Eternal Samurai

by B. D. Heywood

  A moment later, the innocuous sound of running water broke Arisada’s self-control. He bowed his head and wept. His koibito was alive! No matter the boy’s reason for seeking him out, even if only to revile him, Arisada’s beloved lived. For that alone, his heart soared with indescribable gratitude.

  The simple acts of getting dressed and preparing the refreshments, calmed Arisada’s mind. Deep, slow breathing stopped the trembling of his body. With deliberate care, he arranged the tea things, the warm rice liquor and bowls on a tray and carried them into the tearoom.

  Tatsu, wrapped in a black yukata, bowed at the entrance then knelt stiffly on the zabuton.

  “Domo arigatō for your gracious hospitality, Saito-san.” He felt detached, body and mind so numb he was unable to offer anything more than the required formality of polite strangers.

  With the calm, deliberate motions that the proper serving of tea required, the vampire arranged the cups, then blended the powder and hot water with quick stirs of the tea whisk. His face reflected only the serenity that comes with the gentle art of chaiki.

  The last time Tatsu sat for a tea ceremony was with his mother only a few weeks before she died. Now in that same time-honored ritual, a vampire gracefully offered him a porcelain chawan filled with a fragrant liquid.

  As Tatsu accepted the bowl, a twinge of emotion stirred behind that stone wall built around his heart during the last few days. Tatsu could not tell if the feeling was sorrow for his lost past or fear about his future. Knew he hated that Arisada was the only one who could tear down that wall.

  “Wait here. I have something for you.” Arisada left the room in a rustle of silk. When he returned, he handed the Ikkansai to Tatsu who accepted it with silent gratitude and shaking hands. He bowed then knelt again on the zabuton, placing the sword behind him in the position of total trust. He lifted his cup. It quivered in his hand.

  After a few sips, Tatsu looked into Arisada’s eyes, startled to see the shimmer of tears. Saw also the unmistakable love in their golden orbs. The rawness of that emotion scared him. He didn’t want any part of it.

  “Wyckes pronounced you dead,” Arisada’s quiet tone belied his roiling emotions.

  “Think a few stabs and bruises could kill me?” Tatsu tried a false bravado that he certainly didn’t feel. “What about you? Sadomori ran a sword into you.”

  “My injuries were not severe,” Arisada caught Tatsu’s frown at his lie. “Many were not so fortunate. My dear Fornax is dead. Some of your teammates as well.”

  “Hai, three of the Seattle team, six of the Snake Eaters. Bell’s still in a coma. Cooperhayes dead. The Major is devastated. Guess they were really special to each other. He went back to England. Shut the company down.”

  “Sadomori fed from you. How is it you live?”

  “Hell, Arisada, I’m a Leper.”

  The vampire looked confused. “Wakarimasen?”

  “Aha, finally something you don’t understand,” Tatsu snorted with a sardonic twist of his mouth. “I’m immune from the virus because … well … I already have it in me. Sadomori infected me the night he killed my family. I don’t know how, but I survived it, stayed human.”

  “A, sō desu ka.” The vampire’s pale face almost flushed pink with embarrassment. How could he not know of this condition, this immunity? A heartbeat later, his next thought nearly devastated him. In a voice that grated as if he had swallowed gravel, Arisada forced out the question. “Did Sadomori…?”

  A terrible, bruised gaze turned those green eyes to stone. “He tried, couldn’t get it up. Just used the whip handle.” Tatsu thought he could just say it, reveal the unthinkable, but the words turned to poison in his mouth. Since he regained consciousness, he’d planned this moment—being able to tell Arisada of the torture, simply saying it, getting it out of the way. Was sure the hate that was eating his soul would dissipate with the telling. He was wrong.

  Tatsu’s unemotional reply horrified Arisada. He started to reach for the boy but dropped his hand at the banality of the gesture. “Oh my koibito … that you were hurt so.” He choked back his outrage.

  “While he was doing it, he described everything he did to you, thought it would break me. Didn’t work. Made me so fucking angry. I thought only about killing him. And then I did.” Within his cold, clinical voice, Tatsu heard a desperate plea for understanding. He had dreamed of the comfort he would take from Arisada. Instead, raw panic overtook him. He was going fucking insane, nothing made sense any more. He had to get away from the very person who moments ago he looked to for succor.

