Second World - Chapter 6 "Flower Power on the High Loft"
Warnings: crack with male breastfeeding, Asami and Mik
Disclaimers: All VF characters belong to Yamane-sensei
Rating: PG-13
Flower Power on the High Loft
Tokyo, VIP suite, University Hospital
“Can we come in?”
A very unlikely pair was waiting on the other side of the door.
War leader Asami and the Liu estate’s old cook from Shanghai, Chow Yum-Yum, paid no heed to their being so ill-matched and heatedly discussed what was awaiting them.
“Takaba-San, please confirm to your … boyfriend they will indeed lay the child against Liu-Laoban’s breast, to let him suckle …”
If Akihito hadn’t been so deeply moved, he would have burst out laughing at Asami’s dismissive, incredulous expression. His dangerous golden eyes rolling up at the ceiling - a sight for the gods.
“Most certainly the male of our mammalian species possesses the whole of the suckling apparatus - the milk producing glands, ducts ending in the nipple … you can believe me, Asami-Sama, I majored in Biology before I discovered preparing food is my vocation. What we don’t know is if it’s enough. The hormonal situation is different, there is not as much glandular tissue as in the female … but both parents can contribute…”
Now Asami’s eyes almost popped out of his head.
Without a further word, glancing at Akihito for his OK, though, he pushed through the door to the University Hospital’s sun flooded VIP suit, formerly equipped as labour room, now transformed into a luxuriant childbed ward.
The bulky male nurse in attendance (the very same who had been on night shift after the operation) later reflected they were still alerted to the danger of fathers-to-be collapsing at delivery … but visitors fainting at the idyllic sight of an adorable moppet? Lying against the bare breast of the First World Leader? Latching onto a dark, erect nipple as if it had never done anything else? Suckling with vigour, and none too quietly…
“Manners, manners”, a perhaps eight year old child was chiding the baby, giggling, scrutinizing its expertise at nearest range.
Well, there’s a first time for everything.
“Ryuichi?”
The Commander’s voice rang out coolly.
Luckily, Akihito and Chow prevented Tokyo’s War Leader from coming to harm, steadying him onto one of the beautifully embroidered silk sofas.
“Akihito, could you perhaps supply our, err, unsettled guest with something a bit, err, stronger than father’s milk? I think he needs a drink as urgently as my son.”
Yoh chuckled, lovingly correcting the baby’s position.
“Sorry I can’t join you, Ryuichi old boy, alcohol’s out for some time now…”
***
Asami was well into his second iced single malt, when the shrouded shape curled around Yoh’s side stirred, revealing a crown of shining, tousled, long black hair.
“He’s still a bit tired - it wasn’t all of it a picnic, we had a moment of fright when the bleeding didn’t stop. That’s the beauty of a high end facility - blood products to cater to an army of partying vampires.”
Countless bags of blood type “AB” … and the wormhole coordinator.
It had been Yoh’s desperate idea to lay it on Fei’s belly, the dial set to “reverse”.
“Hi.”
Fei Long had turned over, opening two very spaced out eyes.
“How are you, my lovely …”
Fei gave Yoh and their child a wan, but radiant smile. Yoh laid an arm around him, drawing him in, so that it looked almost as if he was suckling two children.
Fei gave a content little sigh, his eyes fluttering closed for the briefest of moments. Secure in Yoh’s hold, when he opened them again, he appeared awake enough to become aware of the newcomers.
“Chow …”, he smiled, but then his eyes honed in on their other visitor.
Asami wasn’t able to utter a word. Akihito pressed his hand, wondering whether to force-feed him some more whiskey.
But Fei Long just smiled.
“It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”
He turned to Yoh, who had been holding his breath.
“Hey, didn’t you promise you’d kiss me awake?”
The baby didn’t let himself be disturbed. Kissing parents meant relaxed vibes meant lots of yummy milk from two sets of yummy, yummy nipples…
***
“So it’s really a boy …” , Akihito had whispered, reverentially watching the baby’s first suckling trials.
These had, of course, been at his bearer’s breast, since due to hormonal preparation, the doctors thought this would work faster. (Later it came out that Yoh, ever prepared, had been discreetly boosting his lactational hormones, too.)
“Well, one shouldn’t overtax miracles …”
Akihito thought Dr. Suoh’s reply was a most wise motto for the whole experience. Also one he’d try to keep foremost in his mind for his dealings with Asami Ryuichi…
***
Taking his time with their kiss, Fei Long proceeded to pluck their son from Yoh’s nipple with an audible “plop” and held him towards their latest guests, his beautiful face shining, if still a bit pale.
