Foxfire (Nine Tails, 1)

by Yuki Edo

  Masaki glanced at the title: Revenge. That seemed odd, but it made more sense as he examined it. The kitsune did look as if it wanted vengeance. “Perhaps the artist is here. I could ask when I inquire about the price.”

  Hiro’s gaze darted over to his. “It’s huge, so it’s probably expensive.”

  Masaki smiled. “Not a problem.”

  “But, I mean,” Hiro bit his lip, “don’t buy it because I like it.”

  Masaki stepped forward and took Hiro’s hand, kissing it gently. “I can tell it fascinates you, and it intrigues me as well. It’s one of the largest pieces here. Plus, the artist might need the money.”

  Hiro didn’t pull his hand away. “You’re right, but you don’t have to do things to please me. I’m enjoying myself.”

  “I’d do anything to please you, but that’s only one motivation. I always buy something at these shows.”

  “Like my paintings and sketches.”

  “Yes, though I bought those because I loved them.”

  Hiro slipped his hand from Masaki’s and turned back to the sculpture. “It’s up to you, but I would like to meet the artist, if I could.”

  “I’ll go make inquiries,” Masaki said, moving across the room to find Chiasa. She was always pleased to see Masaki and would likely be thrilled to arrange the sale of such a large piece. He threw one glance back at Hiro, who knelt on the marble floor examining the flowers at the base of the sculpture. Masaki smiled. Despite still seeming a bit nervous, Hiro appeared to be enjoying himself, which was all that mattered right now.

  * * * *

  “You like my work?” a soft voice said behind Hiro.

  He turned and stood, finding a very petite girl standing there. She looked about his age, but she was short and thin, her long, thick black hair overwhelming her frame and covering almost half of her face. She seemed shy and timid, so Hiro smiled and nodded with enthusiasm.

  “Yes. I love it.” He could hardly believe someone so small and frail could’ve made this sculpture, which actually towered over her, but then he reprimanded himself for the thought. It was unfair to think that her size had anything to do with her creativity or her ability to do metalwork.

  She pushed her hair off her face and looked up at the face of the fox. “I’ve always loved foxes.” She smiled. “I caught one once, but I wasn’t allowed to keep him.”

  “Probably for the best. Foxes belong in the wild.”

  She kept looking at her sculpture as a woman with a clipboard passed by swiftly and handed her a small slip of paper. The girl giggled, her eyes bright as she looked up. “Mr. Kitamura has bought my sculpture.” She reached forward and put her hand on Hiro’s chest, just above his heart. “I hope you both enjoy it. I’m honored.”

  While Hiro was happy she was pleased, he wondered why it meant so much to her. “He said he always buys something at showings. Is he considered a good patron?” He could think of no other reason for her to be honored by the sale.

  “I’ve always admired him. I observed you together,” she lowered her eyes, though her hand still rested on Hiro’s chest, “but don’t dare approach him.”

  Hiro looked across the room. “He’s coming out of a side room now. Wouldn’t you like to meet him? I’ll make the introductions.”

  She stiffened a moment, but then the shy smile returned. “No, but thank you. I am content.” She pulled away and hurried off before Hiro could stop her. He watched her go until he heard Masaki clear his throat.

  “Was that the artist?” Masaki asked as they watched her go, her hair rippling in waves behind her. “Chiasa said it was a young girl.”

  “Yes, that was her. She’s shy, and she ran off before I got a chance to really ask her anything. She seemed happy you bought her sculpture. Honored, she said.”

  Masaki blinked and then furrowed his brows. “Really? She must’ve seen me at other shows. Chiasa said this is her first piece.”

  “She’s kind of odd. Maybe she has a crush on you.”

  Masaki chuckled. “So, someone has to be odd to like me that way?”

  Hiro started to apologize, but then he laughed as well. “Um, well, you never know. Maybe weird, artsy types like us are drawn to you.”

  Masaki stepped a bit closer. “Perhaps. You do seem to enjoy my company.”

  Hiro slipped his hand under the jacket of his suit, his chest itching suddenly. “Tonight was fun. I’ve never been to a show like this one. Only the small ones in our own city when my work was on display.”