  “I should never have come here.” Tatsu lurched to his feet, stared around the room no longer aware of his surroundings, seeing instead that chamber, Sadomori’s hate-filled face.

  “Come.” Arisada picked up the Ikkansai, stood and gripped Tatsu’s elbow. He steered the boy through the garden into the shoin. Guided him to the far wall that opened to reveal a fully equipped dojo.

  Without a word, Arisada unsheathed the Ikkansai, placed the blade in Tatsu’s hand and pointed to the makiwara. The line of tall straw targets stood like sentries awaiting their duty. He gave Tatsu a slight push then leaned against the wall.

  What Tatsu did now would determine their future together.

  Tatsu stared at the silent row bisecting the shiaijo. He looked down at the naked sword as if just now realizing it was in his hand. With an ungainly lurch, he approached the first target and froze. The weight of the weapon dragged his arm down. He wanted to drop it and run. Numbly, he looked back to Arisada. The kyūketsuki offered him nothing, folded his arms across his chest and nodded once.

  So ingrained was his training that Tatsu automatically held the sword horizontally, bowed beneath it to the vampire then to the shiaijo. He moved into the familiarity of the two-hand position, swung at the first makiwara. He missed and lost his balance. As he stumbled, the dam against his grief burst. With a cry that tore its way from the depths of his soul, he spun back to the target and cut. The two parts of the target hung together for four seconds before the top slid off to the floor.

  A good cut, but not perfect, Arisada thought.

  Tatsu’s cries escalated into roars as he attacked, slicing left, right, left, step, step, step, faster and faster. His rage, his grief, and yes, his fear poured from him as he cut each makiwara into perfectly proportions sections.

  And then it was done. For a moment, Tatsu swayed, drenched in sweat, hearing only his harsh pants. He barely felt the Ikkansai slip from his hand. The room and everything in it faded. Weak as a newborn, he folded to the floor, wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his face. The anguish ripped out of him in great keening wails as the true horror of his violation engulfed him.

  Arisada rushed to Tatsu side, and gathered him in his arms. “Oh, Su-kun, gomen nasai, gomen nasai.” He held the boy, rocking him, until the wracking sobs faded to exhausted shudders. Held his beloved and cried for Tatsu and for Nowaki—damaged and lost before he really had a chance to live. Unbelievably moved by that truth, Arisada’s heart forgave Koji Nowaki. And forgave himself.

  Murmurs filled with love penetrated Tatsu’s tortured mind, pulled him from that deep, dark place into a world made safe by the enfolding embrace of Arisada’s arms. There, wrapped in the assurance of love, Tatsu surrendered that desecrated part of himself to the Universe.

  “Watashi wa okubyōmonodesu.” Tatsu’s voice rasped with exhaustion.

  “No, Tatsu-kun, you are not a coward. You have never been a coward.” Saito Arisada felt the coward. How easily he had decided to end his life, abandon Tatsu to face his demons alone.

  For many minutes, they remained locked together grieving, consoling—two wounded doves that might never fly again.

  Tatsu stirred, gripped Arisada by the upper arms and forced the vampire to look at him. “Can I lie with you? We don’t have to do anything, just be together. I really need this. Kudesai. Please, Arisada-san.” Tatsu’s voice cracked with his desperation. He would not be able to tak
e it if Arisada refused him.

  “Wakatta, koibito.” Arisada whisper barely concealed his joy as he helped Tatsu stand. He clutched Tatsu’s hand almost as if he feared the boy would vanish.

  The vampire led the way to the hidden door to his basement bedroom. In silence, they descended the darkened stairs. A large platform bed, low table and sideboard, filled most of the room. A teak screen painted with cranes and swallows, shielded one corner. Opposite, a simple fireplace.

  Arisada lit several candles. Their yellow glow filled the room much like the first rays of the morning sun. The sun he came so close to embracing. He shed his yukata and, naked, turned to Tatsu.

  For one second, Tatsu feared the sight of Arisada’s pale skin under the guttering candles would remind him of Sadomori. But Arisada’s body glowed with a satiny, living beauty. Pale skin over a small, yet perfectly proportional form. Lean, muscles hugged the curves of each rib, the slight indents of the chest. Large pink areoles. The hollow of the belly angling down to the sparse curls around the root of a proud cock.