Asami gave a jolt, and hectically downed the rest of his drink.
The baby’s deep blue eyes were wide open, alert.
“They almost all have that eye colour at first, one can’t say anything yet”, Dr Suoh had informed them. The paternity test was under way (Kirishima, though, had declined, claiming partiality).
The baby gurgled, delighted with life, so much was obvious. He seemed to be confident some kind of suckling would resume right away. His parents’ expressions turned instantly soppy, in a way highly irritating to anyone not under the same hormonal sway.
Fei Long gave Chow and Asami a beaming smile.
“Ryuichi … Yum-Yum … say hi to Te Ching - oops …”
Another kind of gurgling sound, rather explosive this time, had made itself heard.
Fei Long smiled at Yoh, sweetly.
“Would you perhaps, darling?”
Fei handed Te Ching over to Yoh.
A bit nervously, and surprisingly heavy-handed for such a skilled man, but with true First Commander determination, Yoh proceeded to change his son’s shit-full-above-the-rim diapers (a condition described as “blow-out” in baby-nurse-lingo), causing Akihito to hurriedly hand a third glass of “medicine” (but that’s definitely the last one!) to his once again queasy great love …
***
Tokyo, University Hospital, VIP Suite, a few days later
“Another visitor?”
The freshly baked young father and peace movement front man Liu Fei Long exchanged a quick, amused glance with the other new father, First World Commander Yoh, he too still to be called young.
“Why not?”
He threw a quick glance round their abode, the VIP suite taking up most of the upper floor of Tokyo’s world famous new high-end University Hospital. The formerly noble residence resembled a party dump seeing the sun rise on its lay-out the second time round. Champagne bottles, beer cans, wilted flowers, flaccid balloons, puppy toys and the most idiotic baby shower items, such as pacifiers in cigarette form, or diapers with, err, naughty print were littering every nook of the once elegant room. Not to mention the human … “leftovers”.
“As if one more mattered …”
Yoh and Fei were necking and kissing, Te Ching on their laps. They paused to send a pointed glare towards the master sofa, where local war leader Asami Ryuichi and also local, but internationally widely popular hippy Takaba Akihito were to be witnessed in decidedly x-rated occupation.
“Tsktsk … and in front of a minor …”
The minor in question was but a few days old, and blissfully out of it. He’d had an incredibly busy time suckling four nipples (five, even, Akihito had tried once too) and producing another blow-out (this time, Fei had managed to delegate to Akihito).
The other minors in residence, Tao and Laozi, were out with Chow, touring Tokyo’s famous Toy Museum, with a follow-up option of Automobile Museum (with go carts!) or the Tokyo Metropolitan Children’s Hall, where of course, as everywhere else, Tao would be among the youngest.
Kirishima Kei alone, aided by Takato and Kou, had contributed to a lot of the clutter. He had brought what he claimed was traditional Indian and hippy baby fare, the most important of this, as he lectured, the baby sling. A baby carriage? Dear Gods of the Earth! Monstrous! A pacifier? You could just as well hand the kid a joint. He took a sniff at something palmed in his hand. Bongs, shisha’s, joints and the like were an absolute no go - Yoh, Fei Long, and Akihito, too, were quite merciless concerning this issue. (Akihito quickly popped one of the cigarette shaped pacifiers into Asami’s mouth when the cool Japanese warlord reflexively grabbed for his fags.)
Kirishima also informed the somewhat overwhelmed parents that they should on no account use diapers, that this was not natural, could cause severe neurosis, in people, later. The hippies and other natural people, so he told them, listened and watched for their babies’ signals, clearly showing them when the infants wanted “to go”. “Infant potty training” or “diaperless” this was called, and had nothing to do with the “Anal Fixation” or “obsessive-compulsive disorders” of bygone uptight square times.
He had given his lecture before the blow-out (which, as far as Akihito could tell, hadn’t been heralded by any kind of discernible “signaling”).
Now the middle-aged hippy and self-appointed alternative baby care guru was meditating on the carpet, cross legged and unperturbed. Akihito worried, for a moment, whether the baby might get a contact high from his scientist friend’s exhale alone.
