“Then you think it would help.”
“Perhaps.” Kiyoshi closed his eyes again when Ryuhei reached up to open the collar of his kimono to expose the now faint marks from last night. “It’s too dangerous,” he whispered. “I care too much to put you in danger.”
And yet Kiyoshi found himself pressing close against his mortal lover. He ran his fingers through the silky strands of Ryu’s hair and drew him in for a kiss. He trailed his kiss down from Ryuhei’s lips to brush his cheek before kissing his neck with a feathery gentleness.
“I’ll be all right,” Ryuhei said softly. He dropped his hands to Kiyoshi’s waist and held him close. “Please, Kiyo-kun. Drink.”
Kiyoshi trembled, as much from fear as from the desire for the taste of blood. He kissed Ryu’s neck again, stroking his tongue languidly back and forth across the bruises that remained. “Just a taste, I promise. Just a calming taste.”
Smiling as he nuzzled his cheek against Kiyoshi’s hair, Ryuhei closed his eyes. “Just a taste then,” Ryuhei whispered. But from the love radiating from Ryu, Kiyoshi knew this man would give all his blood without any protest at all. Ryuhei tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck invitingly.
“A taste. A tiny taste.” Kiyoshi’s fangs extended and he pierced the soft flesh of Ryuhei’s neck once again, drawing in a mouthful of the hot blood, allowing it to settle in his mouth and slowly trickle down his throat. It did calm him, the warmth of Ryuhei’s love tamping down the madness that lingered in the blood of the man the Dragon had scared from that gambling den.
He wanted to suckle his lover more but stopped himself and flicked his tongue across the wound to help it heal. He hugged Ryuhei close. “Thank you. Thank you.”
“Anything for you, my love,” Ryuhei said as he rubbed his hands over Kiyoshi’s back.
Kiyoshi tilted his face up and lightly kissed Ryuhei on the mouth before returning to lap at the two small puncture wounds. With a soft, satisfied sigh, Ryuhei leaned into the embrace. A growing bulge at the front of his kimono pressed against Kiyoshi’s hip, as Ryuhei’s cock swelled.
Groaning, Ryuhei slipped out of the embrace and rubbed a hand over the erection beneath the silk cloth. “Kiyo-kun,” he whispered shakily. “If you don’t want more blood…”
Without a word, Kiyoshi dropped to his knees and made quick work of his lover’s carefully knotted loincloth. Taking only enough time to plant a glancing kiss on Ryu’s abdomen above the tangle of black curls, Kiyoshi sucked in Ryuhei’s cock, settling quickly into a gentle, persistent rhythm. Ryu’s passion heated his blood and seeped into Kiyoshi’s consciousness, making him want more than just to bring Ryuhei pleasure.
He pulled away, tugged off his kimono and knelt on all fours. “Fuck me, Ryuhei. I need you to.” He lowered his forehead to the floor, his discarded garment a makeshift pillow. He was only half-aware of Ryuhei opening the drawer of the wooden chest to search for the container of oil he kept there. The instant he felt Ryu’s slick cock poised at his entrance, he pushed back, groaning as Ryuhei met his backward thrust with a forward one, stabbing him completely.
Ryuhei took Kiyo hard, gripped his shoulders, kissed his back and licked a path along his neck while continuing to pound into his willing body. The sensations exploding through Kiyoshi overpowered the chaos of the Poisoned Dragon’s influence. His mind focused only on the feel of Ryu playfully nipping his shoulder as his mortal lover came in a hot spurt.
Arching his back under the pleasurable sensation, Kiyoshi pressed up against Ryuhei’s heaving body. He moaned, enjoying the fullness of the cock nestled so deeply within him, the heat of Ryuhei’s breath on his shoulder, the pressure of his lover’s torso pushing down on his. The bite on his shoulder tingled with delight and he moaned again before realizing why it felt so good.
Ryuhei was sucking at the spot, his tongue sliding back and forth across the flesh. Kiyoshi knew what he was trying to do—draw blood.
“Don’t!” Kiyoshi scuttled forward, away from Ryuhei. He turned and pressed back against the lacquered chest, the wood cold and harsh against his hot, naked skin. He rubbed his hand over his shoulder and exhaled in relief when his fingers felt only two crescent-shaped indentations. Ryuhei’s bite hadn’t been able to draw blood or even break the skin.
