Eternal Samurai

by B. D. Heywood

  He shook his head, forcing himself out of the melancholy created by the sketch. He tacked the picture on the wall behind the kake stand before curling in his chair. Sipping on his glass of sake, he stared at the drawing.

  He remembered his history lessons. How every Sōhei of Mii-dera died in one brutal, bloody day. How they were betrayed by their leaders. Recalled Arisada’s pain as he talked of his lover’s betrayal.

  “You coward, Arisada” Tatsu muttered. “Why are you avoiding me?”

  Like individual beads on a prayer necklace, each memory of their time together slid one by one through Tatsu’s mind. He emptied the bottle into his glass. Fuck it, might as well get drunk. Still staring at the drawing of the monk, Tatsu let the warm haze take him down into its alcoholic whirlpool.

  The Temple of Mii-dera, Nipon, Spring 1179

  Koji Nowaki was cold, tired and frustrated as he trudged through the wooden gates of Mii-dera with his exhausted brethren. They had finally finished the backbreaking task of felling hundreds of trees. The denuded forest was now a sea of stumps. Tomorrow, they would hack the logs into stakes and place them facing outward to form a barricade around the monastery walls. Other massive timbers lay in piles ready to roll down over the enemy. The path to a narrow bridge—the monastery’s only vulnerable point—had been hidden by a seemingly impenetrable pile of boulders.

  This year had been brutal for all in Nipon. A bitter winter left snow and ice on the ground far longer than normal. Food supplies depleted and starvation threatened. With the coming of spring rains, rumors of warfare among the clans compelled the Sōhei to fortify the temple. In addition, fighting practice had been extended far into the night hours.

  Despite his pride in the work to fortify the temple, Nowaki’s resentment flared. It was not just that he was compelled to toil with the younger acolytes. Nowaki felt he should be commanding the combat drills. Instead, he’d been relegated to the status of supervising the woodcutters.

  Was he not one of the elite Sōhei warrior class? Just a few weeks ago, he killed two men during practice with the ninjato. His sensei, Michinaga, offered only a curt nod of approval before signaling for the bodies to be carted away.

  Just inside the massive gates, Nowaki shouldered his way through the crowd of peasants huddled together like a gaggle of frightened geese. Their chatter bordered on hysteria. A peasant had been killed last night, the corpse found drained of blood. The villagers showed less fear of the impending war than that an oni, a demon, stalked them.

  Nowaki snorted with derision at the peasant’s superstitious babble about a kyūketsuki, a blood-sucking oni. Starvation and fright turned reasonable men’s minds into those of frightened children.

  “Koji-sensei,” a young boy of eight dropped forehead to the ground. “Gomen. I beg you to forgive my interruption of your thoughts. Saito-sensei says he wishes to meet with you after the hour of the Rat when the bathhouse is no longer in use.”

  Nowaki acknowledged the information with an ungrateful grunt. He was hungry. Mud caked his clothes and wooden geta, chilling his feet. He wanted to bathe before eating. But today he would have to wait. The bathhouse was reserved for the guests from Enryakuji until the hour before midnight.

  Enryakuji, their supposed sister monastery. More like traitors he sneered inwardly. For the last year, a contingent from the temple on Mount Hiei visited almost every month. The abbot of Enryakuji coveted the leadership of Mii-dera. But it was also known that, as supporters of Emperor Taira no Kiyomori, they came to censure Mii-dera’s alliance with the Taira’s enemy, the Minomoto clan.

  Nowaki chaffed at the conventions requiring that he honor people considered the enemy. He regarded every visitor as a spy sent by their enemies to ferret out weaknesses in Miidera’s fortifications—weaknesses his station in life would not allow him to address.

  Daily, his respect for the competence of Mii-dera’s leaders diminished. Despite his youth, he instinctively understood large-scale military tactics. He only needed a chance to prove it. Unlike his brethren, he lusted for the war to begin so he could show his courage and prowess.

  Loud conversation interrupted his disgruntled thoughts as dozens of men emerged from the abbot’s house. Ignoring his low place in the Sōhei order, Nowaki stared at the Enryakuji monks. Some were dressed in kamishimo, the richly decorated court garb that contrasted with the drab garments of the Sōhei. He envied any with status and power. He also despised his brethren who deferred to the visitors.

  Behind the contingent, another group of monks followed crawling along on their knees. He saw Arisada. As always, Nowaki admired how Saito-sama conveyed great dignity even when offering respect in this manner.

