Last Rites

Sometimes, the best trait a strategist can possess is patience.

Patience to watch the opponent reveal himself. Patience to consider every outcome. Patience to be precise. The truly great ones could wait forever.

And so he would.

The curved, slender bottle of wine sat on the small table, its deep, mossy scent lingering in the air. The wine was open and had been poured into a tin cup, but Daikenja had only taken a sip of it. The wine was warm and pleasant in his belly, but he didn't need it. The scene before him was intoxicating enough.

His future king was before him, kneeling on a vast and tangled array of scratchy woolen blankets. His body was bare, his flesh was sweaty, and his cheeks were flushed. Four men surround him, their own bodies in varying stages of undress: one still wearing pants, another nothing at all. One man had his mouth on Shinou's neck; another had two fingers inside him.

Daikenja watched on, his hands folded neatly in his lap, his legs crossed primly before him. He watched on as one man licked a trail down Shinou's abdomen, over firm muscle and sweaty flesh. The man licked and bit and kissed his way over the sharp bone of Shinou's hip. The man took Shinou's erection in his mouth with a wet moan and Shinou breathed a sound of pleasure.

Daikenja watched on, patient and precise and considering. He watched on and offered a small, good-hearted smile when Shinou caught his eye, grinning like a smug child. Daikenja liked it when Shinou acted like a smug child.

Daikenja liked it even better when he blushed and turned away, shied by the eye contact though his husky moans drowned in the gasps of the other men.

Two men, with their hands moving across Shinou's chest, leaned across his lap to twine their tongues together. Shinou's hips jumped at the display, and he tangled his fingers in the hair of the taller one. Another moved his head faster, his lips tight around Shinou's erection.

Daikenja shifted in his seat and steals another sip of wine. On his tongue, the wine tasted like Shinou's skin after a hard-won battle.

But he could wait.

He could wait longer than the other men: the tallest of the four soldiers pulled away from the lips of another, focused his mouth on Shinou's neck, let his teeth scrape along Shinou's collarbone.

He could wait longer than the soldier curved over Shinou's back, calloused fingers buried deep in the Shinou's body.

He could wait longer than the one stroking himself to messy completion all over Shinou's thighs.

Daikenja sipped his wine. He could wait because his king was waiting for him in return: refraining from orgasm, holding it close and saving it like a secret known only to the two of them.


***


When the last man had has staggered out into the night, when the camp was still, when the noises outside quieted into sleep, Shinou looked up at Daikenja expectantly. Daikenja smiled at him, sweet and cryptic, and lifted his cup to his mouth. After he had swallowed and returned the cup to the table, he let the sheen of wine remain on his lips.Shinou's impatient moan was his reward.

"Are you coming over here or not?"

Daikenja closed his eyes and nodded. "Of course, your majesty."

He crossed the small distance between them, his footsteps mere whispers upon the ground. He sat beside Shinou, took up a cloth to wipe the cooling semen from his thigh.

"They enjoyed themselves tonight, your majesty."

Shinou grunted, moved his hip into his sage's touch. He was still hard.

"They should sleep well."

Shinou rested a hand over Daikenja's, guided it to his cock. Daikenja smiled, palmed it once, and pulled away.

"At least let me clean their scent off you first, your majesty."

Shinou pouted like a child before cupping the back of Daikenja's head and pulling him down for a kiss.

"Mmm," Shinou hummed against his lips, "you taste like wine. Any left?"

Daikenja pressed a lingering kiss to the bridge of Shinou's nose. "You shouldn't, your majesty. I haven't factored it into my strategy for tomor--"

He shut up when Shinou hooked an arm around his waist and rolled him to the floor.

"Of course you have," he said, leaning over him, his features alive with the shadows cast by the oil lamp, "you factor in everything."

Shinou's confident smile was so charming, and it was clear that he knew it. Daikenja wondered briefly just how many times this spoiled brat had gotten his way with that smile alone. He dared not tally the number of times he himself had given in to it.

"You hold quite the high opinion of me," he said, pressing his hips up against Shinou's. He felt his Shinou's erection bob against him.

"And for good reason."

And Shinou leaned to nuzzle his neck, to purr against his collarbone, to use his teeth to shift Daikenja's robe. He used his hands to undo the ties, to push it from Daikenja's body.

The cool air moved over him and he felt the goose bumps push to the surface of his skin. But he felt warmer when Shinou's eyes moved over him, hungry and attentive.

"Lovely," Shinou purred, sliding his palm over Daikenja's rib cage, "lovely, my sage."

