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400 Years Apart	By : Cynthermes Category: +M to R > Mirage of Blaze Views: 4238 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Mirage of Blaze and its characters solely belong to Kuwabara Mizuna. I’m just going to creep into a corner of her sand box and play the part of a wannabe historical writer. No profit has been made in the construction of this story.

Chapter List
- 25
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Chapter 26:

ULTIMARINA, Pearl in the Deep: Part 4

A/N: Loved by her beloved, loved by all men, she weighed herself down the sea; never to return to the land of the rising sun.

…

A hint of pain had crept slowly into Kotarou’s loins sometime during the course of the night. He was “stiff” and had been so the moment Saburo bridged what little space that lied between them. The young lord who was completely bare had unconsciously wrapped a leg around his hips. His head had tucked itself comfortably under his guardian’s chin and was snoring softly by a lean chest. An arm had managed to wound itself around the shinobi’s neck. Beneath those delicate lids, his eyes were restlessly moving about.

The youth was dreaming and very deeply so. If the shinobi weren’t so focused in keeping his body still, concentrating to prevent his potent desires from affecting him, which was steadily gaining the upper hand, Kotarou would be wondering what images were coming to life in his young charge’s slumbering mind.

What sort of expression would the young lord make should he discover himself like this upon waking?

Seductive darkness currently caged the youth in its possessive embrace. Like in his final conscious moment, he was nude and vulnerable. His slender body was spread out. His arms were shackled above his head firmly held by an invisible force. His enticing legs were splayed apart, inviting anything or anyone who would take advantage. And no sooner did the darkness did just that.

It greedily engulfed the stirring flesh between his legs causing him to whimper and gasp as it wrapped its flexible tongue around him. His thighs trembled and he flung his head back as it began to coax sometimes gently, sometimes roughly the virile fluid to come out.

As the mouth below painstakingly worked on him, making him twist and writhe and moan and hiss, trickle wetly and seduce him to swing his hips in correspondence with its vigorous sucking; a second mouth latched itself on his throat. Its teeth were vicious, marking his fragile skin none too gently: stinging bruises not hard enough to draw blood.

“No…” As he pleaded with it however its true bestiality awakened. A high-pitched gasp was ripped from his lips as sharp canines sank on his rosy nipple after a tentative lick. They inflamed the nub, making it sore and then mercilessly tugged making him cry out. His wayward body however grew more excited. His flesh throbbed wildly becoming engorged with blood and with the relentless sexual attention it received, he hastily felt himself ready to burst.

The mouth below seemed to sense this. It doubled its efforts, throat constricting, and tongue burrowing insistently at the moist pit of his twitching member. It was determined to make him surrender to its sensual talents… to make him flood it with his release.

“Oh… oh…!” He moaned feverishly unable to hold back anymore.

In contrast, the mouth upon his breast soothed the tenderness it caused only to violently claim the other one with its arduous suckling. It was not the one to devour his seed however…

“Ngh! Auh!” Saburo shrieked helplessly as he gave everything he had on the awaiting mouth that eagerly swallowed every pearly drop until he had nothing left even his voice was lost.

He was barely recovered when the mouth licking trails of saliva on his quivering belly had replaced the one beneath as soon as it left him. “Wait…” sounded like a broken whisper. He was beyond sensitive and couldn’t endure the slightest stimulation. He tried to twist his body to escape but it was unerringly determined. A shadowy pair of hands steadied his thighs; they prevented him from moving away.

Its tongue teased his damp slit as gently as it could perhaps in hopes of taking what the previous had abundantly received. But the minutest touch drove the youth insane. He tried to resist the persistent invader but its tip was already wiggling impatiently at the head of his manhood that refused the lightest fondling. Silent sobs wracked his body in distress as he thought he wouldn’t be given a reprieve when it fancied a last lick at the underside before finally relenting.

As he took desperate gulps of air, he was innocently unaware that something in the darkness had now other plans for him. To make him come inside its mouth was not enough to sate its hunger. Unseen hands rested on his hips and soft lips brushed the back of his shoulder in prelude. Those hands soon let him know of their dark intentions when they trailed curious fingers at the curves of his buttocks.

His skin jumped as they rubbed him there. And then a rough thumb was pressing against the puckered ring. It massaged something wetly, thoroughly, and teasingly at the rosette of his opening making the youth catch his breath. Suddenly that spot burned and tingled. His body was quickly alight with untamed arousal. He wanted to be sundered savagely, rapaciously, fervently…

What was being done to him?

He was entirely unprepared for a long thick finger plowing deep inside. With an intent nudge and lewd caress against his pleasure node sent him writhing in restless want. He was instantly, dangerously hard. His risen flesh was abruptly devoured by the hot mouth that had waited for its turn to please him immensely.

