Title: Whisper
Meaning: n/a
Pairing: SeimeixHiromasaxSeimei
Type: PWP
Rating: R/NC-17
Begun: 5/25/05
Ended: 6/05/05
Note: Set approximately a year or so after the second movie. If you want someone to blame, blame Sneaky Cat and Clever Audra - it was their incessant nagging that drove me to write this. Not that I minded, but that's entirely besides the point. Also: Did I cop out on the exorcism scene? Ho, fuck yeah did I ever. Why? 'Cause I suck at making those sort of things up.
Disclaimer: Do I own the movies? Of course - I bought both of them for myself as soon as I saw my teacher's copies.
Warnings: PWP and so freaking OOC that I might as well be writing an original piece using the names. ... Hiromasa is drunk and Seimei is tipsy, though. ... What a horrid excuse. Also there is ... er ... Heian-era dirty talk(?) to beware of.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hiromasa tried not to pout. Seimei was doing it again. He was leaning over the naked back of a young, very good looking woman, whispering his spell to force the demon out of her. Her long hair covered her front, but that didn’t stop her from arching backwards towards the heat of Seimei’s body and gasping. Her breath came out in puffs of white against the frigid air, her face relaxed and her eyes were closed as if savoring the sensations. Seimei’s dark eyes were closed lightly in concentration, serving to make the picture that much more enticing. Hiromasa was reminded very much of the first time he’d seen Seimei perform an exorcism, though of different sorts, on Aone – now nearly three years ago.
Not for the first time the young noble wondered exactly how Seimei had that effect on all his patients. An exorcism should not make a person feel that good, should it? He’d seen them performed at Court a few times, by other Onmyoji, before meeting Seimei, and they hadn’t looked like they felt good. He tightened his grip on his sword, cursing himself for wanting to be possessed, just to finally know.
Sometimes Hiromasa wondered if Seimei tried to make him jealous when performing exorcisms. Then he would shake his head and berate himself – of course Seimei wasn’t trying to make Hiromasa jealous; he didn’t even know that Hiromasa was attracted to him! Of course, Hiromasa amended guiltily, that was mostly his own fault – he’d yet to tell the older man that he was interested in him.
Suddenly the Onmyoji pushed away from the woman. “Hiromasa. Now,” he commanded calmly.
“Aa,” the young noble said shortly, holding his sword at the ready.
The demon swept out of the woman’s body, hovering ominously in the air for a while before heading directly at Hiromasa. Seimei stood up immediately, watching it’s path.
“Hiromasa.”
The young man swung down just before it could attack him, completely unaffected by it’s horrid presence, stunning and dispersing it. He glanced over at the Onmyoji and smiled, seeing Mitsumushi cover the girl out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t help but be glad that his friend was no longer so close to her.
Seimei smiled back and nodded his approval, “Come. We’ll tell Takara-sama that his daughter is safe.”
“Aa.”
They made the short trip from Seimei’s garden to the front of his house in silence, the Onmyoji smiling as though pleased with himself (his usual expression) and the young noble frowning at his jealous thoughts. Who was he to be having such thoughts, anyway? He didn’t own Seimei and he wasn’t Seimei’s lover, never mind that he was starting to think he wanted to be.
“Your daughter is no longer possessed of a demon,” Seimei said as they reached his front gate. “She will be fine now; she may be taken home.”
“Thank you, Seimei-dono,” Takara said, bowing.
The Onmyoji waved away the thanks and the noble, waiting for the man’s servants to take the girl from his backyard and place her in the carriage. Shortly after, they were gone. Hiromasa and Seimei returned to the man’s porch and sat down, waiting and chatting idly while Mitsumushi and two of the Onmyoji’s shikigami prepared food and brought them sake.
It was nearly two carafe’s of sake later when Hiromasa asked out of the blue, “How do you do it?”
Seimei looked over, blinking a little, “How do I do what?”
Hiromasa felt himself flushing, “How do you make women ... do that.”
