AN: Hi guys! Another few and far between update. Thank you so much for reading and sticking with this. It will eventually be finished, I promise.

If anyone is interested, I published two books of a YA Fantasy trilogy inspired by Fushigi Yuugi! It's called "Saga of Light and Shadow" book one is "Light and Shadow" and book two is "Double-Edged Sword" by TJ Russavage. They're available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited and I would love more reviews there and on Goodreads to help boost visibility.

Art of Love

Red Courage

Chapter 22

Miaka panted, still trapped beneath Nuriko's solid form. The man hadn't moved since they'd collapsed together—his limbs limp and akimbo on either side of her, his cheek pressed against hers. Miaka smiled, realizing it was perhaps the most relaxed she'd ever seen him. He breathed heavily as he recovered, his breath stirring her hair.

Nuriko untied her with one hand, flinging the ropes over the side of the bed. Miaka sagged into the covers in a boneless puddle as he collapsed dramatically on top of her, his length still buried firmly inside. "I think…" he gasped into her neck, "you've killed me."

"Are you admitting defeat?" Miaka laughed, lightly stroking his violet locks and back. After holding back for so long, after giving himself to help his brother Seishi and Miaka, he deserved every ounce of contentment and peace she could give him.

He'd been so afraid of hurting her, and Miaka had taken great pleasure in proving he didn't have to worry about that with her. She'd never been one to take his attitude lying down in the first place, and he'd made his penchant for tying others up clear almost from day one. The idea he might behave the same way in the bedroom was a bit of a no brainer.

She was a little surprised at how much she'd enjoyed herself though! It was an effortless thing to play into Nuriko's moods and attitude, allowing him to be the aggressor while simultaneously giving him as much guff as possible.

Finally, Nuriko grumbled, arching against her with a groan to press himself against her needily. His eyes fluttered open and he peered down at her with a purr. "Satisfied?"

Miaka playfully pushed him away, groaning as the motion forced his member out with a flood of wetness and a teasing drag against her oversensitive flesh. "Very! I don't know if I'll be able to walk straight for a week!"

Nuriko rolled with the movement, flopping next to her with a hand on his chin. "If the rest of us have our way, you won't be doing much walking after the ceremony anyway."

Wide eyed, Miaka fought the familiar blush creeping into her cheeks. "What makes you say that?" She hadn't directly spoken to Nuriko about her idea, despite the fact he was likely the most open to the idea.

He shot her a droll look. "Miaka, do you really think any of us are going to be able to let you go after this? Even if you hadn't brought it up to the others first, I sure as hell would have." He smirked at her triumphantly.

"Nuriko!" Miaka launched herself at him, clinging to his chest with relieved sobs. "I think out of everyone, you understand me the best."

"Of course, I do. That's why I'm your favorite." Nuriko's tone was joking, but his hold on her was possessive. "Don't worry, I won't tell the others." He paused. "Well. Maybe just Tasuki."

Miaka sniffled through her giggles. "I never knew it was possible to love so many people at once." Each of them was her favorite in their own special way, fulfilling a different need and aspect of Miaka. "Not like this."

"But it feels right, doesn't it?" Nuriko murmured into her hair, pressing himself close, as though he were trying to crawl inside her.

And Miaka would let him. She would let all of them. She never wanted to be apart from any of them, ever again. "It does."

Nuriko and Miaka eventually managed to make it to the adjoined bathroom to shower—Nuriko pouting fiercely when Miaka abandoned him to settle into her purifying ritual in her own bathroom.

She was surprised to discover it was dinner time once she left the strangely timeless space of Nuriko's blacked-out room. She'd become accustomed to doing so in the mornings, but so long as the purification happened between her coupling with one Seishi and the next, it really didn't matter.

Once they were both clean and settled into fresh clothes, they scrounged up a sumptuous high-calorie spread of leftovers from the fridge. Nuriko also was not shy about breaking into the remaining stash of champagne and cuddling with Miaka on the couch watching mindless television until it was so late it was early.

Having napped for part of the afternoon and hyped up on sugar, the two were still wide awake when the rest of the Seishi returned home.

The four of them clattered through the front door with an impressive amount of noise, Chichiri shushing them entirely too loudly.

"Aw c'mon Chiri. I'm sure Nuriko tired her out. No one's gonna hear ush," Tasuki slurred, staggering into the living room with the help of the equally sloshed Monk.

