Freedom Rising 2: What Price Freedom?

by Willa Okati

  But it made Reiji’s search all the easier. Mere moments of digging and he found what he sought, held them in his hands. Sheet after sheet of finest rice paper, images sprawling across them with skill beyond any mortal artist. Enchanted drawings. Moments in time captured on paper. A trick of his which had delighted Kaname to no end, to the extent that he’d often demanded Reiji speak the incantation which would etch another vision of them together.

  Careless Kaname though! He had no respect for the drawings’ value. Scribbled across the back in his untidy hand, a shameful script for such a high-ranking man, were notes of time and place, and his own personal observations -- so crude they turned Reiji’s stomach. Kaname wrote no simple and beautiful love haikus. He scribbled lecherous jokes, often comparing Reiji to a crane -- all legs and a delicate meat to be savored with a good wine.

  Reiji flipped through the pictures, biting his lips. There, he rode Kaname, his hands splayed out on the lord’s chest. There, Kaname took him from behind, Reiji’s face buried in the quilt, hands fisting it into bunches. There, they lay side by side, each sucking the other’s cock with a ferocious hunger, their hands reaching out to grasp and hold.

  Images of Reiji playing submissive to Kaname’s dominant; the two of them laughing as they tried out various oils and gels for the best taste and slickness; and one, the very last, least-handled -- he and Kaname curled against each other, Kaname asleep and Reiji almost there, just awake enough to work the magic.

  Heart thudding in his throat, he turned the sketch over and read the one word Kaname had scribbled on the back: mistake.

  Unable to help himself, Reiji crumbled the picture in his hands. One word, and it crumbled into ash. A fitting end.

  And now, he would make a new beginning. Behind him, he heard the soft footsteps of slippered feet approaching. He breathed in and smelled the unusual tang of a Nightwalker -- coppery blood, exotic spices, and the peculiar magic that kept them animatedly alive after they should have long been dead the first time. Even with all his enchantments, he could not divine what it was that let a vampire walk and talk, think and listen, kiss and fuck.

  But did it matter? Gentle hands folded onto Reiji’s shoulders, squeezing lightly. “We can leave,” his Nightwalker, Li Man, whispered. “If this is too painful… I can put aside my own thirst for revenge. I would not cause you grief.”

  Reiji reached up to squeeze Li Man’s hand. “No.” He shook his head. “This is for both of us, not just me. If you can bring yourself to do what I ask, I gladly offer my body up to you.”

  Li Man’s hands grew still. “It is not a question of sacrifice,” he said after a long silence. “I would do it with pleasure.”

  Something strange unfurled inside Reiji’s chest. He swallowed, not wanting to examine it, yet the feelings evoked by Li Man’s tone and words were working a sort of magic of their own. “Thank you,” he said at last, his voice rough. “I think perhaps we may have things to talk about, after we have finished here.”

  He felt the light brush of cool lips against his earlobe. “I think so,” Li Man said against his cheek. “Now,” he requested. “Speak the words. Let us be recorded for all the world -- and Kaname -- to see.”

  Reiji’s eyes drifted shut, and he whispered the one word: inscribe.

  Turning within the circle of his Nightwalker’s arms, he lifted his mouth so that their lips met. Magic tingled through the air as does the sky-fire before a storm, filling them both with a fizzing power. Reiji knew sheets of paper would be unfurling, elegant lines capturing this moment so vividly it would almost seem alive on the page.

  Laughing to himself, he slid his tongue forward to tangle with Li Man’s, savoring his metallic-sweet taste and the chill of his fingers as they clutched at shoulders and arms. Reiji was a wonderful kisser and knew it, having left Kaname gasping many a time, but oh, he had nothing to compare to the skill of Li Man’s lips.

  He realized, to his surprise, the Nightwalker’s cock was already stiff beneath his robes, jutting out toward Reiji’s stomach. Only half thinking of the moment to be captured, Reiji reached down to grasp and hold with his fingers, to rub with his thumb. Li Man hissed against Reiji’s mouth, drawing back so that his fangs would do no harm. Reiji felt a thrill of wonder -- this Nightwalker, supposedly a monster, so careful!

  But wait, he was whispering as he moved toward Reiji, hands sliding around to grasp the globes of Reiji’s ass. “I have waited for so long. From the moment you stepped through my door, so unafraid, I wanted you as I have wanted no other man.”

