This time, the gates of Seimei's house did not open for him. Hiromasa had to shove hard before the door gave even an inch. When he stumbled into the warm dusk-lit garden, he tripped over a crawling vine he was sure had never been there before. The path seemed to have changed its course, too. He found himself splashing through the stream before he regained his sense of direction.
A single light glowed over the veranda. Seimei sat in his usual position against the outside pillar. He wore his hunting costume with a deep violet robe underneath, the silk almost like black water in the shadows. A cup sat before him, his fan folded beside it. He did not move, did not speak: he simply watched Hiromasa approach.
"Seimei, you're home!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Hiromasa wished he could take them back. Such a greeting implied that Seimei hadn't been at home the last time he'd called. He didn't know if Mitsumushi had told Seimei about his previous visit. He hoped not.
He glanced around guiltily; afraid he'd see the discarded under-robe still lying where he'd abandoned it. Of course it wasn't there – the shikigami would have tidied it away. At least, he hoped it had been the shikigami.
"What are you looking for?"
Seimei's voice, deep and sonorous, made Hiromasa jump. "Ah… the sake jug."
"Here." Seimei pushed it forward from its place by his side. He murmured something and another cup appeared in front of Hiromasa's usual place.
Hiromasa sat and poured sake for them both. Seimei's quietness made him feel flustered. He cast about for a topic of conversation, and said lamely, "I hear you've been forecasting the weather."
"For the Chancellor's incense competition." Seimei smiled a little. "He asked me to summon the winter. Imagine that. As if a yin yang master could be so presumptuous as to interfere with nature."
Hiromasa almost spilled his sake. "And you are never presumptuous."
Seimei ignored his own drink and lifted his fan. He played with it, unfolding it with slow, percussive deliberation. "Never," he said lightly. "Unlike you."
This time, Hiromasa choked on the wine. He drew back, slopping the sake over his lap. Guilt spread through him as he realised what Seimei meant. He struggled with his thoughts, not quite ready to discuss what had happened between them. He knew he should broach the subject, but Hiromasa feared his lack of subtlety. The longer he thought about it, the more confused he felt.
Seimei waited, head cocked as if he could hear Hiromasa's inner turmoil. When Hiromasa remained silent, tongue-tied with embarrassment, Seimei gave a tiny sigh.
"Court contests are so tedious." Seimei snapped the fan closed as he returned to the original topic of conversation. He gave Hiromasa a playful, challenging look. "Although perhaps making incense is the ideal use of most noblemen. Spending hours mashing fragrance into stinking dung-coloured balls must be enlightening, especially for His Excellency the Chancellor."
"The Empress," Hiromasa corrected. "The contest is Her Majesty's idea."
"Does the distinction matter?"
"It does, Seimei. It matters very much." The sake ceased to have any appeal. Hiromasa set down his cup. "Maybe it doesn't matter to you, but to those at court… it's our way of life."
The playful expression vanished. "You're right. It doesn't matter to me."
"If you're going to be rude, I will go home," Hiromasa declared.
Seimei lifted his eyebrows in an elegant arch.
Flustered, Hiromasa glanced at the darkening sky. How had he forgotten the lateness of the hour? "Ah," he said. "It's after sunset. The city gates will be closed."
"Such a minor detail didn't stop you last time."
Here was another opening. Hiromasa took a deep breath and prayed he didn't make a fool of himself. "Seimei, about that night…"
His friend held up a hand. "The white chrysanthemum was indication enough. I should have been more gracious in my surrender."
Hiromasa stared. "The white chrysanthemum?"
He remembered picking the flower from the garden; a delicate distraction for his fingers to worry at while he'd attempted to frame a seduction born of nothing more than opportunity and drunken lust. At the time it had been meaningless, but now he recalled that a white chrysanthemum indicated truth. He'd revealed his feelings even before he'd realised them himself.
Seimei smiled. "It's been a long time, and I am accustomed to being alone."
Realisation pierced the fog of Hiromasa's confusion. He'd known at the time that Seimei had been willing enough, but the blank reply to his morning-after poem had made Hiromasa fear the worst. The gnawing sense of guilt he'd been carrying for the past month lifted. Hiromasa groped for words, wishing he could express himself in clever, poetic terms. Instead, all he managed was: "I never meant to hurt you."
