I thought for sure he’d be home by now. But no, the house is empty when I get in. It used to be that the quiet was what I craved most. Now I hate coming home like this, with the sound of my own footsteps echoing down the hall.

All because of a damn stray cat.

There’s only a hastily-folded newspaper and some empty beer cans on the counter to let me know that Gain was here. Typical of him to not pick up after himself but I find strange comfort in it. I can’t help it. No matter how many months we’ve been together, every time I walk into the door and he’s not there, I can’t breathe for a moment; this feeling of panic seizes up my chest. So. These cans, that old newspaper, the crumpled up candy wrapper I find under the coffee table, they’re signposts on the long road back to my sanity.

I wonder if Gain knows; if he leaves them on purpose. I like to hope so. I like to think of them as kitty markings—the work of a cat claiming his territory, if you please. Otherwise, I’m reminded of just how little of Gain’s stuff there is here to suggest any kind of permanence. All he’s added to the house so far is a funky art-nouveau-ish poster and a tiny cactus that he always forgets to water, which is a good thing, considering that it doesn’t need much.

Maybe it’s time we went shopping.

The cans rattle as I toss them into the garbage. My hands are shaking as I light another cigarette. In that flicker of light, the ring on my left hand glints. God, I have to stop doing this to myself.

I’m not really hungry. Seyoung insisted on dragging the film crew to dinner after the shoot and I’ve more than eaten my fill. Still, I start cooking anyway. Hearty pibimbap [1] for Gain who lives off pretzels and cigarettes when he’s at the bar. It’s an extravagant dish and especially so at two in the morning. An exasperated sound gusts past my lips and I can’t help chuckling. I work 12 to 16 hour days and yet I rush home to play the wife. Me. Eunhee Kim, the coldest fucking bastard in the business (at least according to Seyoung). I start to think, “How have I come to this?” but the answer is too obvious for me to try to pretend ignorance.

Still, this new topsy-turvy world has its advantages, like the rave reviews I’ve suddenly been getting for a couple of low-budget independent films that no one was supposed to notice:

“Eunhee Kim in his most moving performance yet—”

“Kim shows astounding maturity and emotional range for a man once called the “prince” of commercial film.”

Ha. Road movies. Who would have thought?

I take my eye off the sizzling beef and vegetables for a moment to grab a bundle of clothes from the hamper for washing. When I raise the washer’s lid, though, I find a load of wet clothes already in there. I tug one of the shirts out and sniff it, wrinkling my nose at the faint moldy odor that indicates it’s been in here far longer than it should have. Gain must have thrown in the clothes early this morning and forgotten about them. Then again, for all I know, they’ve been there since yesterday. Well, so much for doing a new load. I sigh and turn on the washer. Why do I do this again?

Fuck. Who the hell am I kidding? but I’ll pretend a little, just for the sake of my pride.

All that’s left to add to the pibimbap is the kochu jang. Both Gain and I like a generous helping of the hot sauce with our meals but I’ll wait until he gets home before applying it. I don’t want the vegetables to get too soft from the heat of the rice. With the meal done, though, I’m once again left to my own devices. I try not to watch the clock. For the hell of it, I put on some tea. The hum of the washer helps distract me and I’m grateful when it’s time to put the clothes in the dryer.

I hadn’t paid much attention to them before, but looking at the clothes now, I see the total madness of what Gain has done. I swear he really is no better than a kid. Not only has he thrown together whites with colors and cottons with expensive silks, but as I take the clothes out of the washer, I realize that everything is tinged pink and/or mottled red. Damn it! I dig through the pile and find the culprits of this measles-inducing affair: the striped red and yellow socks Gain so happily bought me a few months ago. The outrageous, ridiculous socks I agreed to wear. Well, at least they’re as bright as ever, I mutter as I toss everything into the dryer. I don’t even know why I bother. They’re all ruined anyway.

My inner tirade is interrupted by the ringing of my cell phone. The distinctive tone is one I still haven’t gotten used to hearing. Suddenly all my irritation washes away. That he called, that he remembered, that this is another blaring signpost on the crazy road to happiness makes me giddier than a kid with his first crush. Nothing else matters as I press the phone to my ear.

“Eunhee?” Gain’s voice comes over the phone, sweet, clear and a little self-conscious.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, we had a bunch of salary men here tonight celebrating a closed deal. We finally got them out of the bar a minute ago. I’ll be home soon, okay?”

“Okay,” I murmur, and it is. All I need is his sweet voice. I hop into the shower with a spring in my step.

______________________________

“Honey, I’m ho~me.” Gain grins as he waltzes in the door, and my heart speeds up. “Mmm, something smells delicious.”

“It’s pibimbap. I figured I should cook something edible before you came home and attempted it yourself. I saw the mess you made of the laundry. A brat who doesn’t know to separate whites from colors shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a stove,” I say drolly, puffing out a ring of smoke.

“Ah, you’re such a good wife. What more could a man ask for?” Gain teases cheekily, but his expression softens as he leans in to peck me on the lips. He doesn’t linger which is good, because my nostrils are already flaring at the alien smells clinging to him: smoke, liquor, the overly-affectionate bar owner’s cloying “floriental” perfume and even more annoying, a hint of that loverboy, Sukwa on his clothes. Gain knows. He slips into the bathroom before I can say a word. The shower comes on and I picture his wet naked body as I set the table.

Gain emerges not too long afterwards, dressed in boxers and a t-shirt. True to form, his golden hair is dripping water onto the floor despite the towel wrapped around his head.

“Idiot, when will you learn to get it right?” I growl, reaching for him. I snatch up the haphazard mess of a towel on his head and roughly wipe his hair. Then I can pull him close and bury my nose in that golden softness. Then, I can touch him, kiss him and make him mewl. It’s not about sex, though we have plenty of that and very good sex besides. That is not why I wrap my arms around him now. I miss him when he’s away and I am happy he is home. That’s the long and short of it.

Gain sighs and nuzzles closer. Even like this, with his eyes heavy lidded, his sensual mouth reddened from my kisses, there is always that little something about him, that bit of distance in his gaze that makes it impossible to take him for granted. I want to bind him even tighter to me. I want him to say that he knows this is home.

So many emotions are crowding my heart, but when Gain twines his fingers around mine, I am quieted. There are no words. Instead we cuddle on the couch with the pibimbap and the tea. The meal is damn good, if I say so myself.

After dinner, Gain suggests putting on another of my old movies, but we’re both too tired to get much past the opening sequence. I’ve had enough of road movies for one night anyway. We stumble to the bed and Gain immediately curls up against my side. His slender body is hot against mine. His scent is sweet and familiar. Gain, my sleepy-eyed cat. But only around me.

Sleep: amazing how something so ordinary has come to take on such significance in my life. Before Gain, the hours I spent in bed were nothing more than a footnote to the whirlwind of my day. Now they are proof of something. Something which fills my waking hours and only finds completion when Gain is near. Even more important, I see the same proof in the dark circles under Gain’s eyes when I come home at five in the morning and he’s still awake—run ragged from waiting, restless. That makes me think: Maybe it is not about sleep at all. Maybe it’s more about finding a place to rest.

I pull the covers higher about us. Outside, the sky is already turning the gray of impending dawn. It doesn’t matter. I’ve got my sleepy- eyed cat and he’s got me.

End

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Notes:

[1] Pibimbap: One of the classics of the Korean kitchen, a one-dish meal consisting of a mixture of rice and an assortment of cooked cultivated and wild vegetables, perhaps some meat, a fried egg, and topped with a generous dollop of kochujang. Traditionally served in a very hot earthenware bowl with a raw egg, which cooks from the heat of the bowl. [http://www.rao-osan.com/osan- info/korea/korean_food.htm]

Summary: For the yaoi_challenge prompt: “Ran Shuuei/Li Kouyuu. Romance, mild angst, a bit of sex, and a happy ending are all I want for this couple. Kouyuu gets lost, and Shuuei has to find him(either physically or metaphorically)”.