The touch tingled on his skin like the wine in his belly. It would be impossible not to arch up against Shinou's hand. It was always impossible to ignore Shinou. But he tried; he knew this game.

He let Shinou leave marks over his clavicle, his neck. He let Shinou's hands wander down his legs. He let him, and then he pushed him back. Always gently. Always smiling.

"Your majesty," he purred, "you should sleep."

Shinou paused in his assault of lips, teeth, fingers. He looked startled for a moment, then he smiled; he knew this game, too.

"My sage. You underestimate me."

Daikenja slid his fingers into Shinou's hair, felt it cool against his palm. It was an extended, peaceful moment, one full of sensation and quiet. He treasured it because it may be one of their last.

"We ride tomorrow," he whispered, soft as the light from the oil lamp, breathless with the weight of his king on his chest.

And his king smiled.

"So we do," he said, "I may die, you know."

Daikenja frowned at him. Of course he knew.

"Could you go on, knowing that you denied your king the pleasure of being held by you one last time?"

Shinou tried to pout, but his eyes twinkled. He was such a child and it was difficult for him to take anything too seriously.

Daikenja scoffed. "You are very spoiled, your majesty."

Shinou sat up, his weight pressing down on Daikenja's hips. He was smiling in the light of the oil lamp; the dark, sinuous shadow of his body rippled against the canvas of their tent. He slid his palms roughly over Daikenja's chest.

"It's true," he said, "I am. And manipulative, as well."

Daikenja smiled at him, accepted Shinou's kiss. It was salty and soft, scented like other men.

"So," Shinou said after he pulled away and leaned back against Daikenja's bent knees, his body splayed and exposed and beautiful, "seeing as I'll likely die tomorrow. Will you take me tonight?"

Shinou was such a puppy. He leaned forward and rocked against Daikenja's hips, against his erection, and it took all of Daikenja's restraint to hold in a gasp. Shinou's offer was a tempting one. He could think of little as pleasurable as the sight of Shinou being taken: the familiar flushed face, the tensing muscles. Little was as pleasurable as being buried deep inside Shinou. But, sometimes, other things hold more importance than does pleasure.

"And how will it feel, your majesty, to ride into battle on your horse after I have taken you? It is not worth the risk of pain."

"Ah," Shinou said, sliding down Daikenja's body to kiss his stomach, his hip bones, "but you'll be gentle, won't you, my sage?"

Daikenja gripped Shinou's hair, felt him mouth his erection. When he spoke, his voice was breathy. "Of course. Always. But not gentle enough."

He didn't say, "If anything should happen to you..." but they both knew what he was thinking. He didn't say, "If it was my fault..." either. It would be an egregious tactical error -- his only one, and the one for which he could never forgive himself.

Shinou groaned around his erection, its tip pressing against the roof of his mouth, his tongue broad and flat and warm against its length. It was wet-hot pressure when he began to move his head up and down. Daikenja jerked his hips.

Shinou pulled away. He licked the moisture gathering at the tip of the erection, and he smiled a sheepish smile.

"I wish you weren't so persuasive," he said, "but I don't want you to be sad if anything should happen."

Daikenja gave a cool, level smile. "Who said 'sad?' I'm merely concerned for the the safety of our men."

Shinou laughed as he slid out from between his legs. "Of course. And I only keep you around because you are a brilliant strategist."

Daikenja tried not to look disappointed when Shinou stretched out beside him on the blankets.

"You know," Shinou said, twisting a length of Daikenja's dark, damp hair around his finger, "even advisors are allowed to be scared."

One heavy moment stretched between them. Of course he was afraid. He'd be a fool to be unconcerned in the face of the coming morning. Shinou's eyes may have been conveying bravery and anticipation in the dim, flickering lamp light, but even he was not fool enough to ignore the gravity of the situation. It had not been Daikenja's intention to hide his fear, though he supposed men like him of so few words shouldn't be surprised when others misread them.

Daikenja barely thought of stopping himself when he rolled on his side and rested his face in the crook of Shinou's shoulder.

"So it would seem," he whispered, lacing their fingers together on Shinou's chest. He felt the commander's large palm rest against the back of his head, holding him close with something like tenderness. Shinou could be loving and kind, but "tender" happened so infrequently. Usually, he preferred "playful." Shinou would never admit to it, but Daikenja knew that was a sign that he was frightened, too. Neither of them, nor any of their soldiers had to voice it; they all knew that the next battle would be the last one. And, sometimes, even a king needs comfort.

