His Kingdom (Arashi)
Christmas Challenge Fic
given by; little_bruises
prompt; Jun/Sho crack
Title: His Kingdom
Pairing: Jun x Sho, implied-ish
Rating: PG
Summary: MatsuJun likes to be in charge, and Sho is one sexy knight in shining armor.
Jun rather liked extensions.
If I had been a girl, he thought, I would have had long, long hair--he could imagine it growing down past his shoulders, tumbling over the smooth curve of bone and caressing the slight burn of his sun-kissed skin. He could imagine the way it would run through a man's fingers, heavy as silk, and he could think of how eagerly he would brush it, how kindly he would care for it, as if the hair were his lover, and nothing else mattered.
If I had been a girl, he thought again, maybe life would have been easier.
Kneeling on the floor before him, faces pressed against the cold, scratched tile, were three knights. Their armor shone with different stones, the proof of their loyalty: amber orange, topaz blue, emerald green. They sat kneeling there, quiet and almost weeping, scared to face the king that sat boredly upon his throne, filed nails (painted clear, and in prim condition) tapping the gold armrest. The king cleared his throat--the one dressed in blue shivered, and almost coughed at the sound.
Jun laughed. He couldn't help it--this was pretty damn amusing.
"Take them away," he said, airily, and the rings on his fingers reflected the grin of his features, the thick darkness of his eyelashes. His fingers settled back against the throne, stretched and tired, and as he leaned back, he felt something warm and gooey stain his black patent boots.
"You're an ass," the yellow one hissed, and hacked another mouthful of spit at Jun's royal feet.
The room froze.
It was like someone had opened the door and winter had barged in, cheerful and icy, with snow queens dancing in excitement and tiny snowflakes hugging the walls of the room. It was like Jun's voice had roared in disgust, like he had lurched off his throne and began a bloody, tense brawl--it was like the taste of recociliation, like the taste of revenge, or something just as sweet and just as satisfying. He could practically feel the snot on his knuckles, the blood splattering across the cool stone, which would absorb the moisture in silence, and Jun would order a new pair of boots made out of the skin of the traitor, the short, wily man who dared defile his king's shoes--
Instead, Jun swallowed, smoothed back his long, luxurious hair, and smiled.
"I hope that God takes pity on your soul," He said, and sat patient as a maid came forth to clean up the mess, the three men disappearing from his sight and out the door with a flurry of expletives.
A moment or two later--Jun had resettled in his seat, whispering to a nearby man-slave, arching his neck for a well-needed massage--through the door came a pair of broad shoulders and wavy, thin hair.
Jun's lip twitched with restrained excitement. "Sir Sakurai, what have you brought for me?" He asked, plain and unamused.
Sho's face was stained with mud, streaks of paint interlaced, as if he were an indian, or some other native from the land. Jun liked to think that Sho was more barbaric than he seemed; he liked to think about what would happen in the privacy of his royal quarters, and how Sho would undress himself, peeling back layers of wilted armor and choppy bandages--he could imagine his lips against Sho's neck, his hands hard on his skin, scratching past age old scars and small, stinging cuts.
He could imagine it so well--which was probably the reason he cut off Sho's explanation and snapped a hand down towards his feet.
Sho looked confused. His eyebrows furrowed, hands folded against the sword he had been previously talking about: it was the result of his raid, the weapon of the fallen leader, and Sho had lost a significant number of men, but the land their kingdom had gained was irreplaceable, and important, and Sho would like the ability to train more men, so that perhaps he could have a better knight at his side, and maybe better armaments--
Jun cut him off again, snapping, eyes almost glowering with desire.
"On your knees," He repeated, and watched the realization stab itself into Sho's gaze. "On your knees, sir knight, and prove your loyalty to me."
"My...?"
"Lick my boots," Jun said with a sneer.
Sho was taken aback. Sheathing the enemy sword, he leaned into an even, curt bow, brown hair falling tilted against his eyes. "I'm sorry, your majesty, I cannot...it would be below my abilities..."
Jun clapped his hands, and two heavy, mindless servant men came up upon Sho's sides, half-dragging him towards the throne and Jun's eager, never-weary smile. Sho barely protested--he didn't know what to do, he was too confused to argue otherwise.
"You dare defy your king?" Jun asked, conversational, his voice low and almost silent.
"I would never dare," came the reply, and the two men dumped Sho to the stone, disappearing out of sight. He sat back on his legs, inches from Jun's (slightly damp) boots. His face was etched with restraint.
"Then lick them," Jun said, patience truly beginning to wear. He felt it flowing out his body, scampering across the floor and fleeing from the two of them. He felt a surge of power--sexual, perhaps, but power all the same. He felt happy and alive, and he lurched forward, bejeweled hands going straight for Sho's hair, yanking, pulling, shoving him down towards his feet, where the stone still reeked of saliva and dirt--
A flash of light.
"Jun--MatsuJun, ow, why--"
Sho's chair rocked as he was yanked forward, half of his body spread across Jun's bed. The magazine in his lap went tumbling to the floor, pages bent, and Jun's cheeks were pink, forehead hot with sweat, mouth parted for breath and the occasional pant of rushed, choked air.
"MatsuJun!" Sho tried again, as water rose to his eyes from the death grip Jun had in his hair.