"Yes, please remember, this house echoes," Hotohori clutched the wobbly form of the youngest Seishi protectively against his side.

Chiriko giggled, slapping the former emperor on the chest. "Yer such a good friend Hori."

Hotohori grimaced at the nickname. In Japanese the R's and L's were almost interchangeable, but Chiriko insisted on leaning more towards the hard R rather than the L, thinking himself the epitome of humor. "Indeed. Just wait until I cash in on my good karma."

"Would you say you're a Holy Terror?" Tasuki cackled at his own joke. "I'm sure that's a Hori-fying experience."

Hotohori groaned, chastising the youngest Seishi as he half carried him further into the house. "See what you started, Chiriko? I have half a mind to let you suffer the consequences of every single drink you've had tonight on the bathroom floor."

"Aw, give the kid a break!" Tasuki pleaded. "It's funny!"

"Only because it's not your name!" Hotohori glowered, catching sight of Nuriko and Miaka on the couch and schooling his features into a semblance of refinement.

Limbs and tongue loosened by the sweet alcohol they'd been ingesting at a generous rate, Nuriko and Miaka uncurled themselves to pounce upon the returning Seishi, squealing in unison, "Welcome home!"

"Miaka!" Chiriko brightened at the sight of his Priestess, lurching from Hotohori's side—or trying to and dragging the former Emperor with him—to snag Miaka with his free arm and settle his weight onto her with a purr. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too!" Miaka affectionally ruffled Chiriko's hair as Hotohori apologetically supported Chiriko's staggering weight by wrapping an arm around Miaka and forming a lazy tripod.

Nuriko snorted at the sight they made. It wasn't their fault they didn't know Miaka could've handled Chiriko on her own. "Come in! Have a seat, guys!" Nuriko gestured to the unoccupied seats in the living room.

"Are you sure?" Chichiri frowned, casting a glance around the room as though curious why Nuriko was being so generous.

"We wouldn't want to intrude." Hotohori glanced down at Miaka, who was nodding vigorously, managing to slosh a bit of champagne from the flute still in her hand.

"If we didn't want you here, we wouldn't have asked!" Her cheeks glowed with the effects of alcohol. "Let's play a card game! Anyone know how to play poker?"

Of course, regular poker soon devolved into strip poker with the influence of a drunken bandit and an encouraging Nuriko. To be fair, Miaka's memory was a little fuzzy on which one of them had made the suggestion at this stage. It might've even been Chiriko? The college student wasn't nearly as innocent as he came off at times.

It didn't take long before she and her Seishi were in various states of undress, giggling in a pleasant haze of alcohol and mutual trust even as they tried to annihilate each other in the game.

Chiriko had sobered up considerably, but not before he was down to his pants and underwear. Likewise, Miaka was wearing her oversized t-shirt and panties. Tasuki was down to only his underwear, despite being a decent bluffer and possibly cheating once or twice. The three of them were no match for a literal politician, the man known for wearing a mask at all times, and someone who'd hidden their identity for over half their life.

Hotohori, Chichiri, and Nuriko were each missing random items of clothing, but were clearly winning. Tasuki was the first to lose, followed quickly by Miaka and Chiriko. And while everyone took a moment to ogle the losers, they were much more interested in defeating each other. So while Miaka, Chiriko, and Tasuki dressed, the other three battled it out.

Ensconced between Chiriko and Tasuki on the 'loser's couch,' Miaka made herself comfortable in the crook of Tasuki's shoulder, Chiriko's head pillowed on her lap as they watched the battle of the century unfold.

Chichiri lost next—this was the first time he'd ever played and he managed to mix up whether Ace's were high or low. He didn't seem all that disappointed though, quietly dressing and relegating himself to the arm of the couch near Tasuki, one hand reaching around his friend's shoulder to rest momentarily atop Miaka's head and stroke her hair.

Miaka smiled at the small but telling touch, pleased that they were slowly managing to figure out how this impossible situation could work in the future.

The following battle was intense. Nuriko and Hotohori seemed to take turns—each of them losing a game and an article of clothing or two until they finally faced off wearing nothing but designer silk boxers.

As riveting as Miaka found this exchange, Chiriko was clearly dozing, an occasional snore jolting him awake before he drifted off again.

Tasuki was deeply invested, muttering encouragements and gesturing wildly with the hand not wrapped around her shoulders as he exchanged commentary with Chichiri over the best battle strategy—Never mind this was the first time either had played!