"Your avoidance afterwards hurt much more."
Hiromasa groaned. "I'm such a fool."
Seimei didn't contradict him. He spread his fan again, opening it completely. "I know people gossip about me. I don't care if they talk. But it might harm you if they thought we…"
"They already think we're lovers!" Hiromasa burst out. The relief of admitting it made him feel weak, and he leaned against a pillar. "You're not at court enough to hear them. The comments, the whispers, the pointed questions… it's no more than when they're probing about a lady, but when it's about you, I – I don't like it. I can deflect questions about a woman, but I have no experience in avoiding comments about you."
"You can't dissemble." Seimei touched the edge of the fan to his lips. "You don't have the gift for it."
Hiromasa stared at the stiff folds of dark speckled paper against the pale softness of skin and felt the first stirrings of desire. "A man should not lie."
Seimei's smile turned sad. "A clever man will."
"Then I am glad to be stupid!"
"Hiromasa."
Ignoring his friend's tone, Hiromasa splashed more sake into his cup. His hands shook. It was easy for Seimei to be sarcastic. The trait didn't come naturally to Hiromasa. He took a sip of sake, washing away his hurt retort. "Anyway, they can say what they like. Apart from that night, it's not as if it's true. I've hardly seen you recently."
"We saw one another yesterday, at the palace." Seimei stroked his thumb over the fan. He lifted his gaze. "You were watching me."
Hiromasa felt pinned. "I…"
"You wanted me."
Helpless, Hiromasa leaned towards him. His head swam, desire and sake heating his blood. "Yes." The admission was too easy. "But I can't do that at court."
Seimei half-closed the fan. "Of course not. So you do it to Lady Winter Moon or whomever it is you're amusing yourself with now."
The tone was light, but the words rang with jealousy. Scarcely able to believe it, Hiromasa protested, "It's different."
"Yes."
The fan snapped shut. Seimei tossed it onto the floor, watching it clatter amongst a pile of paper dolls.
Hiromasa felt the tension come between them. He shifted uncomfortably, wishing he knew the way to break his friend's reserve. "Seimei…"
"You don't come to see me any more." An indefinable emotion flashed in Seimei's eyes, brilliant and fleeting, a stab in the dark. "It seems that these days, you only come here when you want something."
Hiromasa looked at him and frowned. "That's not true."
Seimei smiled a little, sad and weary. "Isn't it?"
That gave him pause. Hiromasa thought for a moment, counting back all the visits he'd made here in the past few months. Long before the Mid-Autumn Festival, he'd been sent to Seimei on several occasions on behalf of the imperial family or at the request of noblemen who professed themselves too squeamish to call in person upon a yin yang master. Then there was the time when Seimei had repeatedly refused the summons of the Bureau of Divination, until in desperation they'd begged Hiromasa to intervene. And before that, there was the occasion when one of Hiromasa's former lovers had told him that her husband was possessed and would he please ask his mysterious, intriguing friend Lord Seimei to banish the demon…
Hiromasa realised that not once in the past quarter-year had he visited Seimei just for the pleasure of his company. Ashamed of his lapse, he said, "You're right. But you could come and visit me instead."
Seimei wrinkled his nose. "I don't like being inside the city if I can help it."
"Not even to visit me – your friend?"
"Ah, yes. My friend."
Hearing the note of bitterness in Seimei's voice, Hiromasa said, "I don't know why you're so upset."
"Perhaps because, while I'm obliged to work with the Chancellor, I'm reminded daily of how different we are."
It felt like a rebuke rather than an observation. Hiromasa was reminded of Nose, and recalled why he'd come to visit Seimei. He blushed, aware that he'd done it again. He wasn't here to seek his friend's company but to steal something from him in order to win a court contest.
At that moment, Hiromasa felt lower than an insect.
He thought of Nose and her hut amongst the common people outside the city walls. It seemed natural to compare her situation to Seimei's. He'd never considered it before, but now Seimei had remarked on their differences, it seemed obvious.