  Masaki extended his arm, and after a brief hesitation, Hiro took it. He glanced around, but no one seemed to care. Being gay was still relatively taboo in Japan, but perhaps among artists and the types of people who acted as their patrons, this might not be the case. Hiro had certainly encountered more liberal, enlightened individuals since gaining recognition as an artist.

  “Would you like to have your pieces in larger shows? Chiasa said she would like to see your work. I told her which gallery still has a few of your paintings.” He smiled. “The few I haven’t bought.”

  Hiro couldn’t help beaming. Masaki had paid close attention to everything he’d said tonight, as if he truly respected Hiro’s thoughts on art. “Nice of you to share me with the world, just a little.” Sobering a bit, he added, “It means a lot to me, knowing someone who’s seen and done so much truly likes my work.”

  Masaki smiled, but then he stopped and pulled Hiro aside. “Are you all right?”

  “What?”

  Masaki took hold of Hiro’s wrist. “You keep scratching your chest.”

  Hiro hadn’t even realized he’d still been doing it. His skin burned now from all the scratching. “Yeah, I’m fine. Maybe something bit me.”

  “Why don’t we head home? It’s getting late. The arrangements have been made. The sculpture will be packed tonight, and one of my brothers will bring it to us tomorrow. He’s here attending an opera tonight, I think. Something like that.”

  Hiro nodded. “Sure. We’ve seen everything.” He let Masaki lead him to an empty room, where he opened a portal and helped Hiro through. Hiro felt his stomach do a little flip as he wondered what else was going to happen on their “date”.

  They walked a few steps, and Masaki stopped, pulling Hiro to his side. “How about here? In this small clearing, surrounded by the moss. Coming upon the sculpture would be a nice surprise for anyone walking in the garden. Morning glories grow around the edges. See?”

  “Yes, that would look nice. What colors do you have?”

  Masaki smiled, slipping his hand into Hiro’s. “Every color possible, and even a few that aren’t, but mostly blue and lavender. They would look nice ornamenting the sculpture.”

  “A few that aren’t?”

  “Some that are not natural. It’s my presence, the magic in the air.”

  They sat on a bench nearby, which Hiro hadn’t noticed until that moment. Masaki draped his arm across the back of the bench, and Hiro leaned close but didn’t press against the other man, even though he wanted to.

  “So what other kinds of magic can I expect?” Hiro asked.

  Masaki formed his lips into an O shape and blew out a small flame, which expanded into a greenish ball of foxfire. The next was orange, the one after that blue. Hiro watched them floating over the clearing.

  “Does that make your mouth hot?”

  “You could find out,” Masaki said, inching closer.

  Hiro stiffened once he realized how his question had sounded. But then he turned to Masaki, who licked his lips and gave a faint smile. “I suppose I could.” Hiro moved in, nervous and wishing Masaki would take over. Their lips touched, and suddenly the itching and burning from his chest spread all over Hiro’s body. He sucked in a breath, and the feeling faded instantly. He kissed Masaki again, this time letting his tongue run over Masaki’s lower lip. Though the kiss was sweet, Hiro moaned, lust overwhelming him. He deepened the kiss until they both gasped for breath, and then he said, “Make love to me, in the clearing. It’
s so beautiful out here.”

  Masaki searched his face, caressing his cheek and stroking his hair. “You’re certain?”

  Hiro kissed him again, then began to pull him to the grass. “I’m a grown man who should’ve been fucking for years. Yes, I’m sure.” He reclined on the grass, unbuttoning his shirt before throwing it and the suit jacket off. “Don’t you want me? You’ve watched me, I know.”

  Masaki knelt and watched him undressing. “Who told you that?”

  “My brother. And Inari.”

  “So Inari did come to you.”

  “Yes. I wasn’t going to tell, but we promised honesty. He gave me the power to feel you watching.”

  “Really?”

  Hiro grew tired of talking. He’d never been so turned on in his life. He couldn’t explain it—he just needed relief, to feel Masaki inside him. “Yes. This afternoon, you watched me dress. I was embarrassed, but then I felt empowered. I’ve never felt attractive, not really.” His cock pressed against his zipper. “I thought of you as I jerked off, imagined you watching. Made me come hard.”

  “You are attractive. You’re beautiful.” He licked his lips. “Especially when you come. I enjoy watching you, no matter what you’re doing.” Masaki finally took his own suit jacket off. “Are you upset?”