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It was still early when Shuuei knocked on the door to the Kou residence. The sky was pale and there was a lingering chill in the air that was slowly evaporating as the world awakened. Shuuei hated to call upon Kouyuu so soon after a night of drinking, but their work in the archives awaited them and if they did not get there on time they would be up until the wee hours of the morning. Shuuei supposed it was his fault for teasing Kouyuu about his inability to hold his alcohol, especially when he knew Kouyuu was incapable of backing down from a challenge. The younger man had been quite drunk when he left him. A tipsy Kouyuu was an adorable one, not the least because he was much more affectionate than usual. Now that morning was here though, Shuuei only hoped the alcohol hadn’t taken too much of a toll on his lover. He knocked again on the door and heard the measured sound of footsteps. Straightening his robes, Shuuei waited for the servant to let him in.

“Yes?” Reishin loomed in the doorway. He snapped his fan against his palm.

Shuuei forced a smile. “Good morning, Kou-sama.”

No matter how many years passed, only Reishin had the power to reduce Shuuei to the boy he had once been with a single glance. Internally, Shuuei cringed. For Reishin to answer the door instead of a servant meant Kouyuu’s hangover must be worse than he thought. The cold glint in Reishin’s eye also made it perfectly clear whom he was holding responsible for that unfortunate situation, and for a moment, it did not seem the older man would let Shuuei in. Casting another disapproving look down his nose at Shuuei, Reishin abruptly turned on his heel, his footsteps ringing on the tile. It was as much of a welcome as Shuuei expected to get, and not only because of the effect his influence had had on Kouyuu last evening. Shuuei always had the distinct impression that Reishin did not trust him.

The corridor to Kouyuu’s room was still dark when Shuuei stepped into the hall but light spilled from beneath his door. Kouyuu was awake at least. Shuuei rapped gently on the screen. “Kouyuu?”

“Yes?” A rather disheveled Kouyuu poked his head around the door. Shuuei tried not to stare at the pale wedge of skin revealed through his parted robes. “Shuuei. Sorry, I’m almost ready,” Kouyuu said gruffly.

Shuuei smiled. “No need to apologize. I’ll wait while you finish up.” There was some rustling inside then Kouyuu emerged looking for the most part like himself.

“How are you feeling?” Shuuei asked once they’d left Kou manor and were on their way to the palace.

“Fine,” Kouyuu murmured. In truth, he looked a little green around the gills but Shuuei thought it best not to say anything. A hung-over Kouyuu was an embarrassed hotheaded Kouyuu, and Shuuei held back his usual teasing for the moment. There’d be time enough for that once they’d had their morning tea. If they were lucky Shouka would not be about to brew it.

Shouka was nowhere to be found when they entered the library, which meant that Shuuei was left to prepare the tea. He brought the tray over to where Kouyuu was sitting and poured a cup for each of them. They drank quietly at first with Shuuei expecting Kouyuu to regain his usual vigor once he’d gotten something hot into his system. He became worried, though when Kouyuu remained quiet even after his second cup and Shuuei couldn’t help noticing that the younger man’s brow was furrowed in thought. So intent was he that he barely noticed when Shuuei leaned across the table. Shuuei frowned. This was definitely more than the after-effects of a hang-over.

“Kouyuu.”

“Huh?” The younger man started.

Shuuei smiled. “Was my performance last night so spectacular that it occupies your thoughts even this morning?” he rumbled, pretending a levity he didn’t feel. It did have its intended effect, however. Kouyuu jerked up, two bright red spots appearing on his cheeks.

“What?! Of course not!” he hissed. “I’d never—” Kouyuu spluttered, unable to go on.

Shuuei’s lashes lowered. “Then tell me what really has you so worried.”

Kouyuu pressed his lips together. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh?”

“Well….”

“Hmm?”

“You know that Uncle Kurou wants to arrange an engagement between me and Shuurei, right?”

An icy hand gripped Shuuei’s heart. He knew this day was bound to come but he had hoped to put it off a little longer (forever, if he was honest with himself). “Yes,” Shuuei managed to say much more calmly than he felt. Inside, though he was raging against fate and the bonds of duty that would push him and Kouyuu apart.

“Well, last night, Reishin-sama gave it his endorsement. I don’t know what to do,” Kouyuu was murmuring. “Besides the fact that I am not even sure what I feel for Shuurei, there’s the emperor to consider … and Seiran…. But Reishin-sama would be so pleased to have Shuurei as a daughter-in-law. It’s the least I can do—not that I would ever be able to repay the debt I owe,” Kouyuu amended, his eyes clouded with worry.

A hot wave of possessiveness washed over Shuuei. ‘And what about me?‘ he wanted to demand but Shuuei knew better than that. It would get him nowhere. He’d known from the beginning that Kouyuu was completely his—except for the one man who would always eclipse Shuuei in his heart. He was the moon and Reishin … Reishin would forever be the sun.

Shuuei looked at Kouyuu who was seized with guilt and confusion. He often teased his lover about his poor sense of direction, but it was only because he never feared for Kouyuu truly becoming lost. If that day ever came Shuuei had promised himself long ago that he would help Kouyuu find his path again, no matter the cost. It seemed that moment was finally upon him. Shuuei stifled a bitter laugh. He’d just never expected the cost to be his own happiness.

Shuuei walked around the desk and rested his hand on Kouyuu’s shoulder. Standing so close to the younger man, he ached to kiss the pale skin just above his collar, to stroke his silken hair. Kouyuu looked so vulnerable, that Shuuei wanted to hold him and comfort him in the best way he knew how. Those sweet times were over, though. It took all of his will power, but Shuuei managed to rein himself in. Gently, he pulled his hand away.

“Come,” he told Kouyuu. “Now, let’s talk about this engagement plan….”

End

Summary: Ono is the last person who believes in love. Yet, something about Chikage’s charm always touches him.

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Recipe One
Tarte à l’Orange: Orange tart prepared with fresh oranges, mascarpone cheese, lemon cream and glazed almonds on a delicate puff pastry. A perfect summer dessert: simple, refreshing and sweet.
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When Chikage walked in, Ono’s hands were dusted with flour. He had been working all evening on the next day’s items, and looking up from the pâte à choux , he smiled. “Oh, there you are, Chikage-san. I’m almost done.”

Chikage was outlined in the doorway, looking cold and formidable in his garcon’s outfit, but as soon as he stepped forward nodding timidly, the illusion was shattered. Ono was always amazed at the bundle of contradictions that was Chikage. One look was never enough (and Ono certainly liked looking). No one seeing Chikage’s tall imposing figure would ever guess at the gentle heart within. Luckily, Ono knew it very well.

Since Kanda had gone to France, Ono often worked late. It was not because he needed to. Tachibana, who was frighteningly good at anything he attempted was the perfect apprentice, nevermind his professed aversion to sweets. Still, as the owner of Antique Tachibana frequently had other things to attend to and the kitchen was lonely without Kanda. Every day Ono wondered how the younger man was doing; whether he’d polished his French and if he was impressing all the chefs like Ono knew he would. In short, Ono was suffering from a case of “empty-nest” syndrome and he was determined to busy himself to keep his emotions from catching up to him.

Besides, there were other things that kept Ono in the shop on a Friday night. Things like Chikage’s coffee. Ono could barely remember when it started, but one night as he was angsting over yet another failed relationship and despairing at ever finding love, Chikage had appeared quietly at his elbow with a cup of coffee. He didn’t say anything. He was simply there with his kind eyes and the steaming cup right when Ono needed the kind of warmth Chikage was offering most.