His voice returned harsh and loud. Drool slid down his chin as both mouth and fingers made their assaults on his nubile body.

As he lost himself in the overpowering ecstasy, he felt a broad torso at the turn of his cheek. Exhilarated and panting he listened for the erratic human heartbeat thumping beneath a— he recoiled with a start – marred skin… a scar? From a stab wound…?

He was not made to ponder further. The fingers were withdrawing being replaced by something his pleasure-enslaved body had been craving for. And as if seized by the opportunity to capture his attentions all for itself, the mouth feasting on him engulfed him deeply and then carefully retreated only to swallow him whole. Repeatedly and in rapid succession it sought to make him climax in blinding urgency. With an agonized groan the youth struggled not to give in. He refused to let it end this way. But resisting the heightened myriad of sensations was getting extremely difficult.

Not one to be mastered by an equal, the one behind speared itself entering the ripe passage with a violent thrust. The youth screamed and quavered against his unearthly bonds. He was insatiably being violated at both ends. It was becoming apparent that not a single part of him would be spared. Up to the very last scrap of flesh would be consumed once it was all over. Chain-like arms circled his shaking thighs making them open wider with no chance of escape. He could only whimper pitiful sounds as his fluids were thirstily drank one salty drop after another while ramrod flesh rutted savagely inside his tight hole. He was being coupled from behind and the front as well. For time indefinite only wild sounds of mating and howls of rapture echoed in the darkness.

Amber eyes shot wide open before rolling upwards in bliss. Between his hips rapt noises of swallowing were heard. The lithe back arched and by his thigh a scarred cheek nestled sighing in satisfaction, “Wakasama…”

…

Saburo came to wakefulness by the sensation of warm liquid sliding down his leg. Although he knew he was too old to be wetting the bed, he was also at an age where something of similar nature provokes the same embarrassment. He just had the most bizarre erotic dream of his young life and it didn’t help him one bit that the cast of his perverted dream was there in reality openly staring at the dribbling stickiness he had just shamed himself with or that he had kicked the blankets off his very naked self sometime in the night or the fact that he himself curled around the man like a cuddling whelp.

So what could he possibly do with his hopeless situation (and he should just stop eying some of his ‘wet dream’ that managed to land itself on Kotarou) except to briskly turn around, get up swiftly and plead the victim of coercion and harassment?

That doesn’t happen though. In a heartbeat, Kotarou had rolled on top of him and planted both hands at the sides of his head. The problem with the shinobi was that for every impulse he had to shy away, the man was always faster and more adept at trumping his well-thought out plans.

Saburo was trying very hard not to look down and become aware of Kotarou’s state that between the two of them, the shinobi was the only one unfulfilled.

The lordling takes a nervous breath before his protector lowered himself down his chest and abdomen, licking stray droplets of ejaculate clinging to his skin.

“Stop…” Saburo said weakly.

“Ah!” His eyes shut briefly when Kotarou licked dangerously close to his groin. The youth gritted his teeth when the shadow slyly breathed these words over his interested manhood. “Do you want Haruhie to see you in this state, Wakasama?”

“Shut it, servant!” The young lord hissed acutely reminding him of his position that he, the Fuma Clan Head was referred in equal standing with a lowly page boy.

“…A servant who could only obey you.” The impassive shinobi acquiesces and doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead he runs the tip of his tongue at the pert head of his young master’s organ.

Saburo backhands Kotarou’s marred cheek, unintentionally clawing at the wound. “Then obey me at once! Get. Off. Me.”

Little blood weeps from the soft scab. The shinobi doesn’t register the sting and meekly cleans the youth’s body with his lips and tongue, greedily lapping up the remnants of his young master’s essence.

Saburo becomes distressed of his behavior but it was mostly because of striking his most recent injury.

“Why?” So quiet, it could barely be heard.

Kotarou helps him up, wraps his cold shoulders with a robe, bows reverently before him, and tries to leave without answering.

The master would have none of this. He quickly grabs his protector’s arm. Cold, angry, “Where is Musanaga no Unsui? What have you done to him, Kotarou?”

Something snaps inside the composed shinobi. “I am here.” Silent, toneless. “I am here, Saburo.”

Kotarou slowly faces him. “Why do you look for that man instead?” A heavy stare, an equally strong grip on Saburo’s wrist stops him from running.

The atmosphere suddenly feels cold and the beginnings of fear rattles one’s survival instincts to flee. Strong pulses of chi were scattering and swirling inside the room. They threatened to overwhelm in their intensity.

Saburo basically tries to withdraw but could not. “Unhand me! How dare you!”

