Dragon In The Dark

I do not in anyway own any portion of the characters, ideas or situations portrayed in Yuu Watase’s Fushigi Yuugi. (I wouldn’t mind having a Nakago plushie, though…)

Please feel free to read and review this story. All comments are welcomed. I’m not worried about flames. I’ll just let Tasuki have them to power his fan…

Set up: This story takes place in those hours Tamahome disappeared after Yui had given him the kudoku drug and the time he reappeared willing to “belong” to Yui and to kill Miaka. Nakago did say he was being shown the utmost care while he was missing…


DRAGON IN THE DARK
By
Lady Tiger-eye

The dragon rose in the dusky, flickering light, graceful and sinuous. Only when he knelt in the temple of Seiryu, the Water Dragon, did Nakago, general of the Kutou army, find even a small measure of peace. The soothing sound of falling water lulled the dark places in his soul.

The sound of heavy boots rang on the pavement, breaking the melody of the water.

“My lord general,” the soldier addressed him. “The Priestess of Seiryu requests that you come at once to the temple’s sacred baths.”

Nakago smiled a slow, satisfied smile. He rose with the lazy ease that characterized all his movements, turned and faced the man.

“Thank you,” he said. “You may return to your regular duties.”

The man saluted, spun on his heel and left. Nakago faced the statue of Seiryu once more. The dragon looked down upon him, wise, powerful and deadly. Nakago inclined his blond head to it.

“I am grateful, Seiryu, for the bounty that awaits me. I am strong. I will not fail you.”

As he left the temple’s heart and strode down the halls to the baths, satisfaction hummed through him. All was proceeding as he had planned. The Fire Bird Suzaku, his Priestess and his Celestial Warriors would fall before the dragon. Nakago would devour them for his pleasure and for the pleasure and glory of Seiryu.

A heavy scent, sooty and wickedly sweet, teased his nostrils. He inhaled deeply. Nakago had long since become inured to the poison musk incense burned by the handmaidens of Seiryu. A mild languor swept through him, heightening his perception of the scene before him and his awareness of his body as he moved. He allowed himself to smile once more.

A fair-haired girl, dressed in flowing white robes cradled the limp body of a dark-haired boy in her arms. The boy was dressed in sturdy peasant garb and flat shoes that allowed one to run fast and find good footing. The kind of clothes a man might wear for hasty hard traveling.

Nakago’s shadow fell on them. The Lady Yui Hongo, Priestess of Seiryu, looked up at him with eyes as blue as his own. They were wide and blank, pupils black and dilated. Nakago had seen the same stricken look in the eyes of deer frozen in the torchlight of a nighttime hunt.

“Nakago, he’s dead,” she whispered. “I’ve killed Tamahome.”

How young they were, and how bright their passions burned, these children. By the time he was their age Nakago had extinguished his passions in the soothing currents of Seiryu. He preferred the subtle depths of power and seduction to the blazing heights of sacrifice and love.

He knelt and put a comforting arm around Yui’s shoulders. Stroking her hair tenderly he murmured, “No, Lady Yui.”

Nakago moved his forearm so one of his vambraces was positioned before Tamahome’s lips. It quickly misted over. “See, he only sleeps. Now go and let your maidens dress you. I will care for Tamahome, and when he awakes, he will be yours forever.”

Easing Tamahome’s body from Yui’s arms, Nakago laid him on the ground. He raised Yui to her feet and passed her off to the waiting women. She let them lead her away, walking in a daze, tears streaming from her eyes. Nakago turned back to Tamahome.

“Pick him up,” he commanded the guards. “Bring him.”

As they traversed the halls of the imperial palace Nakago’s sharp ears heard the low mutterings of the guards. The meaty sound of a fist hitting flesh told Nakago of a guard’s surreptitious blow to Tamahome’s defenseless body. He whirled about to face them.

“If he is in any way damaged, I will personally see to it you are all torn limb from limb. Your deaths will be slow and excruciating. I promise it.”

The terror in their eyes gave him great pleasure, and they reached their destination in satisfying silence. Nakago stopped at a plain and unadorned door. A gesture opened the barrier spell upon it, and Nakago entered. Another gesture lit the lanterns and the candles, sending light into the darkest corners of the room.

Fine furniture with simple and exquisite lines filled the space. Nakago pointed to the bed, a four-poster draped with filmy hangings.

“Put him there.” The guards followed his orders.

“Leave me. I am not to be disturbed until the Priestess of Suzaku arrives.”

They saluted and departed, their haste indicative of their desire to escape his presence. Nakago walked over to the bed and stared down at the slack, tumbled form of the boy upon it. As he straightened Tamahome’s limbs, his hands were almost gentle, but the smile on his face spoke of a cold hunger and a cruel anticipation.