  Then Nowaki caught the magnificent warrior standing cold and aloof, apart from the group. The strikingly handsome warrior bore the haughty look of nobility. He regarded the group with the unflinching gaze of a seasoned commander.

  He was short, perhaps only reaching Nowaki’s chin, but with wide shoulders and a powerful, stocky body. Unlike the colorful attire worn by other samurai, this man’s obsidian armor and horned kabuto was decorated only with the mons of the Taira Clan. The stark color and lack of ornamentation exacerbated the samurai’s fierce countenance.

  The warrior stood impassive, yet his posture was that of a coiled viper ready to strike. Nowaki sensed the man’s impatience with the chattering delegates and monks. Then, the warlord’s cold eyes narrowed, and, sensing Nowaki’s scrutiny, his gaze fell on the youth. Stared for many moments. The samurai frowned and muttered something about a “green-eyed bishounen.”

  Aware of his terrible breach of etiquette, Nowaki bowed several times while moving backwards away from the group. He bolted to his cell and flung himself down on the thin mattress. His cock was hard, his loins pulsing. He groaned with desire as he recalled the lustful glint in the warrior’s eyes.

  This was not the first time Nowaki felt interest from other men. Until a few months ago, no lover existed for him except Saito-sama. Lately though, he had found himself considering the advantages of coupling with another—such as this commander in black armor.

  Later that night, when Nowaki arrived at the bathhouse, Arisada was there ahead of him lighting a single lamp.

  “Sumimasen. I’m sorry. Forgive my lateness,” Nowaki began to bow.

  Arisada swept Nowaki into an embrace and planted a quick kiss on his lips. “Waiting for you always feels too long. But never apologize. Now, help me” He released his young lover and turned away but not before Nowaki saw the concern clouding Arisada’s beautiful face.

  They opened the heavy control gate to the hot spring that fed the huge stone tub in the floor. They shed their clothes, and, as was proper, washed themselves clean before entering the steaming bath.

  Nowaki’s cock began to harden at the supple play of muscles along Arisada’s lithe legs, the rounding of buttocks as the man crouched to test the water, the heavy fall of the tea-colored scrotum hanging below.

  “You appear very tired, Saito-sama.”

  “Please Nowaki-kun, after four years of sharing our bodies call me by my first name.”

  “Arigatō, Arisada-sama. I am deeply honored by the intimacy.” A trembling emotion filled his words.

  “We only have an hour. I am leaving before moonset to take messages to Prince Mochihito. Emperor Taira will not negotiate. And to complicate matters, the abbot of Enryakuji states he has the Taira’s support to seize control of Mii-dera from our own zazu.” Arisada sighed, showing a small wince of pain as he eased into the bath.

  “Your responsibilities are so many. Let me massage your neck, it is the least I can do to ease you before your long journey,” Nowaki murmured.

  Despite Arisada’s protests, Nowaki slipped behind him and wrapped his legs around his senpai’s hips. The swell of Arisada’s buttocks nestled against his groin. Nowaki’s cock throbbed he worked it between Arisada’s ass cheeks. His fingers dug into the corded knots of muscle along Arisada’s neck and shoulders.


  The water’s soothing heat lulled Arisada into drowsy contentment. He closed his eyes, and lay against his lover’s chest. “Domo Arigatō, Nowaki-kun,” he sighed.

  Nowaki wanted to hear more about the afternoon’s negotiations. He heard the weariness in Arisada’s voice and took advantage, exploiting the trust between them. Gently, he cajoled details about the meetings between the two monasteries and Emperor Taira’s delegates. Between teasing butterfly kisses and soft caresses, he learned many secrets. A thrill shot through him—he could be executed for this knowledge. But he craved the power he’d get from the information.

  “There will be war, I feel it.” Nowaki encouraged his lover’s reply with a long lick beneath Arisada’s ear.

  Arisada ran his hand over the muscle of Nowaki’s thigh in a reassuring caress. “Do not embrace fear, Nowaki-kun. It is a samurai’s goal to die in battle. And then, we will reincarnate at some time, some place. Whether it is on this plane or another, we will find each other.” He closed his eyes with a deep sigh at his absolute conviction of his belief.