“Am I not… enough to be the only one by your side?” His protector’s other hand reaches to caress that cherished face. The lordling intercepts it however, slapping it away. He attempts to free himself again but to no avail.

“Is it your place to question how your master takes value upon his servant? I could if I wished easily replace you.” A confident haughty look warps into a pained grimace. The hand holding him has tightened into a crushing grip.

“You plan to… replace me with the lowest…” Something sinister flashed in the shinobi’s dark eyes.

Despite the ever-twisting pain, Saburo found himself smirking. “You never thought yourself to be indispensable to me, did you?”

The shadow unexpectedly releases him. Kotarou sharply turns his back to hide a downright frightening expression. Rediscovering his capacity of emotions he was shocked to feel the combined forces of hurt and rage. In fact his distress had him biting his lip right through.

“No, I’ve never had such delusions but that man is no good for you. For your sake and safety I must kill him now.” A threat for a threat; the youth was much too inexperienced to learn that their verbal sword play was a way to feed each other’s cruelty, to force each other down the destructive weight of their tenacious bonds. For now it was how they are able to function as separate halves of a whole. It was the closest resemblance they have to a relationship…

“Don’t!” Saburo flings himself to restrain that retreating figure. “Please…” was a hushed whisper.

“Why?” A flat word thrown back,

“I…” The youth finds himself again at a loss for words and to his horror Kotarou extricates himself effortlessly from their embrace.

“Don’t kill him.” It was said half in whimper.

The protector turns to merely kneel before his young lord but his gaze had lost its usual lackluster. There was an eerie light shining through pools of black. “There is no hope for him, Young Master. He will never be yours.”

The lordling visibly, pales. “What?”

“Ujimasa-kou has claimed ownership over him.” Deadly fingertips graze the fine skin of Saburo’s throat. Instinctively, the youth shivers before that opportunistic hand disappears under his clothing. Quickly coming back to his senses, he stops its licentious wandering so that for an instant their fingers intertwined. Slowly as if in a daze he takes a step back and then and then…

In an unprecedented move neither of them anticipated, silk unwraps from porcelain white skin and the boy lies down naked on the floor. What was he trying to convey by parting his thighs invitingly before his protector? He turns to face the shuttered window where last vestiges of night remain. “It is too early to start the day. Do what you will.”

…

Passionate hands were already roaming exposed flesh, mapping every expanse of skin within reach. To make him submit to me… by doing this? Slender legs draw the man’s hips closer. Aren’t you worse than a common… Hojo Saburo? Held in between the cradle of his body, the man boldly undresses before him. Finely-boned fingertips trace several scars carved onto that broad back. These faint marks were the result of a punishment taken for him. “Kotarou…” He cups that blood-stained face almost affectionately with a trembling hand. The protector brings it immediately to his lips as if silently accepting its apology. Saburo casts him a soft molten gaze as if seeing him for the first time. It obliterates the last walls of reason keeping the man sane. His countenance falters, his control breaks, and he takes and takes… almost forgetting himself.

Even in his fast deteriorating awareness, Saburo was able to realize two things: it was the first time he initiated the act and that Kotarou could still be a very attentive, tender lover despite his ruthless thrusts. Before his sex-roughened groans drowned all else, these last coherent words were quietly rasped by his ear, “Saburo, this man… will always… succumb to you…”

XxXMOBXxX

Haruhie would not speak out loud but there was something strange with his young lord’s gait. To compensate, he deliberately slowed his pace so the youth could catch up. When Saburo pauses long enough on the bridge leading to the castle grounds, his worry becomes unbearable. “Have you not slept well, Saburo-gimi?”

A muttered, “My back hurts,” barely gets through. The youth passes a soothing hand along the base of his spine with an irritated huff and Haruhie soon understands the… problem. Those marks weren’t made by any other means. He sighs, “Saburo-gimi do you want to have a short rest before your riding lessons?”

His charge childishly makes a face, “Actually, I wanted to take the rest of the day off but that wouldn’t be acceptable, would it?” Sulky as usual.

“Matsuda-dono has been patiently waiting for you since early morn, my lord. It wouldn’t be polite if you keep missing your training. Plus I was informed ahead of time that he is to be your mentor.”

The youth openly cringes at that. Haruhie didn’t want to prod but the words were out before he could stop them, “Saburo-gimi, are you by any chance… avoiding Matsuda-dono?” Saburo gapes incredulously then rectifies it by crossing his arms and directing his annoyance elsewhere.

The aide’s eyes narrow. “Did he do something terrible; acted inappropriately towards you?”