Breathing heavily, Ryuhei sat back on his heels and shrugged out of his sweat-soaked kimono. “I’m sorry,” the actor panted. “I thought…I felt…” He swallowed and said nothing more, but crawled forward until he knelt before Kiyoshi.
Ryuhei gently pushed on Kiyoshi’s knees, coaxing them to part. He leaned in and brushed his lips over the head of Kiyoshi’s cock before dipping down to lap at the creamy wetness trickling out of Kiyoshi’s tender opening and below to the heavy sac.
“Oh, Ryuhei…” Kiyoshi’s words dissolved into a sigh and he leaned back, allowing Ryu to do as he pleased for as long as he pleased.
Outside in the hallway, footsteps came to a stop at the dressing room. From the faint but nonetheless pungent smell of tobacco that wafted in through the bottom of the door, Kiyoshi knew it was Akira before the man knocked and called out, “Ryu-san?”
“Oh, let him knock.” Ryuhei winked and stretched out between Kiyoshi’s legs, resting his head on top of Kiyoshi’s upper thigh. “The prick didn’t even stay to help me clean up his cow’s mess. If we stay quiet, he’ll wander away.”
Kiyoshi ran his fingers through Ryuhei’s hair, but stared at the door. Akira lingered in the doorway, waiting. A few moments passed and he knocked again.
“Ryuhei—it’s the American reporter. He has more questions about Kiyo-kun.”
Ryuhei had started to doze on Kiyoshi’s lap, but instantly his eyes opened and he sat up in alarm. “Why won’t that man leave us in peace?” Ryuhei huffed, but his pulse had skipped a beat. Kiyoshi’s sensitive ears picked up the change in the rhythm and he knew his lover was afraid.
“I’ll set him straight once and for all.” Ryuhei stood, gathering a yukata from the chest behind Kiyoshi.
Kiyoshi rose to his knees, his fingers grasping the material of Ryuhei’s robe. “He’s here because of me. He saw me a while ago—I—I was trying to follow them. The Dragon and his lover. They raided a rival tong’s gambling house…” His hands fell to his sides and he lowered his head in shame. “I’m sorry.”
The actor sighed heavily, but not with surprise.
Ryuhei’s grief washed over Kiyoshi, forcing his shoulders to wilt under the burden of his own shame now coupled with Ryu-san’s.
“Oh, Kiyo-kun.” Anger would’ve been far easier to endure than the disappointment in Ryuhei’s voice.
Kiyoshi recalled his friend Gobei’s words and repeated them mournfully. “I should’ve been more careful. This is all my fault.”
Ryuhei clicked his tongue and took both sides of Kiyoshi’s face in his hands. “Gavin is the one with too much curiosity for anyone to have peace around here.” He offered Kiyoshi a small smile. “He doesn’t really know anything or the police would be here, I imagine. I think he’s just smitten with you,” Ryuhei teased.
Kiyoshi tried to smile but even that feeble attempt was interrupted by the sound of the reporter’s voice ringing out in the corridor over Akira’s protestations. Grabbing a robe for himself, Kiyoshi followed Ryuhei to the door.
“Mr. Gavin, I must insist that you leave us alone. We are trying to get ready for a performance,” Ryu shouted.
“But I need to speak with you.” His gaze darted to Kiyoshi. “Alone. It’s a matter of life or death.”
Ryuhei laughed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Is it now? And how exactly is that?”
Again the reporter’s accusing gaze swung to Kiyoshi, who stood leaning against the doorframe as Gavin motioned for Ryuhei to come closer. Kiyoshi pretended to be occupied with a silk painting on the far wall as he listened to the hushed voices.
“You have to listen, Mr. Nakamura. Please. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
Ryuhei laughed flippa
ntly, but Kiyoshi knew his lover well enough to sense the well-masked nervousness behind it. “Oh, I know exactly what I’m dealing with,” Ryuhei said loudly and waved his hand through the air. “But I don’t have time to deal with these kinds of infatuations anymore. It’s flattering really that you think being apart from me is a matter of life and death, but let’s not pretend, Gavin-san. Nothing could ever last between us.”
Akira buried his face in his hands. “Ryuhei,” he groaned. The reporter’s cheeks turned a cherry red, but as embarrassed as he was, he didn’t leave.
