#its accomplice would be hot pink and orange | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hawkbucks · 4 years

Note

LISTEN if you do the language barrier muses from that royal au prompt thingy for buckytony (tony as muse b and bucky as a or whatever you prefer) i will love you FOREVER (i already do but let's pretend that the offer is still somewhat fair)

Thank you for requesting, and I hope this is what you wanted ;; I don’t think I followed the prompt exactly aljadkad ;;

James hasn’t attended a single of his language lessons ever since they started a couple of weeks ago. Oh, his tutor has chased him plenty, but he’s always found a way to slink around them. It’s petty, the sort of behavior unbecoming of the Crown Prince (and it’s rather embarrassing and childish, so says his dear sister Rebecca), but James can’t find it in himself to care. His parents certainly didn’t seem to care about his feelings before they decided to marry him off to some prince from the South. His parents certainly didn’t seem to care about his opinion on the matter. His parents certainly didn’t seem to care that he’s a person--their son--and not some pawn in their game of political chess.

They didn’t care about him, so he’s not about to care about this little scheme of theirs. If petty is how he’s feeling, then petty is what everyone is going to get. He’s not above that.

(Pity briefly surges through his chest. Is it fair of him to punish someone who’s barely an accomplice in this crime? It is a betrothal. He’s willing to bet that the other prince had as much say in this as he had--which is, to say, none at all.)

He slouches over in his chair, sighing.

“James,” his mother, Queen Winnifred, calls out. She grips his wrist as he tries to slip past. “Sir McKenzie has been telling me that you haven’t been attending your lessons. How can you expect to communicate with Prince Anthony? He arrives in a couple of days.”

“I would prefer to not communicate with him,” James answers coolly. “In fact, I would prefer that we not go through this marriage at all.”

She squeezes his wrist in warning. “I will not have you bring shame to this family because you want to shirk your duties.”

James opens his mouth to respond, but then closes it at the blaze that starts up in his mother’s eyes, making it more than clear that she’s not in the mood for James’ excuse-making and back-talking.

“The Starks are sending their only son thousands of miles across the heartland because they need this alliance. They can’t even attend their own son’s wedding because Maria easily takes ill.” James tries to look away. She tugs, forcing him to look back. “This is going to be a trying time for him. The least you could do is provide him some familiarity.”

Hot shame courses through James’ body, but he made up his mind the second you’re betrothed left his father’s lips. He removes his hand from his mother’s grip and summons every last drop of his courage. “Perhaps you all should have thought about that before arranging this entire affair.”

An uneasy, thick silence falls between them. His mother looks stunned. He can tell that she’s wondering what happened to the compassionate boy that she helped raise.

His throat clicks as he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. Mechanically, he turns on his heel and walks away, his mother’s gaze burning holes into his back.

His sister says nothing to him as she drags him to every single one of his lessons. Two days is barely enough time for him to learn how to introduce himself, much less become conversational. However, that doesn’t stop his tutor from trying.

They sit him down in a less than comfortable chair at a years-old desk stained by ink and rings of that coffee drink his mother is so fond of. Scrolls are unraveled in front of him, one half filled with words and phrases that he can read, the other half dominated by characters he finds foreign.

They say he has to stay.

They never say he has to pay attention.

Prince Anthony arrives as the short-lived sun starts to set, staining the gate in front of the castle in pinks and oranges.

James plasters on a fake smile--he might not be thrilled about this entire arrangement, but he supposes that he could at least let the Prince feel like he’s welcome. Well, he thinks as he presses a quick kiss to the back of Prince Anthony’s hand, at least he’s pretty. He links both of their arms together as he leads the Prince into the courtyard.

Prince Anthony looks at him and says something in his own tongue, delicate and soft, a contrast against the rough and warm tones of James’ own language.

James’ smile falters, and he shakes his head, making a looping motion with one of his fingers near his ear. I can’t understand you.

Prince Anthony’s brows furrow, a frown forming on his face. He says something over his shoulder to someone, adding something extra in the beginning--presumably a request to translate--before repeating what he said to James.

That someone that Prince Anthony was talking to hurries over. They’re a portly man, but the broadness of their shoulders betrays any hidden underlaying muscle. “His Highness would like to know if he is to sleep with you in your quarters tonight,” they translate, “or if he is to wait until after the wedding.”

“Pardon?” James’ mouth goes dry. He isn’t sure if Prince Anthony means sleep or if he means… sleep.

Prince Anthony says something, cheeks slightly flushed, probably after taking in the half confused, half shocked look on James’ face.

The man nods. “His Highness meant it to be purely the two of you sharing a bed. He apologizes if any of his wording made him seem crass.”

“Oh.” James blinks. “After the wedding.”

The man relays that to Prince Anthony, who simply hums thoughtfully.

James barely gets more than a glimpse of Prince Anthony as he’s caught in the hustle and bustle of everyone in the castle moving around to get ready for the wedding. He’s forced into coat after coat, the seamstresses hemming and hawing and sometimes accidentally pricking him with their needles. He wonders why they couldn’t have just done this before.

From what he sees, Prince Anthony’s garments have the intricate, looping embroidery on them that’s indicative of the South. The sleeves are long, with two pieces of loose fabric acting as some sort of flaps that connect from his shoulders to his wrists.

James’ father, King George, stops by to give him the sash that he wore when he married Winnifred.

James doesn’t think he deserves it.

They don’t kiss during the ceremony, thankfully.

James’ simply feeds Prince Anthony the first bite of a freshly baked bread roll, while Prince Anthony spoons beef broth into James’ mouth. The priest--who James recognizes as the man Prince Anthony enlisted the translation services of when they first met--says a few words in both James’ and Prince Anthony’s tongues, and just like that, they’re married.

Prince Anthony is the man that James is supposed to be spending the rest of his life with, whether either of them likes it or not.

As his golden circlet is replaced by a silver crown, rubies glittering underneath the sunlight pouring in through the windows, Prince Anthony mutters something underneath his breath, eyes closing.

James doesn’t understand what he’s saying, but he recognizes the cadence of the Common Prayer.

Prince Anthony tugs on the sleeve of James’ shirt and points at the cake sitting a foot away from them, decorated with apples and pears. Melted chocolate and caramel are drizzled across the top, criss-crossing over the other. “Is swit?” Prince Anthony asks.

James tilts his head to the side.

“Swit. Swit,” Prince Anthony repeats. “Sweet?”

“Oh.” James’ eyebrows quirk up. He lifts himself out of the seat and reaches over, bringing the cake to their side. “Do you…” he points at the cake, then at Prince Anthony, then he mimes eating, a cupped hand underneath his mouth while the other pretends to be forking something in.

Prince Anthony nods.

James snaps his fingers, and a servant comes scurrying.

The both of them are called forward to share a dance in front of the crowd. Queen Winnifred sends James a look that promises repercussions if he tries to weasel his way out of it.

With a sigh, he gets out of his seat and offers his hand to Prince Anthony, who takes it with nervousness in his eyes. James supposes that Prince Anthony doesn’t need to understand his language to know when he’s to be no more than a performing monkey for a couple of minutes.

“Sorry,” Prince Anthony whispers when he accidentally steps on James’ toes.

At least he knows that.

Back in their quarters, it comes to James’ attention that Prince Anthony’s sleeping wear is rather unsuited for the kind of weather up in the North. Compared to James’ own heavy cotton garments, Prince Anthony’s breezy, light linens are pathetic. He sees the way Prince Anthony shivers and his mind immediately goes to how cold he must have been the past few days. The South is known for its warm climate, and the North… well, there’s a reason why James’ father is regarded as the Winter King.

It’s going to be impossible for James to continue not learning Prince Anthony’s language if he keeps feeling sorry for him. Lord.

“Cold?” he questions, mimicking Prince Anthony’s shiver.

Prince Anthony nods, looking remarkably shy about it all.