From a chest beside the bed he removed restraints of soft leather with which he fastened the boy’s wrists and ankles to the posts of the bed spread-eagling him. He tied them tight and firm, knowing the time would come when Tamahome bucked against them in rebellion and despair.

With Tamahome secured, Nakago stepped to a shelf and removed a bottle of saké and a glass. He filled the glass and then set it and the bottle on a table whose legs were carved with twining dragons. A deep purple soapstone incense holder and a small box enameled with azure dragons were the only other items resting there.

Standing beside the table, Nakago removed his armor and stripped off his clothing, which he folded neatly and set aside. From a different chest he took out supple robes of the finest blue silk and dressed himself in them. Lighting three sticks of incense he placed them in the incense holder, his fingers lingering on the fluid smoothness of the stone in a fond caress. A fresh scent, sharp with the tang of spring and growing things, filled the room.

Nakago lowered himself to a soft rug that floated like a lotus blossom upon the polished dark wood of the floor. He sat cross-legged and placed his hands together, his thumbs steepled toward the sky. Focusing on the achingly beautiful lines of a wall scroll that pictured the pliant curves of a weeping willow beside a river, Nakago evened his breathing and began a meditation that would call the power of his chi to him. At last a sound from the bed drew his attention.

“Miaka…” Tamahome’s soft cry held a world of need.

Nakago rose with all the swift and lethal grace of a striking dragon. He loomed over the helpless boy on the bed.

“You are awake,” he said. “And you are still yourself. You are strong, Tamahome. Most who receive the dark kiss of kodoku never return from the maze of their hopes and fears.”

“Nakago! Where is Yui?”

“The Priestess of Seiryu is in her rooms awaiting the arrival of her enemy.” Nakago fingered the drape on the bed, running the texture of the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. “If it were up to me, Tamahome, I would kill you outright; give you the honorable death your courage and loyalty deserve. But the Lady Yui, foolish girl that she is, desires you.”

Nakago knelt beside the bed. He grasped Tamahome’s chin and turned the boy’s head, forcing him to meet Nakago’s eyes.

“Do you recall that, on your arrival as a hostage, I said your presence here might prove to be interesting?”

Tamahome kept his silence. Nakago tightened his grip enough to be painful. He looked into the boy’s gray eyes, still defiant, though dark and dilated from the kodoku drug. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” Tamahome’s reluctant reply came through clenched teeth.

“You have my interest now, Tamahome. All of it.”

With those words he leaned forward and fastened his mouth to Tamahome’s in a savage and intense kiss. The boy’s head jerked back and his body writhed against the leather bonds. Nakago broke the kiss and studied Tamahome’s face, reveling in the shock and outrage he found there. Particularly satisfying was the hint of fear that flashed through Tamahome’s expression before the stubborn defiance returned.

Nakago gestured with his forefinger, reaching for his chi and setting his will against Tamahome’s.

“You will betray them. Suzaku, your brother warriors and most especially that empty-headed girl you hold so dear.”

“No.” Panting broke Tamahome’s voice, and his eyes were already beginning to glaze from the combined force of the kodoku and Nakago’s will. “You may hurt me, force me to submit, but I will never do anything to harm Miaka or the Suzaku warriors. Never.”

“Fight me by all means, Tamahome. Your struggle makes this encounter all the sweeter. It turns it from an onerous chore into an enticing challenge.”

“Damn you, Nakago!”

At that Nakago laughed. He rose and went to the chest from which he had removed the leather restraints. Opening it he took out a thin, pointed knife with a perilous sharp blade. A soapstone pot containing a salve followed it. He uncorked the pot, parted his robes and began casually applying its contents to his member.

“What’s the matter, Nakago,” Tamahome taunted. “Can’t get it up?”

“You have aroused the Dragon’s general, Tamahome. Have no doubt. This ointment intensifies my sensations. It allows me greater stamina.”

Discarding the pot, Nakago picked up the knife and pulled a chair to the bedside. He seated himself and began with languid deliberation to cut the coarse cotton shirt from Tamahome’s body. Tamahome closed his eyes. He swallowed, hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat.

“Open your eyes,” Nakago commanded.

Tamahome ignored him. Nakago let the knife slip, drawing a shallow, stinging cut in the boy’s chest. Tamahome hissed in pain. His eyes opened. The hatred in them fired Nakago’s power, and he used his chi to nudge a bit more of the spell he wove into place.

