Fanfic - The Tail of Secrets, Part 2

[kikimorra]

* * *

Days went by. Every morning a messenger would appear by Seimei’s gate bringing food and a change of clothes. No one dared come inside, so Hiromasa went out and picked everything up himself. The trickiest part was dressing on his own, but he managed. He asked to relieve his court duties for a while until his friend got better, seeing that no one else would dare approach the capital’s mightiest onmyouji for fear of catching the disease or the curse or whatever that was.

After breakfast Hiromasa would play with the fox and sometimes go fishing if the weather was good. In the tenth month, it got dark early, so after the day sank into twilight, Hiromasa and the fox would have their dinner, and then the fox would sleep and Hiromasa would recite the events they have experienced together with Seimei in smallest detail. He did his best to recall what each person was wearing, what was the name of every single participant, what plants grew in the gardens of the victims... The fox rarely listened, lulled into sleep by Hiromasa’s narrative, but he thought, maybe it was for the best. Maybe while the fox slept, the human could be reached. Eventually Hiromasa curled up on the bedroll, snuggling up to the fox and covering them both with quilts, and thus they slept.

“...And you took down your hair and posed as the girl to deceive the demon,” Hiromasa muttered. “I was hiding under a basket which stank of fish, and I could see you on the bedroll... You were so beautiful...” Hiromasa paused, sinking into the memory. “So beautiful...” He sighed. “I wonder, Seimei. That first time you licked me, when you were still conscious. Did it really mean nothing?”

The fox perked up its ears and gave him a puzzled look.

“I thought so,” Hiromasa sighed again. “You know, what I miss about you the most? I mean, of course, I miss talking to you, and your wisdom, and power, and courage... Everything I don’t have. But the thing I miss about you most is your voice, I think. The way you say my name... You told me a person is bound by their name. But when you say my name I feel like I am released from bounds. Like I am free. I wonder if there is a way for me to say your name in such a way as to free you from this spell. But I’m no good with words...”

That reminded him of something. His flute, long forgotten, hung on the clothes rack. He stood up, carefully dislodging the fox’s head and picked up the flute. Immediately he realized how much he missed playing it. Cautious not to spook the fox, he began a quiet tune of the wind. The fox squirmed and shook its ears. Hiromasa played on, watching it carefully. The fox clearly disliked the music. It yelped and grunted at Hiromasa. He stopped.

“You used to enjoy it,” he said in a hurt voice.

The fox sneezed.

“Oh great,” Hiromasa sighed. “Fine, go back to sleep, I haven’t finished recalling that case.”

But the next day as the fox set out on a birdhunt, Hiromasa stationed himself firmly in the middle of the garden and played despite the growling and shrieks of the fox. Seimei had to hear him, he told himself. Surely, Seimei would come back to listen to his flute. That had to be the thing Seimei enjoyed about him.

Hiromasa let his mind stray as he played. Seimei rarely showed any signs of affection. He stuck to a light humorous manner with everyone around, from a street beggar to a court noble, no matter that he pitied the former and despised the latter. For some time Hiromasa could only tell that he was special because Seimei would share with him what he really thought of some people. But Hiromasa wasn’t sure that behind his back Seimei wasn’t telling someone else how ridiculous and pathetic that Minamoto youngster was. Of course, Hiromasa never believed Seimei would badmouth him like that. Just... wasn’t entirely sure.

And then there was Doson’s riot. Hiromasa had been shocked. Despite the pain and the fear of death, the only thing he could think of, as he was dying in Seimei’s arms, was the pained expression on his friend’s face. He still found it hard to believe that Seimei - Seimei - would be so bothered by the death of another human being.

His thoughts jumped to a more recent event, his finding out about Seimei’s nature. Seimei could be bothered. He knew it now. Bothered deeply. So deeply, that he would fight tooth and claw to keep everyone at a safe distance. He was afraid of getting hurt, emotionally. Perhaps it was a weakness. Or perhaps he had been hurt too often in the past. Either way, this little glimpse of genuineness Hiromasa was able to snatch endeared Seimei to him. He now knew how thick was the defensive layer between Seimei and the world. He also knew that when he was dying, Seimei failed to keep up that layer. Just how much feeling, Hiromasa wondered, must there have been for Seimei to drop the indifferent act completely? Hiromasa knew a number of people who would’ve cried over his death. His mother and sisters and cousins, of course. Some friends. Perhaps, a few of the servants. A secret admirer, if he had one. But those were people who never hid their feelings at all. Most of them would be able to pretend nothing’d happened, especially if they were as skilled at pretending as Seimei was. To think that Seimei probably cared for him as much as his mother did... A new wave of warmth spread through Hiromasa’s body, and he tasted sweetness on his tongue. He could desire nothing more, he realized. Even if it all ended today, the fact that Seimei felt that way about him was enough to bring peace to his spirit.

