed, simply begging me to touch him. "Take me," they said. "Love me. Own me."
And I did.
I pressed myself against his flowering entrance and leaned down so our foreheads touched. If his body was any hotter I'd have to pull away for fear of burns. Well, even under that threat I probably wouldn't pull away. He was too sensitive—too beautiful for me to leave unsatisfied. That'd be cruel, even if he had dealt me cruelties of his own during our time together.
I cupped his burning cheek and tilted his head toward mine. Our gazes locked, mine directing assurances into his. "You'll be fine," my eyes said. "I'll take care of you."
His eyes softened a little at those reassurances, and I could feel his legs open a bit more. Feeling myself pulse at the action, I filled him in a single thrust. A sharp channel of breath entered his mouth, and his eyes pinched shut. I froze within him. He wasn't in pain; I'd know if he was. His reaction was just the usual initial rush of sensation that came with being entered. And what a wonderful reaction it was.
"I'm in," I murmured tenderly into his ear. "Tell me when I can move."
As much as I wanted to, I didn't mind staying like this. His little moans and whimpers alone could make me come. But he wouldn't do the same. He'd be left unsatisfied; I couldn't allow that. Not when he wanted this so desperately. I'd love him for as long as he wanted me to. All he needed to do was tell me when I could move.
It was subtle, but there was definitely a nod. I pressed a kiss to his ear. He tasted so sweet…
Tentatively I pulled a few inches out of him, then thrust back in gently. He held back for only a moment before releasing all inhibitions. I struck him the way a musician struck the keys on an organ, and I received sounds of various pitches and intensities with each strike. Breathy moans and helpless whimpers poured from him; paired with my heated grunts and pleasured grunts, we created a symphony of euphoria loud enough for the gods to hear.
My inner animal bursting at the seams with desire, I captured his lips in a kiss that I knew would leave him breathless. Whether from exhaustion or submission I did not know, but either way, his mouth drifted open and his head tilted to the side. My tongue invaded his mouth, forcing itself so deep inside that I feared he'd gag. I lathered his tongue in my saliva, sucking and biting his lips until I saw them redden.
He threw his arms around me and held me in place as if I was the only thing keeping him from death. I adjusted the angle of my thrusts so I used his spot to its full potential. His fingers tensed, and I let out a low groan as I felt his nails break open my skin. I could feel the blood flowing, but I didn't care. He was delirious before, but at this point he was lost completely. And so was I. So lost that I could barely remember my name. Then again, how could I forget? That was all he cried out, right next to my ear, drilling it deep into my skull how much he wanted me.
The symphony was approaching climax; I felt it in him and in me. As hastily as I could, I sat up and pulled him into my lap. My vision blurred to the point of near-blindness, I felt my way up his shoulders and to his cheek, which I cupped in a firm grip. I brought his head toward my own and captured his lips in yet another kiss, even more aggressively than I'd attacked him before. As quickly as I'd bombarded him I pulled away…
And he screamed my name so sharply that I thought I heard a window crack.
My intense groan accompanied his screech beautifully, the same way his climax corresponded with my own. My abdomen tensed when his splatter hit me, and his hole clenched around my burst.
The cloud that had brought us so high gently lowered us to reality, where we lay beside one another. His head rested against my chest, and mine sat atop his. I inhaled his scent, still sweat but now tinged with sweat. Unsurprisingly he drifted off a few seconds after calming down, and while I knew I was seconds away from joining him, I couldn't manage to leave this world just yet. His sleeping form was far too lovely. I'd always been called an angel, but now I was fully convinced that the being I held in my arms transcended angels. He had to. There was no other way to explain his beauty. Beauty that I held. No one else. Just me.
From the bottom of my heart I wished that morning would never come.
But it did come, and it came with such a vengeance that I felt as if the air itself assaulted me from all angles. Simultaneously cold numbness and sharp pain lingered around my body, both feelings so intense that I wanted to cry. I would've, too, had I any tears left to cry. I'd drained them all from my system over the past few days. Still I caught myself wanting to cry. And why wouldn't I? The one I loved was going to die today, and I could do nothing to assist.
