He felt a tug at his sash. Sho’s hands were working the knot open as he and Sho kissed, then expertly unwinding it until he could toss the sash away and Hirata’s kimono fell open. No sooner had the air hit his bare skin than Sho broke their kiss and licked his way down Hirata’s neck to his chest. Sho covered one nipple and swirled his tongue around it in heated circles. Hirata sucked in a breath and clasped Sho’s shoulders. With eyes closed, he threw his head back, his body immobilized by the icy heat, the absolute bliss Sho’s ministrations were causing him.
Just when Hirata thought he’d lose his mind from pleasure and his cock strained painfully against the confines of his loincloth, Sho lifted his mouth away and kissed a trail over to Hirata’s other nipple where he did the same. Only this time, Sho tugged the small disk of flesh between his lips and tongue over and over, an even rhythm that sent a jolt straight to the tip of Hirata’s cock. “Oh, Sho-chan,” he ground out. Tingles invaded his cock, traveling up and down as if an invisible hand were stroking him. If Sho kept this up, he feared he would spill his seed before they’d even begun. And he didn’t want that to happen. He wanted to be inside Sho, deep inside, their bodies joined, never to be apart again.
As if Sho sensed Hirata’s thoughts, he lifted away from Hirata’s chest and peered up. “Hirata,” he whispered, “I want you inside me.” He stroked both hands over Hirata’s chest and then upward, pushing the kimono so that it slid down Hirata’s arms. “Do you want to?”
Hirata pulled in another shivery breath. The question alone made him wild with need. And yet, he tensed. “I don’t want to hurt you.” His gaze fell on Sho’s lips, gleaming and swollen from their kisses. “But I’ve never wanted anything else but to be with you, Sho. In any way I can.”
“You can’t hurt me, Hirata. I know it.” Sho reached out and grasped Hirata’s wrists, bringing his hands to the tie of his sash. Hirata obliged and with trembling hands worked open the sash and unwound it. When it fell away, he reached up and pushed back Sho’s kimono, as Sho had done with his, until they knelt facing each other, each wearing only his loincloth. In the next second, Sho reached out and undid Hirata’s loincloth. With a little unwrapping and a tug, it too fell away.
Sho inched forward, his hands on Hirata’s hips. He pressed his lips to the center furrow between Hirata’s chest muscles while at the same time rubbing his hips and then sliding his touch to Hirata’s ass cheeks. “Oh Hirata, I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long. I’ve pictured it in my mind as many times as I’ve drawn breath.”
Hirata’s chest heaved. More ecstatic shivers coursed through his skin wherever Sho anointed him with his touch. “So have I, Sho-chan.”
Sho leaned forward and nibbled Hirata’s earlobe before wrapping him in an embrace. “Hirata….” His warm breath tickled Hirata’s ear. “Promise me no matter what, you won’t leave me. Ever. Not even in death.”
Hot tears surged in Hirata’s eyes. He pulled Sho against him. “I promise, Sho. I promise.”
Sho’s back heaved under his hands and then he felt a hot lick against the side of his neck. When Sho pulled back just enough to face him again, the look on his flushed face had grown… feral, eyelids heavy, teeth slightly bared. “I’ll make you the same promise,” he murmured. “I’ll kill anyone who tries to separate us.”
The words made another jolt through Hirata. Sho’s bloodlust was something he hadn’t expected. But then the feel of Sho grasping his hands again and guiding them to his loincloth brought him back to what was happening between them. “Take it off me, Hirata.”
Again, Hirata could only obey. Though his hands trembled, he worked the white cloth off Sho’s body and let it fall to the side, revealing Sho’s musuko, standing upright, a glistening pearl of seed at the opening. “Touch me, please.” Sho guided Hirata’s hand so his fingers wrapped lightly around the shaft. Sho pulled in a breath, and his eyelids fluttered. “I’ve ached for your touch, Hirata. Ached with my entire soul.” He surged forward and captured Hirata’s lips again. He slid his tongue deep inside Hirata’s mouth, as if he meant to taste his soul, while at the same time urging Hirata to stroke him.