Somewhere along the way, they developed a ritual. If the shop was closed and they were they only two left, Ono would make a few extra pastries, Chikage would prepare the coffee and they would sit at one of the tables, talking and laughing and often just eating in companionable silence. When Tachibana found out, he made them pay for the coffee and the extra treats, claiming that their coffee guzzling and Ono’s extra ingredients were affecting his bottom line. After that, though, Ono couldn’t help noticing that they had a few more nights to themselves.

Ono finished up his preparations and brought out the orange tarts he had made for their little snack. “I’ll bring these right out,” he told Chikage.

Chikage’s expression brightened. “Oh! I’ll go set the table, Ono-san.”

“Great.” Ono lingered for a moment to tidy up then went to the dining area. The table was set and Chikage sat hunched forward, his large hands resting in his lap. His big body was crowded in by the dainty chair and table but Chikage’s movements were surprisingly graceful as he poured the coffee. He cradled the fine china delicately in his hands, never spilling a drop. He had come a long way since his first awkward days as a garcon in training.

Ono made a pleased sound as he took his seat. This was nice. He couldn’t put a name to his and Chikage’s relationship but something about being with the other man reassured him. Like this, with only the faint sounds of the traffic filtering from outside, and with Chikage so close, it almost made Ono want to believe in innocence again. He raised his head and for the first time noticed that Chikage was watching him, his cheeks stained with a hint of blush. Intrigued, Ono followed the older man’s gaze which seemed to rest on his cup.

Ono peered around the saucer. When he moved to pick up his coffee, he found a single white daisy tucked next to it.

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Recipe Two
Comfort food: Plum Crisp with Cassis and Ground Almonds: Plums flavored with crème de cassis and topped with ground almonds and demerara sugar.

On the following Sunday, Chikage took Ono to see a movie. It was an animated short he had seen with Deko just the week before. In it, a lonely fox and a misfit rabbit became friends as they tried to find their way home. The film was the most exuberant, most hopeful, most heartbreakingly honest thing Ono had seen in his life and afterwards, he cried in big gasping sobs behind the movie theater like his own heart would shatter in two.

Chikage’s large thumbs brushed awkwardly over his face. He had taken off his sunglasses and his strange pale colored eyes were earnest. “Ono-san … Ono-san, what’s wrong? Didn’t you like it? Did the hot dogs give you indigestion?”

Ono spluttered, chuckling through his tears. He wrapped his arms around Chikage and let the other man hug him to his chest.

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Recipe Five
Reine de Saba: Luscious and decadent, a rich dense chocolate cake with a chocolate glaze.

The first night Chikage showed up at his apartment, Ono could barely contain himself. He stood staring at the other man until Chikage became nervous and he had to apologize and hurriedly let him in.

Since that time long ago when he’d taken Chikage to the bar, Ono had imagined getting Chikage into his bed. He’d envisioned an unparalleled seduction on his part, using all of his “demonic” charm to leave the other man weak in the knees. Yet now, with the moment finally upon him, all Ono could do was bring Chikage over to the couch and babble over things not even the larger man with his infinite patience could understand.

Or maybe he did understand. Their knees touched. Chikage cleared his throat. “Ono-san?”

“Yes?” Ono stammered.

“Can I hold your hand?”

Ono’s heart sped up. “Yes,” he breathed, closing his eyes as Chikage’s large hand covered his.

“Ono-san?” Chikage prodded once more.

“Mmm?”

“Can we have sex?”

Ono’s eyes widened. For a moment he was unable to believe what he’d heard. But sure enough, Chikage’s hand had tightened about his and even though the older man looked a little worried, his face was completely serious.

A gust of air escaped from Ono’s lips. There Chikage went, teaching him all over again what it meant to be honest. This was what he’d dreamed of. Now all he had to do was accept it. Ono smiled.

“Yes, Chikage,” he said. “Yes.”

End

Just Like Summers at Harvard
by Michalyn
Fandom: Yakitate Japan
Pairing: Shigeru x Kuroyanagi
Rating: T

Summary: Shigeru finally has Kuroyanagi where he wants him but something still doesn’t seem quite right.

———————

Kyoto summers were the worst, Shigeru decided, fanning himself desultorily with his hand. Not only was the sun absolutely unforgiving, but the humidity was even more oppressive. Taking a breath was like inhaling through a wet rag. And of course, today, on the hottest most sweltering day of the year, the air conditioner had to be broken. Earlier in the morning it had rattled alarmingly, given a sputtering cough and died. Shigeru could have screamed, even though the cheap sublet they were staying in had been another of his money-saving ideas.

They had just returned from Monaco and there were only a few days left before the Yakitate 9 competition so every yen counted. Shigeru had heard of a skilled potter who lived near Kiyomizudera [1] whose pots might be used to create a revolutionary bread and he’d suggested to Azuma and Kawachi that they come investigate. The constraints on their budget though, meant that the three men were packed into the same room.

It was hard enough dealing with Kawachi’s foghorn snoring and Azuma’s sleep-talking but the whispering, the rustling clothes, the stolen kisses when they thought Shigeru was asleep left Shigeru praying for this little field trip to end. Not that he had anything against young love, but it irked Shigeru that Azuma and Kawachi, two of the most bumbling, clueless people in the world had somehow managed to realize their feelings for each other while his own love interest remained stubbornly elusive.

Shigeru sighed. Well, at least the oven was working. The kitchenette and the little stove it contained had been the only pleasant surprise of the apartment. The others had been the clogged toilet, the extended family of cockroaches who paid them frequent visits and a mysterious stain on the bedroom carpet that looked suspiciously like blood. Still, the oven was good, all the more so because it had given him an excuse to call Kuroyanagi, who it turned out was also in the Kansai area helping to promote the competition. And with Azuma and Kawachi gone off somewhere to sight-see, what better chance than to give cupid a little help. Shigeru had invited Kuroyanagi over for brunch and though the additional heat from the oven made the room even more hellish it was worth it.

Shigeru was just contemplating a fifth shower when there was a loud rapping on the door. His heart skipped a beat and he hurried to open it. Ryou!

“Ah, Kuroyanagi-sempai. Come in, come in.”

“Hello, Kanmuri-kun.” Kuroyanagi stepped over the threshold and two large spots of sweat immediately bloomed in the armpits of his shirt. Amazingly the apartment was even hotter than outside where at least there was the occasional sluggish stirring of air. In here, the air had that wavy mirage-like quality one often perceived on the street at the boundary between the asphalt and the atmosphere—or in the Saharan desert. Shigeru hurried to get the drinks.

“Please, have a seat,” he called, indicating the battered card table that served as their dining table.

Kuroyanagi visibly hesitated given the scorching heat confronting him but Shigeru hid his smile as the older man’s nostril’s flared delicately. There was no way Kuroyanagi could resist what he had prepared for lunch and sure enough,the older man moved quickly to the table. Shigeru pulled the croustades[2] out of the oven with a flourish and doled out the rich deviled seafood filling, generously spiced with crab. He could almost see Kuroyanagi’s mouth watering as he brought the tray with the meal and the iced lemonade over.

“So…” Shigeru took his seat. “How’s the promotional tour going?”

“Good. I just returned from Osaka yesterday. Everyone seems excited about the competition, especially after the Monaco cup. I was surprised at how many ordinary people seemed to recognize me, especially this far from Tokyo.”

“Oh?” Shigeru smiled, pillowing his hand on his cheek. “So Kuroyanagi-sempai is a celebrity already eh?”

Kuroyanagi’s eyes flashed as he swallowed his drink. “I don’t care about celebrity status. It is the art that comes first and using my skills as a connoisseur for the posterity of the bread-making industry in Japan!” he declared.

