Across Lands: Chapter 9 [PART 1]
Title: Across Lands
------> Chapter 9, PART 1
Author: Aquarius Galuxy
Fandom: Power Stone
Pairing: Ryoma/Rouge
Fiction type: Fanfiction, prose (can be treated as original fiction)
Genre: Erotica, Romance, Adventure (in that order)
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 12,192 (5-6k words for part 1)
Summary: When the threads of fate entangle a fortune teller and a samurai, lives and priorities are changed. An inevitable journey across the lands awaits, filled with hazards and defeat, along with a spontaneous attraction that deepens into something more.
Author's Notes: Another of my favourite chapters. I don't know how an est. 6k words could expand to 12k. -_- Wrote half of it yesterday, omg.
Buried deep in the outskirts of Mutsu was the Akudo Dojo, hidden in the midst of a thick bamboo forest and a spread of evergreen trees. The only means of accessing the school was a narrow dirt path, which was wound around gurgling streams and a small hill. A medley of birdcalls and cricket chirps saturated the length of the trail as the heat of mid-morning settled into the air. All these were lost on the lone figure making his way along the route, his raven gaze fixed on the path ahead of him.
It was the tenth day of their sojourn in Mutsu. If he thought back on it, Ryoma would say that it was the most pleasant period of recuperation and training he had ever experienced. His days always began with the sight of Rouge curled up against him on the single futon they shared, followed by a slow morning kiss, and breakfast together in the communal dining room. Paid errands were done shortly after that, stretching into mid-morning, when he would commence a long run around the town, and end his practice off by training with his swords. Rouge usually dropped by then with a glass of fruit juice to quench his thirst.
As if his days had not been progressing sufficiently well, Yuka always invited them over for lunch, slipping the obligatory teasing remark into their conversations in a way that made him wonder how she knew so much about him and Rouge. Errands and more sword practice occupied his afternoons, peppered by visits from the fortune teller, who never ceased to have a fruit or drink on hand for him. Dinners were spent introducing Rouge to the various dishes available in the Moonland town, including the large variety of soups and noodles he loved.
Their nights were arguably the best parts of their days. On a few occasions, Ryoma brought Rouge a little way into the outskirts of the town to show her the fireflies that glowed bright green. Her fascinated stares had been far more alluring than the bugs themselves; he doubted she was aware of how he had been watching. The baths at the inn were segregated by gender - he took his alone, with mingling thoughts of Rouge and training that he didn't find as distracting as before. She looked odd with a yukata, but that was the least of his concerns when she bedded down next to him, her warm body scented with flowers.
To a samurai, training was a joy. Training with Rouge filling his spare time, however, was heaven.
It had been two weeks since the night in the prison, and Rouge had held off her carnal advances ever since. Part of him appreciated it, but the other part, with the hormones, had begun to wonder when she would grant him release again. Ryoma had not dared to question her about it, for fear of having to choose between his desires.
The familiar slate-black tiles of the Akudo Dojo came into view through the bamboo groves, drawing him from his train of thought. Guilt nagged at him, that he had been thinking of a woman while paying his sensei a visit, but he brushed it off.
There was a single purpose to his call - to gather advice from Akudo-sensei so that he could finally defeat Tsurugi Akira, the swordsman who did not know his place. It occurred to him that sensei had already taught him all he knew, and that the advice he would receive might well be something he had been told previously. Still, he pushed ahead, until the grey boundary walls, roofed with bluish-black tiles, were in full sight, harbouring similarly-roofed buildings within.
It was gratifying to see that the wooden signboard next to the main entrance had been freshly painted with the name "Akudo Dojo". Taking a moment to acknowledge that he was back home, Ryoma pushed the heavy oaken doors open, stepping into the compounds where he had spent many a year training in.
It was quiet throughout the dojo. The even training grounds were empty, and hardly a soul was to be seen about. Figuring that his sensei had either ordered his new disciples to train further from the dojo, or had not taken in any students lately, Ryoma headed towards the largest building within the compounds. It was the primary teaching hall; the other buildings comprised of lodging for the inhabitants of the dojo, as well as secondary training rooms and storage sheds. They were all constructed of wood, and had the same paper-covered windows characteristic of Moonland buildings.
He removed his straw slippers and tucked them into one of the cabinets on the porch, before heading through the sliding doors of the building, his footsteps on the wooden floorboards muffled by his thick navy socks. Filtered sunlight lit his passage through the vestibule; the panelled secondary sliding doors of the dojo were open, revealing the interior of the training hall. Anticipation filled his blood as he stepped forward, placing himself at the entrance of the hall, resting his eyes on the single person seated in the room.
Akudo Kanema cut a modest figure against the bronze samurai's armour and the elaborate indigo vase guarding the shallow alcove at the back of the hall. Being in his fifties, his weather-beaten physique was tanned and wrinkled, his long oval face peaceful in meditation. He had a set jaw and thin lips; his high forehead ended where straight grey hair began, combed back till it passed his shoulders. Unlike Ryoma, his clothes bore a fraction more colour - a lilac-grey kimono top extended to his wrists, partially blanketed by a deep brown vest, matched with a dark purple hakama. He lifted his head at Ryoma's presence.
The samurai swallowed when his mentor ceased his meditation and opened his eyes, staring evenly at him across the spacious dojo. "Ryoma, why are you back here? You should be travelling and training to become the ultimate warrior."
"Ryoma, answer me this: How would you become the ultimate warrior?"
"The only way to become the ultimate warrior is through rigorous training and discipline, sensei."
"You have trained hard and fought hard, and have won many matches. You are now the champion samurai of this town. However, the world is vast. You must be aware that out there, you may encounter warriors with all kinds of skills exceeding your own."
"What? Warriors far superior to me?"
"Even you. You must seek out these great warriors, and you must challenge them."
"I must... leave Moonland?"
"Yes, in order to grow, Ryoma, you must seek out a larger flowerpot."
"A flowerpot?"
"Yes. When I asked you how you'd become the ultimate warrior, you answered, training and discipline. But the ultimate samurai, like the cherry tree, can only truly blossom with strong roots, and strong roots need more soil. Leave Moonland, and find greater challenges."
Akudo-sensei sounded the same as before, with his deep, nasally voice. Ryoma was glad to see that no harm had befallen him. He bowed low and stepped forward, settling on the floor three yards away from his teacher, placing his swords by his side. "I have returned to Moonland as part of my training, sensei, and I have advice to ask of you."