The shirt shredded and discarded, Nakago next used the knife to cut off Tamahome’s shoes. He ran the tip of the knife over the sensitive flesh along the arch of Tamahome’s foot, following it with his fingertip. Tamahome shivered involuntarily.

He closed his eyes once more and began to chant colorful litany of filthy words. Nakago listened a moment, then the knife flashed again, leaving a long gash in Tamahome’s calf that cleaved through cloth and skin alike. Tamahome cried out.

“Be quiet.” Nakago’s voice was level and chill.

Tamahome’s eyes flew open. “Or what?” he spat. “You’ll hurt me again? You’re going to do that anyway. So do it and get it over with.”

In a flash Nakago fisted his hand in Tamahome’s hair pulling his head back to a painful angle.

“Do you want to know what I plan to do to you, Tamahome?” He placed his lips next to the boy’s ear and whispered.

Tamahome blanched. His breath quickened in fear, desire or a combination of both.

“Nakago, you are one sick bastard,” he growled.

Nakago released him, leaned back and resumed his methodical removal of Tamahome’s breeches.

“It’s hard being poor, isn’t it, Tamahome,” Nakago said. He felt the wariness creep into Tamahome’s limbs. “So many children, to lose a mother so early. Then to have your father get sick and become weaker and weaker. It must have been difficult for you to be responsible for all of them at only twelve.”

Tamahome had gone completely still.

“You seem surprised that I know so much about you, Tamahome. I have spies all over Konan, both the Emperor of Kutou’s and my own. Hotohori doesn’t relieve himself that I don’t know about it. You certainly have no secrets safe from me.”

Tamahome screamed a raging, ugly scream. The scarlet kanji of the ogre flared to life on his forehead. Nakago felt his own kanji blaze blue in response.

“We are marked, Tamahome. Yet another burden to bear. Never to be as other men; always to be singled out by the gods. Revered and ridiculed in the same breath. Rarely knowing joy; daily marked by power and pain.”

“Keep away from Miaka. Do not touch her. Do not touch my family. And do not touch Suzaku. If you do, I will destroy you, Nakago.”

“You really think so? You are powerless, Tamahome, poor and powerless. You cannot protect yourself let alone them.” The last of the breeches fell to the knife leaving Tamahome vulnerable and exposed. Nakago caressed him intimately.

The boy exploded. He fought the restraints writhing wildly. The power of his chi rose in a glowing red barrier around him. It clashed with Nakago’s cobalt chi, the conflict between them building until the room crackled with bolts of pure energy.

“Suzaku,” Tamahome shrieked, his anguish rending the air. “Please…”

“Go ahead and scream, Tamahome,” Nakago said. “Weep and wail all you desire. Chichiri and the other warriors will never hear you through my barriers. The Priestess Miaka is a hopeless fool. And Suzaku does not deign to answer. As for help within the palace walls, those who dwell here have long since learned to ignore any sounds coming from this room. It’s safer for them that way.”

Tamahome fell back against the bed in exhaustion, tears streaming down his face. The barrier around him fell.

“Miaka,” he whispered. “I’m sorry…”

“Sorry,” Nakago mocked, his voice full of scorn, his tone scathing. “What do you have to be sorry for? Surely you didn’t think the Priestess of Suzaku could really love anyone as poor and as pitiful as you. Hotohori, the Emperor of Konan himself, has proposed marriage to her, laid his power, his wealth and his beautiful body at her feet. She will never accept you. In your heart you know it to be true.”

The kanji on Tamhome’s forehead flickered. “No! You lie! Miaka loves me!”

“Of course she says she loves you. She will say anything to keep Suzaku’s warriors with her. But she will discard you in the end. Hasn’t she already done so before? Three months, Tamahome. Three long empty months. She abandoned you, and the Lady Yui, as well. Left her best friend to be defiled and discarded as so much refuse.”

“Yui,” Tamahome’s words began to slur as exhaustion, the kodoku and Nakago’s spell took deeper hold. “No wonder Yui hates Miaka. You have twisted her.”

“The Lady Yui has been betrayed, as you have been betrayed, as I have been betrayed.”

“You!”

Nakago ignored him and continued. “The Lady Yui wants you. You will give yourself over to her.”

“No. I belong to Suzaku. I belong to Miaka.” Tamahome’s protests grew fainter and fainter. The ogre kanji was a shadow of its former self. Nakago slipped from his robes. It was time to seal the spell with sex and blood. He seated himself on the bed next to the boy and began to run his hands over Tamhome’s chest, arms and legs. Tamahome groaned deep in his throat.

“Miaka betrayed you,” Nakago whispered leaning forward to kiss the column of Tamahome’s neck. “Miaka betrayed Yui.”