James heads to the chest in his room that stores the fur blanket that he usually saves for the especially cold nights in the dead of winter when his breath is visible and the lake in their garden freezes over. He fishes it out and offers it to Prince Anthony, who takes it with a grateful smile.

Prince Anthony tosses it on the bed and spreads it out. He places a hand on his chest. “Tony,” he says. “Say me ‘Tony’.”

“Tony,” James repeats. The name rolls off of his tongue easily.

Tony walks over and puts a hand on James’ chest. “James.”

James nods weakly as he desperately tries to tamp down the flush rising up his neck.

“James,” Tony says again, voice ringing like a bell.

James wakes up to the feeling of someone’s head on his chest. When they fell asleep, he made sure to put as much space in between the two of them as possible (and it really wasn’t hard considering how large his bed is), but they must have gravitated towards each other anyhow.

At least Tony has an excuse in the fact that he’s unused to Northern weather and unconsciously sought out warmth from any source. What’s James’ excuse?

He isn’t sure what to do. He could try and move, but… he can’t find it in his heart to possibly wake Tony up.

Tony starts to move, and James lets out a sigh of relief, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“Food?” Tony asks, tilting his head upwards to look at James. “Morning-food? Hungry, I want...” his face screws up in concentration.

“Breakfast.” James fills in after a moment’s hesitation.

“Breakfast!” Tony’s accent is off, but James can tell he’s doing his best.

So, here’s the thing: James feels like an asshole.

Tony’s trying to connect with him despite the language barrier, and that’s more than what James can say.

He’s still miffed about the entire betrothal thing, but he doesn’t feel like his little act of rebellion is worth it. Tony’s still struggling with his language, while James hasn’t even made an effort to learn Tony’s. He should be the one fumbling over his words, trying to get Tony to like him.

Plus, he’ll admit that Tony… has grown on him. It takes real courage to venture all the way across the heartland to get married to someone you don’t know because your kingdom is in desperate need for power. He wonders if Tony had many friends back in the South, if he thinks about them at night, if he had any pets. He uprooted his entire life coming up to the North, and James…

James can’t even fucking say hello to him.

Tony places a plate in front of James, snapping him out of his thoughts. On the plate lies a single cinnamon roll, looking beautifully fluffy with its dark brown swirl in the middle, creamy frosting on top. “Made for you,” Tony chirps.

Yeah. James feels like a real asshole.

James walks in on Tony in the library, face buried in a pillow as he sits on a lounge chair. He assumes that it’s just an extreme reaction to a book that Tony’s reading (although he was unaware that they had books in Tony’s language in the first place--perhaps he brought some from home?) before he realizes that Tony’s shoulders are shaking and all of his breaths sound suspiciously like sobs.

“Oh, oh, hey,” James says as soothingly as possible, bending himself at the knee until he’s at the same height as Tony. What if Tony is feeling ill but he was hiding it? What if Tony got hurt? What if Tony simply isn’t having a good day? James honestly thinks the least he could do is check in on him. “Okay?”

Tony removes his face from the pillow. His eyes are rimmed with red, tear tracks shining on his cheeks. His nose is flushed a light pink. “Book made me--” he hiccups-- “sad.”

“The book made you… sad?” Ah. So, it was just a reaction to the book. Still, he can’t leave Tony like this, can he? “Hug?”

Tony sniffles as a crease appears between his brows. “Hug?” he repeats sluggishly.

James blinks. He’s not too sure how to explain what hug refers to. He’s confident that there’s a corresponding word in Tony’s language, but he doesn’t really know it now does he? He runs a couple mental calculations, minutely shrugs, then goes in for the hug.

Tony inhales quickly, unsure of what to do, and James thinks that he must have botched this big time.

Then, Tony is hugging him back, burying his face in the crook of James’ neck.

Warmth spreads throughout James’ chest.

“Flowers,” James says as he gives Tony a small bouquet of hellebores. They just reminded him of Tony, and, no, he doesn’t know why. He does know that he’s grateful that they grow some in the royal gardens, though. “For you.”

Tony perks up as he accepts James’ gift. “Flowers. Pretty,” he coos. He separates one from the rest and tucks it behind James’ right ear. “For you.”

“You’re prettier,” James breathes out. He’s not sure if Tony’s able to understand that, but Tony’s smile grows wider.

Winnifred pulls James to the side, curtsying to Tony when he looks at her in confusion. “Anthony has been taking lessons with Sir McKenzie almost everyday while you’re out there fencing with Steven,” she quietly chides, eyes flickering over to Tony. “When are you going to do the same? It’s not fair for him to cater to you the entire time you both speak. There should be equal effort on both sides.”

“I know some words,” James replies.

Winnifred raises an eyebrow.

James deflates. “I’ll think about it.”

“Think quickly.”

Sir McKenzie gives him a knowing smirk.

James rolls his eyes.

Tony looks all around him, eyes wide in awe. His hands form cups, small mounds of snow forming in each hand over time. “Wow,” he mouths. “This is snow?” he questions aloud. He’s been getting better and better at the Northern tongue as the days pass, although his accent is still rather glaring. “Only read about in books. Never seen.”

“Do you like it?”

Tony nods enthusiastically. “Very like it!” then, he smiles sheepishly. “But very cold.”

“Do you want a hug?”

Tony bounds over to him and jumps into his arms.

James recites what he’s going to say over and over in the mirror.

He’s there when Tony starts waking up with a bowl full of steaming oatmeal flavored with cinnamon and brown sugar, plus a plate of apple slices and a dish of honey for Tony to dip them in. “Good morning,” he says in Tony’s language.

Tony catapults up into a sitting position, staring at James. His mouth starts moving at a mile a minute and the only thing James can understand is speaking and nice. Halfway through, Tony stops himself as if suddenly realizing that James… doesn’t really know what he’s saying. “Sorry. Very happy,” he explains, switching back to James’ language.

Now, James could continue talking in his native tongue, or he could try to flex what he’s learned. The choice is obvious. “Okay. You are cute.” He feels his mouth turn cotton-y at the last word. Tony is indeed very cute, but to say it to him in his language makes it sound different--feel different. “I like you…” Goddamn it, he practiced for this. “...much?”

Tony claps his hands in delight. “I really like you,” he returns in James’ language and leans forward to kiss James on the cheek.

#This is like 2.7k words can you believe that.#I didn't know I could do things this long.#winteriron #filled #Also the title of this in my Docs is literally 'tony is TOO EFFIN' ADORABLE the fic'.#This is cheesiness to the max my god.#If there are typos I'm very sorry I tried to look this over--#but I don't have a beta!#dr-stxrk

112 notes · View notes

pseudofaux · 7 years

Text

Kindness

Sequel to Goodness, which has an epilogue. tl;dr : Nobuyuki targeted/seduced (ymmv) Yukimura’s wife Akiba, Yukimura walked in near the end, hid, had some conflicted feelz about it. M! It’s very M. Also MMF. Also long, it’s over 10k (should I have said “over nine thousand”?).

Many mercis to @phantomofthelabyrinth who sent back helpful edits in record time (!), @saizos-little-lady who was the sweetest possible friend as I was struggling while writing this, and @karalija and @rubyleeray who are funny and talented af. Tagging @dear-mrs-otome @darkangelmitsunari @phantomofthelabyrinth @yuyuisakura-hime @unicornthug4life @akiko-moons (NOW I will FINALLY email you!), @little-mini-me-world @opossumlyotterlyinsane @saialock and @quincette and and and

The day was interminably hot. Unbearably hot. If it would rain, or if there was wind, it would be easier to make it through. But it was dry, and still, and hot. Everyone tried to do as much as they could in the morning so they could spend the day inside, out of the sun and the worst of the damned heat. To look outside you would hardly know; trees were orange and red, some already bare. It looked like autumn. But it felt like hell.

Even Yukimura, who had been extremely focused for weeks and always worked up a sweat during training, seemed to notice. Not that he was training with any less effort. Not that he was letting the recruits train with any less effort. Someone needed to put a stop to this or they were going to start dropping there on the dirt.

