fic: White Butterfly 32
Title: White Butterfly 32
Author: Seraphim Grace
Archive: http://www.Seraphim-grace.livejournal.com. If you want it ask.
Feedback: Always appreciated and replied to.
Rating: 18.
Pairings: Crawford x Ran others to be notified later.
Warnings: Het, yaoi, vast cast.
Crawford maintained a luxurious but small house in the capital, amidst the other mansions of the onmyoji, in comparison to whom his looked rather ineffectual. To Aya, used to the sprawl of the Fujimiya house it felt rather small and claustrophobic with people everywhere and so he took to sitting on the balcony overlooking the deer catcher and watching the sky.
Fuji sat beside him. “Do you know I hate the capital.” he said. it wasn’t a question. “No matter what you do or why you do it people analyse it for every single possible reason so they can use it against you. Even this,” he gestured to the balcony. “I know it’s that there are too many people in the house and you feel,” he tilted his head, “but over there,” he waved at the guard on the wall, “that is a spy for Kuchiki who probably thinks that you are waiting on some signal of an attempt on the empress.”
“I have no intentions to the empire.” Aya said. “I am just a concubine. I have no real power.”
“Yet you and your sister are descended from gods which means you can legally claim the throne in her name if the emperor was no longer available. That is why your sister is so dangerous without lifting a finger.” He leant back. “I am surprised the emperor did not take her as a second wife to remove that threat.”
“What do you mean?” Aya asked, he was late come to politics, the Fujimiya house had had no care for them.
“If he marries her and promotes any child she has then the threat is gone, because it can’t be used against his house because it has been accepted into his house. Instead the empress beat him to it by introducing her to her cousin, Hatsuharu,”
Aya growled.
“Easy,” Fuji gave a delighted little laugh. “He is a good man and he has asked that they might marry. I do believe it might be genuine between them, it is not like Crawford hasn't threatened him on your behalf.” Aya blinked at that, his porcelain facade wavering for a moment. He had not known that, Fuji thought to himself, the rumours about the two of them being at loggerheads must be true. “Is that where you went that night when you caught the assassin, to kill Haru?”
“Yes. Now Crawford has restrained me to this house and I know nothing of what happens.”
“The assassin was a mercenary,” Fuji said, without revealing the source of his own information, “he worked for the Ichiroya Teahouse in the Hanakotoba district of town. He claimed that he was hired by the oiran Omemie, not to kill the empress, but to kill you for the murder of Takatori Masafumi.”
“I was not the one who killed him.” Aya was learning the art of speaking the truth so it revealed nothing. Fuji knew everything that happened in the house but he didn’t need spies to do so.
“But she believes you were, she has said so under the gentle touch of Captain Kuchiki and my own dear ‘Mitsu, who hates that he is the imperial interrogator, even though he is so very good at it.”
“It’s a very odd profession for a swordsman to take.” Aya agreed. Tezuka had only recently agreed to spar with Aya and he was yet to find a chink in the captain's defense.
“The empress has an eye for talent and he is very thorough, things that make him terrifying as an interrogator and wonderful as a lover.” Fuji’s little smile might not have seemed to have shifted but was slightly fond and mocking now. “There will be rain,” Fuji said then, looking at the sky, “come inside before your fine kimono are ruined.”
“Do you ever wish things would go back to the way they were before?” Aya asked, noticing the cloud that sat on the horizon at last.
“Why would I?” Fuji asked, “the future is a wonderful place, all the more for not knowing what’s going to happen there. Crawford has his plans, and the empress has her plans and the emperor has his plans and do you know what my plans are?” His eyes opened a thin, menacing crack. “Supper, and bed, and possibly getting pillowed by my lover. Perhaps those are the kind of politics that should interest you.”
Aya stood up. “I don’t understand.”
“There are games played between lovers that make those between countries look amiable.” Fuji said loftily. “Even when those lovers aren't sharing a futon.”
“He does not send for me.”
