Spellbound

*(3/6)

By Sakata Ri Houjun

Warning:  It gets rather lemony at the end.

*******************************************

The air shimmered between them as Genrou set Houjun

down on a chair in the kitchen.  “There’s a

cobalt-blue bottle in the cupboard.  Would you fetch

it for me and a glass, no da?”

Genrou opened the door and found bottles of all colors

and shapes.  “Which one of these did you put in my

sake last night?”

Houjun sighed heavily.  “Genrou, I put nothing in you

drink, no da.  I gave you a sleep spell, a harmless

one, because you needed it.”

He found the blue bottle and set it and a glass on the

table.  Houjun poured a bit into the glass and sipped.

“It’s only herbs, no da.  And a touch of magic for

energy, na no da.”

“I don’t believe in magic.”

A glint of amusement was in his eyes.  “I’ll set to

working on that soon enough.”

“But I’m willing to consider some sort of psychic

connection.”

“That’s a beginning then, no da.”

Genrou could accept some sort of connection, for it

had been his voice echoing through his dreams, his

face floating through his memory.   “So when is this

anniversary you spoke of earlier?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Cutting it close, aren’t you?”

“You didn’t want to hear me.  Why did you stop

answering, Genrou?”

He couldn’t deny it.  He’d been pulled to the

cerulean-haired man no matter how he struggled. 

Accept this, he realized, or accept insanity. 

“Because I wanted to be normal,” he admitted.

“So you rejected me, and the gift you’d been given,

for what you see as normalcy?”

“It was driving me fucking insane.”

“It wasn’t meant to be a burden, but a joy.”

“Where the hell is my choice in all this?”

“The choice has always been yours, no da.”

“Fine.  I don’t want any part in this.”

“And me, Genrou.  Do you not want me as well?”

“No.”  It was a lie that burned on his tongue.  “I

don’t want you.”

Genrou heard the laughter, a nasty buzz on the air. 

Then saw fear leap into Chichiri’s eyes even as the

older man whirled and flung himself in front of him

like a shield.

“Iya!” his voice boomed full of power and authority. 

“You are not welcome here!  You have no right here!”

The shadows in the doorway swirled, coalesced, formed

into a woman.  She wore black robes on a slender

frame.  And had a face as beautiful as any fairy-tale

princess.

“Chichiri, your time is short.”  Her voice was laced

with dark amusement.  “There is no need for this war

between us.  I offer you such power.  You’ve only to

take my hand, accept.”

“Do you think I would?  That a thousand years, or ten

thousand, would change my heart, Mikuni?”

“The wait is nearly at an end.”  Mikuni lifted a hand,

and thunder crashed overhead.  “Send the bandit away

and he goes unharmed.  If he stays, his end will be as

it was before, and I will have you, Chichiri, unbound

or in chains.  The choice is yours.”

Houjun lifted a hand, and light glinted off his palm. 

“Come to me now, Mikuni.”  His voice was a sultry

dare.  “Do you risk it?”

“Tomorrow night, Chichiri.”  Her gaze flickered to

Genrou, amusement shining dark.  “You, bandit,

remember death?”

There was a sudden sharp pain stabbing into Genrou’s

belly.  It burned like acid, cutting off his breath,

even as he gripped Houjun and shoved the older man

behind him, his instincts taking over.

“Touch Chiri and you die,” he growled menacingly.

And so she faded, leaving only an echo of taunting

laughter.  Genrou pressed a hand to his stomach, half

expecting to find blood, or worse, dripping through

his fingers.

“She can’t harm you, no da.”  Houjun’s voice

registered dimly.  “She can only deceive you with

pain.  It’s all tricks and lies with her.”

“I saw her.  I saw it,” Genrou said, dazed.

“Hai.  She’s stronger than I’d believed, and more

rash, to come here like this.  Mikuni is full of lies,

Genrou.  You must never forget it, no da.”

“I fucking saw her,” Genrou repeated, struggling to

absorb the reality.  “I could see through her.”

“She wouldn’t dare risk coming here in full form.  Not

as yet.”

“You said she was a demon but she looked at you with

desire.”

“Hai, she wants me.  She has broken into my dreams and

shown me just what she wants.  She disgusts me,” he

said trembling and pressed his face against Genrou’s

shoulder.

Genrou brought the smaller man close.  “She won’t

touch you, Houjun.”  His lips then found Houjun’s. 

All the confusion slid away as he melted into that

kiss.  Whatever had brought him here he would face.

Houjun’s heart hammered fast as he nipped at his lip,

urging the redhead on.  Genrou heard Houjun moan his

name, then whisper words ripe with longing.  The words

were of an ancient dialect, yet he understood them.

“Koi,” Houjun whispered.  “It’s been a lifetime. 

Aishiteru, no da.”  Slowly he unfastened his shirt and

parted the material, letting it slide to the floor.

Genrou kept his golden eyes locked on that familiar

gaze.  “You said that to me before.”

Emotions swirling, he smiled.  “I did.  A thousand

years ago.”

Genrou remembered.  Houjun had offered himself before

without restrictions.  And he’d lost himself in that

love.

“You used to have a scar too, didn’t you?”  He reached

up and ran a thumb over the left cheekbone, just below

the eye.

Houjun nodded once, his hands moving to remove

Genrou’s shirt.  The younger man shook his head, and

the image of the scarred monk faded away.  Memory or

imagination, it no longer mattered.  He knew only one

vital thing.

“Whatever happened before, this is real.”

He scooped the cerulean-haired man into his arms, and

he stared back, spellbound.  Houjun could taste the

sharp edge of his passion as he laid him on the bed. 

“What about the rest of our clothes, no da?” he

managed a quick smile.

“I’ll take care of that.  Lie back, Houjun.  I want to

see you with your hair flowing over the pillows.” 

Genrou watched the older man’s expressions as he

finished undressing them both.  “I don’t know what I

believe.  Except one thing.  This matters. Here. Now.

You matter.”

“Love me, no da.”  Houjun drew the younger man’s mouth

down to his own.  “I’ve been lonely without you by my

side.”

It was slow and sweet.  Sighs and secrets, tastes and

textures.   They filled their hands with flesh and

their hearts beat thickly.  The sun warmed their

bodies as pleasure ran rampant.  And the love that was

held so long in Houjun’s heart bloomed like a flame.

“Tasuki…”

Blood thundered in Genrou’s head as Houjun moaned the

name of that bandit.  But it felt right to hear that

name spilling from his lips just as his seed spilled

into his hand. 

“Chiri…”  He barely registered the name coming from

his own mouth, but it felt even more right.  They made

love well into the night, their rhythm ancient and

sure as though they were made for each other.

As the tension drained form their bodies, they simply

held one another.  “None of this makes any fucking

sense,” Genrou whispered.  “Am I supposed to believe

that I just made love to a monk?”

“You’ve had visions since you were a child, Genrou, no

da.”

“I may be younger than you, but I’m not a child

anymore.”

“You never were, koi.  It was a gift you were given,

no da.”

“It’s too much for my head to understand.”  He sat up,

shaking his head.  “I don’t know what I feel.”

“Then forget about it for tonight, no da.”  Houjun

pulled him down again in an embrace.  “Just kiss me,

koi.”