Akiba watched from the shade—comfortless shade—and felt a thin trickle of sweat make its way between her shoulders. A strand of hair had somehow come loose and was stuck to the back of her neck. Had there been a breeze it might have tickled, so perhaps the still air was a blessing. It didn’t feel like one.

“Yukimura,” she called when the group was quiet, holding positions.

He froze in his form, classical profile and strong posture making her smile. His kosode was hanging from his waist, revealing the bands around his abdomen, stained by sweat. She could see the muscles of his chest and shoulders and arms and neck and… well. He was beautiful. Yukimura slowly turned to her and gave her a tiny smile of his own. Hers widened as their eyes met, and she held up a towel.

“Break,” he said. “Five minutes.” And he walked to his wife purposefully.

Some of the recruits whined, but most of them just made for the well, clearly wilted from their time outside.

“Hello,” she said softly, shyly, offering him the cloth. He took it with another little smile. “I brought you water, too,” she added, slipping the cord off her shoulder and holding the flask out for him. “It should still be a little cool.” After Yukimura had pressed the sweat from his brow and neck into the towel, he accepted it gratefully.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” he murmured, looking at her as he took a drink.

“I put it in the cellar,” she admitted. “I wanted to bring you ice, but there’s not enough. I did only bring it out a moment ago, though. So hopefully…” she trailed off, raising her eyebrows.

Yukimura hummed an amused sound and touched her cheek. He took another pull from the flask. Those glorious eyes were exceptionally beautiful over the yellowed bamboo.

“Smart. I meant you coming out to see me, but the water is a treat. Thank you.”

She blushed, happy. She had tried to interrupt training in the past and he usually waved her off, or only jogged over to tell her he would come to her when it was done, that it was unfair to leave the new soldiers to work while he was idle.

Over the last few weeks, though, he had been different. He had become more willing to be selfish, and since he had started out too selfless, the change seemed to have matured him, somehow. He was still generous, still so kind. Still noble. But his nobility was developing into something calmer and quieter. Sadder. After…

“Stop,” he said, two of fingers prodding at her cheek. Her eyes went to his, remorse pulling her mouth to one side.

“Akiba,” he continued, his patient voice making her want to wince. But she tried to keep their eye contact, trust him, earn his trust. “We agreed. This isn’t necessary.”

To that she could say nothing, because it was true and because the guilt in her throat was leaden anyway. But she tried harder to smile, and she pressed her cheek into his hand.

She said what she could.

“I love you so much,” she murmured, bringing her hand over his. His body was ruddy from exertion in the sun, and the heat made even his touch hot and sweaty.

“I know,” he said gently. “I love you, too.”

She closed her eyes, and pressed his hand with her own and with her cheek, not minding the heat or slickness. She would bear any discomfort for him that she could.

“I should get back,” he said after a moment, sounding a little bashful, a little like his old self.

She nodded. “After, will you be busy until dinner?”

“Yes,” he sighed. At this rate in a week or so he would actually be rolling his eyes. “But inside, at least,” he added pleasantly.

“I’m glad you’ll be out of the heat,” she said, a smile coming easily now. “I’ll try to get some ice for after dinner if there’s any left.”

His answering smile was so grown up, now. It was like he had become a man… a more adult man, somehow? “You don’t have to do that,” he said. But he did not insist.

“I know,” she said, biting her lip, eyes going toward the kitchens and then back to his face. “But I’ll try.”

“Okay,” Yukimura said on a chuckle, a fond smile on his face. She squeezed his hand and let go as slowly as she could.

“Back at it, everyone!” he called over his shoulder. She tried not to giggle when she heard faint groaning.

“Don’t be too hard on them,” she said.

He shook his head and handed the flask back to her. The towel he draped over the back of his neck. He leaned in and she felt her face go up in a smile to meet his quick kiss. Yukimura straightened, smiling at her warmly, and touched the spot on the apple of her cheek where he had kissed her.

“Sorry about the sweat,” he said.

She shook her own head, still smiling. “I don’t mind.”

One more smile, one more touch, and then he turned to go back to training in the brutal midday heat.

An unexpected, blessed little scrap of autumn wind blew over the grounds. The space on her cheek where his hand and lips had touched her felt cool in that breeze.

At dinner the next night, Yukimura touched her hand, slotting his fingers through hers on the floor between them. After a moment, he leaned toward her and brought his mouth to her ear.

“Tonight, we need to go to Nobuyuki’s rooms,” he said quietly. She felt herself stiffen immediately and turned her face to his.

“Is that something you want?” she asked, trying to match his volume.

He smiled faintly and nodded, an easy gesture. He seemed entirely untroubled. She did not share his calm, but she would follow him. Yukimura had said “need.” So she nodded, gravely. He squeezed her hand and then leaned back, leaving his hand on hers. He watched the evening’s entertainment looking every inch relaxed and satisfied.

He looked like his brother. And wasn’t that an alarming, thrilling thought.

She had not been alone—or this close to alone—with Nobuyuki since the morning they had all woken up together.

Just as he implied he would, Nobuyuki had treated her no differently. His behavior was not indifferent, precisely, it had simply been very, very, normal. Akiba had to wonder if even Saizo would have noticed. Who was the more observant, Nobuyuki or Saizo? It would take longer than she had been here to figure out.

Nobuyuki’s voice was calm when he greeted them, his smile comfortable. All she could see on his face was quiet curiosity. No malice, no plotting. She knew, better than most, that not seeing an agenda should not lull her into thinking one was not there. She had not really wanted to be alone with him, for fear of what would happen, but she wished that between the last time they were alone and now there had been a quiet time to talk to him. There had been such a sense of attunement that night and the knowledge of it hummed under her skin.

She tried to tell it to shut up.

After all three were settled on the floor in a triangle, Nobuyuki asked a question.

“What did you want to discuss, little brother?”

Akiba looked at her husband, trying to check her surprise. This had been his idea? She supposed the sea change of his behavior should make this less of a shock, but she thought Nobuyuki had put this meeting together. It was, of course, entirely possible that Nobuyuki had brought the three of them together, his brother an unwitting accomplice.

But something about the Yukimura of the last few days made that harder to believe.

He looked fairly relaxed. Such a change in the last few days. Yukimura’s hands were closed a little tighter than usual, but there were no other outward signs of distress.

“I want to discuss what it is…” he started, voice thoughtful.

Suddenly his cheeks were pink, and he was himself—his old self—again.

“I want to, umm....”

Akiba reached for Yukimura’s hand, trying to soothe him. “I love you,” she told him, very quietly. “Whatever you want to talk about, we will.”

He met her eyes, seeming for just a moment as though he were lost, and then resolving himself. Yukimura looked from her to his brother, and Akiba felt her heart fly into her throat as she prepared to give him what she expected he was going to ask for. He was well within rights to demand to know what it was that had made her decide to sleep with his brother.

“I want to know what you two want,” he said with a small shrug.

Akiba felt the heat of her nerves vanish in an instant.

“What you would want to do,” Yukimura clarified, his pink ears a contrast to his calm face and unwavering voice, “If it didn’t hurt anyone. Me.”

Oh, this man. This incredibly tender, brave man.

Nobuyuki’s eyes glinted at them, and the quirk of his smile flashed into something darker for just a moment. Akiba resisted the urge to tell him she had seen that. He had probably done it on purpose.

“I would want to love you both, of course.” Nobuyuki said, pleasant, magnanimous. The white flash of his smile looked so earnest and charming.

Akiba was pretty sure he was being truthful, but she frowned at him anyway. How could he be so unruffled by this?!

“The truth?” she asked, turning to look at Yukimura. She could feel the concern on her face, reflecting only a fraction of its intensity in her heart.

“Yes,” her husband said patiently, “the truth. Plainly, please,” and he flicked a slightly reproachful glance at Nobuyuki. Who only smiled more serenely, if such a thing were possible.