“Why should he need to send? If you wish it then visit him.” Fuji slid open the door to the upper room. “Perhaps you need to remind others of your place in the house that they might not assume things which are not true.”
“I don't understand.”
“A few screaming pillowings and attentive gestures on your lord will reassure them you are a silly boy who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Fuji’s eyes were a sliver of blue. “As well as being a most pleasant distraction.” He turned his brown head. “A gift, I think, we shall get him a gift.”
“I’m bound to the house.” Aya reminded his friend.
“But I am not, and if I insist that you are to accompany me...” he left it open.
---
The shop which Fuji took him to was small and in a side street, Fuji left their guards outside and greeted the owner, who wore a strange hat pulled down over his face, like an old friend. “This is Aya,” he said and Aya spent the rest of the encounter as red as his hair as more and more instruments of sexual pleasure were shown to them. There were ropes. There were oils. There were carved phalluses, one of which could be played like a flute. There were kimonos so fine that the wearer might as well be naked. Aya hadn’t considered him a prude, naive perhaps, but after that morning he thought he might well be wrong.
Fuji just maintained that soft mocking smile and agreed to pay for everything Aya wanted, and certain things that he didn’t, and others he had no idea of the purpose of. He arranged for them to be delivered to Crawford’s manse and then took Aya for tea at a local teahouse. He waved away all but one of the girls sent to wait on them and leaned back on his floor cushion like a maharajah at play. “You worry too much.” Fuji said calmly, taking in Aya’s ramrod straight posture. “This is tea, it will not kill you.” His smile was closed eyed and impish. “Nor will Crawford for taking this small excursion.”
“His rule is explicit that I am not to leave the household.”
“You are perfectly capable of mischief within the household.” Fuji corrected him, popping one of the sugar dusted confections into his mouth. The servant girl tittered politely. “Leave us.” Fuji told her. She nodded her head and bowed. “Crawford intends to keep you closeted because you are so delightfully naive and he thinks that people such as I will happily spoil you, which I will.”
“Kuchiki-dono watches me closely. I do not like his attention.”
“Kuchiki thinks that you are going to murder the emperor, or the emperor will be murdered on your behalf.” Fuji said bluntly. “It’s his job to watch you, but believe me he has no interest in you other than how other people will use you.”
“I don't understand, my intentions are quite transparent.”
“But Crawford’s aren’t.” Fuji answered bluntly, “and you are legally his creature. You would make, or so they think, a fantastic puppet emperor if his motivations ran that way.”
“Do they?”
“That’s the first clever thing you’ve asked me since we came to the capital.” Fuji said. “Crawford’s motivations are his own, he keeps them closer than he keeps you. Perhaps he has no more intention than living in the country surrounded by people who are worth the time, I wouldn't put it past him.” He sipped his tea. “Crawford has his ambitions, but he doesn't share them with me, after all I’m far to flighty to be trusted, but I doubt he has intentions to the throne. I may be wrong but I don’t think I am. When we go back, bring out the Go board, play him, watch how he moves the stones, or better yet, fuck him. You are tetchy, he is tetchy, it will make the household a more pleasant place to be.” He sighed and stretched out even more luxuriantly if such was possible. “and besides we have all those wonderful new toys for you to play with. Let’s give Kuchiki’s man something to watch.”
“Fuji!” Aya hissed, blushing as bright as his hair.
“Aya, you talk like I’ve never had a cock up my arse.” Fuji said bluntly, his eyes flashing blue, “it feels wonderful to do so, but to do so and watching some poor little guard’s head explode is even better. We can tie you up,” his finger traced a design in the powder on the dish which held the conditions, “wearing that lovely dark purple robe he got you from the Xing ambassador, loosely belted of course, with your skin I imagine he loves to unwrap you, and let them see how loyal you are to your master. Crawford won’t resist you, he’s only human after all.” Fuji laughed to himself, “perhaps, yes, a blindfold, I’m sure you have more than one false collar we can use for the purpose.”