“Of course, of course. Only about the art.” Shigeru agreed. “So how flashy is your costume?”

“Yes … well…that is…” Kuroyanagi spluttered.

Shigeru grinned. “Hmm mmm. Why don’t you try the croustade, Kuroyanagi-sempai? I wouldn’t want it to get cold.”

“Ah of course.” Kuroyanagi reached for the croustade and brought it to his mouth. He took a bite. “By the way, what are you and Azuma—Nngh!”

Shigeru waited patiently while Kuroyanagi did a mincing dance, rapidly curved and un-curved his hands like pincers and shouted “CRUST-acean!” The reaction brought back such warm, nostalgic feelings (though, admittedly a good portion of that was due to the heat). This was nice—his doing the cooking and their eating together almost as if they were once again living in the same apartment. In fact, it felt just like the good old days, those perfect summer days at Harvard when everything was new and alien and Kuroyanagi had been the powerful center of gravity that kept him sane. Shigeru had fallen in love with the dark-haired man in his first week there.

So much had changed since then, but his feelings, those had always remained constant. No matter how many years they were apart, it was the reminder of the little things in their time together that gave Shigeru hope, like how they fell so easily into conversation, how Kuroyanagi’s breath always sped up just a bit when Shigeru leaned close and how Kuroyanagi used to sneak into his room to watch him sleep, thinking that he never noticed. Shigeru knew the feelings were there, but if Kawachi and Azuma were clueless, Kuroyanagi’s inexperience combined with his utter lack of people skills made him the king of the oblivious. The question was how long would Shigeru have to wait before his dreams would be fulfilled?

While Shigeru pondered these weighty matters, Kuroyanagi had finally come down from the high of his reaction. Part of why Shigeru so enjoyed making these exquisite meals for his sempai was that the look on Kuroyanagi’s face after a reaction was post-orgasmic and at least for now, it was closest he would get to the real thing. Shigeru stifled a groan and he couldn’t help rubbing his erection a little beneath the table.

“Was it good for you too?” he rasped

“What?”

Shigeru coughed. “Ah … I meant the bread. Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes. Delicious as always,” Kuroyanagi said primly, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“No, no it was my pleasure. Besides…” Shigeru hesitated. “I suppose we won’t be seeing very much of each other after this will we? I can’t speak for the others but after everything that’s happened I’ll miss having you around, sempai.” Shigeru murmured, staring at his hands.

Kuroyanagi’s eyes widened. His throat worked visibly as he stared at Shigeru across the table. “Kanmuri-kun I … I…”

“Yes?” Shigeru’s heart fluttered with tremulous hope. Their gazes locked and something electric passed between them.

Kuroyanagi’s pale green irises were almost eclipsed by the black of his pupils and his face had that soft vulnerable look that Shigeru saw every night in his dreams. He couldn’t help himself. Before he knew it, he was leaning close, could see the fine beads of sweat on Kuroyanagi’s upper lip, could smell his cologne. When he was a hairsbreadth away, the older man’s lips trembled and instinctively, he lifted his face up to Shigeru whose heart was pounding like a jackhammer in his chest. Finally, finally he would get his chance. Shigeru swallowed. Slowly he began to raise his hand to cup Kuroyanagi’s cheek.

And then the phone rang.

Kuroyanagi started; Shigeru skittered backward and the warm yearning look in Kuroyanagi’s face disappeared for good as he fumbled for his phone in his pocket. The moment was gone forever. Shigeru watched helplessly as Kuroyanagi brought the cell phone to his ear and the other man’s face suddenly brightened.

“Kid!” he exclaimed.

Shigeru’s fists clenched as he heard that name. As he cleared the table, he began deriving the algorithm for a most poisonous polymer in his head. Behind him, Kuroyanagi eagerly paced the apartment, his voice continuing in its excited tones. Shigeru tossed the dishes in the sink, uncaring of the noisy clatter they made. Fucking Kid.

It was just like those damn summers at Harvard all over again.

End

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Notes:
[1] Kiyomizudera is one of the most famous temples in Japan: http://farstrider.net/Japan/Kyoto/Kiyomizudera.htm
[2] “A croustade is a serving vessel made from a large loaf of bread. The top crust is removed and the inside crumb cut out, leaving a shell at least 1 inch thick around….Usually croustades are made from day-old rounded or rectangular brioche loaves, a good pain de mie or pullman loaf….Croustades are especially good filled with creamed wild mushrooms, deviled seafood or chicken” (Bread by Beth Hensperger)

Under a New Moon
by Michalyn
Pairing: Shuuei x Kouyuu

Summary: Kouyuu agrees to accompany Shuuei to the red light district.

——————–

Ran Shuuei was bored. The fact alone was cause for consternation. He was never bored: not amused perhaps, unimpressed—indifferent even—but bored, no. Shuuei stared at the purple robes laid out on the bed for him. Tonight, as every other night he would wander to the red-light district for an evening of indulgence. Somehow though, he couldn’t seem to work up his usual verve. Where he had previously seen grace, lately he was finding the courtesans’ cultivated movements less like art and more like artifice; their white-powdered faces like the masks of ghosts.

He yearned for something more vibrant. Painted expressions didn’t compare to the natural flush of temper and all the skill in the world couldn’t rival an unschooled kiss stolen amidst the musty scrolls of the palace library. That ultimately was the crux of the problem. Shuuei’s heart just wasn’t in it anymore. Neither the willowy boys from the southern quarter nor Kouchou’s voluptuous beauties interested him. Most of his visits with Kouchou were now spent talking political strategy instead of sex.

Shuuei sighed. If he was honest with himself he knew the problem wasn’t that he was bored but that he was restless. What he wanted, he wasn’t sure it was right to take. Shuuei had spent many a night dreaming of holding Kouyuu in his arms, but his knowledge of his companion’s inexperience and his fear of jeopardizing their friendship had prevented him from confessing his feelings. Shuuei was a worldly man and he’d glimpsed enough of Kouyuu’s blustering, enough of his shy glances to realize that his feelings were not completely unrequited. Still, he did not make his move. Perhaps he even wanted to savor that freshness, that rare innocence he so adored in Kouyuu. His best friend might be hot-tempered and sharp-tongued but he was completely without guile. No matter how he tried to hide his feelings they were written as plain as day across his face. That honesty, combined with Kouyuu’s fierce intellect, left Shuuei tossing in bed at night with a fire in his veins not even finest whore could quench.

Shuuei had taken the noble role but with every day it became more difficult. Yesterday, things finally reached the tipping point. He and Kouyuu had just returned from debriefing Ryuuki on a diplomatic strategy when Shuuei suggested a treat of sake and sweet dumplings in the garden as reward for their hard work. Kouyuu had accepted (not, incidentally, right after Shuuei mentioned the dumplings). It was a beautiful spring evening and the emperor’s garden was alive with the scent of peonies and the music of crickets. They’d talked and drank and somehow lighted upon the topic of swordsmanship. Kouyuu was bemoaning his lack of skill and Shuuei determined that an impromptu lesson was in order.

Kouyuu gave it his best effort but he became frustrated after yet another failed parrying attempt. Seeing the difficulty his young friend was having, Shuuei decided that a hands-on approach was best. He had positioned himself behind Kouyuu and gently guided the younger man’s arms to the correct stance. As he leaned over him, Kouyuu’s scent, an intoxicating mix of vanilla and sandalwood, rose from the silken folds of his robe. His ponytail brushed Shuuei’s cheek and the General was amazed at how soft it was.