Which he did. Up and down in quick, light strokes, loving the way Sho whimpered into his mouth each time. When Sho broke their kiss, he was panting, his eyes wide, the whites showing each time his eyes rolled back. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”
“Never,” Hirata breathed. “Never.” He stared down into Sho’s face, watching his parted lips move with each breath, his eyelids flutter, his skin grow more flushed. Time seemed to stop. The very air grew still, filled only with the sound of Sho’s heavy breathing. And then, suddenly, Sho stiffened. He moaned loudly and his cock twitched in Hirata’s hand. Creamy pale seed spurted out and coated Hirata’s hand, splashing on his chest and stomach, bringing a musky tang into the heated air between them.
Sho’s body unclenched. His climax ebbed away, leaving him panting, his head bowed. But Hirata had barely finished stroking him when Sho stayed his hand. Without speaking, he wiped several fingertips down Hirata’s front, gathering up his seed. “This will make our path slippery,” he said and reached down.
The contact of the warm seed and Sho’s touch on Hirata’s cock made him gasp. The sensation was perfect, natural, better than anything he’d pictured in his mind all those lonely nights, searching desperately for the one person in the world he adored.
In the next breath, Sho had turned around and went onto his hands and knees. “Take me, Hirata,” he ordered. “Fill me.”
Hirata’s vision blurred. His mind fogged. The act he’d avoided for so long, had feared because it had once brought such pain and anguish, was now to be an act of love.
“Hirata, don’t make me wait any longer, I beg you. Together we make it sacred again, as we’d once hoped to in our hearts. Do you hear me?”
The urgency pulled Hirata from his confusion. “Yes,” he said and inched forward. Pure instinct took over and he spread Sho open, revealed the starburst of flesh that would be the portal for their joining. He nudged the opening with the head of his cock. Sho pulled in a breath and pushed back against him. In tiny jabs, Hirata pushed. The head penetrated Sho. He sucked in a breath and heard Sho do the same. Sho pushed back again. Hirata pushed. He slid halfway in to a burst of pleasure. His vision blurred again, this time from burgeoning ecstasy. He was nearly inside Sho, whose tight channel pulled him in more deeply. The seed coating his shaft made him slide easily, and in the next thrust, their bodies bumped.
“Don’t stop, Hirata.” Sho peered over his shoulder. Sweat gleamed on his smooth perfect skin. “Take me.”
The fevered command made Hirata feel wild again, the way a stallion must feel when his pure mating instincts take over and he mounts a mare. Never before had Hirata experienced the heated rush that poured through him. The intensity robbed him of thought, of words, leaving him helpless to do anything else but obey Sho’s wish. And his own.
He pulled back and thrust. Heated pleasure shuttered the length of his cock and felt as if it would explode through his entire body. The way Sho pushed his ass up and back, now silently begging for his possession, only made him feel wilder. He thrust again and again, loving the slapping sound of flesh against flesh, the musky smell of their sex filling the air, and the rhythm of their heavy breaths. Sweat broke out on Hirata’s body. He felt it bead on his forehead and upper lip. Every muscle clenched. He gripped Sho’s hips and pumped harder. Sho met each bump of their bodies with a tiny groan. “Yes, yes,” he ground out. “Hirata, my love. More! Don’t stop!”
Hirata moaned. He thrust again and again, until white lights exploded behind his eyelids. His body stiffened as a wave of pure ecstasy overcame him. His climax immobilized him. He felt his own face contort from the sheer imprisonment of bliss. His hot seed gushed inside of Sho who continued to push back, seeming to want to milk pleasure from his cock until there was nothing left and Hirata slumped over, pulling Sho against him. The sweat on their bodies made him feel as if
their flesh were fused. As if they really were one body. One soul.
Sho lowered himself to the futon, bringing Hirata with him. With their bodies still joined, he positioned them so that they lay on their sides, Hirata holding him from behind. Hirata pulled Sho close and rested his lips on the nape of Sho’s neck, breathing in his musky scent.
