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Voyeur	By : westernink Category: Rurouni Kenshin > General Views: 5543 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Voyeur
- 1
Voyeur
Disclaimer: I do not own RK or any part thereof.

Note: The entire first half of this piece is littered with pronouns
�he� and �his� and there are two male characters. Thus the italic �he�
denotes the voyeur, which I shouldn�t have to explain but felt compelled to do
so anyway.

            He
was watching them.

            Shamelessly watching them.

            He
was almost certain the other man knew, but he�d never said
anything.   Never gave any indication he knew that his privacy was
being invaded almost weekly from the perch right outside his window.

            Not a
word.
            Not a
breath.
            Not a
glance.

            So he
continued to watch�

            The
moans, the groans, the thumps, the sounds of pleasure�

            He
loved to watch�

            They were
both beautiful, bathed in the milky light of the moon. Her legs spread
wide for the man between them. The deep thrusts, the
soft moans.

            Beautiful.

            His
own cock pulsed against his flesh, but he dared not touch it. He
would only watch.

            There was
no word for the exquisiteness of seeing her pale breast in his hand, or
watching him gently suckle her. He adored watching those breasts
bounce as he thrust into her.

            The gentleness.
            The fierceness.

            Some
nights they were so rough on one another. Their bodies jarring hard, the
pressure in his groin was exquisite as he watched the other man
drive her into the futon, the force bruising. It made him ache.

            Ache for her?
            For him?
            For them?

            He
knew not, it only made him ache.

            It was
equally arousing to watch the man love her softly. To make her cry out so
loud that he could hear her voice clearly from his tree
perch.

            His
tree perch was innocent. He�d taken it one night to have a better
lookout over the property, not to spy on his commander. Once he�d noticed him
there, with that overly naked girl in his lap, bouncing, moaning� he�d been
addicted to them.�


Some nights he volunteered for night duty just so he could
retreat to that tree and watch. He always escaped to the ground
quickly as if fearing his stoic commander might toss open a window and
rebuke him. It hadn�t happened thus far.

            There
were many nights, despite his volunteering that nothing at all
happened. His commander and his lady retreated to their room and
slept.

            The
soldier was never rewarded by seeing them naked in the warmth of sunlight,
though he imagined they would be just as beautiful. She especially
with all of her inky hair, the rosy peaks of her breasts�

            Now,
again in moonlight, he watched as his commander hunched over the tiny
woman in the bed. The shadows tonight were great and he could see
little of them. She was so small, so tiny that she was hidden completely
beneath her lover.

            He
throbbed.

            Tonight�s
play was nearly at its end. He could always tell,
there was a certain frenetic tension to their movements, their sounds. His
ears strained to hear their panting, their moaning, the
soft groans of each others names�

            He
watched his commander peak, spilling his seed, groaning his pleasure into his lovers ear, filling her. There was a
certain envy in him he tried to repress and could not as he
watched�

            He
did not peak. He continued to throb, his erection tight
against his body. He pressed one gloved hand against it and gave
it a hard rub, once, and then leapt down from the tree, retreating into the
darkened yard.
*
*
*          *
            The sun
had barely crested the horizon when sound was heard through the wall. The
birds were chirping, the sound pleasant and calming. The dim, slowly
lighting halls of the Aoiya were warm, but not
disagreeable. It was not yet the season that would make him sweat.

            Inside,
he heard movement.

            Hannya stood from his hunched position on the floor.
He had been replaced by Hyokkotto just a half hour
previously. It was Hannya�s duty to be at his
commander�s side to receive his orders. Aoshi-sama
always rose early.

            The door
quietly slid open and Hannya bowed himself
respectfully. He heard the bedroom door click shut and saw nothing of the
room contents.

            �Good
morning, Aoshi-sama.�

            The other
man made an acknowledging sound but said nothing else and Hannya
followed him downstairs. He pushed away all thoughts not of business and
began sketching a rough itinerary of his day in his mind.

            Omasu and Okon were also awake
bustling about the kitchen making early morning arrangements. They both
stopped and bowed to their commander.

            �Good
morning, Aoshi-sama,� they chirped in unison, waiting
until he passed to return to their duties.

            Aoshi-sama paused at every room on the first floor and then
turned back on the path toward his office as was his routine. The purpose
of the early-morning tour was lost on Hannya and he
saw fit not to inquire as to his master�s motives, he merely followed.

            As Aoshi-sama took a seat at his desk, he looked up again, but
Hannya saw nothing in that gaze. Hannya remained at the doorway awaiting his orders.