The Onmyoji raised an eyebrow, “I’m afraid you’ll have to elaborate, Hiromasa. What is ‘that’ which I make women do?”
“Get so ...” the younger man waved his arm vaguely, though harshly, and Seimei thought with amusement that it was a good thing the cup was empty. It wouldn’t do to have the young man go home smelling like sake. Hiromasa was grasping for words, “How do you get them to ... make those ... noises.”
“Noises?” Seimei’s other eyebrow rose, and a little, very amused smirk appeared on his face, “What ... noises are you talking about?”
“Those gasps!” Hiromasa blurted, “They sound like ... they’re ... you know! How do you do it? I’ve never seen it before. I thought exorcisms weren’t supposed to feel good.” He waited expectantly for an answer, but Seimei just placed his own sake cup in front of his mouth, trying to hide his grin behind it. Hiromasa saw it anyway, and attempted to glare, but the effect was ruined by the rather petulant pout that appeared instead. “Now you’re just going to poke fun at my expense again, aren’t you?”
“You can make it rather easy sometimes,” the Onmyoji said mildly.
The young man set his cup decisively down on the floor, completely missing the rounded tray he’d been aiming for. He decided to ignore it and stared intently at Seimei instead, hoping the older man wouldn’t notice his slip.
“Show me.”
“Hiromasa?”
“Show me. Show me how you do it. I want to know.”
“How to perform an exorcism?” Seimei asked, continuing before Hiromasa could process the question and protest that it wasn’t what he’d meant, “It’s quite simple, really, if you have the proper tools. If they know the right steps even one who isn’t an Onmyoji can perform simple ones. There are many ways of performing them, of course. The ritual I use is my own – I find it works best because it is in tune with my own skills. Proscribed rituals work best for those out of the order.”
Hiromasa nodded dumbly, having completely forgotten that he was supposed to be angry with his friend for changing the subject as he was always did, so easily, when he didn’t want to answer a question. In all honesty, Hiromasa didn’t remember the original subject – he just knew it was being avoided. The talk he was getting on exorcisms was interesting, though. Of course, Seimei could make a lecture on the intricate rituals of clothes washing sound interesting. The young noble nearly laughed, and decided that he should ask Seimei to introduce that topic at the next Court council, just to make that more interesting.
“Hiromasa?”
“Huh?”
“You were laughing. I wondered what was funny.”
“Clothes,” the younger man mumbled, “washing clothes.”
“You, my friend, are drunk.”
“I am not.”
Seimei laughed at Hiromasa’s indignant voice. He held out his hand, two fingers raised, and left it held out for his young friend’s inspection, “How many fingers do I have raised?”
“Three. Why?”
“You’re drunk.”
“Seimei, I am most not certainly.”
“Exactly. Come, let’s get you into bed. You’ll stay here tonight. I trust you have no immediate business to attend to?”
“Huh?”
Seimei sighed exasperated-ly, but Hiromasa liked to think it was a fond exasperated. He was sure he was the only one, besides maybe Mitsumushi, who was able to get Seimei to show even that much emotion, which often made him quite pleased with himself. So engrossed with his thoughts was Hiromasa that he didn’t notice he’d been picked up until he was being set down gently on Seimei’s futon.
“How’d we get here?” he asked, confused.
“I carried you.”
“But I’m hea – heavier than you!”
“I know,” the Onmyoji agreed mildly. Hiromasa pouted. Seimei gave him a small smile and removed his hat, intending to set it on the floor and undress the young man for bed – but he was stopped by Hiromasa’s hand. He looked at his friend curiously. “What is it, Hiromasa?”
“Exorcize me.”
Seimei couldn’t quite hide his surprise at the sudden request, “Exorcize you?”
Hiromasa nodded, “You promised you’d exorcize me to your heart’s content. So exorcize me. I want to know how it feels. Why it looks like it feels good.”
“Do you really know what you’re asking?”