“That’s not what I’m trying to tell you,” Gavin muttered, casting more suspicious looks at Kiyoshi, though the way he held his body he was clearly more self-conscious then before. Though obviously uncomfortable about doing so, he stepped closer to Ryuhei and whispered again. “Mr. Nakamura, I-I know how you think you feel about him.” Kiyoshi could hear each word no matter how quietly the reporter spoke. “But I have reason to think this is a terrible lie you’ve allowed yourself to believe, and it’s your life that could be in danger.”
Ryuhei laughed. “Oh, Gavin-san, surely you must be turning to writing tales of fantastic fiction and no longer reporting the news.”
The silence took Kiyoshi by surprise and he glanced over to see the reporter’s eyes grow wide.
“Yes,” Gavin said excitedly. “That will convince you.” He grabbed Ryuhei’s arm and leaned in close. “Please meet me after your performance. I’ll be at the Lotus House around the corner. Please come. Alone.”
Gavin sprinted for the stairs and Kiyoshi took a few steps forward, wondering how Ryuhei would answer Akira’s very curious expression.
“As if I don’t have better things to do after a performance than entertain his silly fascinations.” Ryuhei lifted his hand to his throat and laughed. “Really.”
Akira looked unconvinced. “Right,” he said, arching his eyebrows. “Hmm.” He put his hands on his hips and stared down the staircase where Gavin had just fled.
“But at least he’s gone for now,” Ryuhei said with a relieved sigh once his laughter dwindled. “We should probably get ready for tonight’s show.” He draped his arm around Kiyoshi’s shoulder and started to turn back into the room.
“Ryu-san, hold on.” Akira stopped him.
“Yes?”
“That reporter keeps wanting to see you alone. Isn’t that why he came to Ume-san’s house this morning? To see you? Well, aside from that business with the fan, that is.”
“Yes.” Ryuhei blinked as if indifferent, but Kiyoshi felt his lover’s muscles tense. “He’s such a nuisance, that man.”
“Maybe he does have something for you after all.” Akira rubbed his chin. “If you sleep with him, maybe he’ll write us a more favorable review. It could save our acting troupe.”
Kiyoshi nearly laughed when Ryuhei bristled.
“For your information, Akira, the day I stoop that low is the day I kiss that bitch Hoshi’s ass on the way down.”
* * *
Akira spent much of the next day looking for Hoshi and then cajoling the angry actor into returning to the theater. Kiyoshi was grateful to Akira for this, not only for the sake of the play, but because he felt badly for having caused the problems in the first place.
Although the tension was thick in the air, the small kabuki troupe got through their performance according to the planned script. The audience seemed well-pleased and two reporters came backstage to conduct interviews. Ryuhei let Akira and Hoshi hog the attention, and quickly ushered Kiyoshi upstairs.
“Are you going to meet Gavin?” Kiyoshi asked quietly as Ryuhei sat before the bamboo-framed mirror he’d brought from Japan and began to remove the layers of white makeup.
“It’s the only way to get him to stop this nonsense of his. I’ll listen and tell him he’s being a complete fool, that I’ve known you for years and know you intimately inside and out.”
Kiyoshi heaved a long sigh and came to stand behind his mortal lover. He draped his arms around Ryuhei’s shoulders and bent to rest his forehead against the back of the actor’s head. “These past few days I wonder if I even know myself anymore.”
Ryuhei placed his hands over Kiyoshi’s and leaned back. “Things will be better once we leave here for New York in a few weeks. All you have to do is keep yourself from thinking of that man. I’ll help you. I’ll stay by your side day and night if I have to.” He pulled away and shifted in his seat to look up at Kiyoshi. “I won’t lose you to this assassin’s darkness, Kiyoshi. I can’t.”
“Can I come with you?” Kiyoshi asked.
Ryuhei brought Kiyoshi’s hands to his lips as he frowned. “It’s too dangerous, Kiyo-kun,” he said gently.
“I’ll stay where he can’t see me,” Kiyoshi argued. “In the shadows.”
“It’s not the reporter who worries me.” Ryuhei released Kiyoshi’s hands, wrapping his arms around Kiyoshi’s slim waist. When he looked up into Kiyoshi’s face, his eyes were full of concern. “You were following that man earlier. What if he’s still nearby? With Gavin keeping me preoccupied, I won’t know if…” His words trailed off.
“You can trust me,” Kiyoshi finished. Ryuhei lowered his head, but Kiyoshi crouched to meet his lover’s gaze once more. “You’re right. I can’t even trust myself about this.” He held Ryuhei’s hands in his. “I wish I could change things. I wish I could just be like everyone else again.”