“No.” Tamahome’s protest was barely a sigh. “What are you doing to me?”

“Showing you. Remember all the times Miaka has hurt you, all the times she has hurt Yui?”

“No, no, no…” Tears began to stream down Tamahome’s face. Nakago brushed them away with gentle kisses and delicate sweeps of his tongue. He continued to whisper enticingly.

“You have been hurt, as Lady Yui has been hurt, as I have been hurt.”

“Hurt…” Tamahome moaned.

“Lady Yui loves you. She desires you. I desire you.”

Nakago took Tamahome’s cock in his hand and began to work it.

“God!”

“You will let her touch you for her pleasure. You will let her ride you as a horseman rides a horse. You will let me touch you. You will give me all that I ask, in the bed and on the battlefield.”

He cupped Tamahome’s balls in his palm and ran his forefinger beneath them to brush the sensitive line of skin that ran between them and the rim of Tamahome’s anus. Tamahome sucked air in a gasp.

“You will touch the Lady Yui for her pleasure,” Nakago repeated. “You will give her whatever she asks of you. You will belong to her body and soul.”

“Not Yui! I belong to Miak…” Tamahome’s voice trailed away, then came back strong. “Yui.”

“You will touch me, Tamahome. You will deny me nothing. Not even your life if I ask it.”

“No! No! I am a warrior of…”

Beads of glistening semen had already begun to seep from the head of Tamahome’s cock. Nakago bent his mouth to it and gathered them with his tongue. Tamahome gave a broken sob. Nakago smiled his cruel smile. He took Tamahome’s length full into his mouth, sucking hard. He used his lips, throat and tongue to harden Tamahome’s member to granite.

Tamahome’s breath had quickened to panting. Nakago left off his attentions to Tamahome’s cock and straddled the boy’s waist. He cupped Tamahome’s face in his hands. His mouth met Tamahome’s and Tamahome yielded, opening to give him access. Nakago thrust his tongue deep inside forcing Tamahome to taste himself on Nakago’s lips. Nakago pulled his mouth away and once more began to whisper in Tamahome’s ear.

“The Lady Yui loves you. I love you. And I will take care of you.”

“You love me?” Tamahome’s dazed voice told Nakago his triumph was near.

“Oh, yes Tamahome. And you love us, the Lady Yui, Seiryu and me.”

Nakago carefully placed his knees one on either side of Tamahome’s throat. “Show me how much you love me, Tamahome.”

Nakago’s blue eyes gazed down into Tamahome’s gray ones. Once more Nakago bent the force of his will and set his chi against Tamahome’s. A riven sigh fluttered from Tamahome’s lips. He opened his mouth and took Nakago’s cock inside. Nakago threw back his head in ecstasy, his golden hair falling about his shoulders in a leonine mane. The gates to his soul burst open and rivers of pleasure flooded over him with every pull of Tamahome’s mouth. He built so fast, he was forced to tear himself free lest he throw off the rhythm of the spell. He rolled away, but then took the time to ravish Tamahome’s mouth, ravenous for the taste of himself on Tamahome’s lips.

“My lord,” Tamahome cried out.

With quick, savage moves Nakago grabbed the knife, slashed through the restraints and flipped Tamahome over onto his stomach. He dragged the boy to his knees, then knelt behind him nestling his cock at the cleft in Tamahome’s buttocks. Nakago evened out his breathing and reined in his pounding heart. He ran slow hands over the boy’s shoulders, arms and chest, setting him shivering. He fastened his mouth to a sensitive spot just below the curve of Tamahome’s jaw, sucking, licking and lightly biting. His hands went to Tamahome’s nipples, his fingers pinching and pulling and tugging them into hard knots.

Little whimpers began to come from Tamahome’s throat. Nakago moved his mouth to Tamahome’s ear and his hands to the rigid shaft that strained from between Tamahome’s legs. The whimpers turned into mewling cries.

“You are mine, Tamahome. You belong to me and to the Lady Yui Hongo, Priestess of Seiryu. Our enemies are your enemies. The Lady Miaka, the Priestess of Suzaku, has hurt Lady Yui. You will kill her, and any of her warriors you may find, especially Hotohori, the Emperor of Konan. Our enemies are your enemies. Say it, Tamahome, say it!”

The fiery light of Tamahome’s kanji shone out one last time, then died an abrupt death. Only the icy indigo glow of Nakago’s star sign colored the room. Tamahome’s voice rang hard and clear. “I belong to you and the Lady Yui, now and forever. Your enemies are my enemies. I will kill the Priestess of Suzaku and all her warriors.”