“You’re terrible.” Aya said trying to hide the effect that the words had on him.
“Do you wish me to call in a tayu to take care of that?” Fuji said gesturing to Aya’s nascent erection.
“No,” Aya’s tone brooked no argument in this. “We shall save it for my master.”
----
Crawford went into his study with an arm full of papers which he threw down on his low desk with a deep sigh. “Master,” Aya said quietly. “Is that you?”
Aya sat patiently in the shadows, wearing an indigo silk robe that was as dark as ink, his hair, almost reaching his shoulders was down, and he wore a white blindfold. “This servant has bathed and waited for you.” The words were oddly formal and the layers of incense he wore were maddening, blurring Crawford’s thoughts like opium.
“I am vexed with this servant.” Crawford said. “I did not ask him to wait.”
“Sometimes a slave must anticipate his master’s wishes.” Aya’s voice was soft, breathy, almost lost in the shadows. “Sometimes a master will not accept what is best for him." Aya clumsily got to his feet, unable to see through the cloth over his eyes. “Sometimes it is a slave’s place to take action that he might save his master against his master’s wishes.”
“A slave can be flogged for such behaviour.” Crawford said bluntly, waiting for Aya’s hands to find him but they did not, instead there was a sussuration noise of silk, and then the whirr of what sounded like rope passing through metal. Crawford turned and saw what had made the noise. Aya’s hands had been hoisted above his head and the same rope pulled a single ankle upright, almost level with his shoulder, parting the inky fabric with a white thigh.
“This slave only wishes to serve. His body is the domain of his master, to use as his master wishes, but it is prepared for his master’s pleasure, for a slave may only know pleasure at the hand of his master.”
Crawford licked his lips, “how long has it been?”
“Too long, Master,” Aya said, gasping as Crawford ran a single finger nail down his inner thigh. “If it has been hard for me perhaps it has also been difficult for you.” He lingered on the word master as he said it, “I know that you have been busy at work and take little time for yourself. I feel that you have not relieved yourself since I left for the house of sleep.”
“You have been disobedient since your return, I do not reward disobedience.”
“this is not a reward, master,” Aya’s voice hitched as crawford ran his fingernail along the sole of his bare foot, “this is my duty, my rewards come in the after, in the sight of you reaching completion, in the flush across your chest, not the feel of your hands upon me, your cock in me, those are duty. I am bound, I am blinded, I cannot take reward from this. I am yours to use, to do with as you will.”
“And if I decide to leave you here?”
Aya licked his lips, anger flashed across the line of his throat, and he swallowed. “Then such is your will.”
Crawford circled him. The robe was pulled down at the back, perhaps by Naoe to better highlight the dark mark of the tattoo that Crawford had branded him with. It gave him an idea. He moved to the cabinet and removed the ink stone and brushes, quickly grinding some ink and mixing it. Let Aya think that he was being passed over.
He selected a brush, running it over his wrist to test the roughness of the bristles, then dipping it in the ink he ran it the length of the sole of Aya’s foot, listening to the gasp. It clearly tickled.
One leg was suspended, the other hidden in the folds of the robe, which was loosely belted at his stomach, and on it, on the inside of his calf Crawford quickly wrote the Kanji he used as his name. Aya made a noise, then another as he began to write, quick kanji that meant nothing. Aya's skin was so pale the black ink stood out in stark contrast.
Along the line of his shin he wrote quick dirty haiku, then as the ink on his sole was dry followed the line with his tongue.
He undid the belt and let the hanfu dangle from his arms, down his back, revealing the lines of his chest, pulled taut by the ropes holding his arms up. “If I forsook your pleasure,” Crawford said, drawing quick calligraphy trees upon the skin, using the ridges of his ribs to serve as the steppes of his landscape, “if I merely pushed inside you and took my completion what would you do?”
“As my master wills.” Aya said quietly, “for such is my duty. Use me as you wish, I am nothing before you.”