Akiba sighed and drew back her hand. Took a breath. Considered for a moment.

“The truth is, if it wouldn’t hurt you I would want to be with both of you,” she confessed. “But I would only want that if it didn’t hurt you. I love you. I can’t enjoy what makes you unhappy.”

Yukimura nodded, and then looked down at one of his hands, a loose fist on his thigh. After a long moment, he said quietly “We could, then.”

Before Akiba could say anything, Nobuyuki’s voice cut through the room.

“Genjirou,” his tone was admonishing but kind; brotherly. “That is not where this has to go.”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Yukimura demanded with no small amount of heat. He was blushing as intensely as she had ever seen him and he looked frustrated.

“Yukimura,” she said, taking his hand again. “You don’t have to do this. Please don’t force yourself.”

He took in a deep breath and turned his hand to hold hers. “You,” he said on his exhale, meeting her eyes with a hopeful little smile, “don’t have to force yourself not to. I…I want this.”

Her heart broke a little at his confession; he sounded so shy. Whether he was telling the truth or not, she wanted to hold him when he was this vulnerable. She scooted closer to put her arms around his waist.

Should she take him at his word, or insist that they leave?

“If this is what you want,” she said after a moment, “then we should do exactly and only what you want. Can you… tell us? You can direct anything, everything. You can make Nobuyuki watch and not touch if that would make you happy.”

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Nobuyuki’s eyebrows shoot up at that suggestion, but when she looked at him properly he was smiling at her, satisfaction incarnate. As though he had known this was exactly where they would end up. And he probably had, she realized.

Yukimura shook his head. “I don’t… have anything in particular in mind. I just want… the three of us. Together.” He gestured between them, beseechingly. After a pause he seemed to clear his head and calm himself. “Together,” he repeated, firmly, looking to her and then to Nobuyuki, and back. “Here.”

His brother laughed, the sound warm and inviting, not teasing. “I’m proud of you, Yukimura,” Nobuyuki said, voice serious despite his expression. “And you,” he added, looking at Akiba with a cooler, more assessing, smile.

Ah. There he was.

Akiba sat up and moved her hands to her husband’s jaw. She moved her thumbs lightly over his face, searching his eyes with her own. “Are you sure?” she asked.

Yukimura looked down. He nodded quickly, emphatically. And then pushed his cheek against one of her hands and closed his eyes. She leaned toward him again.

“I love you,” she promised against his mouth. “I will love you best in the world, always. If this is not what you want, that’s okay.” Akiba pressed a kiss, the tenderest she could manage. She could feel the sudden heat of his cheeks as he blushed yet again, but she was used to him blushing when she kissed him like this so it only made her smile. “And if you do want this, that’s okay too.” She kissed him again, another tender press. He nodded.

She moved to kneel in the empty space between his knees. She took her husband’s hands and brought them to her face, pressing gently as she kissed him again. “Yukimura,” she breathed, “…Is it okay? Can I love you?”

When she felt him go still, she opened her eyes. He was looking at her in a way she had only seen once before. On their wedding night, as he told her that he knew they belonged to each other. His mouth was a firm line, his eyes were narrowed. He lifted his chin slightly in a gesture she recognized as his try me. A grin spread on her face, relief spread through her body, and hope that this would be okay spread through her heart.

After a second his face relaxed into his kind smile. She went back to kissing him, reverently, trying to coax his mouth open with tiny slips of her tongue. She said his name softly. His fingers were warm as they cradled and tilted her face.

Nobuyuki seemed to be sitting this out for the time being, which was what Akiba wanted. She decided to trust he would recognize a good time to join if one arose, and refocused herself on Yukimura, who had tilted his head back a little further. She was craning her neck to reach him for kisses.

Akiba pulled Yukimura’s hands down to her neck, then her collarbones. His warm fingers rubbed up and down over her skin, her clavicles. Then she brought his hands to her breasts, and squeezed, and left them there. She put her hands behind his neck and started kissing him in earnest.

“I like,” she told him between kisses, “that you like these.”

He was still again for a moment, but then she could feel him beginning to apply his own pressure. She sighed into his mouth, comfortable and happy. He moved his hands, cupping her breasts, squeezing them close. Akiba pressed her thighs together as the thrill of being touched by him began to warm her body.

She moaned his name softly into their kiss.

Her obi was being untied but Yukimura’s hands were still on her. She could feel Nobuyuki pull the cord and fabric away, and then his warmth was at her back. Nobuyuki’s hands massaged her shoulders as Yukimura continued to rub her breasts.

“Stand up,” Nobuyuki said, voice low. She opened her eyes to check in with Yukimura. He nodded, so she moved to stand. They all did, holding bits of one another for purchase. Akiba’s hand was softly pulled up by Yukimura, and she was gratified to feel Nobuyuki’s hand at her back, holding onto the fabric of her kimono as he rose with her.

Before her stood her husband, looking down at her with a hint of a smile and his magnificent eyes shining. Behind her Nobuyuki was close, his hands resting on her shoulders. He slid them down her arms and brought his hands to the front of her datejime. His fingers, precise and sure, went to the knot immediately. Akiba took a breath but held the look she was sharing with her husband. She wet her lips and smiled a tiny smile at Yukimura, who deepened his own patient smile. But did not touch her.

Nobuyuki made quick work of the datejime knot and pulled the sash to the side with one fist. Whatever he did with it, the silk made no sound. He ghosted his hands up her body, the touches featherlight and warm over the silk, and returned to her shoulders. There, he hooked his fingers in the fabric, catching the collars of her unbound kimono and nagajuban. Akiba let her head fall the short distance back onto his body.

She reached for one of Yukimura’s hands and gave him a squeeze as she closed her eyes.

Nobuyuki continued to slowly pull her robes until he brought them down over her elbows and let go. She could feel the fabric pool at her feet, the slide of the nagajuban warm against her ankles. But immediately it was moving, and she realized Nobuyuki was pulling it away with his foot.

Had they not been in one of his meticulous rooms Akiba would have protested this treatment of her favorite kimono, but here they were. It was probably better to get the silk and embroidery out of the way, given the charge between the three of them. She knew that energy would tip over soon, and she expected it would give way to something dark and wonderful. And grasping.

Familiar fingers were sliding up her breasts, and she pushed her body into Yukimura’s touch and sighed into the air above them. She felt cool air at her back suddenly. But as she turned to look at Nobuyuki, Yukimura’s hands moved to the back of her head and pulled her to him. The possessiveness of the gesture thrilled her even as it made her worry about his ability to handle what was happening. But it was hard to think about anything just then; his kisses were demanding and ceaseless and she had to cling to him to stay upright. She had told him this made her weak—was he doing it on purpose?

When Yukimura slowed the pace of their kisses, she realized her hands were at his waist. His obi and hakama were always tricky to undo; best to start while she had this temporary sanity. As she moved to the back ties one of her forearms brushed against his hardness. The thrill of it made Akiba smile, and it cleared her head a bit. She went on the offensive in their kiss, licking at Yukimura’s tongue as she palmed the length of him through the loosened hakama. The stiff heat of his cock through his clothes and his inelegant, sweet little grunts against her mouth as she slid the fabric against him made her feel powerful. She wanted to use that power to make him feel cherished. She would.

Akiba settled for keeping her mouth near Yukimura’s to catch his sounds, his labored breaths. She rolled her hips toward her husband, toward her hand. He hissed, warm—hot—hands going quickly down her back to squeeze her hips before he took them away. She did not appreciate the loss of the heat or contact and she whined into his mouth. He chuckled, and when she opened her eyes he had that dear, beautiful, patient smile she loved so much on his face, and the color high on his cheeks was health and happiness, not embarrassment. It seemed like the upper hand was constantly shifting between them, but Yukimura, at least, looked himself.

This will be okay, she thought.