His tune faltered as the next realization dawned.

“I am in love with Seimei,” he gasped, and then gasped again, covering his mouth with his hand and staring at the fox, horrified that it’d understood. The fox was chasing Mitsumushi (who, luckily, knew better than to get too close to the ground) and ignoring both Hiromasa and his exclamation.

But it all fit. Of course he had no interest in lady Keiko or any other of the court’s ladies, if he was in love. Now that he thought of it, he realised that his love must have been growing stronger ever since the day he died, and after finding out Seimei’s true nature it matured completely.

He fingered the flute in his hands, trying to remember what it was for. Seimei liked to listen to his flute. Seimei cared for him enough to cry in public. Seimei once said that love in itself was a spell that could bind stronger than most. Hiromasa put the flute to his lips with a new determination.

As he blew out the first sounds, the fox froze and stared at him, unblinking. Hiromasa closed his eyes and imagined there was Seimei in his human form standing in front of him, clad in white, his hair loose on the wind. He recalled the look in Seimei’s eyes - from the time when he was going to the realm of gods, and Hiromasa offered to follow and pledged his loyalty to his beloved. That look of realization, and hope, and disbelief. Hiromasa felt his chest tighten with feeling and blew it out in a tune, half ancient, half improvised. By the time he was short of breath, a new surge of tenderness went through him, and he blew that out too, keeping his mental gaze steady on Seimei’s imaginary eyes.

He played deep into the night, until his fingers refused to move from the cold. He opened his eyes and felt that his cheeks were wet and frozen. The fox was lying in front of him in the grass. He dropped to his knees and scooped it up clumsily, but it didn’t wake. It was breathing, that much he could tell. He carried it to the house and struggled with the braziers to make fire. Some of his fingers couldn’t bend, and others - unbend, but somehow he managed. Then he cuddled up to the fox and covered both of them with every cloth that was around, and sank into a deep sleep.

* * *

He woke up at dawn, judging from the grey light leaking through the screens. He was warm, and he felt somehow happier than yesterday. Perhaps, spilling his feelings into music had had that effect.

He stretched carefully not to disturb the fox... but there wasn’t a fox. There was Seimei, curled up on himself under a heap of quilts and sound asleep.

“Seimei!” Hiromasa gasped grabbing his friend’s shoulder. “You’re back!”

The onmyouji literally jumped up, wild eyes focusing on Hiromasa. His hair was a tangled mess, besides... he was naked.

“Oh dear,” Hiromasa mumbled and quickly pulled a robe over Seimei’s shoulders. The man looked at it as if he had no idea what it was. He made no move to keep the edges of the robe from opening.

“Are you all right?” Hiromasa asked, beginning to get worried all over again.

Seimei shook his head violently as if trying to wake himself up, then closed his eyes for a long moment, and then blinked several times, adjusting to something.

“Hiromasa,” he finally said in a hoarse, but such a dear voice.

“Yes,” Hiromasa whispered, his throat suddenly tightening.

Seimei took in the bed, his own naked body and the robe, which he tried to pull around himself, but his hands wouldn’t obey. Hiromasa helped him at once and felt Seimei stiffen under his touch, his eyes still wide open and alert.

“What happened here?” he asked finally, failing to figure it out.

“Well,” said Hiromasa. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Seimei thought for a moment.

“I let you drag me out from under the bush,” he said.

“Oh,” said Hiromasa. “That was about a month ago. Or more.”

“What happened here?” Seimei repeated, clearly loosing his nerve.

“Erm... nothing?” Hiromasa frowned. Nothing’s happened in this particular place, has it? “You changed overnight...”

“Hiromasa,” Seimei said in a dangerous voice. “We are sharing a bed, and I am naked, and you are telling me nothing has happened? I am not your mother!”