"What is it?" Akudo Kanema was shrewd and experienced. He stared straight at his disciple without moving an inch, calmly waiting for an answer. The samurai maintained his gaze, thinking back to his fights with Tsurugi.
"A few weeks ago, I challenged this swordsman who offended you and the dojo. His name was Tsurugi Akira. I lost in that fight, and challenged him again a week later. Both times, he spouted more insults, and I tried my best to defeat him, but I've failed." Ryoma bowed low in remorse, so that his face was inches from the smooth wooden floor. "I apologise deeply for letting you down, sensei. I will try my hardest to defeat him the next time. But for now, I need advice on how to do just that."
"Rise, Ryoma." His sensei stared at him in thought, his posture tall and dignified. "You mentioned a Tsurugi Akira. I have met him before. He is from a dojo on the other side of Moonland."
"You- You've met him before?" The younger man blinked in surprise. Now that he thought of it, what Akudo-sensei said made sense. There had been a certain familiarity in Tsurugi's tone when he said, 'That old man there is pathetic. He thinks he's so good, hiding in that dojo of his all day long.'
"Yes, indeed I have." The creases across the old man's forehead deepened. "He came to me and wanted me to be his teacher, but I refused. He was so rude."
"I- I see. And since then, he has been badmouthing you. I can't allow that!" Ryoma's eyebrows drew together, and he clenched his fists, pressing them against his lap. How could his sensei let that man ruin his reputation? Such a great swords master should have the best words spread about him.
"Ryoma. You have forgotten what I taught you." He blinked and forced the tension away from his shoulders, looking at his sensei in surprise. Akudo-sensei's countenance held no anger or disappointment. "To truly master the sword, you must make it part of your spirit. Anger clouds your heart, and blinds you from within. It is only when your sword and spirit become one that you will become a true swordsman. That, Ryoma, is the key to it all."
"So you're saying that I should ignore my anger and fight?" Ryoma stared at his mentor, slowly absorbing his words. He would have to turn a deaf ear on Tsurugi's foul mouth.
"Yes. Tsurugi is now a strong warrior, but strength alone is nothing without strategy and heart. Harness all three, and you will be invincible. Remember, the greater the challenge, the greater the victory."
"I understand, sensei. I was too reckless and hot-tempered to foresee my defeat. From now on, I will bear these words in mind." He bowed again, committing his mentor's teachings to memory. The upper hand would have to be his in their next match. Akudo-sensei was truly a master of the sword. "Thank you very much for enlightening me."
"And now, Ryoma, I would like to assess your new skills. We shall proceed to the courtyard for your test." The seasoned swordsman waited for his response.
His eyes widened. Now would be as good a chance as any to show his role model what he had picked up over the past two years. His constant training these past two weeks had paid off, and he felt well enough to put his healed muscles to the test. "Yes, sensei."
-x-
Rouge panted, heart pounding as her feet thudded along the dirt path, glancing warily at the ominous bamboo copses that seemed to surround her. The tall, slender stalks seemed to hide danger in the distance, veiling any ill-bearing figure with their numbers. She could not afford to stay at one place for too long; such was the price to pay for glimpsing the future.
Treachery is right upon your doorstep.
The crystal ball had glowed unexpectedly while she was in the middle of polishing it, and she had been fortunate that the tatami flooring was soft. Right after the chilling prediction, the clear globe had slipped from her hands, landing heavily onto the straw mat at her feet. There was nothing positive about what she had seen in her crystal ball. It only meant that Neros had found her and Ryoma, probably even sent men after them. Stakes of worry had driven through her chest.
The prediction about the pirates had arrived split moments before their ship was attacked. Who knew when this prophecy would come to pass?
Rouge had ignored Ryoma's explicit request to not follow him to his dojo. The forecast was a lit match seconds away from a crate of explosives, and no one knew when exactly it would detonate. Perhaps her reasons were selfish to some extent - she didn't want to part from the samurai without a goodbye at least. Yuka had given her the directions to Ryoma's location worriedly, and she owed the older woman an explanation for her rush.
It was another quarter hour before she found the dojo. The fortune teller half-staggered to the roofed entrance, her heart hammering against her ribs, gasping for breath. Her calves burned from the strain of running without a pause. Sweat filmed over her skin. She forced the heavy wooden doors open with her weight, vaguely hearing metallic clangs through the blood rushing in her ears.
Ryoma avoided a swift downward slash from his sensei's sword, sidestepping it and returning a strike to the man's side, which was just as easily parried. He stepped backwards, putting more distance between himself and his opponent. Akudo-sensei was barely warming up, and he anticipated the lightning-fast dash the man made towards him, defending against the decoy of a blow, barely twisting himself around to avoid the actual strike. The whistle of his opponent's blade swung by his ear, and he took the chance to attack while his mentor had left a spot unguarded, slight satisfaction thumping in his veins when the older man dodged it and came at him again.
He narrowed his eyes, watching his sensei keenly, trying to predict his moves as the latter started on another flurry of lethal slices that he fended off neatly with his wakizashi. Rapid jabs by the gleaming enemy sword had been added to the mix, to throw his concentration off. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he started to cast about his mind for some sort of strategy to defeat his sensei in his own courtyard.
Akudo-sensei started on moves that he hadn't quite seen before; he countered them with strokes he had learnt on his travels. Sparring with his mentor gave him a thrill that made him recall why he loved his occupation so much. Sweat beaded at his temples, and he drew deep breaths, gripping the hilt of his sword as the older man accelerated towards him with a speed that he could barely avoid.
The entrance doors burst open suddenly, and a purple-and-white clad figure stumbled through the doorway, sunlight glinting off a golden bangle. Two heads turned that moment; the charging form of Akudo Kanema did not halt. It would be a test to see if Ryoma could put a distraction out of his mind.
In that split second, Ryoma recognised the figure, surprise flitting through his mind, with dismay and disappointment following hot on its heels.
Her feet caught on the ground somehow. She yelped, lurched forward.
The single, shuttered eye was all it took for Ryoma to twist out of his sensei's path, forcing strength into his calves as he sprinted over to her with speed far greater than he knew he had, striking his sword into the ground to leave his hands free for her. When it seemed that he was almost too late to break her fall, the samurai stopped running and allowed his momentum to pull him into a slide across the ground, narrowly slipping beneath the woman as she landed heavily onto him with a breathless gasp.
Rouge felt her anticipation of rough ground vanish with the softer, firm surface she crashed into, a surprised whimper tearing from her throat. Her ragged breathing resumed. Warm muscles met her palms, rather than hardened terrain. She shifted her head to gain her bearings, took a deep breath, and found that looking wasn't quite necessary anymore.