Suddenly angered Crawford grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. “you are my concubine,” Crawford growled in his ear, “and you should wear that honour with pride.” He was sure Aya could feel Crawford’s erection against his hip where he stood, holding back his head.
“I would if you would use me as your concubine.” Aya answered. “Remind me of my place.” He said, “I am bound and blind waiting for you, do it if you’re able,” it was a goad and it was working, “lower the ropes and fuck my mouth, raise the ropes and fuck my ass, remind me of my place, leave your cum inside me so I don't forget, so even the spies who watch us now know my place and leave here with my beauty like this emblazoned on their eyes, that they go home to their wives and fuck them thinking of me. Can you do it, master?” that time the word was mocking. Crawford slapped his ass hard, but Aya didn't stop talking. “Think of it, master, that they are so fixated with the image of your cock sliding in and out of me that they wish it was theirs, that when they go to their whores and their wives it’s me they see themselves sticking it in, let everyone know what I am, what I am to you. Do it? I’m prepared, you won’t hurt me, fuck me like you mean it, remind me that you own me.”
The words were deliberately inflammatory. The pose was designed to rob him of thought. The whole process was to end with Crawford forgetting, if not forgiving, Aya’s sins and taking him back into his bed. But it was working. Crawford was getting angry.
“Imagine Kuchiki, master,” he couldn't see the way that Crawford bared his teeth, “do you think he watches me the way he does because he thinks I’m a threat or because he wants to bend me over and fuck me. He’s a swordsman, he’ll have delicious hands, all hard and thin and long, imagine what they’ll feel like inside me.
Crawford undid the ties of his hakama and without even checking how prepared Aya was he pushed inside, to remind this boy, this creature, who he belonged to. He fucked him hard as Aya gasped and the ropes creaked, hitching up his free leg so that he was completely suspended and Aya grunted as Crawford threw his fuck up into him, hard enough to knock the air from him. It had been so long, Crawford’s mind went black, his world shrinking only to the feel of Aya, so hot and tight around his cock, the noises he made, and the slap of his ass against Crawford’s hips.
next chapter
Author: Seraphim Grace
Archive: http://www.Seraphim-grace.livejournal.com. If you want it ask.
Feedback: Always appreciated and replied to.
Rating: 18.
Pairings: Crawford x Ran others to be notified later.
Warnings: Het, yaoi, vast cast.
Crawford maintained a luxurious but small house in the capital, amidst the other mansions of the onmyoji, in comparison to whom his looked rather ineffectual. To Aya, used to the sprawl of the Fujimiya house it felt rather small and claustrophobic with people everywhere and so he took to sitting on the balcony overlooking the deer catcher and watching the sky.
Fuji sat beside him. “Do you know I hate the capital.” he said. it wasn’t a question. “No matter what you do or why you do it people analyse it for every single possible reason so they can use it against you. Even this,” he gestured to the balcony. “I know it’s that there are too many people in the house and you feel,” he tilted his head, “but over there,” he waved at the guard on the wall, “that is a spy for Kuchiki who probably thinks that you are waiting on some signal of an attempt on the empress.”
“I have no intentions to the empire.” Aya said. “I am just a concubine. I have no real power.”
“Yet you and your sister are descended from gods which means you can legally claim the throne in her name if the emperor was no longer available. That is why your sister is so dangerous without lifting a finger.” He leant back. “I am surprised the emperor did not take her as a second wife to remove that threat.”
“What do you mean?” Aya asked, he was late come to politics, the Fujimiya house had had no care for them.
“If he marries her and promotes any child she has then the threat is gone, because it can’t be used against his house because it has been accepted into his house. Instead the empress beat him to it by introducing her to her cousin, Hatsuharu,”
Aya growled.
“Easy,” Fuji gave a delighted little laugh. “He is a good man and he has asked that they might marry. I do believe it might be genuine between them, it is not like Crawford hasn't threatened him on your behalf.” Aya blinked at that, his porcelain facade wavering for a moment. He had not known that, Fuji thought to himself, the rumours about the two of them being at loggerheads must be true. “Is that where you went that night when you caught the assassin, to kill Haru?”