  A cock that was rapidly lengthening under Tatsu’s hungry stare.

  “You are exquisite,” Tatsu breathed. Damn, he wanted that prick. Wanted to kiss the ripe crown, savor its taste, feel his mouth take in the swollen bulbous head, slide down the entire length of the shaft until it pulsed against the back of his throat.

  Sure, he’d asked only to lie beside Arisada, said he wanted nothing else. But who was he kidding? He wanted the vampire with a soul-deep need.

  Unnerved by the force of his desire, Tatsu turned away from the tantalizing sight of Arisada’s sex and hurriedly stripped. He bent and stripped off his jock, not realizing that the revealing of his tight asscrack was the most erotic act the vampire had ever witnessed.

  Behind him, Tatsu heard a gasp of dismay when he lowered himself to the futon. Warm fingers brushed his back.

  “He marked you,” Arisada whispered, tracing the ruby-red crisscross of scars on Tatsu’s back. How intimately he knew that defilement. Knew how it destroyed the heart, tainted the soul. How would his beloved live with that?

  Tatsu rolled to face the vampire, touched the fine white lines marring Arisada’s cheek. It was a moment before he found his voice.

  “Marked both of us. He said I would bear the scars of shame. He was wrong. These scars are proof I restored my father’s honor. He boasted I’d never kill him. He was wrong about that too. The fucker tortured me, fed from me but I still won. We both won.”

  The quiet conviction in Tatsu’s voice stilled Arisada’s rage. He pressed his lips to the top of the youth’s head, and offered thanks to the Buddha Amida that Tatsu-kun lay safe in his arms. He knew Tatsu’s courage would sustain them both no matter what the future held.

  As if he read Arisada’s mind, Tatsu murmured, “You and me? We’re going to make it.” His words came out slow, calm, accepting.

  “I’m baka, an idiot, for doubting us.”

  Tatsu dropped his gaze to that hardened cock. His face suddenly dissolved into a genuine, dimpled smile. “Yes, you are baka. You owe me an apology, big time. Only one payment I’ll accept.” His voice grated with raw sexual need.

  It took all of Arisada’s control to refuse that demand, a demand that turned his prick into one hot, throbbing need. “Sleep first. We need this time to heal.”

  With a disappointed huff, Tatsu curled an arm over Arisada’s waist and buried his face against the crook of the vampire’s neck. A small huff of contentment slipped out when Arisada fit their bodies together. The weight of Arisada’s leg settled over his thigh, a hard press of hipbone, brush of wiry hair, an electric heat as Arisada’s cock nudged against his. All felt like a single smooth motion yet each separate movement had a significance all its own. Within that embrace, Tatsu knew he was safe.

  “When we wake up, I want you to give me a new memory, a memory of love,” Tatsu murmured.

  Arisada inhaled the distinct fragrance of that sweat-damp hair, warm human-boy skin with its slight smell of cigarettes and motorcycle grease.

  The youth sighed in sleep and wriggled his groin against Arisada’s cock. The gesture, erotic and comforting at the same time, reassured the vampire of Tatsu’s total trust more than any words. As he caressed a strand of the boy’s unruly hair, Arisada slipped into a peaceful slumber unlike any he’d known for centuries.

  The day flowered then withered while they slept.

  .

  Twenty-Five

  A few seconds after sunset, a delicious anticipation woke Arisada. His arm was curled over Tatsu’s warm chest, one hand cupping the tattooed pec. A pair of muscular buttocks trapped his erection.

  Arisada eased back, regretting the cold that filled the space between them. He propped his head on one hand and stole a long moment to drink in the delicious sight of his koibito’s nude body. Unable to resist, he traced the planes and dips of the chest down to where Tatsu’s torso narrowed into lean hips. Combed through the nest of chocolate-brown curls. Then cupped Tatsu’s cock, dark and long and wider than expected. Caressed its length before bringing his hand to his face, and inhaling the distinct scent of male genitals.

  Tatsu made a deep, about-to-wake-up sigh and rolled onto his back. He looked up at Arisada through heavy-lidded eyes. Those eyes and that erection standing straight up from his groin said Tatsu was through waiting for Arisada to fuck him.