After a little while, Hirata felt Sho lift his hand, followed by the soft press of his lips to Hirata’s knuckles. The intimate, sweet gesture made Hirata’s heart surge. “You were right, Hirata. I don’t need the stone anymore because I have you.”
Hirata kissed the spot where his lips had been resting. Those words washed away every last ache he’d ever felt in Sho’s absence. It was as if no time had passed. Quietly he lay, listening to Sho’s breathing and to the gentle wind in the trees outside. Bit by bit, his musuko softened and slipped from the haven of Sho’s passage. Unfortunately, the morning would come and they’d have to rise and get on with the day. Hirata also knew Sho would not really rest until he’d resolved the situation with the Toho.
“Thank you for not letting me force you away.” Sho kissed his hand again.
“There’s nothing to thank me for, Sho-chan,” Hirata murmured against Sho’s skin. “I had no choice.”
Sho sighed. “I know. And I will have to forgive myself because I can’t live without you.” Suddenly he turned over and cupped Hirata’s cheek. “Please, Hirata, don’t forget your promise.”
Hirata’s heart lurched. He grasped Sho’s wrist. “Why would I do that? I’d sooner die.”
Sho paused. “Because of what I’m thinking now. Of what I need to do. I feared it would drive you away.”
Hirata nodded. Without being told, he knew what Sho was thinking. Toho. Sho desperately needed to answer his conscience. He obviously loved the child as if he were Toho’s father. Well, from what Hirata had witnessed, in spirit, Sho was the boy’s father now. “My heart is your servant,” he said, then turned one of Sho’s hands over and pressed his lips into the palm.
Sho let out a small breath. “Hirata, are you certain?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
A shadow passed over Sho’s face. “I… don’t know. You may feel we won’t have time… together.”
Hirata leaned in and kissed him. “I’m not worried about that anymore, Sho-chan. Life brought us together again and I have faith life will make certain we have the time together we need.”
Sho touched his cheek. “Thank you.”
“We’ll go fetch the boy as soon as the sun begins to rise.” Hirata resisted the urge to lay Sho back and make love to him again. Now he’d had a taste of true sweetness, he wanted more. Much more. But he wasn’t sure what Sho wanted and didn’t want to force himself on the one he loved.
“Yes,” Sho said. “Just after first light, we’ll go.” He grasped Hirata’s arms and tugged him down, maneuvering his body so Hirata ended up on top of him, between his thighs, their groins pressed together. “In the meantime, we’ve much love to make up for. There isn’t a second to waste.”
Hirata smiled down at him. Joy swept through him, followed by a renewed wave of potent desire. He’d always done what Sho wanted of him and he wasn’t going to stop now….
Epilogue
A year and a half later
“HIRATA, IT’S time to leave.”
“I’m ready.” Hirata tied his knapsack on, knotting it at his chest, then made sure his weapons belt was secure. He hadn’t been on a journey since his had ended here, at this little house with Sho.
“We’re ready too.” Sho checked Toho’s knapsack and then picked up his cane. “Don’t forget, we need to stop in and say good-bye to Aoki. We promised him.”
Hirata nodded. Since they’d brought Toho to live with them, Aoki had become a dear friend. Sho brought Toho to Aoki for the reasons he’d explained to Hirata. Toho and Aoki immediately took to each other, as Sho had suspected, and formed a strong bond within a short time.
Aoki had also finally saved enough to purchase his own small set of rooms near the theater and no longer needed to work in the kagema house. Aoki was always thrilled to receive them and loved Toho, fussing over him and plying him with sweets each time. He had the three of them to supper frequently and let Toho stay with him whenever he wanted.
Sho picked up Hirata’s hand and squeezed it. His face looked tense. He was finally ready to go home and visit his parents, and yet he also worried about how Hirata’s family would treat their adopted grandson. Would they accept a former peasant boy as a samurai who would one day carry on the family’s name? Even though Hirata had willingly and joyfully conferred his own status on Toho in order to give him opportunities in life he wouldn’t have had otherwise, Sho was not so certain Hirata’s family would see this adoption the same way.