            �I�m
expecting a letter from Tokyo.
Go and wait.�

            Hannya bowed. �Yes, Aoshi-sama.� Backing out of the room, he
slowly slid the door closed.
*
*
*          *
            There was
a certain discomfort in seeing them in daylight, with watching her stuff rice
into her cheeks, puffing them out. It made an ugly kind of guilt rise in
him. He felt as though he were a terrible thief
and that he had stolen something precious.

            His
commander might know he watched but she didn�t know. She was
gently innocent of his deception, of his voyeurism. She would not approve
of his peeping. It was dishonorable of him, he should stop.

            He wanted
to.

            Needed
to, perhaps, for his own sanity.

            How to do
it?

            It was
one of those rare days when he felt he was well-served by his mask. His
face could remain hidden, he could store away his
guilt and ugly feelings.

            �Hannya!�

            Her voice
escaped his ears as he was lost in thought. His eyes were trained on the
wall across from him without recognition of any sort. His mind was
traveling far from the dining room where his body remained.

            �HANNYA!�

            He didn�t
see the icy eyes of his commander lift and center on him as Misao
stood and then began to yank at his uniform sleeve to shake him from his
inattention.

            �Yes, Misao?� Did his voice
sound normal? He hoped it did, his own ears would deceive him. This
child who was no longer a child, but made into a woman by his commander, wanted
him to listen to her.� �

            Shameful,
he thought. He deserved to bear this mask.

            �Come
train with me today.�

            There was
such bright excitement in her eyes. Innocent joy.
How could she be the woman whose moans made him ache for just the touch of her
breath against his skin? How could she excite such a lust when she still
held such bright, wide eyes? How could he feel
so after bouncing her on his lap as a child, carrying her about, teaching her�
he was a shameful man, he thought, sourly. Aoshi-sama
should disown him.

            �I
cannot. I am engaged to wait for a letter for Aoshi-sama.�

            He was
glad of any excuse to relieve himself of her
presence. He loved her and she tormented him without ever meaning
it.

            �Awwww.�

            �Hannya,� the masked man turned his head to see Okina by the window. �There�s someone at the door?�

            The spy
turned and slipped out.
*
*
*          *
            Nightfall
found him in his room and not on patrol. It was not permitted for anyone
to have night watch for more than one night in a row, it was to be alternated.
Slowly, he stripped himself of his uniform, slipping off buckles and
straps.

            It gave
him a feeling of freeness, to slip out of his uniform and don a simple yukata. He rarely gave himself the honor of not
sleeping in his uniform, as accustomed to it as he was.

            Stripping
himself naked, he pulled on a simple blue colored yukata.
It had been a gift from Misao close to his return to
the Aoiya. She had given all of the returning
men one and told them they needed to �relax and enjoy being home�. He�d
seen the others in theirs but he wore his only in the private and comfortable
location of his bedchamber.

            It was
another guilty pleasure.

            He
pressed his back to the wall and slid down to the floor spreading his
knees. His gloves had been discarded with the rest of his uniform against
the opposite wall. The soft blue cotton made him think of her eyes.

           The mask
he slowly removed and set down beside him on the floor. �It was carefully attached to the black fabric
and slid over his head like a clingy film. He was loathe
to remove, lest anyone should be near, but he had never been disturbed in his
room and it was late. Still, he kept the mask directly by his side as he
enjoyed the simple freedom of being without it.

            His
master and mistress were far down the hall from him. Too far for him even
to catch a stray moan or sound of pleasure and for that he was truly
glad. It had first upset him to be so far away from his commander lest he
should need to defend him. Now it was a balm to his fiery mind.

            There was
all the sound and sight he needed already catalogued in his head. His
memory, his imagination� closing his eyes, he rested his head against the
wall.

            Such sin, this lust.

            He would
never dare touch himself in their presence. In the same house as them, it
disturbed him.

            Even as
his hand slid up to press against his own groin, to feel the hardened length
there, to sinfully enjoy the warmth of his hand against his cock through the
fabric. Sinfully, he thought of her, of him� master, mistress� those
people who inspired such lust in him.

            Never
would he be able to show himself to Misao in this
costume. Not knowing what wicked pleasure he took in touching himself in
it, through it, simply because her hands had touched it.

            With his
eyes closed, he could see them.

            Bathed in moonlight.

            His hand
fisted around himself awkwardly through the cloth. How he longed to spill
his seed into this garment. His body strained�

            With
absent grace, he parted the fabric and gripped his flesh.

            Such
iniquity�he would spill himself over his hands only and not dirty her precious
garment, no matter how he longed for it. He allowed his mind to drift as
he gripped himself tight and then began to stroke.

            Until Aoshi-sma forbid him, he�d
continue to watch and dream.
- 1
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Voyeur