Title: Glimpses of Our Ghosts.
Paring(s): Shien x Zenon.
Summary: Zenon, Triad Captain in bright modern-day Tokyo. Shien, Captain in Heaven's Army. Generations apart, yet a quirk of fate and one special bath brushes these two together on multiple occasions.
Warning(s): AU/modern. M/M, rough play, rape.
Authors notes: Yes I messed with the universe so that I could bring you all this selection of smut, sorry there is little plot.
prompt: : Bath house.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own twisted mind and the shadow bunny's.
Glimpses of Our Ghosts.
Thick white steam curls up in the cooler air, vaporous fog cling like a shroud over everything. Gilt benches, lacquered cupboards and silk wall hangings furnish the fair-sized area. Smooth-faced flagstones define the water's edge within a finely-decorated bathing room heavy with ancient mosaics.
Indulging now in one of my few secret joys, I laze back, letting the hot water sooth tired muscles. My single eye closes in relaxation, and I let my mind wander a little, wearily easing it back from its battle-sharp edge. Any rival faction will think twice now before entering territory I guard for my gang boss, after the latest word gets around about my most recent battle. My reputation as a merciless killer will accomplish more than my blood-stained hands will need to.
It always begins with a subtle change, something in the air. While it's not a difference you can see, more feel with a sixth sense, I have learned to anticipate it eagerly. It is like the room, still clouded with milky steam, becomes an open-air onsen of the olden-days, if only my eye could pierce the dense misty veil. I lean my head back once more, as I have before, only this time I note the lip of the bath now feels more like worn stone, rounded over from time and use. Just beyond the lapping waters' edge I note the tiles have been replaced with fine sand, and broad plants are the only boundary to this open-air hot spring.
The first few times it occurred I was surprised, then enraged, absolutely convinced the silent wonder I always met in here was some well paid-whore hired by my own loyal men, a cunning situation created to help a lonely Triad Captain. I had first expressed my displeasure only towards the bathhouse owner, beating the honourable lady till she crouched on the floor, groveling as she bled freely from her mouth, lips split. I called her a lying bitch each time she pleaded to my face that I had been alone, that no one had entered my special bathing room which she kept solely for me to use, as was our agreement.
The second time it occurred, I brutally raped the still-protesting woman over her own desk, a fitting punishment to my thinking at the time. She managed to convince me it was not her error, whimpering, still slumped on the floor in submission.
I then proceeded to call in my own trusted men who must have knowledge of this prostitute's second visit, and questioned them before her broken body, a grizzly reminder of my capabilities. Both willingly paid with body parts to recoup some small measure of their shame at letting someone somehow slip past them, when they were guarding the only door to my extraordinary room.
Only after the third time did I start to believe any of them about this problematic situation. They all still kept saying no one had disturbed me, no one would dare enter and evoke my wrath. So who was this willowy joy who kept appearing out of the mist, disturbing my solitary bath, and much more? My own questions regarding this mysterious visitor only served to infuriate me more, with the evasive answers spinning inside my head. With a maddening touch that left me wanting, this odd serene man was quite something else, someone I did not realize I'd missed and wanted deep down inside. He was like a wonderful battle-scarred angel, MY Shien.
He would somehow know just when I'd like it hard and fast, pain interlaced with carnal pleasure, just how to push the boundaries, so close to rape, walking a fine knife's edge, teetering on the brink. As for my beautiful quiet lover, I have learned his aphrodisiac is the challenge, calculating ways to manipulate me to his whim so that not even I see the silken rope he places on me. It's only when the skillfully-knotted bindings bite deep that I am made aware that once more I have been out-maneuvered.
Feeling familiar, strong, but elegant hands pin my shoulders back against the side before his lips hungrily feed at my mouth, his probing tongue forces its way inside, so our dexterous wet muscles can, flexing, twisting, dance together. I never tire of this battle, or how well our wills and passion are displayed between us.
Beautiful Shien of the mist. Under the water my hands skim over sharp hips, around to cup each tender ass cheek before skimming back up Shien's long back and settle loosely on his shoulders. I am darkly-tanned, copper in tone next to his pale milk skin. He wins the battle our tongues are waging, but I never consent to any defeat with him too easily.
I clasp him closer to my body, erections trapped in the hard embrace of our tightly pressed bodies, pulsing and heavy with mutual desperate arousals. His long dark unbound hair spreads out on the water like lily pads on a pond. I feel him pull back from trying to crawl inside my mouth, and there is a quick nip at my throat before he turns me around in the hot steaming water, shifting me up against the stone edge, him flush at my back. One hand on my hip holds me in his vice-like grip that will leave clear finger impressions, while the other spreads my toned ass cheeks. A leg thrust between my own parted limbs forces them further apart to reveal his treasured goal.
After only a quick, cursory preparation of my tight hole with long slender fingers, Shien is thrusting inside of me like a demon possessed. His violent pace excites me even more; from past experience I know my dick is an angry red, swollen full of blood. Hot breaths gust over my ear, and I find myself meeting each powerful thrust, deepening our coupling to the best of my skills. Too soon we loose our smoothly-timed rhythm, and now a wild primal rutting is all that remains. Finally his hand snakes round, pumps at my neglected member as perfect teeth clamp over my wildly beating neck pulse point. With a roar the earth shudders and implodes, narrowing down to just the twitching of Shien's cock filling me with his load. My own release is lost in the swirling hot water.
With lust sated for the moment, our kisses turn loving, soft, if still hungry.
I feel him slip out and I mourn the loss. Satisfied, once more facing him, his head rests on my chest as we nestle together, hearts still drumming in time. It is more the necessity of exhaustion than some romantic notion on either of our parts.
When he looks upon my ruined face deep in my one remaining eye, I see a battle-scarred warrior looking back: his marks just don't mar the other body's perfection like mine. Time served in heavy action has left gaping lacerations on his soul, forcing my beloved Shien to sacrifice private tender parts no man should ever have to.
I have no idea how or why this mist from heaven acts like it does. Pretty, knowledgeable Shien has tried to explain a theory or two to me, something to do with a quantum mechanical thing, or space loops touching. The only good thing about these talks is the chance to lounge in his arms, absorbing as much as I can of his too-quiet voice. It's a chance to watch him, to simply enjoy what we have, and try not to regret.
We can only co-exist in snatches of time, stolen moments that never seem to be enough, nor fill the ache left behind. Now that I have gotten a taste of this angel my life has became bland, it lacks something: some one at my side. I dare not ask him if it is the same for him; I can not risk his answer and the pain that could come with it. He shifts restlessly: whether he has guessed my unspoken question, or just the growing need to use this brief window to our full advantage, he presses me hungrily up against the stone ledge once again. My smile echoes his own before we enter the next round at a slightly slower pace.