  Reiji felt a tremor of shock go through him. “Li Man -- I --” He felt shame color his cheeks. “I did not know.”

  “No. I kept it a secret.” Li Man seared a trail of kisses down Reiji’s throat. “Move your hand, please, I beg you. I’ve dreamed of this for so long. You feel wonderful, with your thrumming pulse. I can hear the blood rush through your veins, I can smell the dampness of your skin, and I can all but taste your seed on my tongue.”

  “Li Man!” Reiji buckled against the Nightwalker, who held him up. “Why did you never say?”

  “Forbidden, isn’t it? The vampire kind and humans are never meant to mix. My first lover’s death might have been avoided if he had stayed away from the living breed.” Li Man growled and burrowed into the dent between Reiji’s collarbones. “But you, you make me forget myself.”

  The Nightwalker’s hands cupped and squeezed, fingers flexing. Reiji had thought he would need to resort to magic, but no, his cock had risen to the occasion and pulsed for want of friction, whether hand or -- ah, there, just there -- rubbing against Li Man’s own swollen rod. Better than ivory, he thought with a dizzy laugh to himself. Just as cold, but far more eager, and… oh, gods and goddesses. What have I done? If he cares for me, and I am using him…

  “No, no. I know what’s going through your mind. You are not using me.” Li Man gyrated against Reiji, pulling them closer together in a swaying dance. “I want this revenge as much as you. But, Reiji-love…” He dipped lower, swiping his tongue just above one nipple, “I want more. I can give you anything you crave. Only don’t let this be the end.” His words buzzed and burned against Reiji’s skin, spoken in short bursts as they thrust against one another, cocks jerking and legs growing weak. “Give me a chance, Reiji.”

  “But the laws… the land…”

  “Neither of us would stay here. Not after -- after Kaname. After he sees.”

  “Gods, Li Man --”

  “Come with me. I ride tonight, under cover of the moon. I go east, where there are Nightwalker cities. Be under my wing. My protection. Leave Kaname. All his foulness. The sun that never stops shining.”

  “Li Man…”

  “Live with me beneath the moon, and be my lover. Humans have failed you. Give me yourself.” Li Man teased with the needle points of one fang. “Give me a chance.”

  Reiji arched against the Nightwalker, his head a snowstorm of renegade thoughts. Did he dare? Was this the sex talking, or did Li Man truly love him with an unbeating heart? Joined together in revenge, might they have a life together, free of Kaname and his petty cruelty?

  “Say yes,” Li Man crooned, sinking to his knees. Pale fingers reached for Reiji’s cock, stroking it through his trousers, then slipping them down to let his organ spring free. He licked at the tip, one long, lingering taste. “Say yes. Come with me. Be free.”

  Reiji closed his eyes. What was life, if not taking the chances presented to you? He did not know if he loved Li Man, or even if he could, but the Nightwalker had dared so much for him. Had put his survival on the line to flout Kaname for what he had done to both of them, and grown hard as iron for want of Reiji himself.

  “Yes,” Reiji whispered, grasping Li Man’s shoulders. The Nightwalker looked up, searching Reiji’s face. Reiji smiled down at him as best as he could through the haze of lust overtaking him. He thought Li Man saw what he had sought there, for with a low growl in the back of his throat, the Nightwalker dove upon Reiji and sucked
the human’s cock into the cool, wet tunnel of his mouth.

  That was only the beginning of their lovemaking that night, in Kaname’s chambers.

  And all the while, the snow fell outside. Enchanted snow, the gift of a god or goddess who smiled down upon a union they found good. Perhaps even Lalasa, new-born and rich with the gifts she had to give. Beginning with a snowstorm to hide a Nightwalker and his new lover as they stole away from a kingdom of harsh sun and wind, to a life they might share together as equals and leaving behind only ink on paper to prove they had ever lived beneath cruel Kaname’s thumb…

  “No one knows what happened to Kaname,” Nanashi finished, drawing a hair-thin brush across Silken’s cheekbones. His other hand rested on Silken’s bare cock, spiraled around with the sparkling red inks sinking into his flesh.