“I’m asking you to exorcize me.”
Seimei shook his head sharply, but sighed, “Very well.” He moved so that he was balanced on his knees behind Hiromasa. Slowly, he placed his elegant hands on either side of Hiromasa’s black sokutai and, almost tentatively, undid the closure. He tugged the fabric gently off the young man’s broad shoulders and listened to the silk of the sokutai whispering against the silk of the kosode below it as it dropped to the floor. “Remove your arms, Hiromasa.”[1]
Hiromasa shivered. Seimei’s mouth was just above his ear, blowing short, hot puffs of air onto his sensitive skin. His voice had dropped in volume and pitch, a low purr in his ears that made the young man shiver slightly from anticipation. He took a few seconds to gain his bearings before he was able to take his arms from the huge sleeves.
“Are you cold?” Seimei asked.
Despite shivering again, the young noble was able to reply truthfully, “No.”
The Onmyoji chuckled behind him, “As you say.” His hands went next to the plain white silk of the kosode, and, with the same care as before, removed it, leaving the younger man bare from the waist up. This time Hiromasa shivered from the feel of petal soft finger-tips brushing over his bare chest. He pulled his arms free without being told to. Seimei laughed again, hot breath ghosting over Hiromasa’s chilled skin, “Very good.”
Hiromasa bit back the urge to moan, “Sei–”
“Shhhh. Don’t speak, Hiromasa,” the older man commanded.
In the back of his mind the noble recognized this tone as the very same one that Seimei performed his exorcisms with. He shuddered and leaned back into the heat that seemed to radiate from his friend’s body. Seimei’s finger tips ghosted over his shoulders and neck, up into his hair. Shortly after Hiromasa felt his hair come free of its top knot, and Seimei’s long, feminine fingers were threading through it, removing tangles and sliding over his skull as though giving him a massage.
“Does this feel good, Hiromasa?”
It was all the young man could do to produce an affirmative-sounding noise. He could practically feel the Onmyoji smirk behind him.
“I’m glad. You were watching me today, weren’t you? You’ve been watching me perform every recent exorcism closely, lately – more than you ever did before. I’ve noticed, and wondered: Were you looking at the girls, or at me? I thought you must be looking at the pretty girls – your head is still turned so easily by them, isn’t it? Ah, but it’s only natural; you’re still young.”
Hiromasa’s breathing sped up as blood rushed away from his head to a more ... unmentionable area. He knew his face was flushed despite that. And Seimei had yet to actually touch him – the Onmyoji, much to Hiromasa’s dismay, was barely pressing his finger tips to the younger man’s spine. At least Hiromasa had one consolation – Seimei never once stopped talking, though he did switch ears.
“I thought I saw you looking at me, that day in the Izumo village, the way I see you look at women. Did I look like a woman then? Did it please you? Shall I dress like that again for you – dance only for you? Without the threat of the world at our feet – I would do it for you, you know.”
The young noble could feel himself slowly melting in the Onmyoji’s arms. A little voice in the back of his mind wondered if this was a spell and he really was melting. The rest of his mind told the little voice, in crude terms that Hiromasa would never use himself, to shut up. He attempted a nod to answer Seimei’s question, but only managed to roll his head back onto Seimei’s shoulder. The Onmyoji shifted slightly to accommodate him, lowering his lips so that they were a feather’s width away from the skin of his neck.
“I want you,” Seimei murmured. The vibrations shot through Hiromasa’s oversensitive skin like fire and he moaned.
“You’re a very attractive man, Hiromasa – has anyone ever told you that? I was told once that your presence alone was heartwarming. I think that person was right.”
Hiromasa knew that, in accordance with his upbringing, he should be denying such a compliment. He tried to protest, but could only manage a weak, “Seimei –!” before he was hushed by a finger on his lips.
“I said not to speak, Minamoto no Hiromasa.”