“Yes. Now Crawford has restrained me to this house and I know nothing of what happens.”
“The assassin was a mercenary,” Fuji said, without revealing the source of his own information, “he worked for the Ichiroya Teahouse in the Hanakotoba district of town. He claimed that he was hired by the oiran Omemie, not to kill the empress, but to kill you for the murder of Takatori Masafumi.”
“I was not the one who killed him.” Aya was learning the art of speaking the truth so it revealed nothing. Fuji knew everything that happened in the house but he didn’t need spies to do so.
“But she believes you were, she has said so under the gentle touch of Captain Kuchiki and my own dear ‘Mitsu, who hates that he is the imperial interrogator, even though he is so very good at it.”
“It’s a very odd profession for a swordsman to take.” Aya agreed. Tezuka had only recently agreed to spar with Aya and he was yet to find a chink in the captain's defense.
“The empress has an eye for talent and he is very thorough, things that make him terrifying as an interrogator and wonderful as a lover.” Fuji’s little smile might not have seemed to have shifted but was slightly fond and mocking now. “There will be rain,” Fuji said then, looking at the sky, “come inside before your fine kimono are ruined.”
“Do you ever wish things would go back to the way they were before?” Aya asked, noticing the cloud that sat on the horizon at last.
“Why would I?” Fuji asked, “the future is a wonderful place, all the more for not knowing what’s going to happen there. Crawford has his plans, and the empress has her plans and the emperor has his plans and do you know what my plans are?” His eyes opened a thin, menacing crack. “Supper, and bed, and possibly getting pillowed by my lover. Perhaps those are the kind of politics that should interest you.”
Aya stood up. “I don’t understand.”
“There are games played between lovers that make those between countries look amiable.” Fuji said loftily. “Even when those lovers aren't sharing a futon.”
“He does not send for me.”
“Why should he need to send? If you wish it then visit him.” Fuji slid open the door to the upper room. “Perhaps you need to remind others of your place in the house that they might not assume things which are not true.”
“I don't understand.”
“A few screaming pillowings and attentive gestures on your lord will reassure them you are a silly boy who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Fuji’s eyes were a sliver of blue. “As well as being a most pleasant distraction.” He turned his brown head. “A gift, I think, we shall get him a gift.”
“I’m bound to the house.” Aya reminded his friend.
“But I am not, and if I insist that you are to accompany me...” he left it open.
---
The shop which Fuji took him to was small and in a side street, Fuji left their guards outside and greeted the owner, who wore a strange hat pulled down over his face, like an old friend. “This is Aya,” he said and Aya spent the rest of the encounter as red as his hair as more and more instruments of sexual pleasure were shown to them. There were ropes. There were oils. There were carved phalluses, one of which could be played like a flute. There were kimonos so fine that the wearer might as well be naked. Aya hadn’t considered him a prude, naive perhaps, but after that morning he thought he might well be wrong.
Fuji just maintained that soft mocking smile and agreed to pay for everything Aya wanted, and certain things that he didn’t, and others he had no idea of the purpose of. He arranged for them to be delivered to Crawford’s manse and then took Aya for tea at a local teahouse. He waved away all but one of the girls sent to wait on them and leaned back on his floor cushion like a maharajah at play. “You worry too much.” Fuji said calmly, taking in Aya’s ramrod straight posture. “This is tea, it will not kill you.” His smile was closed eyed and impish. “Nor will Crawford for taking this small excursion.”
“His rule is explicit that I am not to leave the household.”
“You are perfectly capable of mischief within the household.” Fuji corrected him, popping one of the sugar dusted confections into his mouth. The servant girl tittered politely. “Leave us.” Fuji told her. She nodded her head and bowed. “Crawford intends to keep you closeted because you are so delightfully naive and he thinks that people such as I will happily spoil you, which I will.”
“Kuchiki-dono watches me closely. I do not like his attention.”
