~ Oneshot Collection: Loved ~

To The Victor


After so many wars – wars with armies and with great warriors, wars with pride and with accepted social standards, wars of violence and destruction and the failure of great power - after all that, it was a war of innocence that seemed like it would defy Masamune's power.

After all – how could he claim victory if his rival wasn't even aware of the battle? Every single sally was met with ignorance – moments of closeness when the sparred, long exchanges of unsubtle glances – it had begun as cute, this ignorance, cute and irresistible...but now...

Now, Date Masamune wanted Sanada Yukimura, and could not for the life of him understand how someone – anyone - could be that naïve. It was as if the feelings recently admitted between them, the acknowledgment of love, had dropped a barrier in the younger man's mind that prevented further closeness.

When flirting produced no results, when teasing was turned aside without effort, without even, it seemed, notice, Masamune found himself staring two possibilities directly in the face – a disconcerting thing to do with only one eye. Either there was something about himself that was off-putting to Yukimura, something that eliminated all want -

Or Yukimura was just so naïve, so bashful in his desire, that unless Masamune took a far more direct approach than he was used to, it was likely they would spend the rest of their lives circling around each other, never more passing between them than words, caressing each other only with lovely blades.

And there were so many more things Masamune wanted to do to Yukimura -

It had been three months since they had won their final battle, nine weeks since they had brought their nations to peace – six, since the usual battle had led to a most unusual confession.

My confession...

Even now, the thought brought a smile to his face. The clash of blades – six swords, two spears, and two hearts beating in time; the flush on Yukimura's face, his parted lips, the lithe and dancing movements of his body as they battled; the challenge in that laughing voice as the point of Yukimura's spear drew a thin line of blood from Masamune's chest in the spot where his haori gaped open as he moved.

"What's got you so distracted today, Dokuganryu?"

The answer had come out of him effortlessly, as if it had been planned.

"I'm in love with you, Red."

Yukimura's reaction had been priceless; his surprise had gained Masamune his first and – so far - only kiss from the Cub of Kai.

"Oh – oh is that what...I'm feeling?"

Those words escaping Yukimura drew Masamune on, gave him hope, made him think that shy inexperience alone was holding Yukimura back.

If shyness was all - it wouldn't last long, not in his warrior boy.

If shyness was all, he would break through it before the night was over.

I will go to him while he is bathing tonight – I will give him every opportunity to get away, to change his mind...and when he doesn't, when there is nothing for him to say but yes...

"You're going to be all mine, Red. All mine..."


Yukimura had been unprepared from the beginning.

The violence, that he had understood – but anything else, even coming from Masamune, met a barrier of ignorance and naiveté made thick by a lifelong devotion to training and battle and power. The confession he had received, the kiss that had been stolen from him – even his own words, emotion startled out of him...he didn't understand.

Or rather, he understood, but the way to express that understanding was beyond him. He did not know how, did not even know how to ask...and in trying to figure it out he only managed to second guess himself into a metaphorical corner.

Now, six weeks into this strange cohabitation with his...could he call Masamune his rival, still? They fought, but in fun, and not as much lately – not since Masamune had trespassed with those terrible, wonderful words.

"I'm in love with you, Red."

He sat in the bath, head leaning back against his shoulders, eyes closed; he was an image of calm, but his thoughts were in turmoil.

Even that I messed up. I should've had something good to say – I should've at least told him...I love him, too. Not asked, not stupidly stuttered, told.

His cheeks brightened to a dusky rose at just the thought, the fantasy.

If I had, would he have taken more than just a kiss, or more than one?

The taste of Masamune's lips was burned indelibly into Yukimura's brain – sweat, sake, lightning. Equally indelible were the imprints of heat on his chin and chest where Masamune's hands had lingered, waking a shiver of desire that bloomed in awkward moments, becoming a wracking seizure of want.

I should go to him, tell him I want...something. Go to him tonight, and make him tell me what it is I'm supposed to do now – why he doesn't do anything else – why he hasn't come to me. But then he might laugh in my face – or not open his door – or send Kojuurou out to send me away.

If he had been able to interpret the promise of Masamune's constant gaze, he would not have had a single doubt – if weeks of casual touches and tongue-touching-lips moments had made an impression on him, he would have known everything he needed...