“Oh heavens, Seimei, no!” cried Hiromasa, realising what it must look like. “Nothing inappropriate! We just slept - I mean, slept as in lie down and have dreams, nothing more, I swear! I wouldn’t take advantage- You were still a fox!”

Seimei snorted but calmed down a bit.

“Fine. I don’t believe you’d have sex with a fox of all things.”

“Seimei!” Hiromasa blushed from his collarbone to the very roots of his hair.

The onmyouji finally managed to adjust the robe and stood up. He nearly toppled over at the first attempt to walk, so Hiromasa had to catch him. But as soon as he steadied himself, he pushed away.

“You’ve forgotten how to move in the human body?” Hiromasa blurted out before snapping his mouth shut. He’d forgotten how to talk to Seimei. He was instantly reminded of it with a look of hurt and rejection. “I am just trying to help,” Hiromasa managed feebly. Seimei headed for the veranda, and Hiromasa called after him, “It’s cold outside,” but was ignored. He followed dutifully, determined to make sure his friend comes to no harm anymore, even if he cursed him for meddling.

Seimei leaned heavily on the banister and looked out into the garden. His face was a blank mask, carefully schooled, but the eyes were still wild, looking out from another world. His gaze fell on the rattle lying by the banister. He crouched down and picked it up. Hiromasa felt a heavy weight settle on his heart.

“Is there a child in the house?” Seimei asked in a flat voice.

“No,” said Hiromasa, hoping that that would suffice.

It didn’t.

“Then who is this for?”

“It- I- I mean...” Hiromasa stammered, realizing that he’d never be able to tell Seimei it was a toy for him. And a much liked one at that.

But Seimei, who had turned to face him, apparently read his thoughts or at least guessed. He went very pale, even paler than he was to begin with, then looked down.

Hiromasa wished desperately that for this one time in his whole life he would find the right words to say. But it seemed there were no right words in the world. And his flute wouldn’t help him this time.

“Hiromasa, I must ask you to leave,” Seimei said in a quiet emotionless voice.

There it was. A dismissal. After everything- ah, but who cares!

Hiromasa felt fresh tears sliding down his cheeks on top of yesterday’s unwiped ones.

“Are you sure?” he said, even though he knew it was pointless. “You are still weak... Can you even make a shikigami?”

“Please, Hiromasa.”

This time there was feeling in the words. Of course. Seimei was embarrassed beyond sanity. Hiromasa had to give him some space and time, even at the expense of health and comfort. Seimei was a loner. He was used to dealing with problems on his own.

“Of course,” Hiromasa bowed his head. “There is some food in the kitchen, should be enough for a couple of days.”

With that he straightened his robes and his topknot, fastened the cap in place and headed for the gate. He didn’t bother picking up his spare clothes. Even if he never returns here, Seimei would send it with a shikigami. The messenger with food is probably already on the way, so Hiromasa would take his horse and return home decently. It wouldn’t look like he was kicked out of a lover’s bed. He had no right to feel like that.

* * *

Hiromasa was restless. He cursed himself again and again for leaving Seimei. He should’ve stayed even if Seimei didn’t want him to. Just the memory of Seimei stumbling out of bed filled him with worry. Worse than that, Seimei could turn back into a fox. After all, it had only been a little over two months after the transformation, not three.

The night after Hiromasa returned home he couldn’t sleep for a single minute, painfully aware of the time slowly crawling by. Now he was pacing his rooms, scaring his servants with his pallor. He had to go back and check on Seimei. But he had to stay away. Seimei had asked him to stay away. He rarely asked anything.

Eventually Hiromasa found a way. He would send Seimei a letter. If he was still human, he would answer. Surely he would. And if he wouldn’t - well, then Hiromasa had an excuse to go and check on him.

So he sat down at his desk, hands trembling, and picked out a plain white paper, blank of all emotion. For several torturous minutes he couldn’t decide whether to write a poem or not. Finally, he decided against it: Seimei didn’t like poetry, Hiromasa was a poor poet, and most importantly, he wanted to keep his letter as neutral as possible. So eventually he wrote down simply, “Are you well?” - and quickly rolled up the letter until his determination gave way. He called for the messenger boy and told him to carry the letter to Seimei’s, throw it over the gate and wait for a reply. In case the reply didn’t come in three hours, the boy was to return.

But the reply came soon enough. Hiromasa unrolled the paper with trembling hands. The paper stated simply. “I am.” Hiromasa released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. At least Seimei was human still. His handwriting was a bit edgy, though. Perhaps, he was still having trouble using his hands. But it was Seimei’s handwriting all right.

