Dream 1
Two figures stand back to back on a battlefield, stormy and dark. As you come closer, one is recognizable as Daitou, dressed as he usually is for practice - kimono, hakama, and hair tied back in a high ponytail. The look on his face is serious, cut only by the ghost of a less than sane smile, and his blade is out and shining. The figure at his back is taller, by close to a foot, and his long black hair is likewise pulled into a ponytail. You catch a glimpse of his face - stoic, without the edge that Daitou’s face has. It’s hard to see, though, as the dream draws your focus back to Daitou.
And then, the enemies come. They’re human, but unidentified - their faces seem to change between glances. Who they are is not important, says the dream. Merely what they represent. There are waves of them, it seems, and as they get close enough, the two surrounded figures whip into motion, blades flashing. Their attack and defense are perfectly coordinated, and Daitou moves fluidly through his foes, cutting many of them down in a single stroke. It’s not clear how long the battle lasts, simply that at the end of it, the two of them remain standing. The ground is stained with blood, and more than a fair bit has splashed onto Daitou and his companion.
You blink, and the blades they had just held are gone now, as they turn to face each other. Daitou cups the taller man’s cheek in one hand, and angles his head up to slowly lick away a smear of blood on his companion’s jaw. His arms wrap around Daitou, drawing him closer, as that lick turns into a kiss, and Daitou’s hands slip down the side of his neck, under the black kimono he wears, to run along his shoulders. He pushes the fabric of the kimono off, and the taller man’s arms drop away from Daitou’s back to slip the sleeves off, and let the kimono hang down from his obi. It doesn’t last long again, as he leans in to suck hard at the join of Daitou’s neck and shoulder, and the smaller man makes a small pleasured sound in the back of his throat, reaching up to run his nails down the taller man’s chest. The sucking kiss turns into a bite, and Daitou gasps, though from the expression on his face it’s clear he still finds this pleasurable. His companion’s hand are working their way into the front of his kimono, even as Daitou’s hands slip lower, running down past the obi to brush against the not-entirely-hidden erection. His companion inhales sharply at that, lips still pressed against Daitou’s neck, and a shiver runs through him before his own hands pick up their pace, working Daitou’s kimono off his shoulders to expose a thin, paper-white torso. He reaches down to grasp at the ties of Daitou’s hakama, clearly intent on removing those next - and abruptly, the dream ends.