The younger man nodded, short, jerky movements of his head that didn’t quite make it to being a full nod, but could be understood to mean ‘yes’. He opened his eyes briefly, and only then realized that they’d been closed since Seimei had begun his torturous ministrations. The insidious little voice that insisted on thinking, which Hiromasa had hoped was gone, reminded him that he wasn’t complaining about said ministrations. The rest of Hiromasa’s mind told the voice, in no uncertain terms, that it was to shut up. His body tensed, muscles trembling with the effort of holding himself upright. Only his will power kept him from climaxing – but that power was fast diminishing under the assault.
Vaguely he heard Seimei cluck his tongue, “When was the last time you had a lover, Hiromasa? Your eyes radiate innocence ... but your reaction, the ease with which you accept this, says otherwise. You are no virgin, are you?”
Hiromasa was of half a mind to attempt to deny that, but Seimei had specified no talking. Instead he conceded defeat – he sighed and allowed himself to become completely boneless against the hard body of his friend. He rolled his head to the side, burying his nose against Seimei’s neck and inhaling the scent that was uniquely Seimei’s. The Onmoyji chuckled. Hiromasa frowned ever so slightly and showed his displeasure at being laughed at by nipping the older man’s pulse point. He was rewarded with the slightest of gasps, though Seimei quickly recovered.
“Maa ... I was under the impression that I was supposed to be the fox?”
“There is ... nothing ... saying I couldn’t be.”
“Tch. A dog perhaps.”
“Sei–!”
The Onmyoji did something then that Hiromasa had never thought to see him – or feel him – do. He placed his mouth to Hiromasa’s earlobe and bit down. Hiromasa very quickly forgot what he’d been going to say. Seimei continued to whisper into Hiromasa’s ear, words that the younger man could no longer fully comprehend. His body was hot and his blood pulsed through it so hard and fast that he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. His penis throbbed, neglected beneath the blissfully cool fabric of his hakama that provided the only contrast to the rest of his heated flesh.
Suddenly the ties of his hakama were undone and the cloth was being removed frm his body, leaving him completely exposed. The young noble shuddered violently from the sudden exposure to the cold night air and his eyes snapped open.
“Seimei! What–”
“You seemed uncomfortable,” the older man said breezily, “And I’d hate to see you ruin your clothes.”
For a brief moment Hiromasa wanted to hate him for sounding so unaffected after everything. He realized Seimei’s hands were trembling against his thighs and his eyes, usually keen and observant, were dilated and clouded with desire. The Onmyoji maneuvered them deftly, so much so that Hiromasa didn’t notice he’d been moved until Seimei was straddling his bare legs. The friction of Seimei’s clothes against his body caused the younger man to gasp sharply and arch his back.
“Come for me, Hiromasa,” Seimei murmured, so softly that it was almost a question.
Hiromasa came then, the thick white liquid spattering over his abdomen and thighs, biting down on his bottom lip to muffle the shout of pleasure that threatened to wrench itself from his throat. He rode out his climax shuddering and gasping in Seimei’s arms. Silence stretched between the two men, the Onmyoji holding Hiromasa close and petting his hair while waiting for him to come back down.
“Seimei ...”
“There – you’ve been exorcized, Hiromasa. How does it feel?”
“Incredible.”
Seimei laughed and twined his fingers in Hiromasa’s soft hair, not wanting to leave the younger man but knowing that he should – there was still the matter of cleaning up. Not to mention his own neglected body was screaming at him.
“Seimei?”
“Hmm?”
“Why are you still dressed?”
The Onmyoji looked down at himself, following Hiromasa’s gaze to the come staining his white sokutai. He shrugged gracefully, “I hadn’t thought to undress.”
“But now I’ve ruined your clothes.”
“They are easily replaced, Hiromasa. Don’t worry about it.”
Hiromasa looked up at him, dark eyes wide and disbelieving, “Aren’t you – I mean ... didn’t you ... at all ...?”
Seimei raised an eyebrow, “Didn’t I what?”