Hiromasa was so relieved with the letter that he slept through the rest of the day. Next morning, though, he repeated the procedure.

“How are you today?”

“Better.”

And the next day.

“Have your powers returned?”

“They have.”

And the next.

It seemed to Hiromasa that Seimei realized the purpose of these letters and probably guessed the soothing effect his replies had on Hiromasa. In a few days Hiromasa looked at himself in the mirror and thought that it was time to resume his court duties - we wouldn’t scare the ladies with dark circles under his eyes, and he also had some good news about Seimei. The onmyouji was definitely on his way to recovery. As for one young nobleman’s shattered heart, well, who cared.

So resume his duties he did, and with vigour. He sat and listened to reports on agriculture without missing a single word. He paid attention to intrigues and exchanged looks. He did anything to keep himself from thinking of Seimei. Except once a day when he sent his short message and received an even shorter reply. He didn’t want to forget Seimei, of course, and he was confident he’d never be able to, even if he did want. But he hoped that one day Seimei would come out of his seclusion and talk to him, and tell him where he, Hiromasa, stood with him. Until then, Hiromasa had to invent ways to plug the gaping hole in his heart.

* * *

That day came in the beginning of winter. Having sent his usual note enquiring after Seimei’s health these cold days, Hiromasa received a reply, “Come and see.” He practically ran out of the house, only remembering to take a horse the last minute. The ox-cart was way too slow for his current heartbeat. He galloped over the bridge and it was only due to the horse’s excellent training that he didn’t crush into the fence of Seimei’s estate. The gates admitted him, and his horse was tied to a post by a quiet shikigami.

Seimei was standing on the porch, his brilliant white hunting costume over a deep-blue robe, his overall appearance nothing out of the ordinary.

“That was quick,” he said for a greeting.

“I missed you,” Hiromasa blurted out and blushed.

Seimei gave a tiny hint of a smile and gestured towards the doors.

“Come in. It’s cold outside.”

Hiromasa stepped tentatively into the warmth of the house. It felt strange to be shown the way by the host after he’d lived here all by himself for half a month. A beautiful girl in a phalaenopsis-patterned robe served them grilled fish and warmed wine.

“Where is Mitsumushi?” Hiromasa asked for something to say.

“She usually sleeps through most of the winter. I could wake her up if you’d like to talk to her...”

“Oh, no, thanks,” Hiromasa picked up his cup filled by the girl’s hand. “Just wondering.”

Seimei drank silently.

“So... how are you feeling?” Hiromasa enquired nervously. It’s been a long time since he had been relaxed, and the constant strain was beginning to get to him.

“Seriously, Hiromasa,” Seimei chided. “You asked me that question every single day for the past month. What news are you expecting to hear?”

Hiromasa looked down, not knowing what to say to that. He was so delighted to see Seimei again, but he knew nothing had changed between them since the day he’d left.

“I told them at court that you were ill, but never specified with what. Only said it wasn’t contagious. So you’re free to make up something convincing.”

Seimei seemed amused for a moment.

“Do they miss me at court?”

“Well,” Hiromasa sighed. “They really miss your powers.”

“Oh, that is understandable,” Seimei drawled. “Unlike someone’s odd passion for my voice.”

Hiromasa froze. There was no way. He couldn’t know. He was a fox then. And asleep. No way in the world he could’ve heard that!

Hiromasa chanced a look at his friend, but quickly cast his eyes down again. Seimei’s expression was adamant: he knew. There was no denying anything. Hiromasa forced himself to relax. It didn’t matter what he did or said now if Seimei knew. He recalled how Seimei himself denied having shed tears. It was useless. For such an intensely private person as Seimei it was a way to preserve even a tiny bit of dignity. But Hiromasa wasn’t all that private, even if he was easily embarrassed. Furthermore, he felt bad about denying his feelings for Seimei. The man must have known little affection judging from his reactions. It would be insensitive of Hiromasa to deny him further.

He took a deep breath and looked up.

“Yes,” he said. “I like your voice. I actually like a lot of things about you. And I missed you,” he added with a stress.

It was Seimei’s turn to avert his gaze.
“I was a mess, Hiromasa,” he said in a strained tone. “I had to collect my wits before facing anyone.”