Takato and Kou preferred the more liquid drugs, getting funnier and funnier. Te Ching enjoyed being thrown about by them. Now they were sprawled out on pieced-together sofa cushions spread on the floor, both snoring, just as out of things as the baby. Who also snored, just a little, making Fei and Yoh shoot accusatory glances at each other.
An impatient knock rapped against the door to the ante room, the not sound proof one.
Oops!
The young parents snickered at each other. Someone was waiting! They had forgotten.
“Come in already”, Yoh called out, easily.
“Yes, don’t be shy!” Fei Long added, giggling. They sank into another deep kiss.
When they came up again, though, they were both alert at once.
The new comer stood silently. It was not necessary to throw a self-conscious look around on the depraved mess and clutter, because they immediately knew this wasn’t why he didn’t say anything. Heck, he had probably not even noticed.
He didn’t grace Yoh with the slightest sliver of attention, and instantly fixed Fei Long in a burning stare.
Automatically, Yoh edged in in front of his love, ready to protect.
The wavy haired blond made a depreciative gesture.
“You can cut that crap, Commander. As if I’d ever harm Fei Long.”
Yoh’s eyebrows vanished into his messy bangs, but he remained silent.
“Fei Long!”
Mikhail Arbatov sank on to his knees.
“Fei Long, I’m so very sorry! I didn’t know! That low-life, Yan-Tsui … grrrrrrr ….. what will I do to him … really, you must believe me!”
He buried his face in his hands.
“I really had absolutely no idea you had a … a family misunderstanding. I thought I was doing you a favour!”
He jumped up, pacing, tearing at his hair.
“If that hadn’t been - tell me, would I have had a chance? Anyway”, now his face took on a look of baffled fury, “I wonder who told the board? If it hadn’t got out, maybe I would have won!”
He stumbled over Takato, and landed on the sofa on which Asami and Akihito were taking an out time from snogging, also going on alert.
“Ah … you here, too? Want to have another try, too?”
He whirled around.
“Tell you what, Liu - next kid with me? No? Hmmm … OK. I guess I had that coming.”
He briefly squeezed his piercing blue eyes shut.
When he opened them again, he appeared to have collected himself enough to grab a can of beer, pop it open, and down it in one single swig.
Fei Long watched him, a strange expression on his face.
“Is that who all the fuss is about?”
Mik peered at the bed. Te Ching had just opened his eyes.
“Oh look - blue! Maybe he’s by me, after all.”
He opened another can of beer, and drank deeply.
The baby smacked his lips, and yawned. He was hungry, they already knew this sign.
Everyone present watched, enthralled, as Fei Long parted his beautiful, dragon embroidered silk gown and exposed his still male breast. Only his rosy dark nipples appeared a little elongated. He held their child against one of them, and the baby latched on ferociously.
“Ouch!”
Fei Long put his finger into a corner of the baby’s mouth, suspending the vacuum’s suction. Then he offered the other nipple, in a slightly different position. This time, the latch-on went over famously, and soon the sounds of vigorous sucking and swallowing filled the room.
“New game, new luck …”, he commented, serenely.
Mikhail took another swig of beer, staring, mesmerized.
Fei Long looked at him again.
“Nastrovje, Mikhail”, he said to him, gently, continuing to suckle Te Ching.
Mikhail watched them as if in a trance. Then he slowly lifted his can.
“Nastrovje, Fei … nastrovje, mini Fei … he … he is … OK.”
He was so spellbound he didn’t notice his beer foaming over.
Fei Long gave his other nipple a slight squeeze. A fine jet of milk sprayed into Mik’s face.
Mik jumped back.
“Liu! You’re … you’re a rotten egg.” He wiped his face. Then he laughed, and licked off his hand. “I … I love you …”
Visibly reluctant, he turned to face Yoh, who didn’t look at all pleased to have Arbatov call his love ‘Fei’, or ‘rotten egg’, or declare his devotion.
“Commander.”
Mikhail lifted his can, and drank deep.
“What’s your son’s name?”
There was a short moment in which it seemed that Yoh would not speak to Mikhail Arbatov.
“Sorry? Did I speak Russian? Or have I dumbfounded you with my easy wit and esprit…”
Yoh shook his head, his expression unchanged, but the corners of his mouth twitching.
“Gospodín Arbatov. - We’ve called him Te Ching.”
Mikhail nodded.
“Oh. I understand. Tao. Te Ching. ‘Tao Te Ching’. Asian philosophy, or was it a brand? No need to laugh.”
That was towards the sofa.
