CONTRABAND chapter 1/5 UruhaAoi NC-17
Title: Contraband -クオントラバンド-
Author:
nokutetsu
Beta: rawrstarr
Disclaimer: the GazettE are owned by the highest bidder. I'm poor.
Pairing: AoiUruha
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In Ancient Egypt, the drought is becoming lethal to Uruha's people, and once more, he's forced to sacrifice a virgin to the gods in hopes of rain. Aoi, a dancer and a slave, is one of the prettiest virgins within the palace. If Uruha is to help prevent Aoi from his inevitable death, he must help him lose his virginity, but what happens when it becomes more than that?
“My Lord,” A voice calls from behind Uruha, making dark eyes flitter to the entrance across the room. It’s then he notices Kai‘s familiar face, it‘s usual spark now sombre and tired, a look Uruha has been seeing more and more among his people. “The people are getting restless.” Kai continues, voice a low murmur as his eyes dart across the room, as if talking or some dirty, unspoken secret. Uruha nodded slowly, ready for the situation, because it‘s not like he hasn‘t been expecting it. It hasn’t rained for days, weeks even, and although he’s been sending slaves to the river, it’s not enough. Crops are dying, and if his people aren’t fed then the community will slowly perish. It’s a thought Uruha has been worrying over as well, and he takes a longer, deeper sip of his wine.
“You have an idea.” Uruha states. It’s not a question, because there’s a look on the other man’s face that is grave, but not as pessimistic as it normally is. The torches on the wall flicker for a moment, casting long, dark shadows across the quarters, and for a moment the Pharaoh is sure he can see almost closure in his servant’s eyes as he looks at him, shifting on his feet and offering him a small smile.
“It’s not an idea, not really.” Kai starts, and Uruha runs his hands over his bed sheets, deep red silk smooth and cool under his fingers. It’s another moment before the brunette speaks again, voice level and certain. “I think we should sacrifice another.”
“Another? Kai, we won’t have any left if we keep going. We’ve sacrificed 4 virgins, and nothing has come.” A wave of a smooth, groomed hand and Uruha is laying down, stretching his form almost lazily across the wide bed. He isn’t surprised. Perhaps he should have seen this coming, from the way even the guards have been looking at him almost expectantly these mornings, but not one of them dared say anything. No one ever did, apart from Kai and a couple of others. They feared for their lives, and even then, Kai wouldn’t only hint and advise, not bold enough to actually push his point of view. “The gods don’t seem to wish for more. All we can do is keep sending slaves to the oasis and Nile 30 miles east until they decide we’re worthy.”
“You can line some up if you want, if you think it’s best Kai.” The blonde murmurs. He’s past caring now, only wishing there could be some much needed water, and even if he doesn’t believe in their sacrifices anymore, he’s willing to do it to keep the people quiet. It’s times like these Uruha hates, wishing his father was still alive without disease, to take over these situations instead. “I’ll chose one at dawn. Have them ready in the main chambers.”
“I’ll have Ruki on it right away, my lord.” Kai smiles once more, before he lowers his gaze to the ground in a polite bow, something Uruha is so accustomed to he doesn‘t even bother responding anymore. He watches Kai leave silently, the guard at the door giving his own courteous bow before he’s escorting Kai out of his chambers, the heavy sound of shoes on stone slab echoing through the halls. Maybe Kai was happy about Uruha’s approval, wanting some close and hope that they will survive the summer like the rest of the city. It’s stressing, but Uruha can’t really find it in himself to worry too much, because really, they have water, albeit many miles away in the form of a river.
But if 1 life will set the people at rest for a while, however inevitable, then it’s something Uruha’s willing to try. However pointless it may seem.
I feel dizzy.