“I understand,” Hiromasa assured. He did, for the whole time. He understood that Seimei couldn’t bear the idea of appearing less than powerful and ironic before him, just like before anyone.

Seimei obviously saw where his words had directed Hiromasa’s thoughts. He closed his eyes briefly, then sighed.

“No, it’s not that. You were simply the last person I wanted to see me like that.”

Hiromasa wasn’t very good at controlling his expression, but this time he managed to raise his eyebrows in an expression of polite curiosity.

“What were you afraid of that I’d do?”

“I wasn’t-” Seimei began quickly, but stopped himself. “Any number of things. Pity me. Lose faith in my powers. Stop... liking me.”

Hiromasa reached out to touch Seimei’s hand, which was fingering his empty cup.

“That could never happen,” he whispered.

Seimei squeezed his fingers lightly.

“You must understand, Hiromasa,” he said, “that I didn’t remember anything back then. I had no idea what I was like as a fox. Nor how you reacted.”

“Do you now?”

“I do,” Seimei nodded, and Hiromasa was reminded of their brief-phrased correspondence. So, probably, was Seimei, and he continued, “At least I remember everything that happened and what you said.” He gave Hiromasa a questioning look.

Hiromasa felt awkward, leaning forward over the wine and the fish, so he stood up and moved to Seimei’s side without letting go of his hand.

“I meant everything I said,” he confirmed. “I love you.”

Seimei regarded him through half-closed eyes. Then he leaned in and licked Hiromasa on the cheek.

Hiromasa laughed with surprise and pulled Seimei tight into his arms. Seimei gripped the fabrics on Hiromasa’s back so strongly, it could tear, and nuzzled and kissed Hiromasa’s neck.

“That tickles,” Hiromasa whispered even though it actually didn’t. But he wasn’t sure he knew the right word to name the sensation Seimei’s lips sent through him.

Seimei pulled back a bit and pressed his lips to Hiromasa’s, breathing into his mouth. His breath smelt of wine, and Hiromasa suspected the bottle that was opened when he arrived wasn’t the first one Seimei tasted today.

“Does that tickle too?” Seimei exhaled pushing onto Hiromasa with all of his weight.

“Yes,” Hiromasa squeaked, his head spinning from the sudden arousal. He allowed Seimei to push him flat onto the floor and wondered why the man didn’t sink right through him, for he was quickly dissolving into a hot liquid.

Seimei kissed the corner of his mouth and nuzzled his cheek, eyes squeezed shut.

“Hiromasa,” he whispered. “If you want to stop me, do it now.”

“Why would I want that?” Hiromasa gasped, feeling Seimei’s hardness press into his abdomen even through all the layers of silk.

Instead of an answer, Seimei unfastened Hiromasa’s cap and pulled down his hair, burying his face in it and inhaling the perfume. In his haste, Hiromasa hadn’t applied anything special, but then he’d never expected this meeting to become a date. Seimei’s own hair smelled of desire and possession, as Hiromasa undid all the ties and ran his fingers through the shiny mass.

Seimei’s breathing was hoarse as he helped Hiromasa out of his robes. For several agonizing minutes all they both could do was to shed skins in order to reach each other, until only one layer was left. The notion of decency wouldn’t allow Hiromasa to strip his lover any further, and Seimei didn’t seem to care, busy pulling his feet free of hakama.

“I thought I liked your hunting costume,” Hiromasa chuckled, but the chuckle turned into a gasp as Seimei straddled him, opening their underrobes just wide enough for their groins to rub together. Hiromasa thrust up a couple times out of reflex and felt ready to go that very instant, but still wasn’t sure what exactly Seimei wanted him to do. He had never had a relationship with another man and wasn’t very comfortable with the idea of letting anyone inside him, although he would’ve admitted Seimei without a hint of hesitation if asked explicitly.

His lover must have sensed his confusion and leaned forward, a curtain of shiny hair separating his pale face from the rest of the world.

