Five Moments
Not really a story so much as five moments from five of the many AUs that have proliferated over months of plotting with girltypefuuma and sumeragiskank.
His advisors meant well, of course, but the Emperor was not one to be gainsaid.
“Your Majesty,” began the closest and wisest of them in a low, carefully even murmur. “I believe doing that to the prince would be a mistake.”
Both of their eyes were trained on the naked, limp figure sprawled across Emperor Genichirou’s bed, his fine-featured face obscured by tousled light brown hair and his eyes shut tight against consciousness. Prince Keigo looked wounded and ravaged, Genichirou thought with a slight quirk to his full lips, but still beautiful all the same - always beautiful.
He had to possess him, he thought, and he didn’t care about any consequences.
“He will belong to me, Renji, and that is my final word on it.”
*
His master’s lover was one who was born for silks, Sanada thought as he crossed his arms across his chest and stared straight ahead; Atobe Keigo was the most sought-after actor at the court, and countless lords had vied for his attention. It was only natural that in the end, the wealthiest and charming of them, Sakaki would have won.
Sakaki had possessed Keigo for two months now, and as the lord’s most trusted warrior, Sanada had every reason to believe that both parties were satisfied with the arrangement.
Or he had been convinced of that, until Atobe Keigo had gracefully risen to his feet a mere few moments before and let his intricately embroidered silk robe fall to the floor.
“I’m going to bathe in the springs,” Keigo had purred, his eyes sharp and bright and vibrant under his long eyelashes, and his fingers trailing lightly over the samurai’s cheek. “And you’re going to join me.”
Sanada was certain as he slowly followed the actor across the smooth stone walk and into the hot water, that this was clearly the beginning of the end of his career.
*
The night was when he lived.
His days were always slept away, but he owned the nights; he stalked, he fed, he lived after the moon rose in the sky. Sometimes he hunted for something new, something fresh and pretty at the dark, pulsing clubs that were populated by both the mortal and the immortal, but more and more he found exactly what he needed in one place.
“Scream for me,” he whispered, and his eyes glowed red as his hands slid with deceptive gentleness over his human lover’s delicate skin. This boy had fascinated him for so long, Sanada thought, for more years than he had been a vampire. Now he belonged to him.
“Scream my name, Keigo,” he said again as he pressed rough and hard inside the shuddering body under him. This was not the first time he had taken his pet that night; the torn apart and ravaged sheets tossed around them and the hot tears that continued to leak out of Keigo’s blue eyes were testament to that.
“Sanada, please,” whimpered the human as his head tossed on the mattress. The tears slid down cheeks that were flushed from too much pleasure and his legs wrapped tightly around Sanada’s hips. “Please, I need…”
“You need,” Sanada repeated, his voice low and cruel in Keigo’s ear. “You need so much, and I’m the only one who gives it to you.”
Atobe Keigo screamed, his head falling back and his eyes going wide and sightless as he shattered into a thousand pieces under Sanada.
Somehow, Sanada thought as his red eyes glittered with lust and triumph, his name was always such a hopeless sound on Keigo’s lips.
*
Keigo would always collapse after, his shoulder-length light brown hair damp and his skin slick with sweat
“You’re too demanding,” he’d gasp as his fingers slowly relaxed his grip on the black leather arms of the sofa in Sanada’s office. “I’m supposed to be…at rehearsal now, Genichirou.”
“You work too hard, Keigo,” Sanada always said. “World-famous pop idols need to rest too, you know.”
Keigo’s only reply was a low moan as Sanada traced his tongue over the perfect rose he had tattooed at the very base of his spine, his musician’s fingers clutching at slippery leather once again.
*
Sanada liked to watch him sleep.
He hadn’t always watched the Athenian prince at night; he’d left him alone when he’d first arrived, until there had been a certain incident involving three of his foot soldiers attacking the imprisoned prince in the gardens. From then on it had become obvious that Keigo of Athens was too pretty a boy to be left unguarded, and Sanada had taken on the job of watching him personally.
Keigo was always a beauty, he thought, almost feminine but not girlish, but somehow even more so in sleep. His eyelashes curled, and his skin seemed almost translucent when the moonlight poured across it. There was something about Keigo, he thought, that made him wish he had words like those the Athenian poets used.
But he didn’t.
“Genichirou,” murmured the prince in sleep, tossing his head restlessly on the pillows, and Sanada smiled at the use of his given name; no one in Sparta used his given name, except for the king’s strategist and his closest friend, and this proud little prince.
“Shh,” he murmured as he leaned over the sleeping boy and brushed back his silky light hair. “It’s alright. Just sleep.”
Sanada smiled as Keigo seemed to almost visibly relax, and his fingers trailed away from the soft hair down even softer skin. He knelt motionless next to the tall bed.
He wouldn’t sleep for a long while that night.