A second breath was redundant in ascertaining that Ryoma had somehow slipped beneath her, but she drew it anyway, filling her deprived lungs with his scent. Rouge slowly curled her arms around his body, nuzzling into the sliver of visible skin at his chest. "I needed to see you so badly."
Ryoma froze when he saw his sensei striding towards him from the corner of his eye, his stomach plummeting. It had only just occurred to him how deeply in trouble he was, especially when he had bolted from the sparring session with his mentor, and Rouge was sprawled intimately across his chest, her legs between his. He gulped, heart sinking.
"Ryoma! What is the meaning of this?" Akudo-sensei stopped a few feet away, regarding him coldly, dissatisfaction rolling off his figure in large waves. His brow furrowed. "How dare you leave your sword for a woman?"
He swallowed again, craning his neck to face his mentor more fully, not quite wanting to push Rouge off. The stark picture of his wakizashi protruding from the ground served to highlight his failure as a disciple. He cringed inwardly, berating himself for having to choose between his craft and Rouge. "We- We're just friends! Good friends! M-My training has always come first!"
"Enough!" the swords master snapped, turning away. The snub stung like a slap to his face.
Rouge pushed herself up from his chest then, breathing hard, gazing straight at his sensei. Ryoma didn't know whether to be afraid of what she might reveal, or proud that she dared face his teacher. "This isn't Ryoma's fault, Sir. I barged in on his training."
The severe displeasure on the old man's face diminished slightly, easing his guilt and awkwardness. Akudo Kanema faced him again, grudgingly admitting, "Ryoma, your skills have improved since the last time I saw you." He breathed a deep sigh of relief. "But you were rash and lacked discipline. Leave me, and continue your training!"
Ryoma winced and looked away, watching as his sensei disappeared back into the dojo. Misery laced through his heart, like a black hole trying to collapse his chest from within. He slumped down into the ground, looking at anything but Rouge. The disapproval from his role model had hurt. It was all because of his being partial to Rouge... But that was something he couldn't help, either. The conflicting thoughts clashed, and as Rouge pulled herself off him and touched his arm, he recoiled, rolling onto his feet and hurrying to where his sword was. It was proof enough that she had mattered more than his training at that point in time. "I want to be alone."
He could feel her disappointment as she trailed after him, watching him uncertainly. His heart squeezed. With greater force than was required, he plucked the wakizashi from the ground, returning it to its scabbard. But he didn't really want to be alone, either. At the sight of her hesitant regard, he added, "At- At least, until we're out of this place."
She nodded, waiting as he cast a final look at his dojo, before heading out of the main entrance, keeping the same respectful distance between them.
It wasn't until they were halfway back to Mutsu that Rouge spoke again, breaking the taut silence. "So... How did your visit go? Be-Before I interrupted it, that is."
Ryoma felt himself soften at her blush. He wanted to comfort her somehow, but the methods he could think of clashed with his training. "It went pretty well. Sensei gave me advice on how to defeat Tsurugi, and he had a practice spar with me in the courtyard to assess my skills. My back and shoulder don't hurt anymore."
"It sounds like your injuries are all better now." Relief crept over her countenance, and she smiled tentatively up at him, still maintaining the space between them. It was starting to feel unnatural.
"Yes, I'm practically my old self again." After a shy glance at her, he continued, "I would never have recovered if it wasn't for you, Rouge."
"It was my fault that you got hurt in the first place, Ryoma." She frowned, looking up and meeting his eyes for the first time, so that his breath caught in his throat. "I was the one who made you come on board with me."
"No, what hurt me was my lack of focus. I didn't prepare myself for the pirates' sneak attack until it was too late." She parted her lips to argue, but he cut her short, glad that the silence was gone. "Without the pirates, though, we wouldn't even be here."
"I- I guess."
"These two weeks have been very special to me, Rouge." The fortune teller glanced up at him again, blushed. He thought she looked very pretty with that colour on her cheeks. "I wouldn't have enjoyed it as much w-without you."
It almost felt like a confession.
"Same here." Rouge slowed down, turning to him, her smooth forehead creasing with a frown. "But it's going to end soon, Ryoma. There was another prediction today, and it was so awful that I had to tell you immediately."
"What was it?" He didn't actually want to know. It did not bode well, and he had grown too used to the relative peace in Mutsu to want their days together to end.
"It said, 'Treachery is right upon your doorstep'." She looked up at him, her lips pulling into a line.
He stopped walking then. 'Treachery' had to refer to Neros. Rouge's prophecy meant that they could be attacked anytime now, if he wasn't prepared for it. And suddenly it made perfect sense why Rouge had gone to him. If anything happened to her, they would not get the chance to part. The thought scared him. Ryoma clenched his fists and turned to her, regretting his silence earlier. "I'm sorry for not asking why you disregarded my words, Rouge. I'll make sure to protect you."
"We have to return to Fireland at once." She met his eyes unwillingly, stepping closer. He swallowed hard; his blood chilled. "When that happens, and when we get Neros out of power, I'll become the Oracle, Ryoma."
"I- I guess you will." She must have had seen the reluctance in his eyes, because she closed the distance between them, enveloping him in a hug. He relaxed in her arms, relishing her warmth. The crickets in the bamboo forest chirped around them.
"Could we carry on with the pretense for one last day?" She looked up at him pleadingly, their faces inches apart. He saw her desperation, could feel it being mirrored in himself. Her breath fanned over his skin.
For both their sakes, he nodded, welcoming the heat of her mouth when she leaned in for a kiss.
-x-
Yuka had been stunned to hear about their impending departure. She had made them stay over far longer than usual for lunch, mothering Ryoma despite his protests. Rouge had smiled fondly at her vivacity, subconsciously committing their interaction to memory, along with the samurai's blushes and the expressions that had flitted across his face. The flower seller had been aware of her attention, but had reserved any comments, instead giving her a motherly hug when they left her cottage late that afternoon.
No fortune telling business was done that day - Rouge had accompanied Ryoma while he trained, sharing a glass of fruit juice with him in the most dignified manner possible. The public had been blind to the thick tension hovering between them. Dinnertime had found the pair tucked into a quiet nook of an eatery, having Ryoma's favourite soup and noodles. They had retreated back to the inn soon after, whereupon they separated to take their respective baths.