“Kuchiki thinks that you are going to murder the emperor, or the emperor will be murdered on your behalf.” Fuji said bluntly. “It’s his job to watch you, but believe me he has no interest in you other than how other people will use you.”
“I don't understand, my intentions are quite transparent.”
“But Crawford’s aren’t.” Fuji answered bluntly, “and you are legally his creature. You would make, or so they think, a fantastic puppet emperor if his motivations ran that way.”
“Do they?”
“That’s the first clever thing you’ve asked me since we came to the capital.” Fuji said. “Crawford’s motivations are his own, he keeps them closer than he keeps you. Perhaps he has no more intention than living in the country surrounded by people who are worth the time, I wouldn't put it past him.” He sipped his tea. “Crawford has his ambitions, but he doesn't share them with me, after all I’m far to flighty to be trusted, but I doubt he has intentions to the throne. I may be wrong but I don’t think I am. When we go back, bring out the Go board, play him, watch how he moves the stones, or better yet, fuck him. You are tetchy, he is tetchy, it will make the household a more pleasant place to be.” He sighed and stretched out even more luxuriantly if such was possible. “and besides we have all those wonderful new toys for you to play with. Let’s give Kuchiki’s man something to watch.”
“Fuji!” Aya hissed, blushing as bright as his hair.
“Aya, you talk like I’ve never had a cock up my arse.” Fuji said bluntly, his eyes flashing blue, “it feels wonderful to do so, but to do so and watching some poor little guard’s head explode is even better. We can tie you up,” his finger traced a design in the powder on the dish which held the conditions, “wearing that lovely dark purple robe he got you from the Xing ambassador, loosely belted of course, with your skin I imagine he loves to unwrap you, and let them see how loyal you are to your master. Crawford won’t resist you, he’s only human after all.” Fuji laughed to himself, “perhaps, yes, a blindfold, I’m sure you have more than one false collar we can use for the purpose.”
“You’re terrible.” Aya said trying to hide the effect that the words had on him.
“Do you wish me to call in a tayu to take care of that?” Fuji said gesturing to Aya’s nascent erection.
“No,” Aya’s tone brooked no argument in this. “We shall save it for my master.”
----
Crawford went into his study with an arm full of papers which he threw down on his low desk with a deep sigh. “Master,” Aya said quietly. “Is that you?”
Aya sat patiently in the shadows, wearing an indigo silk robe that was as dark as ink, his hair, almost reaching his shoulders was down, and he wore a white blindfold. “This servant has bathed and waited for you.” The words were oddly formal and the layers of incense he wore were maddening, blurring Crawford’s thoughts like opium.
“I am vexed with this servant.” Crawford said. “I did not ask him to wait.”
“Sometimes a slave must anticipate his master’s wishes.” Aya’s voice was soft, breathy, almost lost in the shadows. “Sometimes a master will not accept what is best for him." Aya clumsily got to his feet, unable to see through the cloth over his eyes. “Sometimes it is a slave’s place to take action that he might save his master against his master’s wishes.”
“A slave can be flogged for such behaviour.” Crawford said bluntly, waiting for Aya’s hands to find him but they did not, instead there was a sussuration noise of silk, and then the whirr of what sounded like rope passing through metal. Crawford turned and saw what had made the noise. Aya’s hands had been hoisted above his head and the same rope pulled a single ankle upright, almost level with his shoulder, parting the inky fabric with a white thigh.
“This slave only wishes to serve. His body is the domain of his master, to use as his master wishes, but it is prepared for his master’s pleasure, for a slave may only know pleasure at the hand of his master.”
Crawford licked his lips, “how long has it been?”
“Too long, Master,” Aya said, gasping as Crawford ran a single finger nail down his inner thigh. “If it has been hard for me perhaps it has also been difficult for you.” He lingered on the word master as he said it, “I know that you have been busy at work and take little time for yourself. I feel that you have not relieved yourself since I left for the house of sleep.”