Daikenja flattened his hand against Shinou's chest, slid it downward, scratched gently at the light patch of hair low on Shinou's belly. He pushed himself up, his lips close to Shinou's ear.

"I won't take you tonight," he whispered, "but you can have me."

Shinou looked at him with wide eyes for a moment, wide eyes and a question in the set of his jaw. But then he smiled, broad and light, and rolled onto Daikenja's body.

"I was wondering when you'd offer," he purred against Daikenja's neck, before sliding his palm roughly down his sage's ribcage.

Daikenja fumbled above his head for the small bottle of oil.

"You never offer," Shinou muttered against his skin, "I always have to beg."

Daikenja laughed, high and musical, as he set the oil down within reach.

"Or I have to take by force." Shinou's voice was taking on husky notes in between the hasty, frantic kisses.

Daikenja slid his nails down either side of Shinou's spine. "You fool. You don't take anything that I don't willingly give you."

Shinou paused almost imperceptibly at the admission, then rocked back to a squatting position, pulling Daikenja onto his lap in the process. All that smooth, black hair fell forward, curtaining their faces in darkness, and Shinou pressed their mouths together. The air was cool on Daikenja's skin, but where Shinou was touching, the air compressed and became warm. Shinou always made him warm.

Shinou pulled him close to his chest, one hand on the back of his head as he'd been holding him earlier. Even with his face pressed to Shinou's hair, he could hear the small bottle of oil slide against the canvas floor. He could hear the cork pop out. First, the oil touched the base of his neck, the soft pressure of one fingertip, the slow, sticky warming of the oil. And Shinou trailed his finger down Daikenja's spine, gliding over the bump of each vertebrate. The oil left a slick trail, at first cool, then warming with contact to his skin.

Behind them, their shadows stretched along the tent walls, fluid like cats. Shinou's silhouette was so broad and strong and Daikenja watched the swaying swath of his own hair in the shadow. He could only imagine what this must look like, projected or the camp to see.

He tried to push Shinou away, one gentle hand on his shoulder. "Wait. The oil lamp. Please put it out."

Shinou paused, his mouth hovering just above Daikenja's navel.

"The lamp? It's fine." His lips were set in a serious line, but his eyes twinkled with amusement.

Daikenja watched him, watched shadows play over his body, watched the tousled hair and the pink cheeks.

"Really, your majesty? Do you wish the entire camp to see?"

Shinou's chuckle was deep and rich. "You didn't care when it was the other men. Who would have thought that my sage was so shy?"

Daikenja frowned. "Discreet," he corrects.

"Fine," he conceded, "discreet. Then, will my discreet sage quite complaining if I put out the oil lamp?"

Shinou looked far too smug. But Daikenja couldn't find the energy to be annoyed. Instead, he smiled and touched a hand to his face when he kissed him.

"Your discreet sage will quit complaining, yes."

Shinou's grin was blindingly bright. He hopped up, much more energetic than he should have been after an evening of sex and anticipation, raw-ended nerves sparking with the arousal of touch and the fear of war. Daikenja sat up too, taking advantage of the hand offered him and followed him to the makeshift strategy desk.

The small table was covered with a messy array of documents and maps, a compass and an assortment of leather battle gear. It was a tangle of war and hopes.

Daikenja's wine bottle sat atop a small pile of books, one of the ancient texts now marked with a deep red ring that circled the base of the tin cup. He watched Shinou glance at it, at the bottle half emptied by Daikenja alone. He knew that Shinou understood what it said about his anxiety at the coming day, but neither man said anything. Instead, Shinou raised the cup to his own lips and swallowed the last warm swig.

"See," he said, his voice rough with the wine, "this is me, putting out the oil lamp."

He rested one hand on Daikenja's hip as he reached for the pin on the lamp and turned it. In the dark, he could no longer see his king, but he could feel him -- his heat, his breath, his strength. In the dark, Shinou's presence expanded like shadow.

"Thank you," he whispered when Shinou gripped his hips and lifted him onto the desk.

Shinou trailed his fingers down Daikenja's thighs, back up. His lips pressed against his clavicle, his chest, his neck.

"Of course," he muttered, cupping his hands beneath Daikenja's knees and raising them up, "how can I resist when my sage has made me such a rare and pleasant offer?"

Daikenja grunted and rocked their hips together.

"Do you know why I never offer," he asked, his breath ruffling Shinou's hair, "because you are always so slow."