The fortune teller was the first to return to their room. She had been fidgety in the pool of hot water meant for relaxation; her mind protested against the limited time left with Ryoma. The other women in the bath had struck up friendly conversation that could not quite anchor her thoughts, and she had excused herself in the end, retiring to their room.
Dusk crept over the town, stealing light from within their rented space. Rouge lit the single gas lamp and placed it next to the door, figuring that they would have little use for it, appreciating its orange glow nonetheless. Slight excitement crept along her nerves in anticipation of seeing Ryoma again. This night was unlike the rest, and he probably knew it too. She sat back on the single futon spread out on the floor, her flowery yukata whispering over her skin. The samurai was probably enjoying his soak in the bath.
She could imagine the clear, steamy water lapping against his bare skin, smoothing over his hard muscles and caressing him. His eyes would be shut as he leaned into the rough sides of the bath, his strong jaw set in contemplation. She could imagine his jet-black hair in wet locks, their tips brushing along his shoulder blades, inviting her touch. If there was one thing she liked about the samurai after he took a bath, it was the way he had his hair down, the messy locks giving him an air of primality that she had to withhold herself from on more than one occasion. A quiver of excitement slid along her spine.
The paper-and-wood doors slid open suddenly, drawing her eyes away from the flickering flame of the gas lamp. Her heart skipped a beat at the unexpectedness of his entrance, then skipped again when she looked at his face. His eyes bore into hers the moment their gazes met. Rouge forgot to breathe. Her thoughts scattered.
With a draw of air, her mind started functioning again, and she allowed her gaze to coast over his covered form as he stepped in, from the coarsely-combed hair that was swept away from his face, down his dark eyes, stubby nose and full lips. She wanted to kiss him. The contours of his throat and collarbones were stark in the lamplight; she followed the large expanse of cloth down with her eyes, tracing the strong arms that she imagined around her body, to his calves and feet. Every inch of his skin beckoned at her. Ryoma looked almost bare without his swords.
Like clockwork, she pushed herself off the mattress, slowly rising to her feet. His gaze clung to her, drifting over her body, seeming to sear through the single layer of her yukata, scorching her very skin. With a soft click, he closed and locked the door behind him, stepping towards her.
The dormant want in her belly flared. She had not expected that of him. Ryoma's silence spoke mountains about what he wanted, and her blood thrummed, eager to meet his desires. The only visible movement on him was the single bob of his Adam's apple. Rouge shifted her feet slowly, taking slow steps across the woven straw mats, narrowing the gap between their bodies to a foot. Somehow her gaze drew towards his, and they stared at each other for long moments, realising that there would be no other night like this in the future.
Her lower lip quivered. She could not bear to part with him, not now, not ever. There was no blush on his cheeks tonight, nor any alcohol influencing his decision. Somewhere along the spinning cogs of time, Rouge had come to acknowledge that she treasured every facet of this man, and here he was, hers to cherish for one last night in this pseudo-heaven. Gods, she was starving for him, had been starving for him all week.
Rouge lifted a hesitant hand to his chest, slowly caressing the coarse cloth lying snug against his skin. Something in his dark eyes flickered, and she lowered her gaze to her fingers, watching their ascent as they followed his yukata upwards, to his firm shoulder. Ryoma did not disappear, nor did he object to her touch. She slipped her hand around the back of his neck, allowing his warmth to seep into her fingers. Wet strands of hair brushed her skin.
Glancing briefly into his eyes, Rouge dropped her gaze to his lips, easing his face down to hers, so that their lips met softly. Her heart quickened. She shifted her head, stroking her lips over his, pulling lightly on his flesh. He shivered and started to respond, tugging back on her lips just as gently, in a way that caused her chest to ache. A thrill breezed along her nerves. She tipped her face, pressing her mouth more fully against his, delighting in the silken texture of his flesh. They remained like this for long seconds, filling her heart with a sort of bittersweet happiness that made her inhale sharply, stealing the breath from his lips.
"Rouge," he murmured against her lips, pulling away just enough to speak coherently. "Why haven't you... you know... done anything with me other than- other than this?"
"Kiss you, you mean?" she purred into his mouth, brushing at the locks of his hair with her fingertips. It probably was a good idea to get it over with quickly. He replied with the fraction of a nod, his lips catching against hers. "I wanted to prove to you that I'm not just interested in your body, Ryoma. I like you, both inside and out."
She cracked her eyes open in time to see his cheeks flush. Her chest tightened. Reluctantly, Rouge pulled away from the samurai, taking her time to admire his face, memorising every plane and shadow. Her hand drifted back down his front, tracing the sliver of his chest that peeked through his loosely-tied yukata. His gaze remained on her.
"Do you believe me?" Her gaze alternated between his eyes and his mouth. Ryoma licked his lips, nodded. She felt relief then, allowing a tiny smile to twitch her lips, tracing his damp mouth with her gaze. The man probably didn't know how much he meant to her. A little more quietly, she murmured, her heart stumbling with anticipation, "May I have all of you again, just for tonight?"
Their eyes met then, a simmering gaze that betrayed deep hunger. Both knew that the question had not been necessary, nor did she require an answer. But Ryoma nodded regardless, his intense stare boring right into her soul, renewing her desperation for him. Rouge didn't know how he did it, only that the samurai released a trigger, which made her chest hurt just by looking at him, knowing that he would not be by her side a week later, a year later. It hurt to think of life without him. Her fingers twisted into the material of his yukata, and she pulled him back close, meeting his lips hungrily, needing enough memories of him to last her through all the years ahead.
This time, his response was immediate when she drew her tongue over the seam of his lips. Ryoma allowed her entrance into his hot mouth, touching the tip of his tongue to hers, sending a spark hurtling down her spine, awakening the rest of her body. She gasped sharply, and in that moment, he crept his slick flesh into her mouth, hesitantly probing, stroking her lips and teeth. A shudder rippled through her body at his intimacy; she slid her other hand through his wet hair, holding his head to hers, welcoming his tongue with a slow caress from her own. He moaned into her mouth. The guttural sound sent a heated throb right through her body, between her legs.
Rouge broke their kiss with a wet gasp, leaving inches between their faces, sweeping her gaze over his glistening, parted lips. Heat coiled tightly in her middle when she met his dark eyes, hazed with lust for her. The samurai looked virile and almost savage in the lamp's glow, like how he had done in the jail cell two weeks ago. Her body hungered for him.
It vaguely occurred to her that the futon had been prepared, and that they would be far more comfortable entwined on it.
