For War is Kind ~ Chapter 9
It was the gentle breath emptying against his cheek that woke Aoshi the next morning. For a moment he almost panicked; he was lying in bed, naked and pressed tight against warm flesh. But when he pulled back a little, saw whose bed he shared, he relaxed a little. He remembered. All of it.
Slowly he pushed himself into a sitting position so that he could better see his company. Sagara… looked like a different person when he slept. Without his deep eyes it seemed there was something missing from him. And he reached out, sliding his fingers over the man's jaw.
Sagara murmured a sleepy, wordless protest and turned onto his side to escape Aoshi's touch. "Lemme 'lone…" he said thickly, tossing an arm protectively over his face. "Sleeping…" He shifted firmly, determined, against the mattress and kept his eyes stubbornly shut. But just as he had settled once more, turned away, a little shiver passed through him, and his eyes snapped open. He rolled onto his back and said sleepily, “G’morning.”
“Good Morning,” Aoshi replied, unable to help the tiny creeping of amusement that seeped into his voice. He could almost feel it flashing in his eyes as well. "You don't have to get up yet. They probably haven't even started breakfast." Still curious he reached his hand out again, sliding his fingertips over the man's jaw.
"Mmm…" Sagara purred, closing his eyes once more and tilting his cheek against that subtle touch. "How could I sleep now?"
"It should be easy, if you're still tired." Eyes thinning, Aoshi continued to move his hand over the man's face, tracing the gentle rise of his eyebrows, the curve of his lower lip. "Should I stop?"
Sagara shook his head, very slowly as though he feared he might throw Aoshi's hand off. "Nice…" he murmured, sighing contentedly.
"All right." Aoshi nodded faintly, sliding his hand lower to trace the contours of Sagara’s throat. There was something in his face that he found almost intoxicating. Something like peace, like contentment. As if they had always been this way… And he couldn't help it; he leaned forward slightly, feathering a kiss over parted lips.
Sagara gasped quietly, and his eyes fluttered open. Aoshi was different this close, or maybe just different this morning. He reached up, fitting his palm to the side of Aoshi’s face, drawing his thumb thoughtfully over a full lower lip. “I really do adore you, you know.”
“Sagara…” Aoshi glanced abruptly away, lifting a hand to the side of his face to mask a pale blush. “How many times do I have to say it? You don’t need to treat me like a child.”
Sagara rolled his eyes, but he was having a hard time staying annoyed. He doubted there was anything Aoshi could do this morning that would ruin his high spirits. Certainly nothing so adorable…
He caught the younger man’s shoulders, drawing him abruptly back. “And how many times do I have to tell you? I’m doing no such thing. You’re paranoid.”
“Paranoid?” Aoshi echoed incredulously.
Abruptly, Sagara twisted them about, forcing Aoshi’s shoulders back against the futon and shifting over him until he knelt across his hips. “I don’t know what kind of filthy old pervert you think I am…” His eyes flashed as he fastened his hands around Aoshi’s waist, leaning over him to nibble at a sharp collarbone. “But this isn’t the sort of thing I would do if you were a child.” His mouth drifted higher, to the curve of Aoshi’s throat, teasing the tip of his tongue against the sensitive spot where neck and shoulder joined.
Aoshi squirmed beneath him, only a little at first, and then abruptly more frantically. “Ah! Hey… stop that!”
Sagara drew sharply back. “What’s wrong?” he asked, a bit breathless.
Aoshi shifted onto his side, tucking one arm beneath his head. “That tickles,” he pouted.
Sagara blinked down at him, running a hand back through his hair. And then he laughed. “You scared me.” Slowly, he began to climb to his feet, bending to press a quick kiss to the corner of Aoshi’s mouth.
“Scared you?” Aoshi raised himself on one elbow, trying to draw Sagara back down to him. His eyes thinned in quiet frustration as the man slipped out of his reach.
“I don’t know, I thought… maybe I was hurting you.” He adjusted his yukata around his waist, bending to retrieve Aoshi’s discarded clothing from the tatami. He pressed it to his nose, drawing a deep breath. “Hmm, I think it’s still fresh, don’t you?” He turned, tossing the bundle of clothing back to its owner.