Aoi lets his lips part, throat dry and sore as he tosses his head back, and he can feel a thin bead of sweat making it down his hip. It’s far too hot lately, even inside the cool chambers of the royal palace where he works, or maybe it’s just his excessive movement, or the many bodies in the room? His bare feet shift slightly on the sandstone, hips shifting elegantly as his hands wind and unwind over his head, moving his body for the royals' viewing pleasure. It’s a job he hates, but is none the less grateful for, and although it’s long and tiring hours, it’s no doubt much better than his friend Reita, who is no doubt stuck in the scorching heat building pyramids.
The thought makes the raven bite the inside of his cheek, giving a tired, but perfectly masked smile to one of the high-priests as they walk by. His 15 hour shift is almost over, only half an hour to go before everybody goes home for the night, and Aoi can’t wait until he’s allowed to wash and have something to eat. It’s one more perk to the job aside from being inside and away from the heat. The meals are never anything fancy, but they’re fresh enough, when many people are starving under the drought. The thought doesn’t comfort Aoi any though, looking over the many party goers with an envy he always suppressed.
They were all born rich, flaunting it all for everything they had, eating wealthy when most were starving. He was lucky for his feminine curves and soft features, allowing him into such a place to dance for these people, but he would never accept them. Their attitudes were horrible, buying and selling people as if they were nothing but mere objects, himself included. He was an asset to the palace, eye candy and nothing else, 15 hours every day, all year. And all they would do is party all night, kiss and feel each other up with no shame, as if the city wasn’t dying, slowly but surely.
Another wave of exhaustion hits him then, swallowing so roughly it hurts him, skin dripping with sweat from his platform of sandstone. He’s at his limit, stomach muscles aching and hips sore, straining his neck to see any indication he’s allowed to excuse himself. It takes only a minute or so before a figure is moving along the platforms, informing the women they can rest off and visit their children and husbands. It doesn’t bother Aoi that he’s seen as one of them, and it doesn’t seem to bother the other’s either, flirting with him occasionally and shamelessly watching him move without a care.
When he’s finally excused with the rest of the women, he makes sure to keep his elegant composure until he’s fully excused himself from the hall, the soft pattering of feet on the cool stone soothing as the torches provide orange light. There are doors everywhere, each one leading to a small bed-sit with 1 room, and a shared bathroom for the entire hallway of entertainers. But at least it’s cool, despite the lack of windows and space. Aoi’s room is located around half way down the hallway, and once he arrives he lets himself in quietly, lighting a candle and setting it to the side to let him see his home.
There isn’t much inside the room at all, Aoi knows, just a straw bed with a small box at the end on the floor, containing his few belongings. But he’s delighted to see a small bowl and plate containing some basic food and clean water, and he drops himself on his bed as he reaches for them, greedily drinking down liquid as he breaks apart some bread. Maybe he shouldn’t eat it so quickly and savour it, but time isn’t something Aoi has, mainly only having time for much needed sleep before a small, flavourless breakfast and another gruelling day of working.
So Aoi goes to bed early, as usual, stripping off his silk and jewellery and elaborate clothing, pulling on some worn, tattered black pants before crawling into bed and blowing the candle out. The room quickly descends to darkness, his vision going completely blind, soothing his mind and his eyelids shut of their own accord, wrapping unconsciousness around him like a reassuring blanket. He’s asleep almost as soon as his head hit’s the bed, deep in sleep to rest his fatigued body.
It’s almost 4 hours later that Aoi is woken up.
It’s not a gentle wakening, either. The screech of his door creaking loudly against stone jerks him awake like a bucket of cold water, his senses instantly on the alert and eyeing the entrance with wide, fearful eyes. Maybe it’s a killer? They’re not uncommon, but somehow, breaking into their lord’s palace seemed hard, so the insecurity is gone almost as soon as it arises, but when Ruki comes through the door, his heart is hammering again, clutching the sheets to his chest so hard his knuckles turn white.
Because he knows who Ruki is, what he does in this palace, and as much as he wishes the blonde man has made a mistake with his room, he knows he couldn’t possibly. The look on the shorter man’s face only confirms it, and he’s pulling the door open fully, candle in hand. “Up.” He orders, deep, hoarse voice leaving no room for argument. “The Pharaoh wants to see you.”