Part 2: http://aquarius-galuxy.livejournal.com/475380.html
------> Chapter 9, PART 1
Author: Aquarius Galuxy
Fandom: Power Stone
Pairing: Ryoma/Rouge
Fiction type: Fanfiction, prose (can be treated as original fiction)
Genre: Erotica, Romance, Adventure (in that order)
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 12,192 (5-6k words for part 1)
Summary: When the threads of fate entangle a fortune teller and a samurai, lives and priorities are changed. An inevitable journey across the lands awaits, filled with hazards and defeat, along with a spontaneous attraction that deepens into something more.
Author's Notes: Another of my favourite chapters. I don't know how an est. 6k words could expand to 12k. -_- Wrote half of it yesterday, omg.
Buried deep in the outskirts of Mutsu was the Akudo Dojo, hidden in the midst of a thick bamboo forest and a spread of evergreen trees. The only means of accessing the school was a narrow dirt path, which was wound around gurgling streams and a small hill. A medley of birdcalls and cricket chirps saturated the length of the trail as the heat of mid-morning settled into the air. All these were lost on the lone figure making his way along the route, his raven gaze fixed on the path ahead of him.
It was the tenth day of their sojourn in Mutsu. If he thought back on it, Ryoma would say that it was the most pleasant period of recuperation and training he had ever experienced. His days always began with the sight of Rouge curled up against him on the single futon they shared, followed by a slow morning kiss, and breakfast together in the communal dining room. Paid errands were done shortly after that, stretching into mid-morning, when he would commence a long run around the town, and end his practice off by training with his swords. Rouge usually dropped by then with a glass of fruit juice to quench his thirst.
As if his days had not been progressing sufficiently well, Yuka always invited them over for lunch, slipping the obligatory teasing remark into their conversations in a way that made him wonder how she knew so much about him and Rouge. Errands and more sword practice occupied his afternoons, peppered by visits from the fortune teller, who never ceased to have a fruit or drink on hand for him. Dinners were spent introducing Rouge to the various dishes available in the Moonland town, including the large variety of soups and noodles he loved.
Their nights were arguably the best parts of their days. On a few occasions, Ryoma brought Rouge a little way into the outskirts of the town to show her the fireflies that glowed bright green. Her fascinated stares had been far more alluring than the bugs themselves; he doubted she was aware of how he had been watching. The baths at the inn were segregated by gender - he took his alone, with mingling thoughts of Rouge and training that he didn't find as distracting as before. She looked odd with a yukata, but that was the least of his concerns when she bedded down next to him, her warm body scented with flowers.
To a samurai, training was a joy. Training with Rouge filling his spare time, however, was heaven.
It had been two weeks since the night in the prison, and Rouge had held off her carnal advances ever since. Part of him appreciated it, but the other part, with the hormones, had begun to wonder when she would grant him release again. Ryoma had not dared to question her about it, for fear of having to choose between his desires.
The familiar slate-black tiles of the Akudo Dojo came into view through the bamboo groves, drawing him from his train of thought. Guilt nagged at him, that he had been thinking of a woman while paying his sensei a visit, but he brushed it off.
There was a single purpose to his call - to gather advice from Akudo-sensei so that he could finally defeat Tsurugi Akira, the swordsman who did not know his place. It occurred to him that sensei had already taught him all he knew, and that the advice he would receive might well be something he had been told previously. Still, he pushed ahead, until the grey boundary walls, roofed with bluish-black tiles, were in full sight, harbouring similarly-roofed buildings within.
It was gratifying to see that the wooden signboard next to the main entrance had been freshly painted with the name "Akudo Dojo". Taking a moment to acknowledge that he was back home, Ryoma pushed the heavy oaken doors open, stepping into the compounds where he had spent many a year training in.
It was quiet throughout the dojo. The even training grounds were empty, and hardly a soul was to be seen about. Figuring that his sensei had either ordered his new disciples to train further from the dojo, or had not taken in any students lately, Ryoma headed towards the largest building within the compounds. It was the primary teaching hall; the other buildings comprised of lodging for the inhabitants of the dojo, as well as secondary training rooms and storage sheds. They were all constructed of wood, and had the same paper-covered windows characteristic of Moonland buildings.
He removed his straw slippers and tucked them into one of the cabinets on the porch, before heading through the sliding doors of the building, his footsteps on the wooden floorboards muffled by his thick navy socks. Filtered sunlight lit his passage through the vestibule; the panelled secondary sliding doors of the dojo were open, revealing the interior of the training hall. Anticipation filled his blood as he stepped forward, placing himself at the entrance of the hall, resting his eyes on the single person seated in the room.
Akudo Kanema cut a modest figure against the bronze samurai's armour and the elaborate indigo vase guarding the shallow alcove at the back of the hall. Being in his fifties, his weather-beaten physique was tanned and wrinkled, his long oval face peaceful in meditation. He had a set jaw and thin lips; his high forehead ended where straight grey hair began, combed back till it passed his shoulders. Unlike Ryoma, his clothes bore a fraction more colour - a lilac-grey kimono top extended to his wrists, partially blanketed by a deep brown vest, matched with a dark purple hakama. He lifted his head at Ryoma's presence.
The samurai swallowed when his mentor ceased his meditation and opened his eyes, staring evenly at him across the spacious dojo. "Ryoma, why are you back here? You should be travelling and training to become the ultimate warrior."
"Ryoma, answer me this: How would you become the ultimate warrior?"
"The only way to become the ultimate warrior is through rigorous training and discipline, sensei."
"You have trained hard and fought hard, and have won many matches. You are now the champion samurai of this town. However, the world is vast. You must be aware that out there, you may encounter warriors with all kinds of skills exceeding your own."
"What? Warriors far superior to me?"
"Even you. You must seek out these great warriors, and you must challenge them."
"I must... leave Moonland?"
"Yes, in order to grow, Ryoma, you must seek out a larger flowerpot."
"A flowerpot?"
"Yes. When I asked you how you'd become the ultimate warrior, you answered, training and discipline. But the ultimate samurai, like the cherry tree, can only truly blossom with strong roots, and strong roots need more soil. Leave Moonland, and find greater challenges."
Akudo-sensei sounded the same as before, with his deep, nasally voice. Ryoma was glad to see that no harm had befallen him. He bowed low and stepped forward, settling on the floor three yards away from his teacher, placing his swords by his side. "I have returned to Moonland as part of my training, sensei, and I have advice to ask of you."