“Did you ... take care of yourself?”
How could one genteelly answer a question like that, Seimei wondered. The easiest answer: one couldn’t, and it was best to ignore it completely. And he was fully prepared to ignore the question, but it seemed that Hiromasa had other plans for him.
“Well then, the least I can do is clean your clothes for you.”
It was rare to see the older man surprised by anything, but this was something that he’d never even thought to expect from his young friend. Certainly he knew that Hiromasa was not an innocent, no matter what image he’d created for himself at Court; but even so, picturing the young noble pulling him close, tongue lapping at his own come while he stared tentatively up at Seimei for cues, was not a thing that had ever happened. It made Seimei’s neglected body scream at him all the more to do something about it, damnit.
“Hiromasa–”
The younger man pulled back, his jaw set stubbornly even in his minor intoxication, “No, Seimei. I’m returning the favor.”
Seimei stared at him, eyes searching for any hint that Hiromasa wasn’t in full control of his thoughts, if not his body. He couldn’t find any – and he wasn’t quite ready to decide if that made him relieved or anxious. The younger man stared right back at his friend, sighing softly
“I know what I want, Seimei,” Hiromasa said softly, “I know what I’m doing.”
“What do you want, Hiromasa?”
“... I want these clothes off you, first,” he replied lightly, sure fingers already working at the tie on Seimei’s sokutai, and then his belt when the older man gave no protest, “Then I want you. Forever.”
“Forever? It’s quite a long time, you know. Are you sure you could put up with me for that long?”
“I’ve put up with you for this long, haven’t I?” Hiromasa pushed the sokutai and kosode off of his friend’s shoulders, revealing Seimei’s chest fully for the first time. He watched the body shudder in the cold air in fascination.
“Point conceded,” the Onmyoji said, smiling.
“So quickly?” Hiromasa’s nimble fingers easily removed the belt and tossed it to the side of the futon. He didn’t bother to see where it landed before pushing away the heavy fabrics off of Seimei’s torso. He eyed the pale flesh hungrily, and decided that he wanted to taste it. So he did.
Seimei’s voice was breathy, “I find it not worth the effort of arguing.”
The older man’s fingers, traced small, feather-light circles on the inside of his thighs, and Hiromasa had to remind himself to concentrate on what he was doing. A second later Seimei was touching his penis, and he groaned, feeling himself become hard again. Hiromasa gave a half-hearted glare and lightly smacked Seimei’s hand.
“Stop that.”
“What?”
“Distracting me,” Hiromasa muttered, giving the left hakama ties one last, sharp tug.
The knot came loose and the folds fell apart from each other. The young man retained enough of his sensibility to not rip them completely off. The Onmyoji stepped gracefully out of the gathered material, then settled himself back over Hiromasa’s thighs.
“Your first wish is granted, Hiromasa.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Your hair.”
Though Seimei’s hat had been removed quite some time before, his hair had remained up in its usual tight tip-knot. The older man looked up reflexively at Hiromasa’s statement, as if he could see the offending knot, but was looking back down before the younger man could be sure of this slip into humanity. Seimei smiled gently and grasped Hiromasa’s hands in his own, guiding them up to his hair.
“Then take it down.”
The young noble did so, swallowing heavily as the soft tresses fell about his fingers. He wove the hair about his fingers, holding onto them firmly, and pulled Seimei’s head down to meet his own. Their foreheads touched.
“Now my first wish is granted. Now it–”
Seimei quieted him by kissing him, a firm press of lips to lips. A moment later he pulled away, murmured, “Less talk,” and kissed Hiromasa again. This time his tongue traced Hiromasa’s lips, and the younger man was only too happy to part them and grant entrance. Their tongues dueled for dominance, but, perhaps surprisingly, settled into a happy stalemate. When they parted again it was on Hiromasa’s terms.
“I want you, Seimei,” he whispered into his friend’s ear.