“W-why?” Aoi asks softly, too scared to raise his voice in fear he’ll be reprimanded, or worse. Ruki isn’t the kind of man to be patient and understanding, and a roll of his eyes proves Aoi right, pulling the sheets away impatiently and pulling Aoi’s hand quickly.
“Why do you think? We need rain Shiroyama. We need a sacrifice, and Our Lord is going to choose one. So get your ass up so I can get you ready.” Ruki snaps, and his tone leaves no room for argument, no time for upset and panic. So Aoi gets up, clad in only a pair of black pants, stumbling after Ruki out of the door and into the hallway beyond, body obviously not as awake as his mind is at the moment. But he can’t relax enough to control himself, using all his energy to keep up with the lithe man, shaking slightly as he fiddles with his nails. Just because he’s needing a virgin doesn’t mean he’ll choose me. He tells himself, over and over, feeling conscious of his body for the first time in a long time.
“Get in the bath, wash yourself. Be quick.” Ruki murmurs, and Aoi shivers when the bathroom is quickly opened, the familiar tub and cleaning products sitting there, inanimate. He doesn’t think that many people see a lot of his figure each night, or that they eye it up when they want, but somehow dropping his pants to get in the bath with Ruki there is...terrifying. He can feel those eyes on him, taking in every detail of him with a meticulous gaze, calculating him as if he was a prized object.
It’s that same gaze that makes the dark haired dancer hurry his movements, washing his hair and body with shaking, clammy hands and a desire not to get Ruki mad. At sacrifice executions, the other man always scared him, seeming to enjoy his job much more than most. Of course, it was for the gods, but it was more than that, more twisted. Ruki was just weird, plain and simple.
He dries himself off just as quick, all in under 15 minutes, wrapping the cotton around himself and taking in a deep breath, jogging to keep up with the blonde as he’s led out into the hallway once again. He doesn’t dare question where they’re going, because he’s pretty sure of it, and his suspicions are proved right when he’s led into an elaborate dressing room. Or at least that’s what Aoi presumes it to be, full of shiny, expensive silk, much like his own work outfit, but more elaborate.
“Lord Takashima will be surprised to see a man standing among them,” Ruki snickers, almost condescending and insulting in it’s tone, but Aoi doesn’t flinch, resisting the urge to push him away when the towel is snatched away from him, leaving him bare once more. “But that makes you stand out, doesn’t it, mm?”
The dancer isn’t quite sure what Ruki means by that, but if it’s meant to make him nervous, it does. Terribly. But once more, he doesn’t talk, doesn’t ask questions, just sits there as various outfits are held up against him and judged, make-up products taken out and lay across a shelf near by, until the shorter seems to decide on an elaborate red, Arabian outfit, overly revealing and expensive. He’s dressed into it quickly and without fuss, cloth pushed over his hips and shoulders with precision before he’s pushed into some kind of chair. It’s all happening so fast Aoi barely has time to really register it, dazed and out of it, as Ruki does his face and hair, occasionally chuckling to himself as if it was the funniest thing in the world.
But it’s anything but funny, as Ruki finishes, taking a step back to admire his handy work before gripping Aoi’s arm once more, obviously not seeing any value in him other than a pretty ornament. “Now, line up with the rest of them and stand still.” He warns, voice sharp and clear, as he’s shoved forward, to a connecting door within the room. “You will only address him as ‘My Lord’, don’t speak unless spoken to, bow when he talks to you, and stay poised and elegant. I don’t think I need to tell that to a dancer like you though.” He rhymes off, and Aoi almost whimpers when the voice is being said right next to his ear, the closeness scaring him and making him self conscious.
And then he’s pushed into the room, with around 5 other women, all dressed in similar fashion, and Aoi thinks he’s going to be sick. Ruki isn’t behind him anymore, and he somehow manages to stand next to the other women, who are all looking just as frightful as he is, fighting to stand still and not fidget with nerves. And the wait seems to last forever, or at least to Aoi, who, by the time the Pharaoh actually arrives, is nothing short of a nervous wreck, breathing shallow and fingers curling slightly, his deep red nails digging into his palm.