"What is it?" Akudo Kanema was shrewd and experienced. He stared straight at his disciple without moving an inch, calmly waiting for an answer. The samurai maintained his gaze, thinking back to his fights with Tsurugi.
"A few weeks ago, I challenged this swordsman who offended you and the dojo. His name was Tsurugi Akira. I lost in that fight, and challenged him again a week later. Both times, he spouted more insults, and I tried my best to defeat him, but I've failed." Ryoma bowed low in remorse, so that his face was inches from the smooth wooden floor. "I apologise deeply for letting you down, sensei. I will try my hardest to defeat him the next time. But for now, I need advice on how to do just that."
"Rise, Ryoma." His sensei stared at him in thought, his posture tall and dignified. "You mentioned a Tsurugi Akira. I have met him before. He is from a dojo on the other side of Moonland."
"You- You've met him before?" The younger man blinked in surprise. Now that he thought of it, what Akudo-sensei said made sense. There had been a certain familiarity in Tsurugi's tone when he said, 'That old man there is pathetic. He thinks he's so good, hiding in that dojo of his all day long.'
"Yes, indeed I have." The creases across the old man's forehead deepened. "He came to me and wanted me to be his teacher, but I refused. He was so rude."
"I- I see. And since then, he has been badmouthing you. I can't allow that!" Ryoma's eyebrows drew together, and he clenched his fists, pressing them against his lap. How could his sensei let that man ruin his reputation? Such a great swords master should have the best words spread about him.
"Ryoma. You have forgotten what I taught you." He blinked and forced the tension away from his shoulders, looking at his sensei in surprise. Akudo-sensei's countenance held no anger or disappointment. "To truly master the sword, you must make it part of your spirit. Anger clouds your heart, and blinds you from within. It is only when your sword and spirit become one that you will become a true swordsman. That, Ryoma, is the key to it all."
"So you're saying that I should ignore my anger and fight?" Ryoma stared at his mentor, slowly absorbing his words. He would have to turn a deaf ear on Tsurugi's foul mouth.
"Yes. Tsurugi is now a strong warrior, but strength alone is nothing without strategy and heart. Harness all three, and you will be invincible. Remember, the greater the challenge, the greater the victory."
"I understand, sensei. I was too reckless and hot-tempered to foresee my defeat. From now on, I will bear these words in mind." He bowed again, committing his mentor's teachings to memory. The upper hand would have to be his in their next match. Akudo-sensei was truly a master of the sword. "Thank you very much for enlightening me."
"And now, Ryoma, I would like to assess your new skills. We shall proceed to the courtyard for your test." The seasoned swordsman waited for his response.
His eyes widened. Now would be as good a chance as any to show his role model what he had picked up over the past two years. His constant training these past two weeks had paid off, and he felt well enough to put his healed muscles to the test. "Yes, sensei."
-x-
Rouge panted, heart pounding as her feet thudded along the dirt path, glancing warily at the ominous bamboo copses that seemed to surround her. The tall, slender stalks seemed to hide danger in the distance, veiling any ill-bearing figure with their numbers. She could not afford to stay at one place for too long; such was the price to pay for glimpsing the future.
Treachery is right upon your doorstep.
The crystal ball had glowed unexpectedly while she was in the middle of polishing it, and she had been fortunate that the tatami flooring was soft. Right after the chilling prediction, the clear globe had slipped from her hands, landing heavily onto the straw mat at her feet. There was nothing positive about what she had seen in her crystal ball. It only meant that Neros had found her and Ryoma, probably even sent men after them. Stakes of worry had driven through her chest.
The prediction about the pirates had arrived split moments before their ship was attacked. Who knew when this prophecy would come to pass?
Rouge had ignored Ryoma's explicit request to not follow him to his dojo. The forecast was a lit match seconds away from a crate of explosives, and no one knew when exactly it would detonate. Perhaps her reasons were selfish to some extent - she didn't want to part from the samurai without a goodbye at least. Yuka had given her the directions to Ryoma's location worriedly, and she owed the older woman an explanation for her rush.
It was another quarter hour before she found the dojo. The fortune teller half-staggered to the roofed entrance, her heart hammering against her ribs, gasping for breath. Her calves burned from the strain of running without a pause. Sweat filmed over her skin. She forced the heavy wooden doors open with her weight, vaguely hearing metallic clangs through the blood rushing in her ears.
Ryoma avoided a swift downward slash from his sensei's sword, sidestepping it and returning a strike to the man's side, which was just as easily parried. He stepped backwards, putting more distance between himself and his opponent. Akudo-sensei was barely warming up, and he anticipated the lightning-fast dash the man made towards him, defending against the decoy of a blow, barely twisting himself around to avoid the actual strike. The whistle of his opponent's blade swung by his ear, and he took the chance to attack while his mentor had left a spot unguarded, slight satisfaction thumping in his veins when the older man dodged it and came at him again.
He narrowed his eyes, watching his sensei keenly, trying to predict his moves as the latter started on another flurry of lethal slices that he fended off neatly with his wakizashi. Rapid jabs by the gleaming enemy sword had been added to the mix, to throw his concentration off. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he started to cast about his mind for some sort of strategy to defeat his sensei in his own courtyard.
Akudo-sensei started on moves that he hadn't quite seen before; he countered them with strokes he had learnt on his travels. Sparring with his mentor gave him a thrill that made him recall why he loved his occupation so much. Sweat beaded at his temples, and he drew deep breaths, gripping the hilt of his sword as the older man accelerated towards him with a speed that he could barely avoid.
The entrance doors burst open suddenly, and a purple-and-white clad figure stumbled through the doorway, sunlight glinting off a golden bangle. Two heads turned that moment; the charging form of Akudo Kanema did not halt. It would be a test to see if Ryoma could put a distraction out of his mind.
In that split second, Ryoma recognised the figure, surprise flitting through his mind, with dismay and disappointment following hot on its heels.
Her feet caught on the ground somehow. She yelped, lurched forward.
The single, shuttered eye was all it took for Ryoma to twist out of his sensei's path, forcing strength into his calves as he sprinted over to her with speed far greater than he knew he had, striking his sword into the ground to leave his hands free for her. When it seemed that he was almost too late to break her fall, the samurai stopped running and allowed his momentum to pull him into a slide across the ground, narrowly slipping beneath the woman as she landed heavily onto him with a breathless gasp.
Rouge felt her anticipation of rough ground vanish with the softer, firm surface she crashed into, a surprised whimper tearing from her throat. Her ragged breathing resumed. Warm muscles met her palms, rather than hardened terrain. She shifted her head to gain her bearings, took a deep breath, and found that looking wasn't quite necessary anymore.