  “I was at first, but now I don’t care. I like how much you want me.” He’d already kicked his shoes off, and now he pushed his boxers and pants down. His cock sprang out, slapping his belly. “Turned me on so much when I felt you watching me.” Hiro reached out and unbuttoned Masaki’s shirt. “Your body’s amazing. Inari let me watch you in the shower.”

  Masaki’s eyes went wide with shock. “What else did you two do?”

  “Nothing. He pretended he wanted to seduce me, a test. But I felt I was safe. Just knew it.” Hiro pushed Masaki’s shirt off. “He loves you.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve made love with him? Her?” Hiro believed it had to be true, but he needed to hear it.

  “Yes, but only as a man.” Masaki took Hiro’s face in his hands. “But that’s over. My love for my god is a different thing.”

  “I can live with that.” Hiro leaned back. “Touch me.”

  Masaki moved on top of Hiro, fingers dancing over his chest. Soon his mouth replaced them. “What’s gotten into you?” he asked.

  Hiro moaned. “Denied myself too long.” He ran his hand into Masaki’s hair. “I like you. So much. You’re too sweet to be real.”

  “Too sweet, huh?” Masaki moved lower and took Hiro’s cock into his mouth, pushing Hiro’s legs up so he could finger his hole.

  Hiro gasped. For years he’d imagined how it would feel for a man to touch him there, but the reality took his breath away. For a moment, his body burned again, the tingling making him squirm. Masaki pulled back and looked at him before moving his mouth lower. He rimmed Hiro, working the ring of muscle, and then his tongue entered Hiro. Chills moved up his body, but his balls ached with seed.

  “Mmmm, too much,” Hiro muttered, but this only encouraged Masaki.

  Masaki pushed his tongue deep, so deep Hiro shivered. Masaki’s fingers wrapped around Hiro’s cock, pumping it. Hiro tried to get him to slow down, but Masaki refused. He finally pulled back only to capture Hiro’s cock in his mouth again, letting the head and shaft go down his throat. Hiro screamed and bucked, his hips moving of their own free will. He twisted his fingers in Masaki’s hair, and Masaki dug his fingers into Hiro’s ass before moving one hand so he could toy with Hiro’s hole.

  Hiro could feel his hole clenching as Masaki worked a finger into him. He wanted Masaki’s cock, but he knew he was about to shoot. Masaki fucked him with two fingers now, and Hiro moaned the kitsune’s name as he arched and spilled his seed. Masaki sucked down every drop, then moved up Hiro’s trembling body. He kissed Hiro with surprising tenderness and held him until the shaking stopped.

  “Is it always that good?” Hiro asked, looking up into Masaki’s eyes.

  “I’ll ensure it always is.” Masaki finished stripping, stroking his own cock. “Every single time.”

  Hiro shifted to touch Masaki, enjoying the feel of rippling muscle under his hand. “May I touch your cock?”

  * * * *

  Masaki sighed and took Hiro’s hand, guiding it to his shaft. “You never have to ask to touch me.”

  Hiro stroked Masaki, his eyes fixed on Masaki’s cock. “You’re so hard.”

  “That’s your fault, but you’ll be able to help me here soon.” Masaki pushed him back onto the grass. He held out his hand, a small bottle of lube appearing. He squirted some on his fingers and began massaging Hiro’s hole, which was already relaxed from their earlier play.

  “Can you do that with anything?” Hiro asked.

  “Yes, anything I need.” He slid two fingers inside, angling for Hiro’s prostate. He wanted his eager little lover to come again, wanted to see it. “I did love watching you. Love seeing you come.”

  Hiro shivered. He squirmed, but then he shivered again.

  “Are you cold?” Masaki asked gently.

  Hiro nodded. “Yeah. Not sure why.”

  The night air was warm, but Masaki still summoned the foxfire orbs back. They floated close by, giving off more heat than usual, as Masaki willed them to. Hiro stopped shivering soon. Masaki leaned down to look at his chest. “Something did bite you.” A small red spot sat over his heart, and it looked inflamed. “I’ll see to it later.” He kissed Hiro’s clavicle, working his way down slowly. He adored the taste of Hiro’s skin.

  Hiro was hard again, and he pumped his cock. “Yeah, see to this first.”