Aoshi had been climbing to his feet, and when he felt Sagara’s gaze fall on him, he snatched up the blanket, cinching it around his waist. “Don’t look back here!”
“What a stroke of luck for me.” When it didn’t seem Sagara was about to look away, Aoshi drew a deep breath. He dropped the blanket in a flutter of fabric, seized his yukata from the floor and jerked it over his shoulders.
He glanced over his shoulder, and felt his face heat again. Sagara shouldn’t have been watching him like that. “What am I going to do with you?” he sighed, as he knotted the obi about his waist.
“Hmm.” Sagara hooked an arm casually around his shoulders, drawing him toward the door. “I can think of a few things, if you’re willing to wait until this evening.”
Aoshi straightened a little, but even he wasn’t quite convinced it was with the intention of throwing Sagara’s hand off. “You don’t leave me with much choice, do you?” he murmured without looking at him, as he slid the panel open, darting a quick glance along the length of the hall to make sure no one would see them leave together.
Sagara, too, made certain that they were alone, and then slipped forward, gliding his lips over Aoshi’s temple. “I like to think so,” he whispered, brushing past him as he started down the hall. He didn’t even glance back, as though he knew somehow, implicitly, that Aoshi would follow.
* * *
Sagara passed another week at the Aoi-Ya. He used to think it would be hard to return to a life like this - something so normal - after he had spent so many years with a blade in his hand. He had been wrong; this quiet domesticity still suited him just fine.
Omasu kept him busy once she saw that he was back on his feet, but he didn’t mind. He wanted to stay here as long as he could, and so he didn’t mind earning his keep if it meant being permitted. He really didn’t have anywhere else to go. He couldn’t return home. By now, the reports of the Sekihoutai’s fall and the rumors of his death must have reached there, and when he tried to imagine just showing up at his door, explaining himself to a family he hadn’t seen in six years… he couldn’t even begin to find the words.
It was just as well. He had exhausted himself missing them already, then he had learned to live without them. And surely they had learned to live without him. He smiled ruefully. Surely they were no longer missing their strange youngest son with dark dreamy eyes, whose mind sometimes wandered with the changing seasons. Going home now would only be painful for all of them.
He had been content, once, and he could be again, even if it wasn’t in the same way. The past was too treacherous by now for him to ever return to, but if he pressed on, there just might be a place left for him.
He could survive, with that hope to sustain him.
Perhaps Aoshi Shinomori provided more of an incentive for him to stay than he would have cared to admit. The man was an enigma, and he liked that. Every night, when he would slide back the panel to Sagara’s room, his eyes smooth and hard like volcanic glass, he looked every bit as dangerous as Sagara knew he could be. He was living short of the ideal he had become, and it frustrated him. Though he would never stay angry for long.
Sagara had learned that it was best to wait before touching him. And so he greeted Aoshi as usual, with an easy smile. “I missed you today,” he said smoothly, as he rose to make sure the panel was firmly closed. He turned, leaning his shoulder blades against the wall and folding his arms over his chest.
“I was busy. I didn’t have time for you.” Aoshi glanced over his shoulder. “What are you doing back there?”
Sagara bit back a grin. “Oh, nothing. And I know you were busy. Am I not allowed to miss you now?”
“I don’t see why you would.”
“Mmm, me neither.” He started forward a few steps. “So you’re saying I’m not allowed? Not even… a little?’
Aoshi turned slowly to face him. “You’re teasing me,” he accused quietly.
“Am I?” He laughed softly. “Am I not allowed to tease you anymore, either?” He paused before the younger man, reaching out to trail two fingertips over his left hip. “You’re not leaving me with many options.”
Aoshi held his eyes, but his hand drifted over Sagara’s pinning it against the top of his thigh. “I came because…” Sagara leaned closer, and he turned sharply away. “Because…”
“Looks like I’m not the only tease here, hmm?”
Aoshi snorted sharply, pulling back again, still not far enough to break the contact between them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s all right.” Sagara smiled conspiratorially, moving his hand slightly against Aoshi’s hip. His voice dropped to a deep purr. “I like it when you tease me.”