"We are different," Hiromasa said slowly, still thinking. "But you choose to live outside court life. If you wanted it, you know you'd be made welcome…"
"Ha." Seimei closed his eyes as if bored with the discussion. He leaned back against the pillar with a deep sigh. "And you know I don't want to be part of the court."
"So you live here." Hiromasa waved a hand around him. "Your garden is wild. Your house is filled with arcane things and peculiar spirits. Your estate is neither in the city nor in the countryside. You're noble by birth but also…"
He stopped, too embarrassed to continue.
Seimei gave a gentle chuckle at the pause. "Also…"
"You're a civilised man who doesn't behave in a civilised fashion."
"Ah."
"You're impossible to pin down."
"On the contrary." Seimei opened his eyes and looked at him, apparently guileless. "I am extraordinarily easy to pin down."
"Seimei. Be serious."
"I am." Seimei got to his feet, his shadow falling over Hiromasa. "I'm very serious." He unfastened the collar of his hunting costume and took off his lacquered hat. Both items fell to the floor in a soft heap.
Hiromasa stared at him in silence.
Seimei smiled. "It is cooler indoors."
The interior of the house lay silent, the warmth of the evening air stirred by a gentle breeze from somewhere. Heart pounding, Hiromasa followed Seimei around the screens and curtains to the dais of the bed. Last time he'd been here, it had been dark. Now, although shadows pressed around them, the light from the veranda gave off enough filtered illumination for him to see Seimei's smile.
Seimei murmured something and a lamp flickered into life.
It was too bright. Hiromasa wet his fingers and pinched out the wick, leaving them together in the semi-darkness.
Seimei chuckled. "Suddenly you're shy."
"Yes." Hiromasa's mouth felt dry; his voice sounded husky. "Last time was not the way I'd imagined it."
"Oh?" Seimei faced him, one hand at the neck of his violet robe. The silk looked black in the half-light, Seimei's fingers and throat pale against the cloth. "I'm flattered you'd imagined it at all. I thought you'd acted on a drunken whim."
Hurt, Hiromasa asked, "You think I'm that fickle?" When he received no reply, his spirits plummeted further. "Seimei!"
"I shouldn't tease you." With a soft laugh, Seimei knelt on the sleeping mat. "This time I am quite willing to be seduced."
Self-conscious now, Hiromasa mumbled, "I don't know how."
Seimei looked at him. "You knew how on the last occasion."
"I didn't mean…" Aware he was tangling himself in words at a time when he least needed them, Hiromasa nevertheless tried to explain. "Seimei, you're the first man I've been with since I was a youth. Back then it was curiosity and lust and…"
"And this isn't any of those things?"
The question was gentle, but Hiromasa winced inwardly. He remembered why he'd come here. Seimei offered more than he wanted to take, but the temptation was too great to resist. For the rest of the night he would forget Nose and the contest and life outside this room. Thinking too much had always proved a dangerous pastime. Now he wouldn't think. He would feel and taste and do, and he would let his emotions guide him.
His guilt withered as he looked down. It seemed wrong that Seimei should kneel before him, but Hiromasa remained standing, enjoying the rush of desire brought on by their unequal positions.
"This is…" He stopped, unable to remember what they'd been talking about. "You," he said. "I want you."
An odd expression crossed Seimei's face. Hiromasa had only seen it once before, the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival. Not quite lust and not quite wariness, it was a wholly human look.
"Touch me," said Seimei. He tilted back his head, offering his throat.
Hiromasa stared, unmoving. In the half-light, Seimei's skin seemed paler than the under-robes laid closest to his body. A hesitation, and then Seimei unfastened the sash around his waist. The quadruple layer of silks loosened, revealing more of the column of his neck. He shifted his shoulders back, the robes slipping to circle his upper arms.
Now Hiromasa wished for the lamp's brilliance. He wanted to see Seimei without distraction. The play of twilight and shadow teased him. It wasn't enough to look. Hiromasa wanted to touch, to taste, to cover himself in Seimei's scent.