OMG, actually creativity for SanaAto here. The world may end. Or the semester could just be winding down. One of the two.
His advisors meant well, of course, but the Emperor was not one to be gainsaid.
“Your Majesty,” began the closest and wisest of them in a low, carefully even murmur. “I believe doing that to the prince would be a mistake.”
Both of their eyes were trained on the naked, limp figure sprawled across Emperor Genichirou’s bed, his fine-featured face obscured by tousled light brown hair and his eyes shut tight against consciousness. Prince Keigo looked wounded and ravaged, Genichirou thought with a slight quirk to his full lips, but still beautiful all the same - always beautiful.
He had to possess him, he thought, and he didn’t care about any consequences.
“He will belong to me, Renji, and that is my final word on it.”
*
His master’s lover was one who was born for silks, Sanada thought as he crossed his arms across his chest and stared straight ahead; Atobe Keigo was the most sought-after actor at the court, and countless lords had vied for his attention. It was only natural that in the end, the wealthiest and charming of them, Sakaki would have won.
Sakaki had possessed Keigo for two months now, and as the lord’s most trusted warrior, Sanada had every reason to believe that both parties were satisfied with the arrangement.
Or he had been convinced of that, until Atobe Keigo had gracefully risen to his feet a mere few moments before and let his intricately embroidered silk robe fall to the floor.
“I’m going to bathe in the springs,” Keigo had purred, his eyes sharp and bright and vibrant under his long eyelashes, and his fingers trailing lightly over the samurai’s cheek. “And you’re going to join me.”
Sanada was certain as he slowly followed the actor across the smooth stone walk and into the hot water, that this was clearly the beginning of the end of his career.
*
The night was when he lived.
His days were always slept away, but he owned the nights; he stalked, he fed, he lived after the moon rose in the sky. Sometimes he hunted for something new, something fresh and pretty at the dark, pulsing clubs that were populated by both the mortal and the immortal, but more and more he found exactly what he needed in one place.
“Scream for me,” he whispered, and his eyes glowed red as his hands slid with deceptive gentleness over his human lover’s delicate skin. This boy had fascinated him for so long, Sanada thought, for more years than he had been a vampire. Now he belonged to him.
“Scream my name, Keigo,” he said again as he pressed rough and hard inside the shuddering body under him. This was not the first time he had taken his pet that night; the torn apart and ravaged sheets tossed around them and the hot tears that continued to leak out of Keigo’s blue eyes were testament to that.
“Sanada, please,” whimpered the human as his head tossed on the mattress. The tears slid down cheeks that were flushed from too much pleasure and his legs wrapped tightly around Sanada’s hips. “Please, I need…”
“You need,” Sanada repeated, his voice low and cruel in Keigo’s ear. “You need so much, and I’m the only one who gives it to you.”
Atobe Keigo screamed, his head falling back and his eyes going wide and sightless as he shattered into a thousand pieces under Sanada.
Somehow, Sanada thought as his red eyes glittered with lust and triumph, his name was always such a hopeless sound on Keigo’s lips.
*
Keigo would always collapse after, his shoulder-length light brown hair damp and his skin slick with sweat
“You’re too demanding,” he’d gasp as his fingers slowly relaxed his grip on the black leather arms of the sofa in Sanada’s office. “I’m supposed to be…at rehearsal now, Genichirou.”
“You work too hard, Keigo,” Sanada always said. “World-famous pop idols need to rest too, you know.”
Keigo’s only reply was a low moan as Sanada traced his tongue over the perfect rose he had tattooed at the very base of his spine, his musician’s fingers clutching at slippery leather once again.
*
Sanada liked to watch him sleep.
He hadn’t always watched the Athenian prince at night; he’d left him alone when he’d first arrived, until there had been a certain incident involving three of his foot soldiers attacking the imprisoned prince in the gardens. From then on it had become obvious that Keigo of Athens was too pretty a boy to be left unguarded, and Sanada had taken on the job of watching him personally.
Keigo was always a beauty, he thought, almost feminine but not girlish, but somehow even more so in sleep. His eyelashes curled, and his skin seemed almost translucent when the moonlight poured across it. There was something about Keigo, he thought, that made him wish he had words like those the Athenian poets used.
But he didn’t.
“Genichirou,” murmured the prince in sleep, tossing his head restlessly on the pillows, and Sanada smiled at the use of his given name; no one in Sparta used his given name, except for the king’s strategist and his closest friend, and this proud little prince.
“Shh,” he murmured as he leaned over the sleeping boy and brushed back his silky light hair. “It’s alright. Just sleep.”
Sanada smiled as Keigo seemed to almost visibly relax, and his fingers trailed away from the soft hair down even softer skin. He knelt motionless next to the tall bed.
He wouldn’t sleep for a long while that night.
OMG, actually creativity for SanaAto here. The world may end. Or the semester could just be winding down. One of the two.