“How did you…did you choose it?”
Kiyoshi pressed his fingertips to Ryu’s lips. “I didn’t ask for it, no. I’ll tell you everything later. When you get back. If you’re worried, you can walk me to the Tien Hau temple first. Gobei will make sure I stay there until you come for me.”
Ryuhei shook his head and brushed his lips across Kiyoshi’s. “No, you wait here. I know you’ll be here when I get back. I promise not to take long.”
“I love you, Ryuhei. Always.”
“Always, Kiyo-kun.”
Chapter Seventeen
Shivering under his kimono, Ryuhei moved through the fog-shrouded street away from the temple where Kiyoshi insisted on waiting. The flesh-eater had met them in the Tien Hau’s main hall and promptly latched on to Kiyoshi’s sleeve, dragging him away into the chambers buried beneath the building. At least Kiyo-kun would be safe from the Dragon’s influence this evening, without a doubt. Gobei would not have it otherwise.
But seeing Kiyoshi with the ghoul unnerved Ryuhei somewhat. Watching the two of them retreat into the temple’s shadows reminded Ryuhei through association that Kiyoshi wasn’t human. Perhaps Ryuhei’s mortal love wouldn’t be enough to help.
A light drizzle started to fall from the sky, adding an even more somber touch to the ambiance. Ryuhei quickened his pace, eager to get this meeting over with and return to Kiyo-kun. The Lotus House came into view through the misty streets, the round, gold paper lanterns hanging from the ledge of the pitched roof. Ryuhei darted into the restaurant and shook the moisture out of his jacket.
“Mr. Nakamura.” Gavin beat the hostess to greeting Ryuhei before she even had a chance to approach. Standing at his table, the reporter gestured that Ryuhei should join him. “I’m so glad you came,” Gavin said, craning his neck around Ryuhei’s form to see if anyone else had entered the restaurant.
“Yes, and alone too,” Ryuhei muttered, both irritated and nervous at once. He sipped a cup of ginseng the hostess brought to the table, hoping it would calm his stomach. He shifted in the backless chair, uncomfortable and wishing the Chinese served their meals on low tables, where cushions on the floor made for better seats.
“Good.” Gavin nodded and waited for the old woman to leave them before continuing. “How well do you know Mr. Ishibe? Uh…really know him.”
“Intimately, Gavin-san. Haven’t I made that clear to you?” Ryuhei stared as the reporter got red in the face and pulled at the tight collar of his shirt. Wanting to end this inquisition as quickly as possible, Ryuhei leaned forward. “When you’ve fucked a man for eight years th
ere isn’t much of anything you don’t know about him, am I making this clear enough for you?”
“Uh…” Coughing uncomfortably, Gavin looked down at the table, away from Ryuhei’s stare. His lips moved to form words, but only a scratchy little noise came out. All the while, his face turned a deeper shade of red making him look like one of those terrible, squishy tomato-things westerners used in their salads.
“If that’s all then.” Ryuhei stood, smirking. “Good night.”
“Wait—” Gavin forced out. “Uh, okay, so you do, um, know him somewhat, but there’s something else he hasn’t told you. Mr. Nakamura—from what you’re saying, it sounds like he has you under some kind of…” He stopped in mid-sentence and ran his hands through his hair nervously. “Good Lord,” Gavin muttered. “Mr. Nakamura, Kiyoshi isn’t what you think. He’s not even a man. And I’m almost positive now he has you under his supernatural influence.”
Ryuhei’s sharp laugh drew notice of those around them and he moved to stand close to Gavin, whispering in his ear, “You, Gavin-san, are the one who’s under some delusional influence. I assure you that Kiyoshi-kun is every inch a man. I sucked his cock not an hour ago. I’ve sucked quite a few in my day actually and if sucking yours will stop this ridiculous escapade of yours to get my attention, then so be it. Let’s rent a room upstairs.”
Gavin nearly fell backwards right off his seat.
“No.” He flailed his arms and managed to grab the edge of the table to catch himself. The man’s face wasn’t just red—it was a deep, unhealthy, purplish hue.
Scooting as far away from Ryuhei as he could without actually getting up from the chair, Gavin reached for one of the napkins on the table and wiped it across his creased forehead. Flustered and more embarrassed than any other person Ryuhei had seen in a long while, Gavin coughed and choked on his own breath. “No, no, no, no,” he insisted. “No. That’s just—I didn’t mean—no.”
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