Not for lack of trying, though. I'd spent the past month poring over law texts, desperately searching for something—anything that I could use to my advantage. I probably would have, too, had some of the texts not been missing from the library. How odd that some of them had disappeared during the exact time period that I wanted them. But it wasn't as if I could accuse Kunihiro directly; I had no way of proving that he was responsible, though I damn well knew he'd at least contributed to the books' disappearances.
So instead I'd tried to seek out different methods. I'd lingered around everywhere from guards to servants, but after about two days of that, it was painfully clear that locks had been placed around their lips. Luckily Kunihiro's ability to monitor me only stretched so far, allowing me ample opportunities to slip into the city. The most logical option was to seek out a judge or lawman, but commoners were an asset heavily underrated. I'd explored taverns, markets—even churches in search of anything that could help. Again, though, no luck. The last option was to seek out help from...unsavory characters. Not only did that go against my personal comforts, however, there were also few who would assist me, given how knowledgeable everyone was of who I was.
It was times like these where I wished that I'd gotten to know my past lovers better; though I hadn't known it at the time, I could've probably manipulated them to do something like this for me. Yes, manipulation wasn't a good thing to do, but there was a life at stake here. A life who couldn't defend himself due to prejudice against his kind.
I was almost tempted to make a disappearance now. It wouldn't be all that difficult. I could just obscure my face and slip away into the city, maybe seek out a few acquaintances that may or may not be willing to accommodate me. I wanted to see him again, but not this way. Not with a noose around his neck and all life drained from his eyes. Or I could just orchestrate the second execution now. Even if it was a dream, at least the last memory I'd have of him would be one of love.
But somehow, even when I was fully prepared to leave this world, I managed to drag myself out of bed, throw decent enough clothes on my body, and trudge my way toward my destination.
In the past I'd never had to attend an execution, nor had I ever wanted to. Anyone willing to watch death of their own volition...I hoped I'd never turn into anything like that. But no matter how much I wanted to deny it, Souichi had killed our father and kept me captive. Arguably this would be the biggest 'show of justice' in my brother's reign, so naturally both Kunihiro and I would have to attend. Little did those attending with us know that there was no 'justice' in this. Not when we didn't know exactly why he'd done what he had.
The dark clouds circling around me must have been bigger than I'd previously thought, for every person that I passed gave me the same concerned look. Some even voiced their concerns, though with improper volume used.
"He looks terrible."
"Is he taking drugs?"
"Think he'll use Captive's Choice?"
"No one's used that in decades."
"He'll probably use a noose. Just look at how depressed he is."
There wasn't any reason to glare at them; the floor and my shoes already bore witness to that. Besides, I'd need to save my bitterness toward Kunihiro. I hated being bitter toward people, but he deserved it. He was my brother, but more and more I'd begun to view him as a stranger. Did he feel the same way about me? Or did he always never see me as a close relative? I knew my romantic preferences had severed ties between us; we were lucky if we had a frayed thread connecting us at this point. Given the past few months' occurrences, though, I couldn't help but doubt that possibly-nonexistent thread's strength.
Nearly blinded by the light shining from the far-too-bright sun, I met Kunihiro on a balcony. He offered scarcely more than a nod of acknowledgment before turning his gaze downward. My eyes followed his. Despite their intended purpose, the palace's gallows mostly stood in storage. Usually prisoners were either beheaded or died from torture wounds before they could be properly executed. But in the case of an 'important' figure being executed, the gallows were dusted off and brought out.
Brought out alongside the simple but menacing wood construction was a crowd that filled the courtyard's stair-like seating—also only brought out when events of importance occurred. Spectators in both silk robes and burlap rags would bear witness to the hanging, though they sat in different sections so as to not 'mix the bloods.' Their backgrounds ranged from illiterate farmers to worldly scholars, from wealthy merchants to poverty-stricken homeless, from those with title to those with anonymity. But they all had one thing in common: all of them wanted Souichi to die.