Their eyes met, and Aoshi gasped quietly, as though realizing for the first time just how close Sagara was standing. He darted forward, pressing a quick, crooked kiss to his lips. “I like… the way you touch me.”
Even knowing it might have been the most inappropriate thing he could have done, Sagara laughed. He slipped his arms around Aoshi’s waist, drawing him into a real kiss. “I think… that can be arranged.”
Even more than being teased, he liked the way Aoshi bent beneath his hands and mouth. The way he always seemed so surprised, when he was giving way beneath him. Sagara drew him forward, already helping him out of his dark yukata.
He was changing a man. With every touch, every breath, every soft moan of elation muffled against a palm or the bend of a shoulder, Aoshi was redrawing the map of himself. That much was certain; all that remained was to determine if that was a good thing. Not that he would have had the will to stop…
They were finished quickly that night. It had been fast and dizzying, hard as the wall around Aoshi’s eyes. Sagara would have called it desperate, but he knew better than that. More likely, Aoshi was just proud that he was getting the hang of this.
The younger man lay now on his back, beside him, one arm crooked behind his head, the other idly tracing the curve of Sagara’s thigh, running fleeting touches down to his knee, then back up again. Their clothes lay in a ring around the futon, hastily discarded, all but forgotten by now.
Aoshi shifted, then turned on his side, propping himself up on one arm. “Sagara, I’d like you to answer a question.”
Sagara raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t used to hearing that tone of voice. Hell, he wasn’t used to hearing any tone of voice. Aoshi usually just rolled over – making sure he dragged as many of the blankets as possible with him - and fell asleep. “I’ll try my best. What is it?”
“How long… are you planning on staying here?”
That was a good question. One Sagara hadn’t been expecting, but good nonetheless. He sighed. “As long as you’ll put up with me, I suppose. I know I don’t have much to offer except for another pair of hands to help out around the place, but I’ll do anything I can…”
Aoshi leaned forward abruptly, kissing him hard. “I was only curious. I just thought that since you’re healed now, maybe there was somewhere you’d rather be.”
“Healed…” Sagara echoed quietly, and then, to cover the skepticism that had leaked into his voice, he grinned. “Are you so certain? Perhaps you should… examine me?”
Aoshi’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward. Then stopped abruptly when the movement seemed to awaken some dormant pain lingering behind his hips. “Ah.” He flopped onto his back. “Maybe in a few minutes.”
Sagara stuck his tongue out at the ceiling. “Right. Maybe in a few hours.”
“Old man,” Aoshi muttered, earning him a sharp poke to the ribs. He batted Sagara’s hand away irritably, and he lifted it instead to drag back through Aoshi’s hair.
“Don’t ever change, all right?”
Aoshi reached to push his hand away again, but changed his mind halfway and settled for a scowl, even know Sagara probably couldn’t see his face. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good.” Sagara pulled closer, resting his temple against Aoshi’s shoulder. His hand drifted lower, fingertips playing over Aoshi’s lips as though he expected to find a different expression there. They danced away in disappointment a moment later. “I wanted to tell you, Aoshi… When I’m like this – with you – things feel quieter.” He frowned a little at the word. “More peaceful. It’s like I’ve already spent an entire lifetime here, without sin or deception.”
Aoshi blinked. “What in the world are you talking about now?” he said in a voice that was just a breath above a whisper. “I wonder sometimes what goes on in that mind of yours…”
“It’s hard to explain.” Sagara lifted his head a little, enough to brush his lips over Aoshi’s cheek. “Never mind now. Let’s get some sleep, all right? If you don’t rest up, then how will you sneak out before I’m awake tomorrow morning?”
Aoshi’s lips twitched, but fell away just short of a smile. Had Sagara been able to see it, he would have been entirely too pleased. “Are we married now or something?”
“Not a chance.” But Sagara curled closer, looping an arm possessively around Aoshi’s waist. He kissed him again, his neck this time. “Goodnight, Aoshi.”
Aoshi reached up, laying a hand over the one on his chest. “Goodnight. Sagara.”