He leaned toward her slightly and she realized he was pulling off his hakama. She let go of him, though she considered keeping him in her hand to impede his progress. Akiba realized she could slide the kosode off his shoulders instead of letting him do it, and bit her lip to keep patient. When he straightened, she brought her hands and mouth to his chest, kissing the swell of his muscles—heavens, she loved this part of him—as she walked her fingers up to his neck.

She could hear Yukimura’s gulp, and tried not to giggle. She loved this man so much. She told him so between kisses, and relished the way his heartbeat made his chest thump beneath her. When her fingers reached his neck she trailed them around the skin. Then she laid her palms on the flesh of his shoulders and moved them away, remembering Nobuyuki’s pace as he had removed her clothing. She pushed Yukimura’s kosode aside with her wrists, stretching the movement out as long as she could stand, looking up into his magnificent eyes.

The garment finally had nothing else to rest on but her hands, and she let it fall.

Yukimura had not wrapped his abdomen that day, so his fundoshi was all that was left. She untucked the fabric as quickly as she could and tossed it away, eager to see him and eager for him to see her eagerness.

“You two have made quick work of one another,” a deep voice observed suddenly, silkily, at her ear. That tone had gone right to her core and Akiba sucked in another breath and rose onto her toes. Nobuyuki’s hands stroked the dip of her waist and he mouthed something that might have been “lovely,” against her neck. One of his hands slid down to the curve of her backside. For a moment it rested there, warm and surprisingly comforting as he wrapped his other arm around her and reached for a breast. Then he slid the hand lower, so his fingers were on the back of her thigh. And then he squeezed.

Yukimura’s hands returned to her hips, rubbing small whorls into her skin. She reached for him, to kiss him, and as she moved Nobuyuki moved forward with her.

Between them, she was secure. Comfortable. Neither pulled her, they only held her close. She could feel Yukimura’s cock like a brand on her belly, promising wonderful things to come. Nobuyuki was subtly poking her back though his clothes. But for now they all stood, very near, very calm. The smell of the brothers in their shared air was soothing. These smells were safe, home, love, goodness. Yukimura and Nobuyuki were the only men who had ever known her body, and the only men she ever wanted to. Somehow Yukimura was good enough and brave enough to try this. She trailed fingers along his face as she kissed him, languorous and sweet.

“I think it would be prudent to return to the floor,” Nobuyuki offered after a moment, pulling at Akiba’s hips as he kneeled. Feeling adrift after she had been supported so fully, she only blinked at first. Her eyes settled on Yukimura, whose expression was passionate and kind. He tilted his head a little toward the ground and she complied, going easily to her knees.

Yukimura remained standing. She looked up to his face, eyes lingering briefly on his jutting hardness. His body was so proud and beautiful. He looked like a god.

His eyes dropped bashfully and she realized she had said that out loud.

“I mean it,” Akiba said, rising to kneel and reaching for his hips. His muscles had little give, but the softness of his skin allowed her to squeeze him for emphasis. “Please believe me. You’re like an ideal, my husband. Your body matches your heart.”

That brought back his expression of relaxed passion. And his cock throbbed, right in front of her face.

Could she try…?

Yes.

Without breaking their eye contact, she brought her mouth to his cock. She could feel his body go rigid beneath her fingers as he caught on to what she was about to do, and he started to protest:

“A-Akiba, no, that’s—you don’t have to…” but as she took him in her mouth his groan was as deep as his voice had been nervous. She had suspected for some time that he might like this, but never asked. She supposed she had not really asked now. But here he was, present in all of her senses. She wanted to make him feel good, feel worshiped, feel loved. She would try this, she would try anything, for him.

He was hard enough that she did not even need to take him in hand. She pulled back to kiss the tip delicately, then opened her lips again and moved her mouth forward, mindful of her teeth. His skin felt pleasurably, decadently smooth sliding between her lips. With her tongue she made tentative sweeps along the underside of his shaft, enjoying the glide of it almost as much as his reactions... Yukimura was practically bobbing in her mouth. But of course he did not push her, or into her, in any way. He was endlessly worthy of trust.

She did feel his fingers threading slowly through her hair. Simply holding; anchoring himself. His restraint made her want to go further. Akiba hummed in her throat, and Yukimura swore. She grinned around him. There was a new taste in her mouth, a little bit bitter, a little bit salty.

Ah.

She did not think she could manage all of his cock in this way, so she gripped the base, moving back and forth on what she could not reach with her mouth. At the hair dusting his abdomen the smell of Yukimura, masculine and comforting, was concentrated. As her hand brushed against it the scent intensified, and as she breathed it in she began to feel like she needed to give herself over to this feeling and what she was doing. I love you, she thought, as she began to suck, and she hoped he knew it, believed it.

“Shit--!” Yukimura swore again, immediately. He sounded so desperate she almost laughed despite the torpid cloudiness of her thoughts. But she focused instead, trying not to let her smile break the seal of her mouth around his hardness. He groaned softly. His fingers gripped her with just a bit of pressure now, and she loved it. She could feel his leg quivering under her fingers and was considering trying to go farther down his shaft with her mouth when he told her to stop. His hands held her head in place as he pulled himself from her lips.

Akiba did not hide her hurt expression. That felt good for both of them, hadn’t it? Wasn’t it exciting that they were finally trying?

Yukimura raked both hands through his hair. She knew it was a nervous gesture, and waited for him to explain.

“I don’t… I want to be in you, when…”

How could his face be so self-conscious and erotic at the same time? He was looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Her disappointment melted away. She had to fight the urge to launch herself at him.

“Okay,” she said softly, pleased when that small, intimate smile reappeared on his face. “I want that, too.” And while she had wanted to have him in her mouth longer, she did want him to find release inside her while they held one another. That was worth stopping for.

Yukimura sat down. His physique, his expression, his eyes, they were all glorious. She leaned forward and crossed the short distance between them on her hands and knees.

“How should I take care of you, then?” she purred when she got to him. “What do you want?” she whispered at his ear, pressing her breasts against his chest. She felt as much as saw his eyes roll back.

“I want you to look only at me,” he groaned, eyes shut tightly. “Just… now, I want you to look at me. I want you… to… love me,” Yukimura said. And she heard the need in that, and Akiba thought her heart might break. She crawled into his lap and put her arms around his neck.

“I do, Yukimura. I do. I will,” she promised. “I love you,” she whispered. And she sought out his mouth to try to prove it to him all over again.

She kissed his mouth, slowly and gently as she could. His lips were trembling and she shushed him affectionately, tightening her arms about him and stroking the back of his head.

“I love you,” Akiba said softly, kissing his cheek. As she trailed her fingers to his shoulders she kissed his jaw. She could feel the tautness of him, tension in the muscles connecting his arms to his back. More tension than there should have been. That would not do at all.

“I love you, Yukimura,” she repeated, and she pressed and massaged the skin of his shoulders. The column of her husband’s throat was prominent with his head thrown back, and she slowly licked the length of one side, trying to make the gesture somehow more reassuring than suggestive. She could taste the salt of his sweat. And she could hear his groan, and feel his hardness pulse against her thigh.

“I love your heart,” she said, resting her hand over it. He brought his face down to look at her. She could see the naked vulnerability of his expression. She gave him one of her own intimate smiles and nodded at him as she replaced her hand with her mouth. “I have never known someone so kind or true or brave,” she said against his skin. She kissed him worshipfully, letting her fingers trace patterns on the supple skin of his chest.

“I love your spirit,” Akiba told him. Her hand trailed down to solar plexus, stroking across his abdomen. “That you’re my gentle giant. You’re strong and devoted. Loving. Protecting.” She kissed his shoulder.

“I love your clever and compassionate mind,” she said quietly, and her hand between them went right for his shaft. “I have never, ever thought you were stupid, Yukimura. I love you and I admire you and I desire you.” She stroked up his length before lazily smearing the precome she found at the tip.

“I love you always, in so many ways.” She watched his face as he shut his eyes, a vision of handsome pleasure. “I love your body, and I want to show you.”