  Nowaki murmured his agreement and wrapped his arms around Arisada’s chest, snuggling his lips against his lover’s neck. “There are considerable nobility among the samurai guarding the abbot,” he probed. He wanted to know about the black-armored warlord.

  “True, many of our visitors are from the royal court.” Arisada described the samurai who had caught Nowaki’s eye and roused his lust. “The delegates from Enryakuji are most fortunate. Their escort is Hayato Kazan, the commander of Taira’s yabusame, and a nephew of the emperor. Many say he is the greatest mounted archer in two-hundreds years. Certainly, he is a brutal warrior, ruthless in his defense of his uncle.”

  Nowaki’s balls pulsed, his prick ached, cock hardened even more, the excitement driven by this information about Hayato A warrior who had noticed him, had called him bishounen.

  “If there is war, there will be many opportunities to show bravery. You will be recognized as the great commander you are,” Nowaki flattered Arisada to allay any suspicion of his interest in Hayato-san.

  “I do not care for a leader’s role, only that I will always do my best defending Mii-dera.”

  “As do I. But enough discussion of politics and conflict. It is all maneuvering and posturing, neh?” Nowaki knew it was time to divert his senpai’s attention. He ground his prick against Arisada’s ass. “My rod yearns for your touch.”

  Arisada’s prick was already hard, throbbing with want beneath the hot water. “Dozo, face me,” he begged.

  Waves sloshed over the rim as Nowaki squirmed around to straddle Arisada’s waist. Their cocks rubbed together pressed between their ridged bellies. The warm weight of Nowaki’s balls snuggled against the root of Arisada’s prick.

  Arisada clasped the sides of Nowaki’s face in a possessive grip, hands hot and wet from the bath. Nowaki shivered with excitement at the naked hunger in Arisada’s face, groaned with delight as their lips slanted together with desperate hunger.

  A deep, long kiss, tongues probing, as they tasted the fleshy flavor of each other. Nowaki wrapped his fingers around Arisada’s cock and pulled gently on the heated skin before flicking his thumb over the engorged tip. He knew his lover’s prick as well as his own. It would be dripping with precum if the water were not washing it clean. Again, he thumbed the slit, teasing forth more nectar.

  Nowaki breathed in the scent of his senpai’s arousal as he pressed against Arisada’s parted lips to tease with his mouth. The hot water washed over his shoulders as he slid down to suckle on the dark nipples hovering before his face. Each caress of his tongue over the hard pebbles drew inadvertent mewls of pleasure and need from Arisada. Nowaki nibbled up Arisada’s chest, over his collarbone, over his face, brushing a soft kiss over each closed eyelid.

  “My Master, open yourself to me. Let me give you release.” Nowaki cupped Arisada’s sensitive scrotum. The young acolyte rolled the satin-enclosed balls within his fingers, tugging and kneading, matching each caress with a stroke along Arisada’s cock. The older monk writhed as his body devoured every touch. His ragged gasps echoed around the bathhouse.

  Heat took Arisada as his beloved explored every pleasurable place of his loins—his thighs, his cock, his balls, the sensitive perineum—all were teased to throbbing heights. Arisada’s entreaties escalated at the first scratch of Nowaki’s calloused thumb around his puckered entrance.

  Breath exploded from Arisada’s mouth. He spread his knees wider and arched his ass to expose more of his quivering bud. Long begging moans slipped from his lips as Nowaki worked three fingers deep within his senpai’s anus. He toyed with Arisada’s hole, pulling his fingers out to roll them around the quivering rim or scrape his nails over the tightened scrotum. The pumping rhythm increased, fingers skillfully angling to catch that nub of a gland.

  Arisada threw his head back against the rim of the tub, groaning at every thrust of his young lover’s hand. “Oh my, beloved. Give me the clouds and the rain,” Arisada begged for his release.

  The youth plied his hands, sometimes hard, sometimes agonizingly slow. He stroked up and down the thick heat of Arisada’s shaft, squeezed the mushroom-shaped head, rubbed over the swollen slit. Multiple times, Nowaki’s impeccable timing brought Arisada to the brink of orgasm then curbed it back much like curbing a runaway horse.

  “I beg of you, by all the Gods, let me come.”

  But Nowaki ignored the pleadings spilling from that sex-slackened mouth. Ignored them until his senpai begged in complete submission.

  Nowaki drove his hand with full force into that pulsing chute. Vibrated his thumb over that cock slit with the exact pressure he knew Arisada craved.