“We’ll be fine, Sho-chan,” Hirata said. “No matter what happens, you and I and Toho have each other. And I don’t say that simply to make you feel better.”
Sho’s face lightened a bit. “I know. I knew it when I first sensed your presence that day in front of the gambling hall. I knew that what was deepest in my heart was all that mattered. I just was… stubborn and foolish. Very foolish.”
Hirata smiled at him even though Sho couldn’t see him and tugged Sho’s hand. Without speaking, without words, he knew they both understood. Whether they went to his family’s or not didn’t matter because wherever they were together, they were home.
Exclusive Excerpt
Blossom of the Samurai
Sword and Silk: Book Three
By Sedonia Guillone
The samurai’s only true master is his heart…
For seven years while training for his life as a samurai, Toho Morimasa has been away from Aoki, the beautiful actor who helped him to heal from the trauma of his parents’ brutal murders. Now, nightmares that Aoki is in trouble plague Toho’s sleep and he makes the journey back from Edo to Kai, no longer wanting to be away from Aoki’s side. Once there, Toho meets the very real source of his nightmares and vows to honor and protect Aoki. When tragedy befalls his beloved Aoki, will Aoki survive long enough to understand that the love Toho has for him is the love he too, has been craving his whole life but doesn’t feel he deserves?
Coming Soon to
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Prologue
Edo, Japan, mid-eighteenth century, during the Tokugawa Shogunate
AOKI HAD known two days he could call the saddest of his life.
The first was the day his poverty-stricken parents had been forced to contract him to the traveling theater troupe that took him away when he had barely reached his tenth year.
The second was today, twelve years later, when another separation loomed before him, challenging the pain of the first.
Although the three figures seated on the tatami across from him, sipping the tea he’d served them, were not his blood and kin, he loved them at least as dearly as he could love any parent, brother, or sister. And today, as soon as they had finished their farewell meal, they were leaving Kai, en route to Edo, where their long-lost families awaited their return.
Sho, the anma—blind masseur—was the one Aoki had met first. Intimately so, as Sho had once been a customer, back in the “tea” house, before Aoki’s acting career had afforded him the success and income to purchase the little town house in which they now sat. Back then Aoki had never met a man as kind, gentle, and sensual as Sho, and had been very taken with him. Sho had always given him a little extra payment to store away so he could free himself as soon as possible from the kagema house, become his own master, and be free to wait for the samurai of his dreams. Sho held a special place in Aoki’s heart as one of the truest friends he could ever hope to have.
Hirata, a ronin samurai, sat to Sho’s left. A ruggedly handsome man, Hirata had been Sho’s childhood friend. The two men had been separated as children when Sho’s blindness forced him to be apprenticed and sent away to learn his trade. But Hirata had searched ten years to find Sh
o and they were reunited, swearing an oath that nothing would part them again, not even death. Aoki had been a bit jealous of Hirata at first, but Hirata won him over in a short time with his passionate devotion to Sho and by the way he embodied bushido, the samurai code of honor and conduct. And if anyone knew there were many samurai who did not practice bushido, it was Aoki. Get a man naked and alone, and you quickly learned whether he was noble or not.
However, Aoki’s sadness was greatest at the imminent departure of his third guest. Little Toho. If Toho could stay here, Aoki could have found a way to bear the separation from his new family. But Toho—once a peasant boy whose birth parents had been murdered nearly two years before—was now Sho and Hirata’s adopted son, on whom Hirata had conferred his status as samurai. Toho needed to meet his samurai family and to undergo the training that would help him fulfill his position in society.
“Aoki-san…” Sho’s voice gently cut into Aoki’s silent grief. Sho’s sightless eyes appeared to stare at the floor. “I am so sorry we must leave you. We would bring you with us if we could, of course.”
Aoki set down the teapot and rested on his heels in traditional fashion, palms placed delicately on the tops of his thighs. He did his best to play the charming host even though his very heart was breaking. “I know. And I certainly would go with you if I could.” He glanced at Toho who sat, face downturned, much the way he’d appeared the day Sho had brought Toho to meet him.
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