A second breath was redundant in ascertaining that Ryoma had somehow slipped beneath her, but she drew it anyway, filling her deprived lungs with his scent. Rouge slowly curled her arms around his body, nuzzling into the sliver of visible skin at his chest. "I needed to see you so badly."
Ryoma froze when he saw his sensei striding towards him from the corner of his eye, his stomach plummeting. It had only just occurred to him how deeply in trouble he was, especially when he had bolted from the sparring session with his mentor, and Rouge was sprawled intimately across his chest, her legs between his. He gulped, heart sinking.
"Ryoma! What is the meaning of this?" Akudo-sensei stopped a few feet away, regarding him coldly, dissatisfaction rolling off his figure in large waves. His brow furrowed. "How dare you leave your sword for a woman?"
He swallowed again, craning his neck to face his mentor more fully, not quite wanting to push Rouge off. The stark picture of his wakizashi protruding from the ground served to highlight his failure as a disciple. He cringed inwardly, berating himself for having to choose between his craft and Rouge. "We- We're just friends! Good friends! M-My training has always come first!"
"Enough!" the swords master snapped, turning away. The snub stung like a slap to his face.
Rouge pushed herself up from his chest then, breathing hard, gazing straight at his sensei. Ryoma didn't know whether to be afraid of what she might reveal, or proud that she dared face his teacher. "This isn't Ryoma's fault, Sir. I barged in on his training."
The severe displeasure on the old man's face diminished slightly, easing his guilt and awkwardness. Akudo Kanema faced him again, grudgingly admitting, "Ryoma, your skills have improved since the last time I saw you." He breathed a deep sigh of relief. "But you were rash and lacked discipline. Leave me, and continue your training!"
Ryoma winced and looked away, watching as his sensei disappeared back into the dojo. Misery laced through his heart, like a black hole trying to collapse his chest from within. He slumped down into the ground, looking at anything but Rouge. The disapproval from his role model had hurt. It was all because of his being partial to Rouge... But that was something he couldn't help, either. The conflicting thoughts clashed, and as Rouge pulled herself off him and touched his arm, he recoiled, rolling onto his feet and hurrying to where his sword was. It was proof enough that she had mattered more than his training at that point in time. "I want to be alone."
He could feel her disappointment as she trailed after him, watching him uncertainly. His heart squeezed. With greater force than was required, he plucked the wakizashi from the ground, returning it to its scabbard. But he didn't really want to be alone, either. At the sight of her hesitant regard, he added, "At- At least, until we're out of this place."
She nodded, waiting as he cast a final look at his dojo, before heading out of the main entrance, keeping the same respectful distance between them.
It wasn't until they were halfway back to Mutsu that Rouge spoke again, breaking the taut silence. "So... How did your visit go? Be-Before I interrupted it, that is."
Ryoma felt himself soften at her blush. He wanted to comfort her somehow, but the methods he could think of clashed with his training. "It went pretty well. Sensei gave me advice on how to defeat Tsurugi, and he had a practice spar with me in the courtyard to assess my skills. My back and shoulder don't hurt anymore."
"It sounds like your injuries are all better now." Relief crept over her countenance, and she smiled tentatively up at him, still maintaining the space between them. It was starting to feel unnatural.
"Yes, I'm practically my old self again." After a shy glance at her, he continued, "I would never have recovered if it wasn't for you, Rouge."
"It was my fault that you got hurt in the first place, Ryoma." She frowned, looking up and meeting his eyes for the first time, so that his breath caught in his throat. "I was the one who made you come on board with me."
"No, what hurt me was my lack of focus. I didn't prepare myself for the pirates' sneak attack until it was too late." She parted her lips to argue, but he cut her short, glad that the silence was gone. "Without the pirates, though, we wouldn't even be here."
"I- I guess."
"These two weeks have been very special to me, Rouge." The fortune teller glanced up at him again, blushed. He thought she looked very pretty with that colour on her cheeks. "I wouldn't have enjoyed it as much w-without you."
It almost felt like a confession.
"Same here." Rouge slowed down, turning to him, her smooth forehead creasing with a frown. "But it's going to end soon, Ryoma. There was another prediction today, and it was so awful that I had to tell you immediately."
"What was it?" He didn't actually want to know. It did not bode well, and he had grown too used to the relative peace in Mutsu to want their days together to end.
"It said, 'Treachery is right upon your doorstep'." She looked up at him, her lips pulling into a line.
He stopped walking then. 'Treachery' had to refer to Neros. Rouge's prophecy meant that they could be attacked anytime now, if he wasn't prepared for it. And suddenly it made perfect sense why Rouge had gone to him. If anything happened to her, they would not get the chance to part. The thought scared him. Ryoma clenched his fists and turned to her, regretting his silence earlier. "I'm sorry for not asking why you disregarded my words, Rouge. I'll make sure to protect you."
"We have to return to Fireland at once." She met his eyes unwillingly, stepping closer. He swallowed hard; his blood chilled. "When that happens, and when we get Neros out of power, I'll become the Oracle, Ryoma."
"I- I guess you will." She must have had seen the reluctance in his eyes, because she closed the distance between them, enveloping him in a hug. He relaxed in her arms, relishing her warmth. The crickets in the bamboo forest chirped around them.
"Could we carry on with the pretense for one last day?" She looked up at him pleadingly, their faces inches apart. He saw her desperation, could feel it being mirrored in himself. Her breath fanned over his skin.
For both their sakes, he nodded, welcoming the heat of her mouth when she leaned in for a kiss.
-x-
Yuka had been stunned to hear about their impending departure. She had made them stay over far longer than usual for lunch, mothering Ryoma despite his protests. Rouge had smiled fondly at her vivacity, subconsciously committing their interaction to memory, along with the samurai's blushes and the expressions that had flitted across his face. The flower seller had been aware of her attention, but had reserved any comments, instead giving her a motherly hug when they left her cottage late that afternoon.
No fortune telling business was done that day - Rouge had accompanied Ryoma while he trained, sharing a glass of fruit juice with him in the most dignified manner possible. The public had been blind to the thick tension hovering between them. Dinnertime had found the pair tucked into a quiet nook of an eatery, having Ryoma's favourite soup and noodles. They had retreated back to the inn soon after, whereupon they separated to take their respective baths.