Following his own rule, the Onmyoji did not say anything. He simply guided Hiromasa’s hand to the side of the futon, where a small bowl of oil was sitting, and dipped the younger man’s fingers into it. Hiromasa frowned a little, confused, and looked down. Seimei used his free hand to bring the noble’s face back up.
“Mitsumushi knows more than she lets on,” Seimei muttered, “I trust you know what to do with this?”
It had been a long time since he’d had to, but Hiromasa could indeed remember very well what to do with the oil the butterfly spirit had provided. He brought his hand to Seimei’s entrance, circling his finger around it a few times before slipping it in. A second finger joined the first a few moments later, and they scissored inside of Seimei’s body, stretching and coating the passage. The older man showed almost know external signs of discomfort, but even Hiromasa could feel the slight tightening of Seimei’s fingers on his shoulders. The young noble eased a third finger in with the other two on the next thrust, reaching up until he came across a small bundle of nerves. Brushing over that rewarded him with a sharp gasp of pleasure from Seimei, and he smiled, twisting his fingers around gently a few more times before withdrawing.
“Seimei ...”
“Now, Hiromasa. I’m fine.”
“Aa.”
Hiromasa dipped his fingers in the oil once more, spreading it quickly over his erection. With the older man’s help, he shifted them so that he was positioned at Seimei’s entrance. Then the Onmyoji was lowering himself, impaling himself, and it was all Hiromasa could do to keep his body sitting up right, rather than turning into a puddle. Seimei pushed down until he had taken all of Hiromasa inside of himself and only then paused briefly to adjust to the intrusion.
“You realize now ... you have to be ... mine. I’m not good at sharing with others.”
Hiromasa laughed and pulled Seimei down once more, drawing him into a searing kiss, “Neither do ... I. Not when ... it’s important.”
The older man smiled, and pulled himself up. Hiromasa met him as he came back down, matching his pace thrust for thrust. Neither man said a word after that, nor made a sound except for involuntary gasps and moans and hisses. Everything that needed to be said was said through hands and fingers dancing over the others’ skin, tongues licked away traces of sweat, teeth that nipped, marking the others’ body as their own, and lips that came together again and again in kisses so full of emotion Hiromasa thought he could die this very night and be a happy, happy man.
“Se– Seimei ...”
“Aa. Me too.”
They came together, Seimei’s head arching back as he let out a low moan of pleasure – the loudest sound Hiromasa had heard him make all night – and Hiromasa with the same violent shudders from before; but this time he had Seimei’s name on his lips. They stayed like that for minutes that seemed to stretch into hours, before the Onmyoji collapsed gracefully onto Hiromasa’s chest. The younger man lowered them to the futon, wrapping his arms around Seimei and nuzzling his neck, feeling Seimei’s pulse beat wildly against his cheek.
“That ... was nice,” he murmured.
Seimei laughed softly into Hiromasa’s hair, stroking it idly, “Indeed. Sleep.”
“Eh? But–”
“Shh. Sleep. We can take care of it in the morning.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hiromasa,” Seimei muttered, holding his fingers up in a threatening gesture, “Sleep.”
The young man found that, even though he wanted to, he couldn’t quite produce a full laugh. Instead Hiromasa made a soundless, half-laugh, half-pant and snuggled deeper into the Onmoyji’s warmth, listening to the other’s heartbeat and feeling his even, regular breaths skim across his neck. He let himself drift off without any more protest.
owari
NOTES
[1] From my research on the internet: A sokutai is one of the layers a man wore during the Heian period – it’s the black robe with the wide-open sleeves that Hiromasa wears all the time at Court. The kosode is a robe worn under the sokutai, with shorter sleeves. I assume it would also be plainer, because you can’t see it. I also think there’s a third layer, but I’m not sure, so for the sake of this there are only two. Pretend it’s summer (and yes, you can pretend it’s summer – apparently back in the Heian period Japan’s climate was colder than it is now, so it might well have been cold enough to see one’s breath).