Their commentary continued, drawing unwitting laughter from the participants and Miaka alike until the final hand. The tension in the room swirled, making Miaka sweat as Tasuki leaned forward in anticipation. Chichiri's hand stilled on the back of her neck, where he'd been casually stroking her.

It all came down to this.

Nuriko held his cards to his mouth, gazing over them wickedly with a devious laugh, "Oh-ho-ho-ho! You ready to lose, Your Majesty?"

Hotohori raised an eyebrow, his face still flushed but his words were clear. "You sound rather sure of yourself, Nuriko."

"I am."

Golden eyes narrowed as he assessed his friend and comrade, firmly lying down his cards in self-assured triumph. "Two pair."

Chichiri let out a low appreciative whistle. "Excellent job, Your Highness." Tasuki tensed, forcing Miaka to sit up, struggling not to disturb Chiriko as he turned his face into her stomach with a sleepy grumble.

Nuriko's eyes widened, flashing to meet Hotohori's confident gaze defiantly. "That is good, Your Majesty." His expression darkened wickedly as he laid his cards down with a flourish, arcing them gracefully across the polished wood of the table. "But just not good enough. In your honor… a Royal Flush."

"No way!" Tasuki lurched forward, knocking Miaka over in his excitement. She laughed it off, curling around Chiriko's head to protect him as the movement sent the youngest Seishi crashing to the floor. He woke with a jolt, sitting up and looking around in confusion.

Hotohori gaped, the bridge of his nose flushing a deeper shade of red as he leaned forward over the table to inspect the cards. "How?"

"You should know better than to think you could outbluff me, Your Majesty." Nuriko smirked, leaning back on his hands to survey the former Emperor. "Now come on. Off with it!"

His sentiment was echoed by Miaka, who was too tipsy to have much of a filter left, and Tasuki, who clapped a hand over his mouth in embarassment. Chichiri and Chiriko snickered while Miaka laughed and poked Tasuki in the ribs before turning her attention back to Hotohori.

"If I must." Sighing, Hotohori stood, playfully tugging at the elastic of his boxers while Nuriko stared up at him like the cat that caught the canary. When the boxers finally dropped to the floor the room erupted in admiring shouts and whistles that had Hotohori striking several poses to elicit more.

Nuriko swooned, falling dramatically onto the floor fanning himself, "Can he just live like that? I don't think anyone would mind. Do you?"

Receiving his fill of praise, Hotohori retrieved his undergarments with great dignity amidst the continued fanfare. His still drunk and adoring audience only stopped when he flopped unceremoniously into the space Chiriko had vacated, the motion flinging Miaka right against his still bare chest.

Miaka shook her head at their antics, but couldn't deny she agreed. "I suppose I could make it some sort of decree," she added playfully, tracing a pattern on his chest with a finger, pulling back when Hotohori's eyes darkened fiercely and Nuriko bit his lip with a whine. "It's only right that I should be surrounded by beautiful naked men who will worship me from on high from now on."

There were several scandalized shouts of "Miaka!" and riotous laughter—because they knew she was kidding.

Mostly.

Chiriko let out an ear-splitting yawn just as Nuriko reached over and grasped Miaka's wrist, pulling her from the couch and Hotohori to lie overtop of him on the floor. "I believe you're still technically mine until morning." He grinned cheekily up at her and his fellow warriors.

There was some good-natured grumbling and a pillow tossed at Nuriko's face. Grinning, he shoved it under his head, wrapping his arms around Miaka and curling up with her at Hotohori's feet. Chiriko was already asleep, his back pressed to Nuriko's while Tasuki and Chichiri jostled for the remaining couch space.

This was it. Heaven on Earth.

Morning was going to come entirely too quickly.

Tamahome sucked in a deep breath as he eyed the front door of the manor.

Today was the day.

He knocked politely, waiting to be let in. He'd been radio silent since the night before last in order to tie up loose ends at work. Being a salaryman meant no one respected your time, so it didn't matter he was supposed to be off. Luckily, he'd been able to depend on his fellow Seishi to take care of things with Miaka and planning for the end of the ceremony.

A frown wrinkled his brow when the door remained closed and he knocked again, unable hear anything from inside.

How odd.

Hotohori and Chichiri were early risers. Surely something was wrong!