Nakago bent Tamahome forward. Using his fingers he spread the cheeks of Tamahome’s buttocks. He found the moist hole he was seeking and swiftly worked a finger into it. Tamahome’s choked hiss of pain and pleasure hummed like music in Nakago’s ears and sent a crescendo of desire running through him. He added a second finger pumping them in an out of the tight, wet warmth. Tamahome began to sob to the rhythm of his moves. He pressed ever deeper, feeling for the knot of nerves he knew to be there. Finding it at last he pressed hard against it. Tamahome came nearly upright and wailed in ecstasy.

Nakago removed his fingers and replaced them with his iron hard shaft. He sank himself to the hilt again and again, hitting the spot over and over, driven mad by the heat, the gripping steam of the muscles and the raw screams tearing from Tamahome’s throat. The sharp scent of semen filled the air as, with one last shriek, Tamahome spilled himself onto the tangled sheets. Nakago roared as his own release buffeted him like dragon wings and burned him like dragon fire. They collapsed to the fine down mattress. Nakago remained buried deep in Tamahome’s body, unwilling to withdraw until the full measure of carnal aftershocks had run their course.

He ran his mouth over Tamahome’s shoulders tasting the savory salt tang of clean sweat. At last he slipped out of his warm haven. Tamahome lay as one dead, his life betrayed only by the steady rise and fall of his chest. Lying on his side, his head propped on his hand Nakago watched him admiring the solid sculpted beauty of the boy’s body.

Tamahome rolled onto his back and opened his gray eyes. He stared straight into Nakago’s face. “I didn’t know it could ever be like that,” he said.

Nakago grinned. He leaned over, reaching down, fisting his hands in Tamahome’s hair and drawing him upward. He kissed him, a deep kiss filled with languorous intimacy and enjoyment.

“You are mine, Tamahome,” Nakago said as the kiss ended. “You belong to me and to the Lady Yui.”

“Yours,” Tamahome agreed. “And the Lady Yui’s. Perhaps we should invite her to share a bed soon.”

Nakago laughed at the boy’s impudence. His success was nearly complete. One more thing remained to be done.

“Hold still,” he commanded.

Tamahome obeyed, only a mild question in his eyes. Nakago picked up the knife and used its point to quickly jab a hole in Tamahome’s left earlobe.

“Damn,” Tamahome complained. “That hurt.”

Nakago leaned forward and licked the blood away from Tamahome’s ear with his tongue. Tamahome closed his eyes and made a low wanton noise in his throat. “Mmm…”

Nakago stabbed the ball of his thumb with the knife. He squeezed it until it bled, then held it out to Tamahome’s lips.

“Suck it,” he dictated.

Tamahome did so. A slow indolent heat coursed through Nakago’s belly making him smile his slow indolent smile. Removing his thumb from the boy’s hot liquid mouth he rose from the bed and padded to the table. He took a blue earring from the enameled dragon box, returned to Tamahome and buried it in the hole in his ear.

“This is my token,” he said. “It marks you as mine. Do not remove it.”

“I thought I was the Lady Yui’s, too,” Tamahome said.

“The Lady Yui is the Priestess of Seiryu. I am the General of Seiryu’s armies. I intend to see to it that one day the Lady Yui belongs to me.”

Tamahome smiled a hard licentious smile. “On that day, remember me.”

Nakago gave him a quick light cuff on the shoulder. He rose, returned to the clothes chest and drew out a black uniform with gold braid and buttons, a pair of soft black boots, a blue sash and a blue hachimaki. A gleaming pair of black and gold nunchaku followed the clothing. Tamahome’s eyes lit up when presented with the items. He ran an appreciative hand over the weapon. “Nice,” he said.

Nakago laughed. “Go. Bathe. Dress yourself. Then return and wait for me here. The Priestess of Suzaku will be in Kutou soon.”

Tamahome inclined his head, took his new finery and strolled away toward the baths, whistling as he went. Nakago reflected that his nakedness should cause quite a stir among the guards and the palace women. Stepping to the table he picked up the glass of liquor he had poured himself what seemed like a lifetime ago. He drank it quickly, savoring its fiery taste. He deserved it after the hard work of setting a curse.

An hour later Nakago was bathed and dressed once more in the armor of Seiryu. He sat at the table slowly sipping his saké. Tamahome knelt beside his feet. Nakago rested one hand lightly on the boy’s dark head. Tamhome glanced up at him, his gray eyes sultry and admiring. Sated, well-rested, his enemy’s protector a weapon in his hand, Nakago, Celestial warrior of Seiryu, savored his triumph and anticipated the future. The Dragon’s general was more than ready to take on the sniveling Priestess of Suzaku and any of her warriors that might dare to accompany her.

Fin.