The fortune teller was the first to return to their room. She had been fidgety in the pool of hot water meant for relaxation; her mind protested against the limited time left with Ryoma. The other women in the bath had struck up friendly conversation that could not quite anchor her thoughts, and she had excused herself in the end, retiring to their room.
Dusk crept over the town, stealing light from within their rented space. Rouge lit the single gas lamp and placed it next to the door, figuring that they would have little use for it, appreciating its orange glow nonetheless. Slight excitement crept along her nerves in anticipation of seeing Ryoma again. This night was unlike the rest, and he probably knew it too. She sat back on the single futon spread out on the floor, her flowery yukata whispering over her skin. The samurai was probably enjoying his soak in the bath.
She could imagine the clear, steamy water lapping against his bare skin, smoothing over his hard muscles and caressing him. His eyes would be shut as he leaned into the rough sides of the bath, his strong jaw set in contemplation. She could imagine his jet-black hair in wet locks, their tips brushing along his shoulder blades, inviting her touch. If there was one thing she liked about the samurai after he took a bath, it was the way he had his hair down, the messy locks giving him an air of primality that she had to withhold herself from on more than one occasion. A quiver of excitement slid along her spine.
The paper-and-wood doors slid open suddenly, drawing her eyes away from the flickering flame of the gas lamp. Her heart skipped a beat at the unexpectedness of his entrance, then skipped again when she looked at his face. His eyes bore into hers the moment their gazes met. Rouge forgot to breathe. Her thoughts scattered.
With a draw of air, her mind started functioning again, and she allowed her gaze to coast over his covered form as he stepped in, from the coarsely-combed hair that was swept away from his face, down his dark eyes, stubby nose and full lips. She wanted to kiss him. The contours of his throat and collarbones were stark in the lamplight; she followed the large expanse of cloth down with her eyes, tracing the strong arms that she imagined around her body, to his calves and feet. Every inch of his skin beckoned at her. Ryoma looked almost bare without his swords.
Like clockwork, she pushed herself off the mattress, slowly rising to her feet. His gaze clung to her, drifting over her body, seeming to sear through the single layer of her yukata, scorching her very skin. With a soft click, he closed and locked the door behind him, stepping towards her.
The dormant want in her belly flared. She had not expected that of him. Ryoma's silence spoke mountains about what he wanted, and her blood thrummed, eager to meet his desires. The only visible movement on him was the single bob of his Adam's apple. Rouge shifted her feet slowly, taking slow steps across the woven straw mats, narrowing the gap between their bodies to a foot. Somehow her gaze drew towards his, and they stared at each other for long moments, realising that there would be no other night like this in the future.
Her lower lip quivered. She could not bear to part with him, not now, not ever. There was no blush on his cheeks tonight, nor any alcohol influencing his decision. Somewhere along the spinning cogs of time, Rouge had come to acknowledge that she treasured every facet of this man, and here he was, hers to cherish for one last night in this pseudo-heaven. Gods, she was starving for him, had been starving for him all week.
Rouge lifted a hesitant hand to his chest, slowly caressing the coarse cloth lying snug against his skin. Something in his dark eyes flickered, and she lowered her gaze to her fingers, watching their ascent as they followed his yukata upwards, to his firm shoulder. Ryoma did not disappear, nor did he object to her touch. She slipped her hand around the back of his neck, allowing his warmth to seep into her fingers. Wet strands of hair brushed her skin.
Glancing briefly into his eyes, Rouge dropped her gaze to his lips, easing his face down to hers, so that their lips met softly. Her heart quickened. She shifted her head, stroking her lips over his, pulling lightly on his flesh. He shivered and started to respond, tugging back on her lips just as gently, in a way that caused her chest to ache. A thrill breezed along her nerves. She tipped her face, pressing her mouth more fully against his, delighting in the silken texture of his flesh. They remained like this for long seconds, filling her heart with a sort of bittersweet happiness that made her inhale sharply, stealing the breath from his lips.
"Rouge," he murmured against her lips, pulling away just enough to speak coherently. "Why haven't you... you know... done anything with me other than- other than this?"
"Kiss you, you mean?" she purred into his mouth, brushing at the locks of his hair with her fingertips. It probably was a good idea to get it over with quickly. He replied with the fraction of a nod, his lips catching against hers. "I wanted to prove to you that I'm not just interested in your body, Ryoma. I like you, both inside and out."
She cracked her eyes open in time to see his cheeks flush. Her chest tightened. Reluctantly, Rouge pulled away from the samurai, taking her time to admire his face, memorising every plane and shadow. Her hand drifted back down his front, tracing the sliver of his chest that peeked through his loosely-tied yukata. His gaze remained on her.
"Do you believe me?" Her gaze alternated between his eyes and his mouth. Ryoma licked his lips, nodded. She felt relief then, allowing a tiny smile to twitch her lips, tracing his damp mouth with her gaze. The man probably didn't know how much he meant to her. A little more quietly, she murmured, her heart stumbling with anticipation, "May I have all of you again, just for tonight?"
Their eyes met then, a simmering gaze that betrayed deep hunger. Both knew that the question had not been necessary, nor did she require an answer. But Ryoma nodded regardless, his intense stare boring right into her soul, renewing her desperation for him. Rouge didn't know how he did it, only that the samurai released a trigger, which made her chest hurt just by looking at him, knowing that he would not be by her side a week later, a year later. It hurt to think of life without him. Her fingers twisted into the material of his yukata, and she pulled him back close, meeting his lips hungrily, needing enough memories of him to last her through all the years ahead.
This time, his response was immediate when she drew her tongue over the seam of his lips. Ryoma allowed her entrance into his hot mouth, touching the tip of his tongue to hers, sending a spark hurtling down her spine, awakening the rest of her body. She gasped sharply, and in that moment, he crept his slick flesh into her mouth, hesitantly probing, stroking her lips and teeth. A shudder rippled through her body at his intimacy; she slid her other hand through his wet hair, holding his head to hers, welcoming his tongue with a slow caress from her own. He moaned into her mouth. The guttural sound sent a heated throb right through her body, between her legs.
Rouge broke their kiss with a wet gasp, leaving inches between their faces, sweeping her gaze over his glistening, parted lips. Heat coiled tightly in her middle when she met his dark eyes, hazed with lust for her. The samurai looked virile and almost savage in the lamp's glow, like how he had done in the jail cell two weeks ago. Her body hungered for him.
It vaguely occurred to her that the futon had been prepared, and that they would be far more comfortable entwined on it.
Part 2: http://aquarius-galuxy.livejournal.com/475380.html