“I’ll bet your general education is no better than mine. Mr. Takaba, you just consulted your smart phone! Cheat. I saw everything. Asami? What do you say?”
He swept his hand around the room.
Asami smirked.
“I’d say: another beer.”
“Right. Commander.”
He inclined the next can, popped open and handed to him by no less than Tokyo’s war leader himself.
“I drink to your son, and to you. Nastrovje.”
Yoh lifted a mug of lactation support tea.
“Nastrovje, Mikhail.”
“And to your husband. Fei Long.”
Fei raised a beautifully arched eyebrow, switching his son back to the first nipple, this time without problems. Mikhail had always been kind of amusing.
“If the Commander snores, or manhandles you, or womanizes, or has bad breath, or reads too much news-papers, or watches too much sports, or is just generally, a huge fucking bore …”, the blond Russian saluted, a bit crookedly, “I just want you to know where you can come to, then.”
He swerved abruptly back to Yoh.
“Don’t you dare do … anything …”, he snarled, “to the one, the great, the only … love-of-my-life …”, he paused, having kind of lost his thread.
“No more beer for him”, Akihito whispered to Asami, “I think he already pre-glowed, and nothing too weak …”
“Mr. Takaba.” Mikhail turned with some dignity. “I heard every word.”
He turned again to the Commander.
“If you do anything … rash … I … I will turn hippy!!”
“I blanch at that prospect”, Yoh retorted, dryly (but knowing him better you could tell he was trying hard not to laugh).
“OK, Mikhail Arbatov, worthy colleague, and worthy opponent - I guess I’ll have to play nice, then.”
Yoh couldn’t help smirking a bit after all.
The Russian stared.
“Oh, now you amaze me!”
He nodded towards Fei, appreciatively.
“I thought he was such a stick-in-the-mud!”
He staggered up, bowing most theatrically.
“Commander. My most sincere apologies.”
He took a few unsteady steps towards the door.
“Gentlemen. Baby. Baby-Gentleman.”
He raised his last can, salutatory.
“Unfortunately, I must now take my leave.”
He emptied his can, and with utmost care, placed it into one of the baby carriers, a decidedly un-ergonomic one, as Kirishma had informed them.
“May the force be with you …”
***
7 “ Only You” (~ 7100)
Disclaimers: All VF characters belong to Yamane-sensei
Rating: PG-13
Flower Power on the High Loft
Tokyo, VIP suite, University Hospital
“Can we come in?”
A very unlikely pair was waiting on the other side of the door.
War leader Asami and the Liu estate’s old cook from Shanghai, Chow Yum-Yum, paid no heed to their being so ill-matched and heatedly discussed what was awaiting them.
“Takaba-San, please confirm to your … boyfriend they will indeed lay the child against Liu-Laoban’s breast, to let him suckle …”
If Akihito hadn’t been so deeply moved, he would have burst out laughing at Asami’s dismissive, incredulous expression. His dangerous golden eyes rolling up at the ceiling - a sight for the gods.
“Most certainly the male of our mammalian species possesses the whole of the suckling apparatus - the milk producing glands, ducts ending in the nipple … you can believe me, Asami-Sama, I majored in Biology before I discovered preparing food is my vocation. What we don’t know is if it’s enough. The hormonal situation is different, there is not as much glandular tissue as in the female … but both parents can contribute…”
Now Asami’s eyes almost popped out of his head.
Without a further word, glancing at Akihito for his OK, though, he pushed through the door to the University Hospital’s sun flooded VIP suit, formerly equipped as labour room, now transformed into a luxuriant childbed ward.
The bulky male nurse in attendance (the very same who had been on night shift after the operation) later reflected they were still alerted to the danger of fathers-to-be collapsing at delivery … but visitors fainting at the idyllic sight of an adorable moppet? Lying against the bare breast of the First World Leader? Latching onto a dark, erect nipple as if it had never done anything else? Suckling with vigour, and none too quietly…
“Manners, manners”, a perhaps eight year old child was chiding the baby, giggling, scrutinizing its expertise at nearest range.
Well, there’s a first time for everything.
“Ryuichi?”
The Commander’s voice rang out coolly.
Luckily, Akihito and Chow prevented Tokyo’s War Leader from coming to harm, steadying him onto one of the beautifully embroidered silk sofas.
“Akihito, could you perhaps supply our, err, unsettled guest with something a bit, err, stronger than father’s milk? I think he needs a drink as urgently as my son.”