  “Was he angry?” Silken whispered, arching into Nanashi’s grip. He shivered from head to toe, but with washing waves of pleasure, not fear. He was lost in the story and in the feeling of magic covering the whole of his body.

  Nanashi tilted his head. “Me, I think he came back after dallying with the conniving Sadako, ready to have a nightcap with Reiji, and found the pictures of Reiji and Li Man.

  “There are stories upon stories about these two, never told to humans any more, but they were the first. They bridged the gap, and although it has not often been done since, it can happen. There can be love between our races, and perhaps now, in this day and age, there can be more.”

  Silken moved restlessly, trembling beneath Nanashi’s grip and the tickling of his brush, yet ravenous for more. His head swam with thoughts and ideas, visuals of Reiji and Li Man from so very long ago, imagining what pictures the enchanted paper would have caught. “Were -- were they happy?” he gasped.

  Nanashi laid his brush aside, and whispered, “Inscribe.”

  “Nanashi!”

  A sheet of rice paper fluttered toward them across the room, a paper crane taken wings, landing by Silken’s cheek. He turned his head in wonder, staring as the bird unfolded itself to show a drawing: Silken himself, on his back, decorated with markings of the highest caste, his cock straining hard upright. Nanashi by his side, protecting him yet giving him room to breathe.

  “Look at us together,” Nanashi whispered, “and tell me what you think.”

  Chapter Five

  “I see…” Silken traced the lines of the drawing with one reverent fingertip, butterfly-light, fearful of smudging the inks. The quill strokes felt blood-warm to the touch and hummed with a soft energy. He had never seen magic before, but faced with this sketch he could not help but believe. “I see us together, Nanashi. You and I. I’ve yearned to know what we look like when we lay among the cushions or the quilts, but I never thought to actually see for myself.”

  “Yes.” Nanashi raised Silken on one arm, supporting his back. “Tell me more. What do you see here?”

  “You, I see you.” Silken drank in the sight of his lover, rendered in glittering black inks, as if someone had ground mica and used it instead of lamp black. “You are a handsome devil in the flesh, but if anyone saw this picture -- you, so strong and able-bodied, so lean and succulent, their mouths would water and I’d fear the need to fight for you.”

  Nanashi laughed.

  “What?”

  “Silken, beloved,” the Nightwalker said, rumpling up his long fall of dark blond hair, “you look at this picture and see only me? What of yourself? Is there nothing which impresses you about the way you look?”

  Silken frowned at Nanashi, but obediently turned his attention to the rendering of his own body. A moment later, his hand stole up to cover his mouth. “Oh.” He had changed; he was not the man he had seen in the mirror every day of his life before this moment. Perhaps the picture flattered, but he seemed almost to glow from the swirls of ink on his skin outwards. He radiated the power of climax and the ecstasy of love play. He looked not like a man, but like the kin of the deities.

  “You see?” Nanashi curled closer. “This is how you appear, Silken, not only to me, but to the world. You are sex incarnate. Lalasa’s favored child. I recognized you for the shining star come to rest on earth that you are when you were in Mama Luck’s house, and knew I had to rescue you from the fate of the Lotus Garden.”

  He tipped Silken’s chin up and stole a brief kiss. “Little did I know you would steal my heart away, as Li Man stole Reiji’s very own. Their love is legendary among my people, and many have dreamed of one day finding someone whose soul knits so closely to their own.”

  “There are other stories about them then?”

  “Oh, yes, many. Countless. They have filled books, many of which are best read or told on perfumed pillows, in the arms of the one you adore.” Nanashi playfully nipped at Silken’s ear, not to wound, but to tease. “Li Man and Reiji had amazing skills, not merely when it came to magic or the arts of love. They adventured from one side of the world together, in snow or rain by day, and at night by the cool light of the moon, and ah… ah… Silken, I cannot think when you do that!” Nanashi scolded, but he did not move Silken’s playful hand away from his growing cock, and his eyes glowed warmly. “What do you mean by touching me without permission, Courtesan?” he asked, saucy as a serving boy. “Do you dare to approach me of your own free will?”

  Silken arranged his face innocently as possible. “What, would I go against the laws I have abided by all my life?”

  “Your hand says yes.” Nanashi did not seem to object; in fact, he covered Silken’s fingers with his own, lacing them over his swelling cock. “Your lips speak riddles. But your mind, Silken? What are your thoughts?”