He finally gave up: it was too hard to even try to wake Jun from his fever-induced sleep, and for the first time since he had seated himself there, watching over his friend, Sho began to realize: this was why no one else wanted to take care of him.
given by; little_bruises
prompt; Jun/Sho crack
Title: His Kingdom
Pairing: Jun x Sho, implied-ish
Rating: PG
Summary: MatsuJun likes to be in charge, and Sho is one sexy knight in shining armor.
Jun rather liked extensions.
If I had been a girl, he thought, I would have had long, long hair--he could imagine it growing down past his shoulders, tumbling over the smooth curve of bone and caressing the slight burn of his sun-kissed skin. He could imagine the way it would run through a man's fingers, heavy as silk, and he could think of how eagerly he would brush it, how kindly he would care for it, as if the hair were his lover, and nothing else mattered.
If I had been a girl, he thought again, maybe life would have been easier.
Kneeling on the floor before him, faces pressed against the cold, scratched tile, were three knights. Their armor shone with different stones, the proof of their loyalty: amber orange, topaz blue, emerald green. They sat kneeling there, quiet and almost weeping, scared to face the king that sat boredly upon his throne, filed nails (painted clear, and in prim condition) tapping the gold armrest. The king cleared his throat--the one dressed in blue shivered, and almost coughed at the sound.
Jun laughed. He couldn't help it--this was pretty damn amusing.
"Take them away," he said, airily, and the rings on his fingers reflected the grin of his features, the thick darkness of his eyelashes. His fingers settled back against the throne, stretched and tired, and as he leaned back, he felt something warm and gooey stain his black patent boots.
"You're an ass," the yellow one hissed, and hacked another mouthful of spit at Jun's royal feet.
The room froze.
It was like someone had opened the door and winter had barged in, cheerful and icy, with snow queens dancing in excitement and tiny snowflakes hugging the walls of the room. It was like Jun's voice had roared in disgust, like he had lurched off his throne and began a bloody, tense brawl--it was like the taste of recociliation, like the taste of revenge, or something just as sweet and just as satisfying. He could practically feel the snot on his knuckles, the blood splattering across the cool stone, which would absorb the moisture in silence, and Jun would order a new pair of boots made out of the skin of the traitor, the short, wily man who dared defile his king's shoes--
Instead, Jun swallowed, smoothed back his long, luxurious hair, and smiled.
"I hope that God takes pity on your soul," He said, and sat patient as a maid came forth to clean up the mess, the three men disappearing from his sight and out the door with a flurry of expletives.
A moment or two later--Jun had resettled in his seat, whispering to a nearby man-slave, arching his neck for a well-needed massage--through the door came a pair of broad shoulders and wavy, thin hair.
Jun's lip twitched with restrained excitement. "Sir Sakurai, what have you brought for me?" He asked, plain and unamused.
Sho's face was stained with mud, streaks of paint interlaced, as if he were an indian, or some other native from the land. Jun liked to think that Sho was more barbaric than he seemed; he liked to think about what would happen in the privacy of his royal quarters, and how Sho would undress himself, peeling back layers of wilted armor and choppy bandages--he could imagine his lips against Sho's neck, his hands hard on his skin, scratching past age old scars and small, stinging cuts.
He could imagine it so well--which was probably the reason he cut off Sho's explanation and snapped a hand down towards his feet.
Sho looked confused. His eyebrows furrowed, hands folded against the sword he had been previously talking about: it was the result of his raid, the weapon of the fallen leader, and Sho had lost a significant number of men, but the land their kingdom had gained was irreplaceable, and important, and Sho would like the ability to train more men, so that perhaps he could have a better knight at his side, and maybe better armaments--
Jun cut him off again, snapping, eyes almost glowering with desire.
"On your knees," He repeated, and watched the realization stab itself into Sho's gaze. "On your knees, sir knight, and prove your loyalty to me."
"My...?"
"Lick my boots," Jun said with a sneer.
Sho was taken aback. Sheathing the enemy sword, he leaned into an even, curt bow, brown hair falling tilted against his eyes. "I'm sorry, your majesty, I cannot...it would be below my abilities..."
Jun clapped his hands, and two heavy, mindless servant men came up upon Sho's sides, half-dragging him towards the throne and Jun's eager, never-weary smile. Sho barely protested--he didn't know what to do, he was too confused to argue otherwise.
"You dare defy your king?" Jun asked, conversational, his voice low and almost silent.
"I would never dare," came the reply, and the two men dumped Sho to the stone, disappearing out of sight. He sat back on his legs, inches from Jun's (slightly damp) boots. His face was etched with restraint.
"Then lick them," Jun said, patience truly beginning to wear. He felt it flowing out his body, scampering across the floor and fleeing from the two of them. He felt a surge of power--sexual, perhaps, but power all the same. He felt happy and alive, and he lurched forward, bejeweled hands going straight for Sho's hair, yanking, pulling, shoving him down towards his feet, where the stone still reeked of saliva and dirt--
A flash of light.
"Jun--MatsuJun, ow, why--"
Sho's chair rocked as he was yanked forward, half of his body spread across Jun's bed. The magazine in his lap went tumbling to the floor, pages bent, and Jun's cheeks were pink, forehead hot with sweat, mouth parted for breath and the occasional pant of rushed, choked air.
"MatsuJun!" Sho tried again, as water rose to his eyes from the death grip Jun had in his hair.
He finally gave up: it was too hard to even try to wake Jun from his fever-induced sleep, and for the first time since he had seated himself there, watching over his friend, Sho began to realize: this was why no one else wanted to take care of him.