He felt impossibly hard in her hand, the smoothness she had enjoyed with her mouth earlier under her fingers now, and she would not be parted from it again so easily. She moved up and down the length of him, taking in the sight of him with shameless eyes.

Akiba retreated from his lap, keeping her hand on his shaft. She went back to her knees and leaned forward, her free arm over his shoulder. The wetness of her arousal was unmistakable between her legs. She always got this way when Yukimura let her lavish him with affection. Something about him moved her to speak her adoration when she could, and something about that… aroused her. Every time.

As she was sucking at the skin on Yukimura’s shoulder, Akiba felt sure fingers moving up the inside of her thigh. She was so sensitized and craving something to be inside her that the movement broke her focus. She whimpered, and the movement immediately stopped. Yukimura throbbed in her hand, and she decided to consider that response in great detail some other time. She returned her attention to the love bite she was trying to leave on her husband’s shoulder and immediately felt the glide of those fingers again, coming up to rest on her backside before moving away. Nobuyuki’s ministrations had left a trail of her wetness on her skin, sticky and sinful.

Just as she was beginning to wonder where he would go next, Nobuyuki slapped her ass, the sting immediately soothed by his fingers gripping at the curve. The contrast of the sensations was confusing, and she cried out against Yukimura.

Then she let out another, louder, cry, as Nobuyuki’s fingers slid inside her until his palm rested against her skin. All the while Yukimura grew even harder in her hand. She gave up on the love bite and rested against his chest with her eyes shut tightly, keening and rocking her hips back. To be between them was a dream she had scarcely let herself consider, but she was already so desperate it was a struggle to keep up.

“Yukimura,” she moaned, feeling lost, that earlier power gone. Her voice sounded broken in her own ears.

“Just like that, darling,” Nobuyuki murmured behind her.

“Yukimura,” Akiba wailed, stretching out the name. The man in question swore quietly and hit the floor with his fist. Nobuyuki’s fingers tapped expertly on the most sensitive spot within her and her body nearly bowed, it felt so good. She began to murmur her husband’s name over and over, slowing her strokes on his cock as it became difficult to focus.

One of Yukimura’s warm hands went to hers, guiding, and the other went to her back, reassuring and warm. Her chest went tight at the swell of love for him that brought on, and she sobbed wordlessly.

“You’re safe, Akiba,” Nobuyuki said.

She continued to gasp and whine and say Yukimura’s name. She was teetering on the edge of coming, closer and closer to falling every time those fingers moved in her and on her hand. She felt dizzy and desperate and out of control.

“Yukimura,” she begged. “Please. Please.”

“What is it that you want, darling?” Nobuyuki’s voice made it very clear that he knew exactly what she wanted, but managed to at least seem serious.

“Yukimura!” she cried again, tears forming. This was rapturous, but it was also torment.

“And why do you want Yukimura?” That drawl. If she ever recovered from this she would throttle Sanada Nobuyuki.

“Because I love him!” she all but screamed, tears hot on her face.

And then she was empty, and being scooped into arms, so suddenly she didn’t even have time to look around before she was being settled into Yukimura’s lap. She threw her arms around his neck and mindlessly rocked against his groin, too gone to even reach for him and get the pleasure she needed.

“Yukimura, please,” she repeated, “Please. I can’t. I need. Please.”

“I—me, too, yes, ah, Aki-AH!”

As soon as he said yes she pushed herself as far down onto him as she could, tension dissolving in her body like raindrops in sun. This was so right, the stretch of him, the heat of his body, his hiss of breath, and the loving way he immediately stopped squeezing her to stroke her back.

“Are you okay?” Yukimura asked quietly.

“Mmm,” she hummed, moving slowly against him. “Yes. So much better.”

And it was. Usually when she was worked to that point of arousal all that would make her feel better was getting to come, but now she felt more relieved than anything, and she had her mind back. Akiba took a deep breath and steadied herself, then adjusted her legs so she was more fully seated on him. When she opened her eyes to look at Yukimura she knew her expression was seductive. The little flare of his nostrils was nice proof.

She took her hands out of his beautiful pewter hair and brought them to her cheeks. She bit her lip as she rocked against him once more, dragging her fingers slowly to her neck, her shoulders, her chest. Yukimura’s eyes were getting very wide, but the little grin in one corner of his mouth showed her he knew where she was going.

“Yukimura,” she purred when she was cupping her breasts, offering them to him, “would you…?”

He groaned and set his mouth on her like a man possessed. He sucked, he bit, he tongued every bit of her breasts he could reach. Yukimura brought his hands forward to squeeze her and she buried her fingers back in his hair, the silkiness of him under her fingers and in her body the most luxurious sensation she had ever felt.

Yukimura was sucking at one nipple, practically growling, and canting his hips—she would never interrupt training again, bless training and all the strength it gave him—up so powerfully she did not think she could last against her own pleasure for every long.

Which gave her an idea.

“Husband,” she said to him, waiting for him to look up at her. The feral look he shot her as he was biting at her skin made her hiss and clench around him, and he released her with a groan.

“Do you like it when I cry out for you?” she asked.

He bit his lip and looked away. But his cock had pulsed within her, hard and sudden.

“Because I,” she said, rising and sliding back down onto him, “love it when you make me lose myself like that.”

And Yukimura seemed to lose himself, because suddenly his face was smashed into the softness of her chest and his hands cradled her thighs, moving her up as though she was nothing and bringing her back down like it meant everything.

She could not keep the cries in her mouth as he moved her, filled her. Yukimura’s length was pushing so deeply inside her at this angle that her back did bow, and she was sobbing his name and strangled, inarticulate sounds like they were prayers. He had never fucked her so fast or hard and a little scrap of her sanity told her to be grateful; she was not built to withstand this with any frequency. But this once it was exquisite, and she relished his power.

Akiba came quickly, overstimulated and overwrought. She held the last syllable of his name until she ran out of breath. Then her head lolled forward, bouncing like the rest of her as her husband continued to move her body. She tried to catch her breath, to rally herself so she could brace her legs on the ground and be a more active partner, but then Yukimura held her still.

“It’s okay,” he gritted out. “I know. Just let me.”

And despite every sated ache in her body, the confidence of his voice made her squeeze around him, and his breath turned to stutters and his body began to tremble.

“At least,” she gasped, “Let me tell you again.”

He nodded tightly.

“I—nnnmh!—love you, Yukimura, I—”

His sudden groan drowned out her words as he pulled her down onto his body with finality, his come pulsing into her deep and hot.

Yukimura held her a moment before he leaned back, taking her with him. He “oomph”ed when they landed and from the silliness or her satiety, she giggled. Akiba glanced up just in time to see the twist of his mouth into a grin. She settled herself onto his chest, allowing her breathing to slow. Normally she would be ready to fall asleep in his arms, but something about him pulling her down the last time had shaken the sleep from her mind and she felt invigorated.

For while they lay peacefully, cuddling one another and letting their breathing slow together. Yukimura’s cock slipped out of her with a small rush of fluid and she whimpered quietly at the loss. He stroked her hair. He said nothing about their shared come on their bodies. Or pooling on the floor beneath him, and she was quite sure there was enough of it for that.

He finally sighed, sounding content. “I love you,” he told her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you.”

Her chest ached, she loved him so. She felt sparse tears smearing on her cheeks as she kissed his chest, his shoulders, his neck. “I love you,” she said, “so much.” She continued to kiss him fervently. “I will always love you so, so much.”

Yukimura chuckled, sounding bashful. He palmed the side of her face and rubbed this thumb along her cheekbone. “You, too,” he said with a little smile. He began to sit up and she scooted back to give him room. He took her hand and kissed her fingertips before pulling her hand away from their bodies.

Her eyes followed the movement, widening as she realized her hand had been placed on the cord of Nobuyuki’s obi. She did not bother to wonder how he had gotten so close so silently. She flicked her eyes up to Nobuyuki, who smiled at her.