“Relax your arm. Your movements are too stilted,” he’d whispered, distracted by the flush in Kouyuu’s cheeks. “Don’t over-think it. Your body already knows the movements. That is why you get lost so often. You rely too much on that head of yours and not enough on your own body-sense. I’d wager it’s why you haven’t bedded a woman yet either,” Shuuei was rambling.

With the delicate shell of Kouyuu’s ear turned so invitingly towards him, he was more interested in the warmth of his friend’s body pressed against his than anything coming out of his own mouth. By then, Shuuei was also experiencing a few “body senses” of his own and the urge to take Kouyuu into his arms and engage in a different kind of sword play was almost overwhelming. He’d hobbled off to his rooms ablaze with desire. Tangled in his sweat-stained sheets, he’d resolved to go to the red-light district tonight, no matter what.

Yet, here he stood, unmotivated and irritable. Desire certainly was not lacking. The problem was finding the right arms to spend it in. Shuuei cursed. This would not do at all. He was going to go out, and he was going to have a good time even if it killed him. Shuuei shrugged into his robes and hastily arranged his hair. He asked the servants to call for a coach and hurried outside to wait for the driver to bring it around.

The gods were kind—or cruel, depending on one’s perspective—for Shuuei had barely progressed beyond his front door when he heard the rapid pace of footsteps followed by a stream of frustrated muttering near the garden wall. He knew that voice anywhere, and sure enough, there was Kouyuu wandering confusedly behind a bramble bush. Shuuei’s heart sped up even as he couldn’t help smiling at his best friend’s all-too-common predicament.

“Kouyuu! What a pleasant surprise. Taking an evening stroll?”

Kouyuu’s head snapped up. “Shuuei… ah… yes.” He came forward looking flustered.

“Mmm, I don’t blame you. It’s the perfect night for enjoying nature.” Shuuei teased, enjoying Kouyuu’s flush.

“Well… that is…” Kouyuu stammered.

“Kouyuu?”

“Yes?”

“Would you like a ride home?”

A brief internal struggle ensued between Kouyuu’s pride and his common sense. It was a close thing if the play of emotions across his face was any indication. Ultimately, though common sense won out. The younger man nodded. “Yes,” he gritted.

“Excellent. My coach should be here any minute now. I’ll have him drop you off on my way. Or…” Shuuei cast Kouyuu a sidelong glance. “You could accompany me to the red-light district. It’s a perfect evening for other pleasures as well.”

Kouyuu’s shock, his scandalized indignation, was irresistible. “What?” he spluttered.

“It might be a good opportunity for you to become acquainted with the finer points of the fairer sex. Who knows, you could be reformed from your woman-hating ways,” Shuuei intoned, grinning. Surely it was wrong for him to enjoy this so much.

“I have no interest in such… pursuits whatsoever. You can keep your dissolute errands to yourself, thank you.” Kouyuu huffed.

“Don’t tell me you’re frightened?” Shuuei was playing with fire and he knew it, yet, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “I never took you for the type to run away from a new experience but I suppose in this case it’s understandable. Don’t worry, I won’t think of you as a lesser man for it. Come, it’s past your bed time. We should get you tucked in.”

Shuuei didn’t have to wait long for the barb to hit its mark; not when Kouyuu was so easily nettled. The younger man swiftly closed the distance between them. A lesser man might have flinched at Kouyuu’s fearsome expression but all Shuuei felt was affection and the giddy dance of butterflies in his stomach at Kouyuu’s nearness.

“Who’s afraid of anything?” Kouyuu barked.

Shuuei’s lips twitched. “I was merely stating that fear is a natural reaction in the face of inexperience. In fact…”

“Let’s go!” Kouyuu marched determinedly to the coach as it came rattling up to the front gate. He immediately got in. “Are you coming or not?”

“Eager aren’t, we?” Shuuei chuckled. He nodded at the driver. “To the red-light district please.”

———————————————–

The closer they got to the red-light district, the more Kouyuu’s bravado visibly deflated. He was all but pressed against his corner of the carriage and he was biting his lip furiously. The younger man was sitting so stiffly that if Shuuei didn’t know better he would have thought him a statue. Yet, Kouyuu’s stubbornness prevented him from asking Shuuei to halt the coach and turn back. He looked so uncomfortable that Shuuei almost relieved him of the burden himself—almost—but then the prospect of having Kouyuu at his side for the evening was enough to tamp down Shuuei’s protective instincts. Besides, he didn’t really expect his young friend to go through with it. Kouyuu would probably dash out of the brothel the moment he glimpsed the prostitutes, and if he did bolt… Was Shuuei a horrible man for hoping that his arms would be the ones to catch Kouyuu in his time of distress?

Outside, the new moon hid behind a blanket of stars and the rhythmic clip-clopping of the horses’ hooves were the only sounds to be heard. Shuuei had tried to make conversation earlier, but Kouyuu, already bad at small talk, was just too tense to engage in any kind of discussion. Shuuei let him be. In the quiet, he studied Kouyuu at his leisure, admiring his graceful profile. He noticed that Kouyuu’s boots were scuffed from all his trampling about and there were little burrs stuck in the ruffled hem of his robe. There was something terribly endearing about the sight. It made Kouyuu seem charmingly boyish and reminded Shuuei just how young his friend was.

The coach rolled to a stop and the bustling sounds of the district reached their ears. While the rest of the capital slept, this tiny corner of the world was humming with life. Shuuei exited the coach and helped Kouyuu down after him. They walked to Kougarou’s grand entrance where Kouchou and two sylph-like beauties were poised at the top of the stairs, ready to greet them. Shuuei looked to his side and found Kouyuu’s face as white as a sheet. He nudged him forward.

“Shall we go up?”

“Ye…yes,” Kouyuu stammered, looking ready to bolt at any minute.

“Ran-sama…” Kouchou raised an eyebrow as her gaze fell to Kouyuu. “And Li-Sama. What a pleasant surprise. Welcome to Kougarou.”

Shuuei grinned. “Thank you. I hope you don’t mind that I brought a guest. Li-san positively insisted upon accompanying me and I just could not refuse him,” he purred, delighting in the choked sound that Kouyuu made. His friend was turning quite an interesting shade of red.

Taking pity on poor Kouyuu, Shuuei turned to Kouchou. Since they were already here it would be unseemly to leave without patronizing the establishment but Kouchou’s services ranged from the chaste to the sublime. Shuuei decided to abandon more fleshly pursuits. Instead he would have ceremonial tea to the accompaniment of one of Kouchou’s finest erhu players. It was something both he and Kouyuu could enjoy and Shuuei would compensate Kouchou generously for the inconvenience.

For all his determination to indulge the night away, the moment Shuuei spotted Kouyuu outside the garden any thoughts of idle sex had vanished from his head. He preferred to burn alone than miss the pleasure of Kouyuu’s company. Yes, he was just that smitten.

“Kouchou-san, I’ve decided on a slight change of pace,” Shuuei began saying, except at that moment the two girls who were with Kouchou descended on Kouyuu, cooing with delight. They linked their arms with his and began dragging him away.

“Wait! What do you think you’re doing?” Kouyuu’s expression was panicked. He dug in his heels but there was deceptive strength in those slender arms. Though Kouyuu balked and twisted, the girls marched him steadily towards one of the bedrooms. “Shuuei!” Kouyuu called, his eyes pleading for help.

Damn it! This was not what he had planned. Shuuei stepped forward, ready to rescue his best friend when Kouchou deftly blocked his path. “Ran-sama, don’t tell me you’re going run out on Kougarou’s number one are you?”

“But Kouyuu, he…” Shuuei watched as Kouyuu’s ponytail and wildly gesticulating arms disappeared around the corner.

Kouchou smiled sultrily. “Don’t worry. Mei and Yi will see to it that Li-sama leaves here a man.”