“Take me, please,” Seimei breathed, and his words brushed Hiromasa’s lips with the power of a spell; he moaned and arched upwards, feeling that his consciousness was leaking away fast at the very idea of Seimei seeking masculinity in him. He heard a chuckle, then a tap, then a scent of perfume spread through the air. He gripped Seimei’s thighs and caressed them in anticipation, and then a slick hand curled around his length. He didn’t dare look at what Seimei was doing: he was sure he wouldn’t hold any longer if he saw. But then he felt Seimei’s weight lift from his lap, and he couldn’t keep himself from lifting his head to watch wide-eyed as Seimei’s pale and elegant body sank on top of him, arching wildly, head thrown back with a gasp of pleasure and probably pain. Hiromasa thrust despite himself; he’d meant to let Seimei lead the rhythm. Seimei moaned and bent backwards, facing the ceiling. His underrobe slid off his shoulders, restraining his arms, which he used to support himself on the floor. Then he started moving in ragged jolts, gasping and mewling quietly, too hard and too fast for a first time, Hiromasa realized. His desire subsided somewhat, giving way to worry, and he pushed himself upright to get a hold of his lover.

“Seimei, you are hurting yourself,” he whispered. The man clung to him and kissed his shoulder.

“I promised myself not to touch you,” he said in a husk voice.

“Why would you punish me like that?” Hiromasa asked, carefully shifting their linked bodies to lay Seimei on the tatami. “Here, carefully now.”

Seimei sniffed, and Hiromasa began to move cautiously, like he would with the most fragile lady. Seimei was gasping quietly, eyes clouded with desire and pleasure. Hiromasa was nearly suffocating with the overwhelming need for more, but his lover’s comfort was incomparably more important. Shifting his weight to one arm, he began caressing the tender skin of Seimei’s chest, then stomach and felt sharp nails sink deep into his arms. He reached lower to get the tangled mess of moist silk out of the way and slid his hand around Seimei’s length. The man bucked up and groaned, baring his teeth, and Hiromasa saw protruding vulpine fangs sinking into Seimei’s lower lip. He gasped and leaned forward, changing the angle of his thrusts, and it was then that Seimei’s gleaming amber eyes flashed open.

“Is it really me you want, Hiromasa?” he asked in a trembling voice between gasps.

Hiromasa’s mind went numb at the sight of a blood drop smearing Seimei’s pale lips.

“I love you,” he gasped and came, and so did Seimei under him, with a loud scream through clenched teeth.

They lay there for a long time just breathing. Seimei’s fangs retreated, and his eyes gradually turned their normal dark brown colour. He raised a hand to wipe the blood off his lips, but Hiromasa stopped him.

“May I?”

He took blinking for a nod and bent over his lover’s face to lick and kiss at the injured skin.

“Now you’ve drunk my blood,” Seimei murmured absent-mindedly.

“Is it a bad thing?” Hiromasa frowned.

“Nope. It just means you won’t catch a cold this winter,” Seimei chuckled.

“Oh... I meant, for you.”

“You think too much about me, Hiromasa,” Seimei shifted and found that his elbows were still linked by the twisted underrobe. Irritated, he pulled free. Hiromasa snickered at his struggling and pushed the offending garb away. Seimei caught his arm and frowned. There were fresh clawmarks, and Hiromasa only now began to feel the light stinging. Seimei brought his lips to Hiromasa’s skin and, with a whispered word, healed all the claw marks at once.

“The other one,” he commanded and Hiromasa shifted to pull his left arm from under him.

“Convenient,” he remarked, watching Seimei do away with all the scratches together with the old marks of the fox bite.

“It can be avoided if my hands are tied,” Seimei said dryly.

Hiromasa sat up.

“What!? Are you mad? I’d never do such a thing to you!”

Seimei looked away and pulled his blue robe around himself.

“It is easy for you to promise things you can control,” he said. “I wish I’d never hurt you. But if you are determined to make love to me, that cannot be avoided.”

“I haven’t even felt it until you noticed,” Hiromasa muttered, wrapping his own underrobe tighter. “I’m not very sensitive to pain.” He watched Seimei struggle with the tangled ends of his hair, obviously with the purpose of tying it up. He realized he couldn’t bear another round of nervous silence between them. He caught Seimei’s hands and pushed him to the floor once again, pinning him down with his weight.

“How much more is there?” he demanded of the startled onmyouji. “How much more are you hiding for fear of scaring me away? Tell me now, Seimei. I am tired of walking head-on into your secrets. I love you, and that includes your voice, and your hair, and your tail, and your claws. All of you. I may be young, but I’m adult enough to put up with some love bites. What is it you like about me if you think that I am a whimp and a coward?”