Yoh chuckled, lovingly correcting the baby’s position.
“Sorry I can’t join you, Ryuichi old boy, alcohol’s out for some time now…”
***
Asami was well into his second iced single malt, when the shrouded shape curled around Yoh’s side stirred, revealing a crown of shining, tousled, long black hair.
“He’s still a bit tired - it wasn’t all of it a picnic, we had a moment of fright when the bleeding didn’t stop. That’s the beauty of a high end facility - blood products to cater to an army of partying vampires.”
Countless bags of blood type “AB” … and the wormhole coordinator.
It had been Yoh’s desperate idea to lay it on Fei’s belly, the dial set to “reverse”.
“Hi.”
Fei Long had turned over, opening two very spaced out eyes.
“How are you, my lovely …”
Fei gave Yoh and their child a wan, but radiant smile. Yoh laid an arm around him, drawing him in, so that it looked almost as if he was suckling two children.
Fei gave a content little sigh, his eyes fluttering closed for the briefest of moments. Secure in Yoh’s hold, when he opened them again, he appeared awake enough to become aware of the newcomers.
“Chow …”, he smiled, but then his eyes honed in on their other visitor.
Asami wasn’t able to utter a word. Akihito pressed his hand, wondering whether to force-feed him some more whiskey.
But Fei Long just smiled.
“It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”
He turned to Yoh, who had been holding his breath.
“Hey, didn’t you promise you’d kiss me awake?”
The baby didn’t let himself be disturbed. Kissing parents meant relaxed vibes meant lots of yummy milk from two sets of yummy, yummy nipples…
***
“So it’s really a boy …” , Akihito had whispered, reverentially watching the baby’s first suckling trials.
These had, of course, been at his bearer’s breast, since due to hormonal preparation, the doctors thought this would work faster. (Later it came out that Yoh, ever prepared, had been discreetly boosting his lactational hormones, too.)
“Well, one shouldn’t overtax miracles …”
Akihito thought Dr. Suoh’s reply was a most wise motto for the whole experience. Also one he’d try to keep foremost in his mind for his dealings with Asami Ryuichi…
***
Taking his time with their kiss, Fei Long proceeded to pluck their son from Yoh’s nipple with an audible “plop” and held him towards their latest guests, his beautiful face shining, if still a bit pale.
Asami gave a jolt, and hectically downed the rest of his drink.
The baby’s deep blue eyes were wide open, alert.
“They almost all have that eye colour at first, one can’t say anything yet”, Dr Suoh had informed them. The paternity test was under way (Kirishima, though, had declined, claiming partiality).
The baby gurgled, delighted with life, so much was obvious. He seemed to be confident some kind of suckling would resume right away. His parents’ expressions turned instantly soppy, in a way highly irritating to anyone not under the same hormonal sway.
Fei Long gave Chow and Asami a beaming smile.
“Ryuichi … Yum-Yum … say hi to Te Ching - oops …”
Another kind of gurgling sound, rather explosive this time, had made itself heard.
Fei Long smiled at Yoh, sweetly.
“Would you perhaps, darling?”
Fei handed Te Ching over to Yoh.
A bit nervously, and surprisingly heavy-handed for such a skilled man, but with true First Commander determination, Yoh proceeded to change his son’s shit-full-above-the-rim diapers (a condition described as “blow-out” in baby-nurse-lingo), causing Akihito to hurriedly hand a third glass of “medicine” (but that’s definitely the last one!) to his once again queasy great love …
***
Tokyo, University Hospital, VIP Suite, a few days later
“Another visitor?”
The freshly baked young father and peace movement front man Liu Fei Long exchanged a quick, amused glance with the other new father, First World Commander Yoh, he too still to be called young.
“Why not?”
He threw a quick glance round their abode, the VIP suite taking up most of the upper floor of Tokyo’s world famous new high-end University Hospital. The formerly noble residence resembled a party dump seeing the sun rise on its lay-out the second time round. Champagne bottles, beer cans, wilted flowers, flaccid balloons, puppy toys and the most idiotic baby shower items, such as pacifiers in cigarette form, or diapers with, err, naughty print were littering every nook of the once elegant room. Not to mention the human … “leftovers”.
“As if one more mattered …”
Yoh and Fei were necking and kissing, Te Ching on their laps. They paused to send a pointed glare towards the master sofa, where local war leader Asami Ryuichi and also local, but internationally widely popular hippy Takaba Akihito were to be witnessed in decidedly x-rated occupation.