Hopefully, everything had gone all right with Chiriko and Nuriko. He'd been far enough away the tug and pulse of their chi hadn't been too bothersome and he'd been able to do what needed to be done. Guilt at not having been a better friend and Seishi flooded him as he tested the doorknob and the door easily swung open.

Sated waves of chi tickled his senses as he cautiously stepped into the entryway, closing the door behind him and setting his duffel bag down. Nuriko's usually massive energy signature was reduced to a low pulse, similar to everyone else but…

"Miaka?"

Her chi was calm, but in the way the ocean might look calm on the surface, disguising untold depths and power.

Tamahome wandered further inside, moving towards the living area and stopping cold.

What had happened here?

Memories of his intrusive daydream came flooding to the forefront of his mind as he took in the tableau before him.

Clothes were everywhere.

Miaka was dead asleep on the floor in front of the couch, her face pressed to a pillow as she hugged it to her. Nuriko spooned her, their limbs hopelessly entangled, his face tucked into the space between her neck and shoulder.

The couch was a jumble of bodies and limbs; Tasuki and Chichiri lay back-to-back, companionably sharing one end of the couch while Hotohori was poised precariously on the cushion's edge, one hand trailing down to grasp Nuriko's hair and the other curled under his own chin.

And all of them were hardly dressed.

Before Tamahome had too much time to think about it, a tousled mop of hair rose from behind Nuriko's back as Chiriko sat up and rubbed his eyes. He must have made some sort of sound, because the youngest Seishi turned to look at him with a bleary grin. "Mernin' Tama."

"What in Suzaku's name happened last night?" He couldn't help but gape, doing his best to push the images from the other day from his thoughts.

Surely, there must be an explanation for this.

Chiriko frowned, confusion clouding his face as he surveyed the living room. Taking in the semi-unclothed state of everyone, he flushed and scratched the back of his head with a nervous laugh. "Nuriko and Miaka were still up when we got back so we played strip poker."

Tamahome's gaze snagged on smaller details, the empty champagne flutes, various plastic cups, and the incriminating set of cards, the winning hands still laid out on the coffee table. A fierce sense of having been left out slammed into him, but he fought it down, instead asking, "Who won?"

"Nuriko defeated His Majesty at the last minute with a Royal Flush!" Chiriko reported keenly, his eyes brightening at the memory as he quietly extricated himself from the sliver of space between Nuriko and the couch without waking anyone. "I'm sure you'll win the next time we play!"

"Next time." Tamahome's chest relaxed. Of course, there would be a next time. He wasn't being left behind or left out. Meeting Chiriko's bright gaze with his own he agreed, "You bet."

"Good morning!" The door banged open suddenly as Mitsukake let himself in, setting down a large yellow suitcase with a resounding thud that echoed loudly in the foyer.

Chichiri yelped, disappearing in a puff of smoke and startling Tasuki who sat up with a screech, "What? What? I'm up!"

His flailing legs immediately booted Hotohori off the couch and onto Nuriko and Miaka, his grip in the violet tresses tightening and yanking the other Seishi's head back roughly as his larger frame and wild bed head covered both.

"Hotohori?!" Miaka gasped, nearly drowning out Nuriko's soft purr of "Harder daddy" that Tamahome desperately wished he could unhear even as a bolt of desire shot through him.

Instead of immediately scrambling away, Hotohori stared down at them, transfixed.

Suddenly realizing where he was and that he had an audience, Hotohori released Nuriko's hair and sprang to his feet, "Apologies!" extending a hand and pulling Miaka to her feet as well.

Nuriko chuckled, standing and shaking out his hair with a grin. "Don't be sorry."

Golden eyes widened and Hotohori looked away, "What time is it?" He spotted Tamahome and Mitsukake who were both now staring at a point above everyone's heads. Glancing up, he realized Chichiri was clinging to the chandelier in chibi form.

"Daaaaaaa," The monk intoned weakly, releasing his grip on the light fixture to land safely in Miaka's arms. "That's what I call a wake-up call."

To be continued…

Authors Notes: I am officially a published author now! Please check out "The Saga of Light and Shadow" books 1 and 2 "Light and Shadow" and "Double-Edged Sword" by T.J. Russavage. They are YA Fantasy, so no spice, but they were inspired heavily by Fushigi Yuugi, Inu-Yasha, and other anime, so I would think anyone reading this would enjoy them! It's available on Amazon and KU.