But Yukimura was not aware, did not comprehend, and so he groaned and slid completely into the bath, staring up at the slat roof of the onsen through rippling water.

Maybe it would be easier to just stay down here.

He contemplated the benefits of drowning – namely, avoiding this entire awkward situation - for an entire fifteen seconds. Then his vision of the ceiling was obscured by a flash of cloth, a double flicker of ivory silk and then blue, and Yukimura came up out of the water sputtering and shocked, his eyes wide.

Masamune stood in front of him, naked except for the fundoshi tied around his hips, the fundoshi that nimble fingers were swiftly, casually untying.

Water dripped from Yukimura's hair and down his body, pooled in his navel and beaded on his skin. He had no idea, not even the slightest clue, of the picture he presented to Masamune. Masamune's eye had caught on the wicked slant of Yukimura's hipbones, angled just so above the water, drawing his gaze down, down, down...

And then up, up across the glistening, well-defined outline of each muscle in Yukimura's abdomen, Yukimura's, chest – up, over fawn-brown nipples and smooth, tempting collarbone and flushed, slender throat.

Masamune drew in a deep, heavy breath, and licked his lips. Arousal burned in him, a fire as hot as Yukimura's fighting fury; it was a spear that stabbed him, reached the heart his rival's weapon had sought but never reached in battle. And he saw an answering response, an equal reaction, on Yukimura's face – saw all the ignorance and confusion shocked out of him in one moment, as Masamune dropped his fundoshi to the floor and stood naked and unashamed.

Yukimura's eyes traced a similar path to the one Masamune's had followed. The trek his eyes made was uninhibited by anything – he found himself devouring the look of hard lines in limbs and movement, the smooth dips of abdominal muscles leading his gaze downward.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of Masamune's rigid erection, hard flesh drawn taut and throbbing against his belly; he looked up, quickly, saw that Masamune's eye was roving across his skin, but always turned toward that one spot.

Masamune's steely gaze left a smoking line of lightning on his skin, sent a tingle of pleasure striking inward to his loins; his right hand wrapped loosely around the turgid flesh and slowly, shuddering with the new intensity of sensation that was Yukimura's eyes on him, Masamune engaged in an open and blissful act of self-pleasure.

Yukimura licked his lips, felt his mouth go dry. Inside him was a blaze, a bonfire, a heat as great as the sun's and growing.

The softest of moans escaped Masamune's lips.

Tentatively, Yukimura mirrored Masamune; his hand slipped down and grasped his erection, copied the movement he had seen Masamune make.

Pleasure -

"Oh – oh – oh -"

With three swift steps and a splash he was in the water with Yukimura, submerged up to his thighs. His mouth trapped silence, claimed Yukimura's lips, and then moved to his throat, his neck, the smooth, tanned skin of his chest, the brown, tight points of his nipples.

His voice was hot and sharp in Yukimura's ear; his breath was cool and soft.

"You've kept me waiting so long, Love."

"I didn't – I don't – its -"

"Your first time – yes. I will show you everything -"

A low, groaning cry spilled out of Yukimura's throat as he felt the extraordinary same-but-difference of Masamune's hands on him, replacing his own - as he heard the rough, restrained desire in Masamune's voice.

"Touch me, Love."

With one hand, Masamune guided Yukimura's fingers to his erection, let out a shudder of breath as an eager, inexperienced hand explored smooth skin and pulsing heat, found a slow rhythm that was a tender torment. He matched Yukimura movement for movement, his eyes locked on the parted lips, the rapidly rising and falling chest, the rising, spreading flush of rosy color beneath his skin.

He knew the moment when Yukimura's climax was unstoppable – he saw it, spread beautiful and open on those precious features, felt it in the sudden tightening of his muscles, the sharp, indrawn breath and bucking, thrusting hips -

And then Yukimura took Masamune's word, a word whose meaning he knew only by instinct, and let it pour out of him with the hot, tight rush of pleasure.

"Love, Love, Love, Love, Love -"

It was the sweetest sound Masamune had ever heard.


Prompt: Middles

Premise: First Time (Yukimura's unbelievably enduring and endearing naiveté).

A/N: Mostly just fluff, and smut...but I do like that combination :D It's also fun playing with Masayuki, as always. Keeping the hardcore smutz aside for later, you see...don't want to break poor little Yuki's brain :p