He knelt, feeling the hardness of the floor through the bedding. Seimei waited for him, motionless. Only his breathing betrayed his need, a soft, rapid whisper between parted lips.
This time, Hiromasa wanted to be gentle. He touched Seimei's knees, slid his fingers the length of his thighs and caught hold of the loosened sash. He pulled, and Seimei swayed towards him. Hiromasa murmured, perhaps in reassurance, perhaps in love, and pressed a kiss to the side of Seimei's neck where it curved into his shoulder.
Seimei gasped, the sound loud in the silence.
Hiromasa let the kiss draw out as he tasted Seimei's flesh. He felt Seimei shudder, felt the heat rise to warm his pale skin. Hiromasa used his teeth, almost biting, then licked at the tender flesh. He urged Seimei closer and kissed his throat between the parted layers of silk. He lingered there, his lips kiss-forming words he couldn't bring himself to say aloud.
Seimei whimpered, his head going back to offer more. Hiromasa pushed the violet robe down from Seimei's shoulders, catching the under-layers of white and light blue silk together. The fabric rustled as it twisted around Seimei's arms, trapping him.
Hiromasa licked along the line of Seimei's collarbone then traced down his chest. Seimei's skin tasted different here, delicate then solid. His scent, so elusive at his throat, grew stronger. Hiromasa nuzzled after it, wanting to taste it. He licked at Seimei's nipples, feeling them harden into peaks on his tongue; then dipped lower.
Still on his knees, Seimei bent backwards until his head touched the bedding, his body arched and vulnerable. His scent deepened, mixing with the stronger smell of arousal. Hiromasa chased it, sliding his tongue around and into Seimei's navel. He pushed aside the trailing silks to expose the rest of his body, pale and warm and beautiful.
Hiromasa hesitated, aware that he was still fully clothed. He tore at the ties of his hakama and shoved the silk down to his knees; snatched off his court cap and tossed it aside, then resumed feasting on Seimei's body.
The scent had changed again. Hiromasa felt Seimei tremble, his thighs and belly taut as he tilted his hips upwards in wanton invitation.
Hiromasa lowered his head and whispered kisses over Seimei's damp skin. He felt shy, conscious that he hadn't done this for many years. He nuzzled at Seimei's cock and felt it jerk in response. Hiromasa licked it, guided by instinct and the desire to please. He wanted Seimei to enjoy this; wanted to make amends for his greedy thoughtlessness the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival.
Seimei made a pleading noise when Hiromasa slid his tongue around the tip of his cock. The sound became a groan as Hiromasa parted his lips and took him in deep.
Hiromasa slipped his arms beneath Seimei, holding him as he collapsed backwards slowly. His legs splayed until he laid flat, his silks snarled around him. Hiromasa stayed with him, on him, keeping him in his mouth, sucking and tasting.
He felt drenched in scent: heat and musk and sweat and Seimei. Hiromasa let Seimei's cock slide free of his lips and nuzzled at the base of it, his tongue curving through glossy curls of hair to nudge at his balls. He moved lower, searching out taste as the scent became earthy and secretive.
"No," gasped Seimei. "Hiromasa…"
Hiromasa retreated and turned him onto his front. Seimei mewled and fought at the tangle of his clothes, trapped in the silken folds. As he struggled, Hiromasa sat back on his heels. Lust made him impatient. He seized Seimei and dragged him onto his lap, his thighs spread wide by Hiromasa's knees.
The layered robes twisted and knotted between them. Hiromasa pulled him closer, Seimei's back pressed to his chest. Seimei's breath caught, his body heaving under Hiromasa's splayed hands. Hiromasa caressed the length of his torso, gathering the under-robe and drawing it across to cover Seimei's nakedness.
Holding him in place with one hand, Hiromasa wrapped the other around Seimei's cock and stroked it through the thin layer of glossed white silk. Tension built, sharp and aching. Hiromasa felt the silk dampen around his fingers, felt the hard, hot thrust of Seimei's cock.
Seimei hung his head and made a desperate sound. Hiromasa squeezed him, knowing the sensual torment of silk rubbed roughly over sensitive flesh. His own erection pulsed beneath his clothes, his body tight with need. Soon he'd free himself and plunge into Seimei, but for now he concentrated on sensation – on Seimei's body writhing in his embrace, his helpless gasps and the sour-sweet scent of sex.