“Tsktsk … and in front of a minor …”
The minor in question was but a few days old, and blissfully out of it. He’d had an incredibly busy time suckling four nipples (five, even, Akihito had tried once too) and producing another blow-out (this time, Fei had managed to delegate to Akihito).
The other minors in residence, Tao and Laozi, were out with Chow, touring Tokyo’s famous Toy Museum, with a follow-up option of Automobile Museum (with go carts!) or the Tokyo Metropolitan Children’s Hall, where of course, as everywhere else, Tao would be among the youngest.
Kirishima Kei alone, aided by Takato and Kou, had contributed to a lot of the clutter. He had brought what he claimed was traditional Indian and hippy baby fare, the most important of this, as he lectured, the baby sling. A baby carriage? Dear Gods of the Earth! Monstrous! A pacifier? You could just as well hand the kid a joint. He took a sniff at something palmed in his hand. Bongs, shisha’s, joints and the like were an absolute no go - Yoh, Fei Long, and Akihito, too, were quite merciless concerning this issue. (Akihito quickly popped one of the cigarette shaped pacifiers into Asami’s mouth when the cool Japanese warlord reflexively grabbed for his fags.)
Kirishima also informed the somewhat overwhelmed parents that they should on no account use diapers, that this was not natural, could cause severe neurosis, in people, later. The hippies and other natural people, so he told them, listened and watched for their babies’ signals, clearly showing them when the infants wanted “to go”. “Infant potty training” or “diaperless” this was called, and had nothing to do with the “Anal Fixation” or “obsessive-compulsive disorders” of bygone uptight square times.
He had given his lecture before the blow-out (which, as far as Akihito could tell, hadn’t been heralded by any kind of discernible “signaling”).
Now the middle-aged hippy and self-appointed alternative baby care guru was meditating on the carpet, cross legged and unperturbed. Akihito worried, for a moment, whether the baby might get a contact high from his scientist friend’s exhale alone.
Takato and Kou preferred the more liquid drugs, getting funnier and funnier. Te Ching enjoyed being thrown about by them. Now they were sprawled out on pieced-together sofa cushions spread on the floor, both snoring, just as out of things as the baby. Who also snored, just a little, making Fei and Yoh shoot accusatory glances at each other.
An impatient knock rapped against the door to the ante room, the not sound proof one.
Oops!
The young parents snickered at each other. Someone was waiting! They had forgotten.
“Come in already”, Yoh called out, easily.
“Yes, don’t be shy!” Fei Long added, giggling. They sank into another deep kiss.
When they came up again, though, they were both alert at once.
The new comer stood silently. It was not necessary to throw a self-conscious look around on the depraved mess and clutter, because they immediately knew this wasn’t why he didn’t say anything. Heck, he had probably not even noticed.
He didn’t grace Yoh with the slightest sliver of attention, and instantly fixed Fei Long in a burning stare.
Automatically, Yoh edged in in front of his love, ready to protect.
The wavy haired blond made a depreciative gesture.
“You can cut that crap, Commander. As if I’d ever harm Fei Long.”
Yoh’s eyebrows vanished into his messy bangs, but he remained silent.
“Fei Long!”
Mikhail Arbatov sank on to his knees.
“Fei Long, I’m so very sorry! I didn’t know! That low-life, Yan-Tsui … grrrrrrr ….. what will I do to him … really, you must believe me!”
He buried his face in his hands.
“I really had absolutely no idea you had a … a family misunderstanding. I thought I was doing you a favour!”
He jumped up, pacing, tearing at his hair.
“If that hadn’t been - tell me, would I have had a chance? Anyway”, now his face took on a look of baffled fury, “I wonder who told the board? If it hadn’t got out, maybe I would have won!”
He stumbled over Takato, and landed on the sofa on which Asami and Akihito were taking an out time from snogging, also going on alert.
“Ah … you here, too? Want to have another try, too?”
He whirled around.
“Tell you what, Liu - next kid with me? No? Hmmm … OK. I guess I had that coming.”
He briefly squeezed his piercing blue eyes shut.
When he opened them again, he appeared to have collected himself enough to grab a can of beer, pop it open, and down it in one single swig.
Fei Long watched him, a strange expression on his face.
“Is that who all the fuss is about?”
Mik peered at the bed. Te Ching had just opened his eyes.