That did not comfort Shuuei any. If anything, his consternation grew. The thought of Kouyuu in anybody’s arms other than his own caused a feeling very like panic to seize his chest—that and an all-consuming jealousy. He wanted to snatch Kouyuu from those girls and tuck him away where no one could get to him. Of course that was unreasonable, and Shuuei had no choice but to follow Kouchou down the hall in the opposite direction from which Kouyuu had disappeared.

The room Kouchou led Shuuei to was tastefully and opulently furnished as could be expected from the shrewd businesswoman. Kouchou sashayed over to the table where a tray of sake had been placed. While she poured herself and Shuuei some of the alcohol, Shuuei paced the room. He tried not to think of what could be happening in Kouyuu’s room but he could not banish images of a disheveled and flustered Kouyuu being overwhelmed by those voracious girls. He had been such a fool to bring him here.

“Here you go.” Kouchou approached with the wine, interrupting Shuuei’s dark thoughts.

“Thank you. Why don’t we sit?” Shuuei suggested, trying to inject some of his usual charm into his smile. Kouchou was too much of a friend and a political ally for him not to give her his undivided attention.

“An excellent idea.” Kouchou moved to the low couch and Shuuei sat beside her. Her soft breasts pressed against his arm and her hand lighted upon his knee to rub it in a warm circular motion. Leaning in close, she whispered in Shuuei’s ear: “Tell me, what is your pleasure this evening?”

“Pardon?” Shuuei murmured. He could have sworn he’d heard something like a muffled moan. He knew Kouyuu was on the opposite side of the hall, but Shuuei couldn’t help feeling a little queasy at the thought of his young friend making similar sounds right at this very moment.

“Why don’t you go to him?” Kouchou sat up with a brisk movement. She smoothed the glittering pins in her hair. “If I didn’t know better I’d be insulted by your inattention lately, but that’s all right. Even Kougarou’s number one can’t compete with the power of true love.”

Shuuei started, then had the grace to flush. “Ah, that’s…”

Kouchou smiled. “I know. You should hurry though. Even though my orders were to keep him safe, Mei and Yi seem to have taken quite a liking to your Li-sama. I don’t know how much longer I can guarantee his virtue.”

At first, Shuuei could not speak. His heart was pounding too hard for him to hear his own thoughts. All he knew was that he was full to bursting with emotion: relief, excitement and of course, happiness. He sprang to his feet, pausing long enough to grasp Kouchou’s hand. He kissed the soft inside of her wrist.

“I owe you, my lady.”

“I know and I’ll expect you to make good on that debt soon,” Kouchou warned, completely serious.

“Of course.”

“Next time I won’t be so lenient but it appears even Ran Shuuei needs assistance with matters of the heart. Hurry up and make him yours so we can get back to business. I can forego the sex but I will not tolerate a distracted business partner.”

Shuuei grinned. “Your orders are well received, madam.”

It was Kouchou’s turn to smile. “Good. Oh and Shuuei? You’ll want the third door on the right.”

————————————————–

Shuuei had never moved as quickly as he did now to Kouyuu’s room. When he got there, however, he paused outside of the door. It was awfully quiet within. That could mean either very bad or good things for him. Shuuei was suddenly uncertain. Kouchou’s girls might not initiate anything, but Kouyuu was a young man with healthy desires. What if he had seized the opportunity to gain a little experience? No one could blame him. After all, Shuuei had promises of neither love nor affection from his best friend; he only had his own attraction and an instinct that Kouyuu shared his feelings. He thought he was right about these things—he was usually right about these things—but what if his feelings were truly one-sided?

Muffled sounds drifted from the room and Shuuei’s heart clenched in his chest. Don’t tell him they were…? Damn it, he was not going to stand here hemming and hawing like a maiden. Best to seize the day and deal with the consequences later. Shuuei grasped the door knob and barged inside.

“Kouyuu, we have to talk…” Shuuei’s words died on his lips.

Whatever the general thought was on the other side of the door he was not expecting to find Mei and Yi huddled over the ornamental desk. Kouyuu loomed over them, his critical eye surveying their rapidly moving brushes. A copy of the Shi Jing, the poetry classic every scholar preparing for the civil service examination memorized, was wedged between the two girls. They were so intent on their task that no one even noticed Shuuei’s interruption.

“Mei, that fourth line is incorrect,” Kouyuu was chiding. “Girls of your age should know this verse already. How can you have access to such canons of literature and devote them only to entertaining patrons? Have you learned nothing from Governor Kou’s example?”

“Yes, Li-sensei,” the girls murmured, their brows furrowed in concentration.

All of Shuuei’s anxiety evaporated like a bad dream. He couldn’t help chuckling. Here he had convinced himself he needed to save Kouyuu when the younger man clearly had the situation well in hand. Shuuei should have known better. This was the boy who once traded in salt and plum blossoms to find his next meal. Kouyuu might lose his way but he never lost his footing. Not his Kouyuu: stubborn, resourceful, intelligent—and as beautiful as plum blossoms in winter.

Shuuei moved out of the shadows and cleared his throat. “Mind if I interrupt?”

Kouyuu whirled. “Shuuei, when did you come in?”

“A moment ago but the three of you were so engrossed that I did not want to interrupt the lesson.”

Kouyuu flushed. “Oh …I was just explaining the importance of the Shi Jing…”

“Mmm hmm.” Shuuei stepped forward and took Kouyuu’s hand. He pressed it to his lips. “Kouyuu, would you mind terribly if I dismissed your pupils?”

The pupils in question had long since stopped working and were tittering behind their palms. They rose, and bowing gracefully, exited the room before Shuuei could finish his sentence.

A quivering silence echoed in the wake of their departure. Shuuei tugged Kouyuu forward, folding him against his chest. He felt the tremor that ran through Kouyuu, heard the sharp intake of his breath.

“Shuuei?” Kouyuu’s eyes were wide as he stared up at Shuuei. He was biting his lips again.

Shuuei cupped Kouyuu’s cheek and his gaze fell to his soft mouth. He began lowering his head. “Forgive me,” he murmured, “but I’ll go mad if I don’t do this…”

The first touch of Kouyuu’s lips was like fire. Shuuei groaned and tightened his arms around Kouyuu’s lean body. Gods… gods… this was what he had been missing, and when Kouyuu tentatively responded - so sweetly, so shyly touching his tongue to Shuuei’s - the general all but melted. The tiny gasp Kouyuu gave when Shuuei caressed his hip and the way his body fitted against Shuuei’s were perfect. Knowing that he was needed, that he was not alone in his passion, was more than Shuuei could have ever hoped for. His heart was pounding. He wanted to carry Kouyuu to the bed and make love to him until any doubts between them were erased.

But not yet; It was too soon. When they made love, it would not be in a brothel but in Shuuei’s own chamber where he would have a feast waiting. They would dine on sweet meats and fruits, and afterwards he would worship Kouyuu’s body with perfumed oils and even sweeter kisses. Then the real feast would begin. The thought alone set Shuuei ablaze. How sweet indeed it would be. For now, though, a kiss after a thousand nights of longing was enough. They had so much to talk about and most importantly, there was one thing Shuuei had to be absolutely sure of…

“Kouyuu…” Shuuei swallowed. “This … is it all right? Do you feel the same?”

Kouyuu nodded. “Yes,” he said gruffly.

Shuuei’s heart expanded. He felt on the verge of flight. “Good, good. That’s all I ever needed.” When he opened his arms again, this time Kouyuu came eagerly to him. Shuuei held him fast. “Kouyuu?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s go home.”

“Okay,” Kouyuu agreed and they left the room to make their way downstairs. As they walked past, Shuuei didn’t let go of Kouyuu’s hand even amidst the girls’ teasing smiles and Kouchou’s knowing look. Outside, the world glittered with a thousand lights and the new moon hid behind a veil of stars.