  Arisada’s hips arched, his leg muscles locked. With a long howl, he came, his cum spurting from his prick into the swirling water.

  “Oh, koibito, koibito. You please me so much,” Arisada murmured as he slid down from the pinnacle. His body resonated with aftershocks. His arms wrapped Nowaki in a crushing embrace, nuzzled into his young lover’s wide shoulder.

  “Now, it is my turn.” Arisada brought Nowaki’s lips to his. Without breaking their kiss, he slipped his hand between the youth’s spread asscheeks. The tight ring of muscle quivered, then welcomed him as he pushed one expressive finger into Nowaki’s hole. A second finger, then a third, entered, stretching the tight rim. Arisada dug into the hot channel, pulled a shocked gasp from his young lover.

  “Domo, my senpai, please fuck me.” Nowaki groaned and ground his ass harder onto Arisada’s hand. “Tonight, give me more than your fingers. I want your cock.”

  Surprised, Arisada tensed and withdrew from Nowaki’s ass. “Are you sure, koibito? We have never done that. It will hurt.”

  “The pleasure will be in the pain. Your fingers and clever tongue have given me so much joy but now I want your member deep within me. Besides, from a practical view, you can hardly suck my cock under this water. You might drown.” Nowaki laughed as he nipped Arisada’s lips. The steam from the water obscured the hungry look in his eyes. For Nowaki’s desire to take Arisada’s cock into his body came not from love or lust desire but from ambition. He craved the power he would gain from his lover’s submission.

  Before his senpai refused, Nowaki rose over Arisada’s taut prick. His hand guided the pulsing head to the wet rim of his waiting hole. With a soft grunt, he sank down onto the hard, slick shaft. He gasped with pain as his core filled with the thickness of his senpai’s rod. Then an exquisite pleasure followed mere seconds later as Arisada’s cockhead slid against Nowaki’s prostate. But even as the pain warred with pleasure, Koji Nowaki exalted. He owned Arisada now.

  “Oh koibito, you do not know how I have longed to do this,” Arisada whispered. Lightening surged along every limb, his body shuddered with delight as the heat from his young lover’s core enveloped Arisada’s cock. He dug his fingers into Nowaki’s slim, strong hips and urged the boy faster.

  Nowaki tightened his arms around Arisada’s shoulders as h
e sank onto his lover’s cock. His cock throbbed as the roiling pleasure bubbled up from deep within. He tightened his anus each time he rose, relaxing it as he sank down, milked Arisada’s prick with every stroke. As his climax coiled in his balls, he rode the thick shaft harder and faster. The water sloshed in rhythm with every thrust. The bathhouse walls echoed with the sounds of their ecstatic groans.

  “Stroke my organ,” Nowaki pleaded as he impaled his hole onto his senpai’s cock. Fire shot into his balls with every milking stroke of Arisada’s fingers along his prick. He clung to Arisada as if for life as his supple young ass sucked in every inch of Arisada’s organ.

  “Oh my koibito! You’re center devours me with its heat,” Arisada gasped. His legs strained, his thigh muscles knotted, he lifted his hips and drove his cock its entire length into Nowaki’s tight ass. With an explosive howl, he tumbled over the pinnacle. As his cum filled his young lover’s chute, Arisada stroked the boy’s member with frantic, hard jerks.

  Molten lava flood fill Nowaki’s core. The boiling pulses into his chute triggered a monumental release that burst from his enflamed cock. Everything but the sweet need to come fled his mind. Caught in such a web of pleasure, he rode that thick, invading member until he lost control. His cock emptied its load in long, hot splashes into Arisada’s hand.

  Nowaki collapsed into the enfolding embrace of his lover. He smiled at the muffled murmur from Arisada. “Daisuki, koibito.” By those two simple words, Nowaki knew his complete dominance of Arisada was assured.

  For a few moments, they rested curled together, their panting echoing harshly in the small room. Nowaki felt the racing of Arisada’s heart slow, but still the older monk held him. Tender lips brushed Nowaki’s cheek.

  “I must go now, young one. I won’t return for at least eight days, and already I am missing you.”

  “I shall miss you too, senpai. Travel safely back to me.” As Nowaki whispered the words into his lover’s ear, an odd foreboding touched him. He dismissed it.

  They dried off and dressed. With no other words between them, they opened the drain and let fresh spring water wash into the bath. The hot flow washed away all sign of their passion.