For veleda_k: Peacemaker Kurogane (Akesato/Yamanami)
Title: Behind the Mask of You and I
Author: treneka
Fandom: Peacemaker Kurogane
Pairing: Akesato/Yamanami
Written For: veleda_k
Wordcount: Kiss (250)
As a courtesan of the first class, she could certainly refuse him; not her body, perhaps, but her lips. There are ploys and tricks a whore learns to hide from love. There are ploys and tricks a ninja learns to hide from enemies, and he is hers, in the professional sense, but she is still a woman beneath all her wigs and titles, and when he wants her, she wants him. That is all that matters.
But their time is short.
"I'm sorry I have to go," he says. He always says that, but he means it. His gaze is fixed on her as though memorizing every feature.
"Then please, come back to me soon." It's a courtesan's response, said with a false smile on plum-blossom lips. They both know the language of falsely mild expressions.
For a moment it seems he will leave properly: formal and careless as a man is supposed to be after a night of purchased pleasure. The face he wears outside is always so polished. He tucks his abacus behind the knot of his belt, picks up his jacket from the floor. He turns to nod good-bye, but his expression falters.
Then Akesato's mask cracks and the pain seeps through, and Yamanami drops his jacket to take her in his arms again. He holds her tightly. She tastes his lips. They cling to each other for a moment, kissing, drinking truth from each other's mouths before reality can return them to their lies.
Author: treneka
Fandom: Peacemaker Kurogane
Pairing: Akesato/Yamanami
Written For: veleda_k
Wordcount: Kiss (250)
As a courtesan of the first class, she could certainly refuse him; not her body, perhaps, but her lips. There are ploys and tricks a whore learns to hide from love. There are ploys and tricks a ninja learns to hide from enemies, and he is hers, in the professional sense, but she is still a woman beneath all her wigs and titles, and when he wants her, she wants him. That is all that matters.
But their time is short.
"I'm sorry I have to go," he says. He always says that, but he means it. His gaze is fixed on her as though memorizing every feature.
"Then please, come back to me soon." It's a courtesan's response, said with a false smile on plum-blossom lips. They both know the language of falsely mild expressions.
For a moment it seems he will leave properly: formal and careless as a man is supposed to be after a night of purchased pleasure. The face he wears outside is always so polished. He tucks his abacus behind the knot of his belt, picks up his jacket from the floor. He turns to nod good-bye, but his expression falters.
Then Akesato's mask cracks and the pain seeps through, and Yamanami drops his jacket to take her in his arms again. He holds her tightly. She tastes his lips. They cling to each other for a moment, kissing, drinking truth from each other's mouths before reality can return them to their lies.