“Oh look - blue! Maybe he’s by me, after all.”
He opened another can of beer, and drank deeply.
The baby smacked his lips, and yawned. He was hungry, they already knew this sign.
Everyone present watched, enthralled, as Fei Long parted his beautiful, dragon embroidered silk gown and exposed his still male breast. Only his rosy dark nipples appeared a little elongated. He held their child against one of them, and the baby latched on ferociously.
“Ouch!”
Fei Long put his finger into a corner of the baby’s mouth, suspending the vacuum’s suction. Then he offered the other nipple, in a slightly different position. This time, the latch-on went over famously, and soon the sounds of vigorous sucking and swallowing filled the room.
“New game, new luck …”, he commented, serenely.
Mikhail took another swig of beer, staring, mesmerized.
Fei Long looked at him again.
“Nastrovje, Mikhail”, he said to him, gently, continuing to suckle Te Ching.
Mikhail watched them as if in a trance. Then he slowly lifted his can.
“Nastrovje, Fei … nastrovje, mini Fei … he … he is … OK.”
He was so spellbound he didn’t notice his beer foaming over.
Fei Long gave his other nipple a slight squeeze. A fine jet of milk sprayed into Mik’s face.
Mik jumped back.
“Liu! You’re … you’re a rotten egg.” He wiped his face. Then he laughed, and licked off his hand. “I … I love you …”
Visibly reluctant, he turned to face Yoh, who didn’t look at all pleased to have Arbatov call his love ‘Fei’, or ‘rotten egg’, or declare his devotion.
“Commander.”
Mikhail lifted his can, and drank deep.
“What’s your son’s name?”
There was a short moment in which it seemed that Yoh would not speak to Mikhail Arbatov.
“Sorry? Did I speak Russian? Or have I dumbfounded you with my easy wit and esprit…”
Yoh shook his head, his expression unchanged, but the corners of his mouth twitching.
“Gospodín Arbatov. - We’ve called him Te Ching.”
Mikhail nodded.
“Oh. I understand. Tao. Te Ching. ‘Tao Te Ching’. Asian philosophy, or was it a brand? No need to laugh.”
That was towards the sofa.
“I’ll bet your general education is no better than mine. Mr. Takaba, you just consulted your smart phone! Cheat. I saw everything. Asami? What do you say?”
He swept his hand around the room.
Asami smirked.
“I’d say: another beer.”
“Right. Commander.”
He inclined the next can, popped open and handed to him by no less than Tokyo’s war leader himself.
“I drink to your son, and to you. Nastrovje.”
Yoh lifted a mug of lactation support tea.
“Nastrovje, Mikhail.”
“And to your husband. Fei Long.”
Fei raised a beautifully arched eyebrow, switching his son back to the first nipple, this time without problems. Mikhail had always been kind of amusing.
“If the Commander snores, or manhandles you, or womanizes, or has bad breath, or reads too much news-papers, or watches too much sports, or is just generally, a huge fucking bore …”, the blond Russian saluted, a bit crookedly, “I just want you to know where you can come to, then.”
He swerved abruptly back to Yoh.
“Don’t you dare do … anything …”, he snarled, “to the one, the great, the only … love-of-my-life …”, he paused, having kind of lost his thread.
“No more beer for him”, Akihito whispered to Asami, “I think he already pre-glowed, and nothing too weak …”
“Mr. Takaba.” Mikhail turned with some dignity. “I heard every word.”
He turned again to the Commander.
“If you do anything … rash … I … I will turn hippy!!”
“I blanch at that prospect”, Yoh retorted, dryly (but knowing him better you could tell he was trying hard not to laugh).
“OK, Mikhail Arbatov, worthy colleague, and worthy opponent - I guess I’ll have to play nice, then.”
Yoh couldn’t help smirking a bit after all.
The Russian stared.
“Oh, now you amaze me!”
He nodded towards Fei, appreciatively.
“I thought he was such a stick-in-the-mud!”
He staggered up, bowing most theatrically.
“Commander. My most sincere apologies.”
He took a few unsteady steps towards the door.
“Gentlemen. Baby. Baby-Gentleman.”
He raised his last can, salutatory.
“Unfortunately, I must now take my leave.”
He emptied his can, and with utmost care, placed it into one of the baby carriers, a decidedly un-ergonomic one, as Kirishma had informed them.
“May the force be with you …”
***
7 “ Only You” (~ 7100)