“Show me?” Yukimura asked softly. Akiba felt her mouth open and her toes curl. She looked back to him and searched his eyes for doubt but found none. She nodded. Yukimura kissed her forehead, then moved to her ear. He whispered “Unwind him,” so wicked and so low she did not think even Nobuyuki, right next to them, could have heard. Then Yukimura put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her gently toward his brother.

She glanced up at Nobuyuki’s smile again, feeling emboldened but still shy around him. She wasn’t sure if she should kiss him; that had been a point of some contention before. He saved her the trouble by pressing her jaw to one side and kissing her ear. He only placed that one kiss before turning her body around and bringing her into his lap. One of his hands held the curve of her waist and another stroked her throat.

“Beautiful,” he was murmuring into her neck, just above his fingers. “Never forget that I think you are beautiful.”

Akiba felt herself smile, felt her cheeks warm faintly. And then she felt him rake his teeth across the skin of her neck. She sucked in air as she winced. It had not exactly hurt, but it had been unexpected and sharp.

“Hey!” Yukimura exclaimed. “No,” he said firmly.

Akiba could feel Nobuyuki’s smile against the side of her throat. “No,” he said amiably, and she thought she knew just what his face looked like. That dark smile. She opened her eyes to look for Yukimura and show him she was okay.

Oh.

Her husband was reclining against a stack of linens, one knee bent. He was scowling faintly. And his cock, relaxed but rising, was in his hand.

“Doesn’t he look marvelous?” asked Nobuyuki.

Akiba had to swallow before she could manage to answer. “Yes,” she said thickly, as quickly as she could. Her eyes were eagerly looking over Yukimura’s body, skin supple over muscles, hair pewter and glorious. Even his cock, which she enjoyed but did not usually admire, looked beautiful. She remembered having him in her mouth and her breath sped up. She traced her top lip with her tongue, dreamily. That was definitely something she wanted again.

“I’m not sure Yukimura could hear you, darling. What were you agreeing to?” Nobuyuki’s tone was airy; he was playing with them both. But it felt like a game they were all playing together. Something dark, but enjoyable.

“He looks—nnnm!—marvelous!” The intensity of feeling caused by Nobuyuki’s fingers pressing her nipples while he tongued her ear interrupted her declaration.

“But how can you know when you aren’t looking, hmm? Open your eyes, Akiba.”

Oooh, something about that voice, that order. How had he even known her eyes were closed? He was Nobuyuki, that was how.

She did open her eyes, seeking out Yukimura’s once again. He was looking at them with his own eyes narrowed and his lips parted. His thumb stroked the top of his shaft, gliding over the liquid there. Hers. Theirs. Akiba moaned.

“I know…” she breathed. “I know him, and he is marvelous.”

“Mmm, those are sweet, true words,” Nobuyuki said. “And you’re a sweet, true girl.”

His hands played with her breasts, her waist, so many of the parts of her he had singled out last time. He remembered. She remembered, too. As he roamed her body, making her squirm, he began to speak, right by her ear.

“I watched you wanting him, and it was a beautiful thing. I watched him making love to you, with your sweet face screwed up tightly and those sounds coming out of your mouth all for him, and I think that is when people might expect that a person in my position would feel jealous.”

He fitted himself to her and slid into her body, and the breathy little noise she made sounded so wanton she blushed. She turned her face to try to kiss him but he only touched his lips to her cheek and nudged her face forward.

“Open your eyes, Akiba,” Nobuyuki ordered. “I want you to look at Yukimura while I am inside you.”

Something deviant and erotic trickled through her nerves. She did as he said.

“I want you to watch each other, darling,” he whispered at her ear. She whimpered. This felt amazing, but she wanted to unwind him as Yukimura wished, and Nobuyuki seemed to have all control here.

He began to slowly move his hips up toward her body, kissing her shoulder blades.

“All that exertion got you sweaty, did it?”

When she did not answer, he tweaked one of her nipples. Hard.

“Yes!” she squeaked.

“Well, it tastes magnificent.” He traced a line up one shoulder with his tongue. “Like biwashu.”

She smiled, bringing her arms over her head to settle her wrists behind his neck. He had such a sweet tooth. The clan was very lucky he was not an easy man to bribe.

He hugged her to him, continuing to move slowly in and out of her. Her breasts moved gently with the motion now that they were on such display. Nobuyuki’s shaft felt perfect after her lovemaking with Yukimura, rubbing her sore spots, stretching only shallowly.

Yukimura himself was still reclining, still watching them with hooded eyes. She wished she could kiss him while Nobuyuki did this to her.

“What does Yukimura taste like, darling?”

“Ah…” this time she wanted to answer right away. She had not missed the flicker of interest in Yukimura’s eyes, or the telltale dart away that meant he did not want to be caught imposing on anyone with his curiosity. “I think… bittersweet. I did not get to taste very much. But I loved having him in my mouth,” she confessed.

Nobuyuki hummed by her ear. “Such an honest girl. This trueness of yours is a rare virtue, Akiba.” He settled his chin onto her shoulder, looking the same direction she did.

“Yukimura,” he said, voice casual, “She is very honest. Do you think that merits a reward?”

Yukimura’s cheeks colored faintly, but his eyes narrowed and he nodded.

“What was that, little brother? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Yes,” Yukimura said pointedly.

“Good. I agree,” Nobuyuki murmured by her ear, somehow sensual but completely nonplussed. His hands slid to her legs and he pulled Akiba down a bit by her thighs, the forbidden and familiar sweet pain coming back to her as he went that deep, and she mewled and tossed her head back. But then suddenly the pressure on her legs was gone and the feeling with it.

“No, darling. Eyes forward. Watch your husband.”

Akiba watched Yukimura.

Oh, oh. He was watching them with an expression that approached predatory. And he was pumping himself, his thumb roughly pressing the head of his cock. She tried to commit the sight to memory, and filed his reaction away for later consideration.

“That’s a good girl,” Nobuyuki said at her ear, and he traced the inside of her arm with his tongue as he pushed her back down and pushed his hips up. She cried out again and briefly shut her eyes, but reopened them quickly, wanting to maintain whatever it was she was doing with Yukimura.

Nobuyuki let out the softest moan she had ever heard, more warm air than sound.

“So full of come, you dear thing, and so sensitive.” he said against her shoulder. “You must have made him very happy.”

She moaned, her lower lip trembling. But she kept her eyes on Yukimura. And he kept his eyes between her spread legs, where Nobuyuki continued to slide in and out of her, slow and strong.

When Yukimura’s eyes flicked back up to hers, she gave him a shaky smile. He returned it, and raised his chin at her again. Get to it.

Inspiration struck, thankfully. “You’re not wrong about that, Nobuyuki,” she said softly. “I can feel all of it.”

“Can you now?” he asked, pushing his hips a little higher, a little deeper into her.

“I can. And I want more.”

He went very, very still behind her, under her. She rocked against him.

“Akiba,” his voice was a warning.

“Nobuyuki,” she challenged, even as she raised a brow at his brother. Who groaned.

She could not tell if Nobuyuki’s own response was more groan or laugh, but his grip on her thighs tightened.

“A man might take you at your word, you know.”

His tone was still breezy but there was an undeniable catch in his voice that he tried to cover by clearing his throat. That he tried was the greatest tell of all. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face. The power had tipped yet again. She would be able to handle this very nicely, and give both men what they so clearly wanted.

“Yukimura,” she called, “Nobuyuki is having doubts. I’ve told him to come in me and he’s resisting.” She squeezed her muscles on the last word for good measure and reveled in the way he pushed in even further. “I can’t seem to make him understand how badly all of us want him to do that.”

Nobuyuki’s rhythm broke for just a beat.

“Akiba,” he warned again. But his resolve was close to crumbling and she knew it. What a heady thing, to wield more power than Nobuyuki, even for a moment.

She sought out Yukimura’s eyes again, but his own were fixed on what was happening between her legs.

“Yukimura,” she called again. “Tell him.”

He did not look away or still his hand as he answered gruffly, “Do what she asks.”