  “Konbawa, Arisada-sama.” Tatsu stretched with the fluid grace of a large jungle cat, the action thumping his turgid cock against his belly. A slickness from the dusky crown left a trail over his creamy skin.

  An unexpected pink dusted Tatsu’s cheekbones. “Otearai?”

  “Behind the screen.” Arisada pointed to a corner of the room. Tatsu shot off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. The toilet flushed then the shower hissed.

  Arisada dressed and went upstairs, returning a few minutes later with a pot of tea and adzuki-bean buns. Tatsu, toweling his wet hair, wandered in from the bathroom. His fat erection swayed between lean hips as if say, “Now?”

  Arisada’s eyes flashed scarlet and fang tips caught on his lower lips. So arousing, so beautiful, that length of male flesh pulsing hard and eager and just for him. He tore his gaze from Tatsu’s cock, and waved toward the tray. “I have brought you breakfast.”

  “Domo, but there is something else I’d rather eat.” No doubt in Tatsu’s very deliberate, very dimpled smile.

  “Oh Su-kun. You are temptation beyond words. But for both our sakes, I must leave for an hour. I have not fed for many days.” He dropped his kimono, opened the closet door, and reached in for his clothes. The steel-grip of Tatsu’s hand around his bicep halted him.

  “Take my blood.” An unmistakable want blazed from those emerald eyes. The night before, when Tatsu said to make a new memory, it included all things possible between them.

  “I cannot. It is too dangerous.” Arisada jerked away.

  “Baka. Where’s your faith? Leper, remember.” Tatsu cupped the vampire’s face and pressed his lips, feather-light, against Arisada’s mouth.

  It was a perfect kiss, a touching, shy declaration of love. A questioning tongue tip slipped along Arisada’s seam. A whisper of air between them as the kyūketsuki yielded.

  After an eternity, Tatsu broke free, body quivering. “You know I am yours in every way.”

  Arisada nodded. “Wakatta. But later, Tatsu-kun, at the right moment.”

  “So let’s make that happen.” Tatsu pulled Arisada on top of him on the bed. He wrapped his arms around the vampire and buried his face into the silky wisps along his neck. Nibbled under one ear, over fluttering eyelids, down that scarred cheek. He fused their lips together, tongue rubbing hot, wet and insisting. Against the searing heat of that kiss, Arisada’s defenses fell. He moaned his need into the wetness of that mouth.

  Tatsu’s tongue chased into that heat, exploring and tasting. He rolled over the vampire’s channels. A marvelous certainty filled Tatsu’s heart. Those deadly fangs would nev
er harm him.

  Breath mingled with breath as they devoured the taste of the other, letting it course like a fine wine through their bodies. Tongues delved deep, driving again and again into the warmth and wet. Their hands left sizzling trails as they explored every fold and crease of each other, movements growing more frantic, more needy. Fingers brushed over nipples, through damp underarm hair, over quivering bellies, along pounding cocks.

  With hands and lips, the vampire explored the beautiful country that was his beloved. A traveler who’d journeyed for eight-hundred years to finally find his refuge. Arisada kissed, sucked and tasted every plane and valley of Tatsu’s body with a hunger fueled by centuries of yearning.

  His breath on each jutting rose-dark nipple, drew a long sexy whimper from Tatsu. Arisada wanted that whimper again. He gave one erect pebble a single experimental suck. Tatsu surged against him. The vampire purred as his alternated between tiny catlike flicks and sharp nips of his teeth. Beneath him Tatsu quivered with want. A sharp bite brought the boy nearly off the mattress with a gasped “Oh fuck, yes!”

  Oh fuck yes! His koibito liked a little pain. Another nip, not enough to break the skin, sent long shudders through Tatsu.

  Cold air hit Tatsu when Arisada abandoned his chest to nibble over the bunched muscles of his belly. A darting tongue sent flickers of heat in and out of his navel. More delicious pain when Arisada twisted hard on the hair curling around his root. Warmth spread slow and thick up his spine when fingers slid along his cock, pushed against the his foreskin, thumb digging into the slick piss slit. Tatsu’s hips began to jerk, jacking his cock into that strong hand.

  The vampire responded, pumping Tatsu with slow, possessive pulls that increased until they delivered more than a little pain. Then a knowing hand cupped his balls, slowly rolling each one, before a hard twist on his sac sent pure fire from his cock to the top of his head.