  Masaki chuckled as he brought them face to face again. “A demanding lover, I see.”

  “Damn right,” Hiro said, though with a tender note in his voice. Hiro reached up and touched Masaki’s face. “I was flippant before, about how long I waited, but waiting did mean something to me. So does this.” He brushed a kiss to Masaki’s lips. “It’s special.”

  “Of course it is. You’re giving me a gift.”

  Hiro snorted. “I’m not a girl.”

  “Still a gift, a beautiful one.” Masaki spread Hiro’s cheeks and entered him, pushing past the ring of muscle quickly.

  Hiro gasped and stiffened, but he nodded to tell Masaki to keep going. Hiro was so tight even the lube didn’t eliminate all the friction, and it took a while for Masaki to work into him. Once he was fully seated, Masaki leaned down and kissed him. Hiro still shivered a bit, and Masaki wrapped his arms around him. They moved together slowly, Hiro drawing a few sharp breaths. Soon, moans replaced the quick intakes. Hiro rubbed against him, kissing his neck.

  Masaki sighed at the loving touch, the moment so perfect he couldn’t hold back. He moved faster, losing himself in Hiro’s body. They both trembled soon, and he felt a hot splash of cum between them just as Hiro cried out again. Masaki buried himself deep as his lover came, and he too spilled, filling Hiro’s clenching hole with his seed. They kissed, much more passionately than before, and Hiro clung to him. Masaki rolled them so that Hiro lay atop him, and they rested there in a silence a while.

  Then Hiro began shaking, and he struggled to get up.

  “What’s wrong?” Masaki asked, noting that Hiro had grown pale.

  “Still cold. Don’t know why.” He put the suit jacket back on and wrapped his arms around his legs. He scratched his chest. “Itching. Burning.” He glanced down. “I must be having a reaction. Maybe it was a spider?”

  Masaki looked at the red spot again. “I don’t know, but you need a doctor.”

  “You think? I felt fine until a moment ago.”

  “Your senses were overloaded. You began scratching while we were still in Tokyo, and you had chills earlier. We need to be sure.” Without asking permission or bothering with any of their clothes, Masaki hefted Hiro into his arms and carried him into the house. A yokai appeared and followed them, awaiting orders.

  “Summon my doctor.”

  Hiro did
n’t protest, leaning his forehead on Masaki’s shoulder. “You have a doctor?”

  “Yes. Magic cannot fix absolutely everything.”

  Hiro shivered. “So cold.” He put his arms around Masaki’s neck. “Stay with me.”

  “Of course. Don’t be scared. It might be nothing, a sudden chill or virus.”

  They reached his room, and Masaki paused. “May I enter?”

  Hiro nodded. “Yes. Anyone can enter. It’s fine.”

  Masaki took him in, willing the covers to draw down. He placed Hiro on the bed, noticing the semen all over him. If things had been different, he’d likely be licking the seed from his young lover’s body, but now was not the time for such thoughts. He grabbed a washcloth and soaked it in warm water, quickly cleaning Hiro and then pulling the covers over him. At a thought from him, two yokai brought more blankets and spread them over the bed while Masaki cleaned himself. He slipped into a simple linen kimono and went back to Hiro’s side.

  “Masaki.”

  Masaki looked up when he heard the powerful voice, which he knew came from a very small man. Toyohiko, who had been his doctor for hundreds of years, stood in the doorway. He bowed, and Masaki gestured him forward. “Thank you for coming, Toyohiko.” He bowed without rising. “His illness is too sudden for me to call a human doctor.”

  Hiro looked at Masaki. “You told me not to worry.”

  Masaki gave an apologetic look and kissed his forehead. “So that you wouldn’t be afraid. Forgive me.”

  * * * *

  Hiro swallowed, his throat burning. “All right. It’s not important.” He looked to Toyohiko, who appeared to be ancient, maybe close to a hundred years old, based on his looks. The man wore yellow Buddhist robes. “You’re not a human doctor?”

  “Oh no. I was mortal, once, but no more.” He waved his hands dismissively. “Enough of that. Stories later. What’s wrong?”

  “I have a strange mark on my chest. It itches and burns. My entire body does at times. I’m cold, colder than I’ve ever been.”

  The doctor leaned forward and drew back the covers. He touched the flesh and pinched it. “Pain?”