“I don’t think that,” Seimei said quickly, vainly trying to avoid looking Hiromasa in the eyes. “And what I like about you are the same things I am afraid I might rob you of: your innocence and your cheerfulness.”

“If you continue pushing me away, that would kill the cheerfulness indeed.”

Seimei closed his eyes in defeat. He looked so beautiful, his face pale and solemn, his hair in disarray over a heap of cast-off white robes, Hiromasa momentarily imagined his lover in a sleep troubled with desire, thrashing around on the sheets.

“Is there anything else?” he asked quietly, feeling a new arousal build up and suddenly very much aware of only two layers of silk between him and Seimei’s hot body.

“No, Hiromasa. You’ve dug to the bottom, there is nothing else to hide. Perhaps... but I’m sure you already know that your love draws out the human in me.”

Hiromasa smiled and pressed a kiss to Seimei’s cheek.

“Then why don’t we try again, from the beginning?”

Seimei’s breathing hitched and he looked Hiromasa deep in the eyes.

“You have no idea how much I desire you,” he said hoarsely.

“Just let’s take our time. Tell me what to do to make it easier for you,” Hiromasa rolled off to the side, allowing his lover some space.

Seimei’s eyes clouded as he parted the deep blue robe and, moving his slender legs apart, found his own opening with his fingers. Hiromasa blushed a brilliant red even after all their intimacy, at the sight of Seimei oiling himself. His eyes closed and cheeks flushed, Seimei started pushing one finger after another inside. Hiromasa tried to gulp, but found his mouth totally parched.

“Let me,” he rasped, moving closer.

Seimei looked at him through his thick eyelashes and took his hand to guide it in place. Then he pushed two fingers, one of his own and one Hiromasa’s, into his opening. Hiromasa forgot how to breathe as he explored Seimei’s sleek tenderness. It seemed to him his fingers were too rough for the task. Seimei began making soft sounds in his throat and pushing his hips to meet the joined fingers, which he was now flexing and pushing apart. He was already very hard.

“Hiromasa,” he whispered, and the young man immediately realised that Seimei had forgotten he was there. This was how Seimei had satisfied his desire before Hiromasa built up the courage to interfere. He leaned in and kissed Seimei’s abdomen, reminding the man of his presence. Seimei started and gasped, eyes fluttering open and blush blooming on his cheekbones.

“Hiromasa,” he said in a different, urgent rather than wistful voice, “I need you inside me.”

“Are you ready?” Hiromasa asked for confirmation. He didn’t want a repetition of the earlier.

Seimei nodded. Hiromasa moved to position himself in front of his lover and placed Seimei’s legs over his shoulders, lifting the lower part of his lover’s body. Seimei’s skin was flushed and fevered. Hiromasa gave an affectionate squeeze to his buttocks and elicited the sweetest moan. He oiled himself thoroughly and pulled away Seimei’s hand. Then he pushed in.

This time it was very different. Seimei’s heat swallowed him whole and made his head swim. He heard the sensual noises his lover was making, felt him buck under him, but was no longer sure where he ended and Seimei began, so synchronized their movements and cries were. At some point he noticed that Seimei threw back his arms as if trying to reach something to hold onto, so Hiromasa grabbed his hands and pinned them down, entwining his fingers with Seimei’s. He thrust with his whole power and didn’t hold back. He caught a glimpse of fangs severing Seimei’s lower lip, which he had neglected to heal. Blood trickled to the side of Seimei’s full red lips. Hiromasa trembled all over and dove down, pressing the place where his neck met his shoulder to Seimei’s mouth.

“Bite me.”

And Seimei did.

They both came from the sensation, shuddering and gasping, sweaty and hot on a winter’s day. Hiromasa collapsed on top of his lover, breathing in his scent, savage and elegant at the same time. Courtesy demanded that he should roll off, because he was the taller and heavier of the two, but he knew Seimei could lift him with a word, and it was so warm, to be pressed to his lover skin-to-skin.

Seimei drew out a long breath, and Hiromasa felt being lowered together with Seimei’s chest.

“You were right to suggest a second time,” the onmyouji said, smiling. When he received no answer, he nudged Hiromasa’s leg with his knee. “Are you asleep, eh?”

“Ah? No!” Hiromasa jerked up his head and stared. “What did you say?”