“No! He just…” The lordling trails off before he could bury himself with his own carelessness. The last thing he needed was yet another individual to learn about his intimate encounters with a certain passively-rebellious shinobi. “Do you want Haruhie to see you in this state, Wakasama?” As if this reminisced admonition wasn’t enough… Images of Kotarou lapping up traces of his body’s untempered desires wouldn’t leave his mind alone.

“Saburo-gimi? Saburo-gimi! Are you ill? Your face has gone very red!”

The poor lad wanted to slam his head to the nearest wall. “I’m fine!” Why of all things was he blushing so hard from a particularly embarrassing memory? Had he turned into one of those half-wit maidens who could only see stars upon laying eyes on her man? If he wasn’t going mad then that vacant-eyed fool must have done something unspeakable to him! He shouldn’t be acting this way. He must be overcome with rage! After all, their morning intimacy only accomplished a silent truce. He didn’t know for how much longer he could keep his protector from mindlessly killing the supposed ‘threat’ to his life.

“Ah, there you are, Saburo-dono.” A voice sounding across announced. “I have been looking all over for you.”

“Matsuda-dono,” Haruhie manages to bow in time, which was rather waved dismissively.

The person in question however hurriedly avoids his gaze. Hideharu only bestows the youth with a kind, understanding expression. “Perhaps it is common knowledge in the palace that His Lordship handles the reins outstandingly and puts even some of the cavalry escorts to shame with his skills but I am here to teach him something more. If you are ready to take me on, Saburo-dono, please follow me.” The genuine compliment and the faint invitation to a challenge quickly established good rapport between mentor and apprentice. Saburo finally meets the gentle face of his late aniue’s most trusted adjutant and finds no recollection or subtle disapproval of the weakness he displayed within the four corners of that room.

“Do I get to ride without someone ‘breathing down my neck to keep me safe’?” The lordling suspiciously glanced at Haruhie who raised both arms in defense.

“You will be riding alone on your chosen mount, Saburo-dono. But I will be monitoring your progress at a distance or closer as I see fit to check on your maneuvers, would that be alright?”

The boy eyes him cheekily; his reserve all but gone. “Do we get to race in between?”

“Saburo-gimi! That’s dangerous!” The page utterly disapproves but was blatantly ignored.

“Certainly, if you could make your horse move past mine, that is.” Hideharu blithely replies.

XxXMOBXxX

Tried as he might, keeping up with the general was no easy task. Matsuda Hideharu rode his mount as if he were the very wind itself. Frustration builds in the youth as they circled round and round on the spacious courtyard. This wasn’t what he was seeking for. This exercise was dull and boring. There was nothing spectacular here. And the jostling movements of his horse were doing his backaches no favors. “How much longer do we keep this up?” Saburo eventually snaps.

Hideharu squints at the sun and deemed it early for the midday meal. “For as long as you are able. Do you want to take a breather?” The lordling had already dismounted, refusing the stable boy’s assistance before replying flippantly, “Yes, my back is killing me.” A touch of concern shows on the general’s features as his eyes follow the boy who practically ran towards Haruhie and started chatting away about how today’s training was dishearteningly mundane while maintaining a close familiar space. It was obvious the young lord trusts his page as he would a brother.

Hideharu ponders upon Tono-sama’s intentions in placing the hostage together with his youngest sibling. He could not imagine how the truth of Kakizaki Haruhie’s identity (known only to a select few) would damage the blossoming friendship in due time.

There seems to be limitless possibilities on how Ujimasa-kou displays his baseless cruelty towards Saburo. The general finds himself underestimating the extent of that cruelty most often and he probably would remain oblivious that his speculations barely scratch the surface.

Just as they were about to make use of the remaining hours of the schedule, a most unexpected person interrupts, “Matsuda-dono, I do hope I am not intruding but could I ask for Saburo’s time for a little while?” Hojo Genan, flanked by two attendants stands before a small company of bowing vassals.

Hideharu puzzles at the patriarch’s sudden appearance. Being a man with sharp intuition he couldn’t help but wonder what the old man could want with the boy. It was also no secret to him that Tono-sama’s relationship with his uncle wasn’t as harmonious as before.

~TBC

Post A/N: You are now seeing some minute cracks starting to appear in the once solid foundations of the Hojo Household. And that’s what happens when you put a powerful extended family under one roof. Kotarou on the other hand appears to be tamed and content after he and Saburo were formally wed— I mean bonded but the youth’s continued “nagging” about Naoe just pushes his buttons forcing him to reveal his ‘darker side’ and for Saburo to pull “that move” to distract/ deter him/ steer him off the path of killing is just… —Wait did I just review my own fic? *Smacks herself: That’s not your job! Make way for the readers! <_< Sorry! I do love your reviews.
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400 Years Apart