Aoi doesn’t look at the Pharaoh right away, instead eyeing a spot on the wall across him himself, because he knows he’ll most likely screw up if he makes eye contact. He’s only ever seen the man from a distance, and despite his young age, everyone in the empire knows he doesn’t have any qualms in handing out severe punishment. But he can hear the footsteps, so loud, echoing in the room as he walks over, a steady beat until they stop. Even though he’s looking at the floor, Aoi can see his shoes in the corner of his vision, and he’s glad the young king started at the other end of the row, giving him some time to get it together before his time has come.
The wait is far too short in Aoi’s opinion, before the soft pattering of the young ruler is coming to a stop in front of him, and he knows he’s expected to look up. Uruha had taken his time, taking his time to look each women over thoroughly before moving on to the next, occasionally asking some questions and humming in response. Aoi can feel those eyes on him when he finally looks up to greet the other man politely, and when he does, he can’t move, frozen, lips parting in a silent gasp as he sees just how young the other truly was.
He knew of his age, but Uruha looks so much more innocent than that, pouty lips and smooth skin, coupled with gorgeous honey blonde hair and eyes covered with smoky make-up. He’s slightly taller than himself, Aoi notes, and he’s currently looking over the dancer with a detailed eye, fingers touching his jaw to turn his dead, exposing his neck and collar bone. “What do you do?” He asks, and once more the dark haired dancer is surprised by how deep his voice is, despite his pretty features, perhaps even more fair than his own.
“I’m a dancer, My Lord,” Aoi murmurs quietly, and he feels himself shuddering ever so slightly when a surprised sound meets his ears. But it’s not for the reason he thought, and when he looks up again he can see a sort of interest in the other’s eyes, piqued by curiosity. Aoi isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing however, because surely being a dancer isn’t that interesting, unless something else has captured the other’s interest.
“You’re a man?” The blonde chuckles, confirming Aoi’s thoughts, and the raven stares at him for a minute, wondering why he would state such an obvious statement. It takes his distracted mind a full minute to realise, to remember he wasn’t what most men around here were like, and he offers the Pharaoh a small smile in response, not quite sure how to reply to that. Traditionally it’s women who are sacrificed, so perhaps he’s clean now that the king is aware, and his hopes lift when the blonde gives him once more glance over before moving down the row again, nodding at a brunette women close to the end. “Her.” He murmurs, and there’s a pained sob as the woman is grabbed by the guards, but Aoi doesn’t dare move to help her. Such an action would be foolish, he thinks, and so he can only watch as she’s drawn out of the room, Uruha’s disinterested gaze following her before returning to them.
“You are dismissed,” He murmurs again, in the same bored tone he’s been using so far, nodding to Ruki and Kai who are standing quietly in the corner. And then he’s leaving, not even sparing them a second glance as the door is shut behind him, and then shaky sighs of relief are filling the room, women patting each other’s shoulders in comfort before Ruki is snorting and pulling them away.
“Back to your rooms. And give us the clothes back.” He barks, in that same authoritative voice Aoi has come to hate. He turns on his heels and follows regardless, head lowered submissively along with the other slaves, single file out of a door he hadn’t noticed before. He doesn’t care to notice all these secret doors and entrances, his heart still beating rapidly against his smooth chest with relief. The adrenaline is leaving him though, his previous exhausted state reaching his mind once more as they’re led to the room they were all dressed in.
Aoi changes back into his pants almost mechanically, not paying any mind to the women who are watching him from the corner of their eye. He doesn’t have the energy to feel self conscious, excusing himself hurriedly and rubbing the mascara off his face as he goes. The whole night seems to have passed in a bit of a blur, leaving him feeling even more tired than before he went to bed, and he has no idea how he’s going to be able to work in the evening after he wakes up.
By the time it’s 4pm, Aoi is absolutely exhausted.