  Silken grinned. “My thoughts are butterflies!” he exclaimed, then laughed, soft and low, but long and free. “Look at me and see it all written on my flesh!”

  He spread his free arm wide, arching his spine so that he bowed backwards, showing off his glorious new paintings. He could feel the inks soaking into his skin, burning with the low simmer of cinnamon and clove oil. Magic seared itself into his flesh with the tingling, rushing pain of a sleeping limb brought back to life.

  He knew the marks would be with him for the rest of his life. Whether by enchantments Li Man or Reiji had devised, or Lalasa’s gift, there would be no washing them off, not ever, neither with oils nor with soap. When he went out into the wide world again, he would be marked from forehead to feet for all to see that someone, even if “only” a Nightwalker, esteemed him that highly.

  Silken would be declaring himself a God of Love, a child of the Goddess. Perhaps men and women alike would see the power shimmering through his decorations and acknowledge what he aspired to.

  Perhaps they would build statues of him -- and the lover who had changed him over into more than a man, but less than an immortal -- and pray to him for blessings on their love affairs.

  Perhaps he would be known as Silken, the heir to Reiji. The tales should not be forgotten, nor left in dusty books or whispered, secret to secret, on fragrant pillows. He thought he understood Nanashi’s plan now, twined as it was with a burning love, and laughed again for the joy of it.

  “You and I,” he said, turning his face to Nanashi. “We are the future. They have only to recognize what’s taking place beneath their very noses. They are blind, but we will unmask their eyes. They will see, and they will learn.”

  “They will also fight,” Nanashi cautioned.

  “Yes, but so will we.” Silken leaned forward, pressing an eager kiss to Nanashi’s lips. His tongue flicked out to taste the fragrant flavor of his lover’s skin, a taste he would never tire of. His head buzzed with new thoughts and knowledge and -- yes -- courage. For he understood now. At last, he understood.

  “If I am a free man,” he said slowly, “I may choose to serve. But I may also choose to stand up and shake off my chains. I had grown so used to them throughout my years --”

  “And oh, you have so many,” Nanashi teased.

  “Hush!” Silken made bold to tap a finger against the tip
of Nanashi’s nose and was delighted to see his lover grin like a boy. “I understand, now, what you were trying to tell me -- what I was too thick-headed to see --”

  “A lovely, thick head, yes,” Nanashi murmured, his own hand drifting to close over Silken’s cock. Practiced and at the same time devilishly skilled, he squeezed with just the right amount of pressure and ran his thumb over the plump head. “Have I caused you to lose your train of thought?”

  Silken gave him a slanted look. “Would you prefer I fall silent?”

  “I would rather hear you scream in pleasure.”

  “And you will,” Silken said, carefully loosing Nanashi’s hand -- not without regret. He crawled to kneel between his Nightwalker’s thighs, resting both palms on his smooth white muscles. He let them lie there, admiring his blood red decorations for a moment, then ran them up and down Nanashi’s chest.

  “We are beautiful together, you and I,” he murmured. “This is the price of my freedom: being brave enough to seize what has been offered. I can no longer hide behind the safety of being someone’s property. I must be my own man, and I choose… yes, Nanashi, as Reiji chose in your story… to be your better half.”

  Nanashi’s eyelids had drooped with lust, but his look was one of admiration. “This is one of the many reasons I adore you,” he said, voice low and husky. “You are clever as you are handsome, Silken. Now come.” He reached up to push at Silken’s head. “Do what you choose, but I think you know what I would ask you to give me.”

  “Do I?” Silken grinned impishly but sobered long enough to savor another hungry, lingering kiss, letting his lips and tongue explore Nanashi’s own. Drinking deep from a well which would never run dry, tasting immortality, the fluids of life, and the scorching blast of sex and need. He trailed his tongue across Nanashi’s lip, and whispered, “I choose to do this, of my own free will. My first act as a truly free man.”

  And, dipping his head, Silken let his hair cascade down around his face in a waterfall of silk tickling Nanashi’s legs and lower belly. Hidden inside the curtain that had won him his name, he breathed in the scent of Nanashi’s male musk and the soaps he had cleansed himself with, mingled with the sharp spiciness of the blood inks.