He wrapped his fingers around Shinou's wrist and forced his hand down to his hip. Shinou's erection bobbed against Daikenja's navel.

"Are you going to take me, your majesty, or do I have to consider my offer rejected?"

Shinou growled at him, bit into his shoulder. "Again," he breathed, "you underestimate me."

When Shinou's fingertip pressed to Daikenja's entrance, Daikenja rocked back against it. When his finger slid inside, Shinou groaned.

He hadn't seen Shinou bring the oil to the desk, but he heard the cork. Shinou removed his finger, slicked it with oil, and returned it -- stroking, pressing, easing itself inside. Daikenja allowed himself a breathy noise and gripped Shinou's shoulders tightly.

Something about their coupling felt so greedy. The men outside had all retired to bed, tucked alone in their tents, likely unable to sleep for fear of the dawn. And there he had Shinou, their future king, pressed close, kissing him, touching him, reaching inside. It was more than he should be taking, this affection, this attention. It was more than he deserved and they really should rest.

Daikenja swallowed. "More," he breathed hot against Shinou's neck.

And, though Shinou kept nipping at his neck and licking his ear and gripping hard enough to leave bruises on his knee, he pulled his fingers out.

Daikenja hissed and tangled his fingers in Shinou's hair. "Wha--mmph!"

Shinou's mouth was hot against his own for the briefest of moments before he pulled away.

"Why did you stop?" Daikenja sounded the closest to "angry" that Shinou had probably ever heard him.

One broad hand cupped Daikenja's cheek in the dark. The fingers scritched into his hair, skirted over the soft skin of his temple. "You have to ride tomorrow, too, you know."

Daikenja frowned. "I'll be fine," he muttered, low and dangerous, "you, on the other hand, will be in no condition to ride if you don't get back here."

Shinou laughed and stepped closer. Daikenja could feel him against his entire torso, warm and firm and strong. "You're going to ride in beside me. You're going to stay with me the entire time. I won't fight without you by my side, and I won't have you in pain when you do it."

And the retort was right at the tip of Daikenja's tongue. It was. But Shinou pressed his hands against his chest and shoved him backward. Papers scattered. The compass slid off and hit the floor. Shinou kissed him again, gentle and longing and terrified and clingy. He jerked his hips and pressed their erections together, trapped between their abdomens. Another twitch of hips against the desk and the bottle of wine tipped over. The wine flowed out, Daikenja could hear it splashing against the surface of the desk, and the bottle rolled before thudding heavily against the ground.

Daikenja could smell the wine in the air, a thick, heavy scent that overpowered the musk of Shinou's skin. He couldn't smell the other men now, and he found that this almost frightened him. It was entirely too intimate. He tensed the muscles of his thighs, shifted his hips upward, and their cocks pressed together, smooth and hard.

Shinou gasped out, buried his face in Daikenja's hair. He was so close, so heavy that only a thin sheen of sweat separated them. Each clash of hips, each scrape of nails, each strangled cry frayed Daikenja's nerves and will. Each slide of thigh on thigh and Daikenja's mind painted the picture of a king grimacing in pain. Each tug on his long hair and the image became a playful, childish smile twisted with cruelty. Each stroke of a fingertip against his entrance and Daikenja neared orgasm, even as his mind begged for retreat.

He didn't want to see this phantom king. In the dark, he wished for the oil lamp to be re-lit -- to see the real king in this instance of pleasure and abandon and love. He wanted to see the flushed cheeks and the squinched-up eyes. He wanted to witness this moment: the desk in disarray, the wine spilled, the two of them a tangled mythological beast in the midst of decisive battle.

Shinou's rhythm became restive and breathless, faster and more needful. He slid a finger inside. He stroked until Daikenja trembled against him, frantic and unrestrained, until they breathed heavily against each other's necks, until their hips jerked together in fitful, hungry orgasm. Until they finally settled against each other on the desk.

Daikenja's mind spun against the faint images in his mind: his king speaking in Sousho's voice, the succession of hapless kings, the one who would bring them all together. His mind spun and he gripped the desk to maintain contact with reality.

Shinou sprawled beside him on the desk, his body too big, his legs too long for it to be comfortable, but he stayed there, curled around Daikenja like a kitten. He was breathing leaving still, puffs of air hot against Daikenja's temple.

"You'll stay," Shinou asked, shifting onto his side and slipping one arm over Daikenja's waist, "tomorrow, you'll go with me?"

Daikenja closed his eyes against the images of what was to come. "Yes," he says, "till the end."