He’s starting work again, entering when only a few guests have arrived, taking his place on the stone platform gracefully. He’s thankful that he was allowed an extra hour of sleep, the whole city gathering to witness another sacrifice to the gods, but of course, Aoi didn’t show. Aside from the fact he was too busy resting, just seeing the woman would make him feel physically ill. To know it could have been him standing there, burning to death in her place, it sickened him. He only made it by a stoke of pure luck and nothing else, surviving by the skin of his teeth.
The party is overcrowded that night, no doubt in celebration of the event that took place just that morning. Aoi tries not to think about it as he dances, swaying his hips and slender back with the flexibility of a snake, putting off the innocent seduction he’s come to manage so well within the last year he’s been working here. He’s so used to it he doesn’t even notice any more, smiling when a few gazes brush past him. He doesn’t even notice Uruha’s face among them, too unfocused, wondering about his family and Reita, until the king is right in front of him, watching him with an innocently curious tilted head, and when he does take notice, Aoi flinches, eyes widening as he sees the blonde so close.
“You look exhausted.” The Pharaoh says, but Aoi doesn’t stop dancing, just bowing his head respectfully.
“I’m alright, my lord.” Aoi tells him, but he can’t really say anything else. And he is. It’s been hours, and he is exhausted, but the gorgeous king’s eyes make him try a little harder, though he’s not sure why. He’s alive, but perhaps it’s because he knows they won’t stop killing, sacrificing people like him. He doesn’t want to die. So he tries slightly harder, not wanting to exert himself and not wanting to look like every other dancer in the room, to impress him.
“It would be such a waste if you died, a pretty thing like you.” Uruha goes on again, and this time Aoi makes eye contact, lips parting in slight surprise. Was this why Uruha spared him? He can feel his cheeks flushing as he casts a look around the room, before returning to the Pharaoh shyly. It’s a comfort, somehow, knowing if it were to ever happen again, Uruha might feel less inclined to kill him.
“Thank you, Lord Takashima.” He bows, hips slowing to a swift grind, because he gets the feeling Uruha isn’t going to leave just yet. The younger seems intent on standing and talking to him, or maybe he’s just letting his eyes wander? He seems to be interested in the fact Aoi is a man, he’s noted, but he doesn’t look too much into it. Uruha is way out of his league, out of anyone’s league, so why bother?
“Would you like to be immune to sacrifice?” The blonde speaks again, and this time Aoi is fully listening, hips stopping and eyes fully curious. Yes. Yes he would like that, very much. Who wouldn’t? The fact Uruha was hinting he could give him such a thing, he’s fascinated, fingers curled against his chest as he gives the royal his full attention.
“How?” He whispers, before realising belatedly that in a crowded room, Uruha can’t hear him. But it seems the Pharaoh understands his question anyway, smiling and taking a step closer, motioning with a finger for Aoi to come closer as well, as if to share some dirty secret. And Aoi can’t seem to help himself, getting on his hands and knees to lean down on the stone, swallowing nervously as Uruha’s breath fans his ear, warm and even, but Aoi can also feel the smile, confident as expected from someone of Uruha’s calibre.
“We can only sacrifice virgins,” The blonde tells him, and Aoi frowns when a hand touches his ankle lightly. It’s just a fleeting touch, barely there, but it’s enough to make him anxious, nodding slowly to let Uruha know he understands. “I can take it away from you, wouldn’t you like that? To be able to live without worry? To lose yourself to a Pharaoh?”
“Y-you mean, have...sex with you?” Aoi whispers, eyes wide and shoulders tense, understanding but not quite, mind working in overdrive to put the pieces together. Uruha wished to lay with him, to take his purity and tarnish it. And as much as the thought frightened him, who was he to deny him? He could surely die if he did, and Uruha seemed to be gentle, despite his status. He needed to live, to thrive, to earn money for Reita and his family, to escape this life and move forward. But is he really willing to...sleep with him?
“I...I’ll do it.”