Seimei laughed. Hiromasa rolled over and sat up, separating his hands from Seimei’s as they were still firmly clasped together. There were claw marks on the back of his palms, where Seimei’s fingers had dug in. The onmyouji frowned slightly, brought Hiromasa’s hands to his lips and whispered a little. The scratches closed without a trace, just like before.

“Take care of your lip,” Hiromasa advised. “My heart aches to look at it, too erotic and too violent.”

Seimei smiled and sucked the poor lip into his mouth for a few seconds. It emerged unscathed.

“One might think we were fighting, not making love,” Seimei remarked.

“One has no business looking,” retorted Hiromasa with a smirk. He yawned and stretched. “Now is a good time for lunch, don’t you think?”

“Let me take care of the bite, and you may eat everything there is in the house.”

Hiromasa tugged the robe off his shoulder and felt the spot.

“It’s all right, doesn’t even hurt, let it be.”

“Why not treat it?” Seimei lifted an eyebrow.

“Well, I’m pretty sure you are not going to write me a morning-after letter, and I’d like something to stay... You know... In case I wake up tomorrow and it all seems a dream.”

Seimei smiled uneasily.

“A servant might see.”

“I’ll say I was bitten by a demon,” Hiromasa grinned.

“That won’t even be a lie,” Seimei said, getting up and starting to sift through the discarded robes.

“Hey, you aren’t insulted, are you?” Hiromasa frowned.

Seimei turned his head without lifting it, so that he looked at Hiromasa through the disordered hair.

“No. I realize I wasn’t at my best lately, but I am not that easily insulted, you know.”

“Good,” Hiromasa breathed out. “Could you help me dress, please? It takes me an hour alone.”

“I remember,” Seimei smirked and picked up Hiromasa’s robes. “Come here.”

* * *

The shikigami had to rewarm the wine and the food, of course, but Hiromasa was so happy and hungry, he didn’t care for minute nuances of taste. Seimei, too, cleared his plate rather quickly and was now sipping the hot wine, gazing at the first snowfall of the year through an unscreened window. It was too hot in the room, and neither of them was in danger of catching a cold, really.

“I feel like we’ve just returned from solving a case of a mysterious death,” Hiromasa said between mouthfuls.

“A bit similar, yes,” Seimei nodded with a dreamy smile. “But at such moments you usually barrage me with questions to clarify all the details. Have you none?”

Hiromasa thought about it.

“Hm!” he said, shocked that he never asked this one before, but remembering to swallow before talking. “Who was it that cursed you?”

“Why, haven’t you figured out?” Seimei looked really surprised. “Honestly, Hiromasa. You invented a way to bring me back and make me human again a month short of the curse’s term, but you still don’t know who cast it?”

“All right, I feel stupid enough, now you can tell me,” Hiromasa grinned.

Seimei laughed.

“Why, that relative of mine, of course. I should’ve expected something like that, but, spending most of my time with you, I forget what a nasty place this word is.”

Hiromasa blushed proudly.

“Did he enchant the fence too? So that you couldn’t leave?”

“No, I did it myself. I had a few seconds after I realised I was cursed but before I changed.”

“Whatever for?”

“To keep myself from straying into the woods and forgetting who I am.”

“But you did forget?” Hiromasa prompted quietly.

Seimei nodded, this thoughts far away.

“I gave in to an instinct. That’s the thing with this kind of curses. While you keep your cool, it’s fine. But once simple desires overwhelm, there is no way back.”

“Which desire was it?” Hiromasa frowned, trying to remember.

“To lick your hand,” Seimei smiled.

“Huh? So it was my fault?” Hiromasa put down his cup, eyes wide and miserable.

“No,” Seimei chuckled. “It could’ve been anything. It just happened to be you. That’s why I tried to scare you away the next day, but couldn’t stand to see you so sad. Anyway, it could’ve been a passing female. Or the desire to catch a bird.” He gave Hiromasa a teasing look. “Or a mouse. You should really be proud of yourself, because so far I was convinced there was no way to bring back a soul lost due to such a curse. Yet it seems love indeed is stronger than other spells.”

Hiromasa blushed again and fell silent for a few minutes, sipping his wine. Then another question occurred to him.

“Na, Seimei. If anything happens to you again, who am I to run to?”

Seimei gave him a long sad look.

“No one, Hiromasa. There is no one else for me in this world.”

___________________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading! If I have sinned against the English language, point my nose the right way please, not a native speaker here.

Hopefully, there will be a sequel soon, if I have the time.