Home with Kouyuu. Shuuei smiled as they entered the carriage. It had a nice ring to it.

End

Giovanni’s Monkey
by Michalyn
Fandom: Fuyumi Souryo’s Cesare
Rating: MA
Pairings: Cesare + Michelotto, Cesare + Giovanni de Medici
Warnings: debauchery, dubious consent, abuse of power and a monkey

Notes: Giovanni di Lorenzo de’ Medici would become Pope Leo X, known most for his excesses and his love of animals. He owned an elephant named Hanno and was heartbroken when he died. Leo X is also blamed for spurring the Protestant movement in part because he sold many offices in order to finance various projects.(from Wikipedia)

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Rumor had it that Giovanni di Lorenzo de’ Medici had returned from a visit to his father with a rare monkey. Cesare wanted to see it. No, he was determined to get a glimpse of it.

“What did you say it looks like, again?” Cesare drummed his fingers on the dark wood table. Beside him, a plate of fruit and cheese lay uneaten. His goblet of wine stood half-drunk.

Miguel shrugged. “A funny little thing with a brown tonsure and white breast [1]. Uncannily nimble hands.”

“Hmm.” The staccato rhythm of Cesare’s fingers paused then resumed.

Miguel had mentioned the monkey only because of the excitement it had created among the students, but Cesare had seized upon it with a fascination he could not fathom. There was an unreadable light in Cesare’s eyes and Miguel could not tell if it reflected Cesare’s overactive mind knitting together possibilities, or boyish envy.

Of course, there was no love lost between Cesare and Giovanni and news of an ailing Lorenzo was portentous for both men. Yet, even Miguel could not see what could be gained from the knowledge of a pet, no matter how unique. Besides, the decidedly puckish thrust of Cesare’s lip suggested the simpler cause for the other boy’s irritation. Cesare hated anyone to steal his thunder , even in this most trivial way. The insult to his sensibilities was worse since he held Giovanni in such contempt. As a matter of pride, it meant that whatever was on Cesare’s mind, he would now pursue it even more doggedly.

“I want to see him.”

“Giovanni?”

“No, the monkey.”

Miguel adjusted his farsetto. “Giovanni was showing it off in the palazzo a while ago, but I’m pretty sure he’s retired for the evening. It will be difficult to get into his apartments.”

“Difficult but not impossible.” It was a statement not a question.

Miguel inclined his head.

“Then lets go.”

—————————————-
“I hate him. I hate that damned Buonarroti [2]. Why does Father have him eat with us? Descendant of Mathilde of Canossa my ass. He’s nothing more than a rude commoner!”

Giovanni flopped onto the velvet sofa with a theatrical bounce. “Come to think of it Canossa is the family name of that brat Angelo too isn’t it? Worthless breed, the lot of them.”

“But of course, someone of Your Eminence’s refined sensibilities would be offended by Michelangelo but that is often the way of these artists. He is a bit too brash but it is part of his terribilità. They say he is talented and will be one of the greats,” Roberto, the solemn-faced boy who was Giovanni’s third-in-command murmured.

“Hmph.” Giovanni pouted but immediately brightened when his eyes fell on his new pet. At least Papà could be forgiven for thinking of him. “Come, Pepi! Come to your master!” Clucking his tongue, Giovanni tore off a bit of fig from a nearby bowl and extended it to the monkey.

It darted over, snatched the morsel then scampered to the top of the armoire. It perched there, chittering excitedly as it tore the fruit apart with its nimble little fingers.

“He’s a marvelous creature isn’t he? Father says the merchant who found him claims he’s not from the Moorish lands or further east, but from a mysterious and unspoiled place far far away.” Giovanni’s eyes shone as he imagined jungles with monstrous plants and even more fantastical creatures slinking through the dappled shade.

Roberto nodded sagely. “Sir Pepi is truly a gift worthy of Your Eminence.”

That made Giovanni feel better. He was smug as he tossed another piece of fruit to the little monkey.

Meanwhile, Roberto was moving about, tidying up the room and arranging things to Giovanni’s comfort. From where he was reclined, Giovanni had a nice view of Roberto’s short farsetto and his shapely calves in their forest green hose. When the other boy bent to retrieve a fallen item, his buttocks tightened in a way that sent a familiar stirring to Giovanni’s groin.

The other boy with his reddish gold hair and rosy mouth was pretty. It was the only reason Giovanni kept him around, especially when there were others more interesting and capable than he. Besides, he thought Roberto and his family of petty nobles pitiful. However, certain things made up for those little annoyances.

Giovanni’s gaze slid over to the enticing bulge at Roberto’s groin. Yes, he was very very pretty. Though Giovanni had never scrounged up the courage before to act on his feelings towards other men, he was in an uncommonly bold mood tonight as a result of his pleasure over his father’s gift.

“Roberto….”

“Yes, Your Eminence?”

“Come here.”

Roberto abandoned his task and hurried over to Giovanni. The young Medici licked his lips. He reached over and squeezed Roberto’s crotch.

“Your … Your Eminence!” Roberto slapped Giovanni’s hand away and stumbled backwards. His cheeks were hot with shocked color. As soon as he touched Giovanni, however, a look of horror registered over his features. Roberto immediately fell to his knees, apologizing profusely.

Giovanni reddened as well, embarrassed at being so sharply rebuffed. His cheeks puffed outwards. “How dare you strike me? I could have you hanged and worse for such insolence!”

“I am so sorry, Your Eminence. It was a mistake. I was surprised … I …” Robert blubbered a litany of apologies and explanations into the expensive Perisan rug.

“What are you going to do to make up for your abominable actions?” Giovanni demanded.

“Anything, Your Eminence. I will do anything to receive your forgiveness.”

Giovanni spread his hands in a magnanimous gesture. “Then take off your hose.”

Roberto pressed his lips together, but even so, a choked sob escaped him.

Giovanni watched as he fumbled with his clothes. Roberto still wore the slightly outmoded farsetto with the hose attached to its pleated skirts. The ruff was slightly shorter in the back giving a saucy thrust to the wearer’s behind. Giovanni flushed with satisfaction.

“Leave the farsetto—and the boots.” Giovanni ordered, deciding he liked the look of the short frill framing Roberto’s genitals and reddish pubic hair. He was dismayed though to discover that the other boy’s cock was much larger than his, the girth and length suggesting a maturity Giovanni had yet to attain.

“Come closer.”

Roberto’s face crumpled. “Please, Your Eminence, my family is a simple god-fearing people.”

Roberto’s strawberry curls framing his face and the tears streaming down his cheeks, made him look less like a youth of almost eighteen years and more like a petulant child. It only excited Giovanni further. He pushed aside his robes to expose his own cock.

“Do I need to remind you of your position? Of the grossness of your offense to my esteemed person?”

Roberto shook his head.

Giovanni crooked his finger. “Then come here.”

Roberto continued to beg as he inched over but Giovanni ignored him. He was panting heavily as he circled Roberto’s shaft and touched his finger to the plum-shaped tip, pink as some sweet exotic fruit. Behind them, Pepi crowed with delight at finding another morsel at the table. He leapt onto the couch and hovered near Giovanni’s shoulder, cocking his head and chattering inquisitively.

Giovanni rubbed the blind little opening at Roberto’s tip and the other boy’s hips jerked. His shaft began to rise. Excited, Giovanni repeated the motion and his fingers came away with a faint dewiness. He stuck his fingers into his mouth and suckled that sweet nectar. By then, Roberto was shielding his face behind his arm and a novena of wet muffled sobs escaped him, but he had inched imperceptibly closer. Now, his impressive cock was curved towards his belly in an edifice to burgeoning lust.