She laughed. “Not that, love.”

Now Yukimura dragged his eyes to hers. She nodded, smiling encouragingly. His beautiful answering smile made her entire body feel fluttery, and when he spoke, his voice happy and proud, she wanted to melt.

“She’s with child.”

She suspected Nobuyuki had known, but his infinitesimal gasp and the way his hands gentled on her as he slowed made her happy this had been a secret kept so close. It was hard to shock him, and this was such a happy thing. It deeply pleased her that Yukimura had been the one to tell him.

“So it’s alright, you see,” she said, stroking the back of Nobuyuki’s neck. “I know you want to. And I want you to. And Yukimura wants to see it.”

“…Anything else I should know?” Nobuyuki asked, his voice very slightly hoarse, at the side of her throat.

“I love you both very much,” she answered, eyes on her husband, hands on his brother.

Yukimura groaned. Nobuyuki sighed. He stroked her thighs and then lifted her off his lap and settled her on her back on the floor. She tilted her head for a glimpse of Yukimura. He was just as impressive upside down. “Well done,” he mouthed at her, and she grinned at him.

“Sanada Akiba,” Nobuyuki murmured, hands tracing her body, “You have no equal on this earth.” He settled himself between her legs, then hooked them with his arms and pulled her close. As he looked up from aligning himself with her entrance, she saw him make eye contact with Yukimura and nod. Before she could ask, he was sliding back into her body and she was breathing out a sigh of comfortable relief.

He moved forward to hold her hips, and she rocked them up into his hands. She tried to wrap her legs around him but he shook his head. After a moment of shallow strokes he began to push more deeply into her. She held eye contact with him as long as she could, but before long the way he felt had her closing her eyes and she throwing her head back.

Yukimura’s fingers were waiting for her. She nuzzled back into the warmth of his hands and did not protest as he cradled her head, raising her slightly.

Yukimura thumbed her mouth and she opened for him, trying to get his finger before he removed it.

“Would you…?” he asked shyly. She nodded in his hands, enthusiastic, greedy.

“Yes,” she said. “Please.”

She took his hardness into her mouth once more and he groaned, one of the sweetest sounds she had ever heard. This time he did move her, gently, thrusting to meet her mouth with the slightest fraction of the power she knew his body held. He could not go very deeply this way, but her tongue circling the head of his cock seemed to be perfectly sufficient if his quiet moans were any indication.

Her lovers were pacing themselves so well she was never empty as they moved within her. She sighed happily around Yukimura. This felt so good, so warm, and so loving that her heart ached, and the tautness that heralded another orgasm was rising in her body. She traced her belly button and let her hand go lower.

“Dearest,” she heard Nobuyuki say, amused, “Are we not satisfying you?”

She was going to laugh, but he snapped his hips and she squealed on Yukimura’s cock instead. Through her hair she could feel Yukimura’s hands trembling. She reached up to stroke his thigh with her free hand. She could feel the stretch pushing her chest into the air, breasts moving as her body was slowly pulled back and forth.

Akiba let herself be moved between them, the pleasure feeling almost lazy. A dark whisper at the back of her mind wondered what it would be like if they were less gentle, but for now she appreciated their care, and certainly appreciated how good they were making her feel.

Yukimura came with a quiet curse, pulling out of her mouth before she choked and spilling the rest on her chest. Akiba swallowed and hissed out a pleased breath and immediately moved to drag his come over her skin with her fingers. It was bittersweet. Not unpleasant. She had never tasted anything like it. He mumbled an apology but she hushed him.

“I liked that. I love you.”

He smiled at her, a little bit shy and wholly sated. He stroked her hair and leaned to kiss her. She kept her lips closed but he teased at her mouth until she opened for him, and when his tongue swept her mouth she moaned and she felt her womb clench.

Two more thrusts of Nobuyuki’s hips had her closing her eyes and voicing her pleasure into Yukimura’s mouth yet again. The pitch of her breath went so high she could only hear the air, and her body contracted around Nobuyuki in flutters. She let her head fall back into Yukimura’s support. He held her safe.

Nobuyuki’s movements lost their rhythm as he sped up following her orgasm. He was looking at her the whole time, gaze intense, until he pulled her to him tightly, let his eyes close, and came in her with a very quiet sound. The warmth of it made her breathe out his name. It was an unexpectedly gentle sensation, being filled by him, and she reached for his face. When Nobuyuki opened his eyes, she met them with her own.

“I promise I will keep this night safe and never tell a soul,” she told him solemnly. Then she giggled, wryly, and added “I would never compromise you.” She could feel the laughter moving her muscles around him.

He chuckled and she felt her own muscles being moved by him. She heard the honest pleasure in his laugh, the relief at her recognition of the importance this be kept secret. Nobuyuki kissed her forehead and her nose before pushing himself up and pulling out of her body. She felt their essence, proof of the shared pleasure they had all enjoyed, slowly seep out of her as she lay there, too sated to move yet. Yukimura was cradling her head and telling her she was wonderful. She hummed. She felt wonderful.

Nobuyuki returned shortly with water, cloths, and folded sleeping robes. Akiba smiled at him gratefully as she got up.

The brothers sat side by side. Akiba wet a cloth and began to clean Yukimura up, kissing his body sweetly as she worked. Nobuyuki put an arm around his brother and pulled Yukimura to him. She heard the whisper of Nobuyuki’s voice but could not make out what he was saying.

Nobuyuki kissed Yukimura’s temple with careful tenderness, and a tiny smile graced Yukimura’s face. She recognized it as the one that meant he felt loved. She smiled herself. When she had run a dry cloth down Yukimura’s thighs, Akiba sat back on her heels to watch them for a moment. She continued watching them as she cleaned herself. Nobuyuki held Yukimura close all the while, massaging his brother’s hair, not speaking.

Akiba prepared another cloth and attended to Nobuyuki in silence. When she was finished, he finally released Yukimura and stretched his arms, yawning widely. He gave them each a robe for sleeping and gestured to his plush bedding. They all rose and dressed quietly, sharing tired smiles as their bodies brushed together.

Yukimura yawned loudly, looking like a little boy with a man’s body. Akiba took his hand and led him to bed. He flumped down on his back right in the middle of the bedding, settling his hands behind his head and breathing deeply. Akiba curled up beside him, luxuriating in his warmth and nearness. They lay like that for a moment before he turned and touched his forehead softly to hers.

“That was really nice,” he said quietly, drowsily.

She hummed her agreement and snuggled closer. Nobuyuki joined them on Yukimura’s other side and pulled a blanket over them all before laying down himself.

“I love you,” Yukimura said. Akiba was surprised to hear his voice, his breathing had been as steady and slow as it was when he slept. “Both.” There had been no hesitation in his voice.

“I love you,” Akiba whispered, squeezing his hand between their chests. He brought his other arm over her, and when its slight pressure increased she realized Nobuyuki had put his own arm around his brother.

“I love you, Genjirou. Sleep.” Nobuyuki’s voice was as gentle and patient as she had ever heard it. Yukimura obeyed, and he was asleep in a matter of minutes. She watched his dear, beautiful face, itching to trace his features but determined to let him sleep. She tried instead to look over every centimeter of him. She catalogued the sweep of his beautiful hair across his forehead, his silvery black lashes, his perfect chin, every part of his masculine and beautiful face. When she let her eyes trail up the side of his cheek, her vision caught on a field of color visible beyond his face. Her precious kimono, hanging neatly on a stand across the room.

Ah.

She moved her free hand to touch Nobuyuki’s, laying on Yukimura’s bicep. He clasped her hand immediately.

“I’m grateful,” she whispered over Yukimura, gesturing to the kimono with her eyes.

“As am I,” Nobuyuki responded quietly. And smiled. And Akiba smiled back.

#samurai love ballad party #slbp fanfic #sanada akiba #sanada nobuyuki #sanada yukimura #what is up UEDA?!

174 notes · View notes