By the time the guards quieted the crowd, I'd already ceased listening. My gaze fixated on the loop of the noose, and my ears only vaguely picked up the speech Kunihiro was giving. Based on what I did hear, though, it wasn't anything new. "Welcome you here," "great moment in history," "justice," "killed the former king"—and not a single trace of compassion or care.
"...the Silver Assassin will pose no threat to you any longer."
He ceased speaking, and I shifted my gaze to see the crowd clapping for him. Don't clap, I thought. You'll be witnessing a death. That's nothing to celebrate.
Another reason why this world I lived in made me sick—things sad or unfortunate in life were misconstrued into celebrations. Death was equivalent to birth; the 'birth of safety,' as I'd heard it referred to in the past. But this wouldn't change anything. There would still be bandits and assassins and thieves in the world. All this would do was lure everyone into a false sense of safety and security. I hated this place. I hated everything about it. I hated everyone in it.
All at once their heads turned. My stomach churned, and my body tensed. Metal footsteps clanked across the cobbled ground, growing more prominent as they drew nearer. He was there. I knew he was. All this time I'd wanted to see him, but now I couldn't bring myself to seek his gaze. I didn't want my last image of him to be an ugly one…
I turned my head at a snail's speed.
My last image of him wouldn't be ugly.
It'd be harrowing.
Initially his head had been downcast, but a guard had fisted his hand in his stringy, oily hair and forced him to look up. Shades of black, blue, and green surrounded his eyes, open so minimally that I wondered if he could see at all. Dried and fresh blood trickled from his nostrils, and some mixture of blood and vomit had poured from his mouth recently, evidenced by the way it still dripped from his chin. The gag previously silencing him rested loosely around his neck, but even then I could still view the redness marking his skin. A pair of crude undergarments was the only thing that covered him, unwashed for at least two weeks. The lack of clothing allowed me full view of his body, battered worse than any I'd seen in my life. His chest was a canvas of scars and welts, some still bleeding. Scabs as large as beetles dotted his arms, the biggest one nearly as big as a small animal. Green and black in color, the hardened skin secreted a disgusting mix of blood and pus, signaling an intense infection. Among the remnants of torture was filthy skin, through which I could see bone.
A tear fell from my eye the next time I blinked.
"As you all can see, the prisoner has learned suffering over his past month in captivity," Kunihiro continued. It was as if he was speaking about the weather. "His wounds are gruesome, but not nearly as gruesome as the wounds he inflicted upon us years ago through his brutal and mindless assassination." To the one holding Souichi in place, he said, "Proceed."
With a nod, the man practically carried Souichi up to the noose. He looped the rope around his neck, and after tightening it enough for security while allowing him to breathe, he stepped away.
Kunihiro spoke once more, but the only thing I could concentrate on was the gallows. This was it. He was going to die. He was going to die right here, right before me, and I was helpless to assist.
Perhaps he was dead already. His wounds would lead one to believe that, and based on some of the crowd reactions, a few of them did believe that.
Then he looked at me.
His eyelids peeled back just a little more, and the orange-hazel eyes I'd yearned to see came into view. I'd only known anger and bitterness in his gaze, products of both things in my control and things only the gods could decide. But now...now there was fear. Desperation and fear. But more than either of those, there was helplessness. Pleading. Begging.
He didn't want to die—he wasn't ready yet. Even if life had dealt him a shitty hand for the past while, he'd drawn at least one decent card. A flea-sized speck in his eye told me that. He wanted to change. He wanted to make it better. He wanted to redeem himself.
He wanted to live. And he wanted me to break the chains keeping him restrained from that.
But what could I do? There was no way to assist! Not at this point! Kunihiro would overrule anything that I said. The best thing I could do would be stall for time, and all that would do was cause him more suffering. Shit…! Shit, shit, shit…! What the hell was I supposed to do?! I couldn't stop this execution!
And then some otherworldly force struck me across the cheek. The servants earlier...their concern...their comments…
"I call Captive's Choice!"