“Pl…please, my lord.”

“Turn around.” Giovanni savored the view of Roberto’s pale skin and rounded buttocks. He expelled an eager gust of air through his nose as he spread the other boy’s cheeks with his hands.

Oh this was so much better than his father’s gift.

——————————————–

Miguel’s informant in the Medici household had served them well, Cesare concluded as they made their way through the labyrinthine passage which led to Giovanni’s apartments. The youth had warned them however, that after a day of travel Giovanni might return to his rooms early. That didn’t give them a large window of opportunity but Cesare was feeling reckless. He was not even sure what he was hoping to accomplish but he thought it would be worth it to see the look of panic on Giovanni’s face when he discovered the monkey was gone. He would return it … eventually. Cesare grinned in the darkness.

Miguel was a shadow next to him, moving noiselessly over the rough stone. Alert, he moved like he had been here or in similar places a million times before. Cesare supposed he had. It was why he could count on him.

Cesare studied the dark curls clustered at the nape of Miguel’s neck. Nothing showed in his expression or the line of his shoulders but Cesare knew his companion well enough to recognize sulking when he saw it. Miguel disapproved of this little adventure. He thought it was foolish and ill-thought-out. But of course he didn’t push; he never pushed. Cesare was the one who gave the orders though he doubted Miguel knew how much he wished he didn’t have to—especially when it was just the two of them.

Cesare sighed. Somehow Miguel’s sullen mood only made him more determined to go through with the ridiculous prank. Still it wasn’t nearly as satisfying with his friend being so cool to him.

Cesare reached out and grasped Miguel’s shoulder. “Miguel, I…”

“Shh.” Miguel raised a finger to his lips. He jerked his head to indicate that Giovanni’s rooms were ahead.

They pressed against the paneling, hearing muffled sounds within. Through a clever slot in the wood they could see the room and its opulent furnishings. Cesare expected Giovanni’s penchant for excess. After all, it was nothing new to the Borgia either, but even he was somewhat taken aback by the profusion of silks, tapestries, and jewel-encrusted baubles. Most notable was Giovanni’s apparent obsession with all forms of animalia. The bed was burdened with luxurious pelts of ermine, bear and tiger. The walls and wooden surfaces were cluttered with drawings, paintings and statues of furred, feathered and crawling specimens too countless to name. The entire suite was less like a bedroom and more like the lab of some mad medico. Unsurprisingly, at first, Cesare saw neither the monkey nor Giovanni. Oh but when he did….

Cesare could have crowed.

Giovanni was visible in profile, his puffy cheeks hollowed out as he sucked on the tumescent and surprisingly large cock of a red-haired Florentine. His fingers were not idle and were rooting busily between the other boy’s cheeks.

Cesare had seen the redhead as part of Giovanni’s coterie as the one most often sent to correct poor Angelo’s many faux pas. To Cesare, the youth had appeared meek but reasonable—and attractive of course. Still, he would have never placed him as Giovanni’s favorite.

Or perhaps he wasn’t. The redhead was moaning and squirming even as he begged Giovanni to release him. His cries fell on deaf ears. Giovanni continued to lick and suck to his heart’s content. Next to them the monkey gave a little screech and tossed an orange rind onto the floor.

Cesare had come to teach Giovanni a lesson with a simple prank but this was better than anything he could ask for. To catch haughty whiny Giovanni in flagrante delicto was priceless. Cesare was not about to let such a perfect opportunity slip away from him.

He barely felt Miguel’s hand on his shoulder trying to haul him back. Besides, not even the gods themselves could have stopped Cesare at that point. He sprung the hidden catch and stepped into the room.

“Well, well what do we have here?”

There was a moment of utter stillness as Giovanni tried to understand what was happening. Then his eyes bugged; his complexion went from white to mottled rage in a second.

“Borgia! What are you doing here? I will kill you!” he screamed. Flecks of spittle landed on his cheek and on his companion’s stomach. The redhead burst from Giovanni grasp and hobbled to the door where Miguel calmly intercepted him with a dagger to his throat.

“How dare you? How dare you?” Giovanni raged. He lifted his hand to ring a small bell near his elbow.

Cesare tutted. “Do you really want to call your condottieri? What would they think to see the Great Giovanni de Medici engaged in a vice contra naturam? Or is it that you want more witnesses for the Officers of the Night? I suppose a few florins is a meager fine for the Medici to pay.[3]”

Cesare looked meaningfully from Giovanni’s engorged erection to the redhead’s state of undress. Of course, they both knew the reputational cost of Giovanni’s actions far outweighed any other damage Cesare could inflict. Even that was probably overstated given the Night Office’s permissive attitude.

But, if Giovanni was anything, he was a coward. He visibly hesitated. His hand slowly fell away from the bell.

“Just as I thought.” Cesare nodded. While he spoke, Miguel bolted the door.

Giovanni squealed as Cesare forced him onto the bed. His pale haunches jiggled as he crawled up the mattress and Cesare surveyed his body, so unlike Miguel’s lean-muscled grace with a snort of derision. Weak, weak weak. Cesare reached around Giovanni’s protruding belly and gripped his short thick penis.

“Nn!” Giovanni bucked and let out a squeal of terror.

“Shut up.” Cesare’s hand came down hard on Giovanni’s backside. He squeezed Giovanni’s cock, stroking it in time to the rain of stinging slaps he showered upon his upturned ass.

Giovanni wailed. He snuffled, blubbered and cursed Cesare but he was pushing back against him, raising his hips and thrusting into the hot circle of his palm. He buried his face in the sheets and a moan bubbled from his throat.

Cesare swallowed. He had expected to remain disgusted but lust smouldered and ignited within him. There was something strangely sensual about Giovanni’s slow ponderous movements. His ankles and wrists were delicate. The fingers gripping the sheets were the pale tapered digits of a Botticelli Madonna. The sheen of sweat on his body only increased the allure of that doughy dimpled skin, the soft rounded belly with its generous rolls.Cesare pinched and tugged them until tears streamed down Giovanni’s face and purplish bruises bloomed beneath his skin. Yet he still arched into Cesare’s hand, still called Cesare’s name with abandone.

Cesare fiddled with his hose. He crouched over Giovanni so that the other boy could feel the throbbing heat of him.

“This is what you wanted isn’t it?”

Giovanni’s shudder and his wild cry were all the answer Cesare needed.

——————————————–

Cesare could barely breathe for the guffaws seizing him as they raced over the cobbled stones. He could not contain himself.

“Perfect! Perfect! Did you see the look on Giovanni’s face when we barged in? Ah that was worth a thousand lire. If only there were a way to—”

Cesare stopped, finally noticing Miguel’s silence. He yoked an arm about the other man’s neck with a sigh.

“Come now, don’t pout. You know that means nothing to me. I was just having some fun.” Cesare pressed his lips against Miguel’s cheek; his warm breath bathed his ear.

“You know that, right?”

——————————————–

“I’ll never, never ever forgive them!” Giovanni wailed as he scrubbed at his face. There was seed between his thighs and he ached in unnamable places.

Roberto, all but forgotten, was cowering near the door where Michelotto had left him—the same corner from which the assassin had watched Giovanni’s humiliation with his dark unreadable eyes. The condottiere had not shown a flicker of emotion throughout, even as that hooded gaze had sent a debasing thrill of excitement through Giovanni while Cesare pounded into him.

The young Medici released a bellow of rage. He would get his revenge. As long as there was breath in his body, no Borgia would ever become pope. He swore on it!

Pepi hopped over and offered him a pilfered nut. He gave a little chatter and cocked his head.

Giovanni’s face crumpled.

Pepi’s bright-eyed look seemed to say he understood.