“You have been disobedient since your return, I do not reward disobedience.”
“this is not a reward, master,” Aya’s voice hitched as crawford ran his fingernail along the sole of his bare foot, “this is my duty, my rewards come in the after, in the sight of you reaching completion, in the flush across your chest, not the feel of your hands upon me, your cock in me, those are duty. I am bound, I am blinded, I cannot take reward from this. I am yours to use, to do with as you will.”
“And if I decide to leave you here?”
Aya licked his lips, anger flashed across the line of his throat, and he swallowed. “Then such is your will.”
Crawford circled him. The robe was pulled down at the back, perhaps by Naoe to better highlight the dark mark of the tattoo that Crawford had branded him with. It gave him an idea. He moved to the cabinet and removed the ink stone and brushes, quickly grinding some ink and mixing it. Let Aya think that he was being passed over.
He selected a brush, running it over his wrist to test the roughness of the bristles, then dipping it in the ink he ran it the length of the sole of Aya’s foot, listening to the gasp. It clearly tickled.
One leg was suspended, the other hidden in the folds of the robe, which was loosely belted at his stomach, and on it, on the inside of his calf Crawford quickly wrote the Kanji he used as his name. Aya made a noise, then another as he began to write, quick kanji that meant nothing. Aya's skin was so pale the black ink stood out in stark contrast.
Along the line of his shin he wrote quick dirty haiku, then as the ink on his sole was dry followed the line with his tongue.
He undid the belt and let the hanfu dangle from his arms, down his back, revealing the lines of his chest, pulled taut by the ropes holding his arms up. “If I forsook your pleasure,” Crawford said, drawing quick calligraphy trees upon the skin, using the ridges of his ribs to serve as the steppes of his landscape, “if I merely pushed inside you and took my completion what would you do?”
“As my master wills.” Aya said quietly, “for such is my duty. Use me as you wish, I am nothing before you.”
Suddenly angered Crawford grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. “you are my concubine,” Crawford growled in his ear, “and you should wear that honour with pride.” He was sure Aya could feel Crawford’s erection against his hip where he stood, holding back his head.
“I would if you would use me as your concubine.” Aya answered. “Remind me of my place.” He said, “I am bound and blind waiting for you, do it if you’re able,” it was a goad and it was working, “lower the ropes and fuck my mouth, raise the ropes and fuck my ass, remind me of my place, leave your cum inside me so I don't forget, so even the spies who watch us now know my place and leave here with my beauty like this emblazoned on their eyes, that they go home to their wives and fuck them thinking of me. Can you do it, master?” that time the word was mocking. Crawford slapped his ass hard, but Aya didn't stop talking. “Think of it, master, that they are so fixated with the image of your cock sliding in and out of me that they wish it was theirs, that when they go to their whores and their wives it’s me they see themselves sticking it in, let everyone know what I am, what I am to you. Do it? I’m prepared, you won’t hurt me, fuck me like you mean it, remind me that you own me.”
The words were deliberately inflammatory. The pose was designed to rob him of thought. The whole process was to end with Crawford forgetting, if not forgiving, Aya’s sins and taking him back into his bed. But it was working. Crawford was getting angry.
“Imagine Kuchiki, master,” he couldn't see the way that Crawford bared his teeth, “do you think he watches me the way he does because he thinks I’m a threat or because he wants to bend me over and fuck me. He’s a swordsman, he’ll have delicious hands, all hard and thin and long, imagine what they’ll feel like inside me.
Crawford undid the ties of his hakama and without even checking how prepared Aya was he pushed inside, to remind this boy, this creature, who he belonged to. He fucked him hard as Aya gasped and the ropes creaked, hitching up his free leg so that he was completely suspended and Aya grunted as Crawford threw his fuck up into him, hard enough to knock the air from him. It had been so long, Crawford’s mind went black, his world shrinking only to the feel of Aya, so hot and tight around his cock, the noises he made, and the slap of his ass against Crawford’s hips.
next chapter