With a shudder, Seimei broke apart and came. Hiromasa felt the wet heat of his seed spill through the under-robe and slide down Seimei's belly. He stroked him again, catching the aftershock, then gathered their robes together.
Silk and brocade lifted and parted to reveal naked skin. Hiromasa pulled Seimei back against him. His erection brushed the taut softness of Seimei's inner thighs. Hiromasa smeared his palm with semen and saliva, and stroked it over his cock.
"Now," he said, and thrust up as Seimei sank down.
Seimei hissed, muscles flexing to accommodate his full length. He raised and lowered, slow at first and then faster, catching a rhythm pleasing to them both.
Hiromasa gasped, lost in tight heat and the basic, brutal urge to fuck. He twisted his right hand in the trailing silk of the violet robe and hauled him closer. "Seimei," he growled. "Is this good? Will you scream for me like last time?"
Seimei half gasped, half chuckled. "Don't wake Mitsumushi."
Hiromasa put his free hand over Seimei's mouth. He felt sharp teeth and a lick of saliva as Seimei bit him. In retaliation, he kissed the back of Seimei's neck. The skin was sweet there, warm and vulnerable. Hiromasa tasted the sweat-damp tendrils of hair and thrust his tongue against the soft skin, tracing along Seimei's hairline.
He felt Seimei tremble; heard him make a tiny noise of compliance, a sound animal and frantic. It spurred him on, made him vicious, and he thrust hard enough to make Seimei groan with pleasure.
"Now," Hiromasa said again. "Together."
A long time afterwards, when they both lay naked amidst flurries of silk and brocade, Seimei asked, "Why have you been avoiding me?"
Hiromasa pressed close, feeling their bodies stick together with sweat. He licked the back of Seimei's neck. "Because of this," he answered honestly. "Because I don't know what I'm doing with you, and yet I can't do without you."
He waited for a sarcastic response. To his surprise, Seimei remained quiet. Only when the silence between them spun out into a kind of pain did Seimei speak.
"Does it feel so wrong?"
"No. That's the problem." Hiromasa moved away enough to stroke the line of Seimei's back. "I like women, but I…"
Seimei turned his head, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. "What?"
"Nothing." Hiromasa felt himself blush. "I should be more decisive. I should choose one way or the other."
"You can have both. Plenty of men do. Women, too." Seimei yawned, as delicate as a cat. "You don't have to choose."
"It seems unstable to me. Wouldn't you rather have something definite?"
"What I want is immaterial."
"No, it's not." Hiromasa lay back with a sigh. Accustomed to the ready chatter of women after sex, Seimei's questions – so simple to answer and yet so difficult – taxed him at a time when he didn't want to think. Now conscious of their nakedness, he rearranged the discarded robes, covering them to the waist.
They lay in silence. Hiromasa wished he could sleep, but was troubled by the thought of what he had to do in the morning. The conversations he'd stumbled through earlier rang around his head until he was prompted to ask, "Why do I always have to come to you?"
Seimei sounded sleepy. "Because it's too hard for me to come to you."
"I don't understand." Hiromasa frowned into the darkness. "It's just like you to be… wilfully perverse about this."
"Ah. But we follow the standard pattern, do we not? The lover goes to his beloved. The beloved waits in shadows, behind screens and walls."
"You're not like that."
Seimei made a noise of agreement, or it could have been of disagreement: Hiromasa couldn't tell. He waited, hoping for more, but Seimei was silent, though not yet asleep.
"I don't know what you want from me."
"And I'm afraid of what I want from you."
Hiromasa heard the note of longing in Seimei's voice. It startled him, made him feel small and panicked as well as warm and confident. He knew Seimei cared about him, but he hadn't realised it went as far as this.
"You can't be afraid." Hiromasa rolled onto his side and drew Seimei closer. He muffled his voice against the curve of Seimei's neck. "You know everything."
Seimei gave a soft, amused sound. "Not quite everything. Some things will always be a mystery."
