GP Fortnight Day 11

[sarahofcroydon]

Welcome to the eleventh day of Golden Pair Fortnight:
Polyamorous GP (!?)



Threesomes? In character? But aren't the golden pair meant to be good boys?
It's true, we don't often get well done threesomes or polyamorous relationships featuring the golden pair, but boy can it be done and done well. And be hot. We'll show you how. >D

Expect to find: New fanart by ponderosa, a beautiful new fic by pixxers set in the 18th century, and hopefully, convicing evidence!

Doubles for three, anybody? Throughout the series, both Eiji and Oishi have made some pretty strong attachments with other characters. Momo, for starters... they've both had a pretty influential role on his growth as a player (to say nothing of all the merchandise featuring these three!) Eiji contantly snuggles Ryoma, Oishi likes to father him.... Oishi also loves to chat with Shishido, and Eiji has a 'strong' relationship with Gakuto. An attatchment doesn't neccesarily have to be loving, right?

You'd think that the Golden Pair would be completely monogamous, given their lovey relationship. However, I'm really starting to believe that it's because of their 'pure love' nature that they could enter into a relationship with a third party. ;3

For a start, I don't believe that Eiji and Oishi are conservative people. Eiji might be a bit tight-arsed sometimes, but he's got to be used to sharing his living space with people, sharing a room with his brother and living with three more siblings on top of that. (And potentially very familiar with the body and all it's functions... I'm not sure what the etiquette would be for dealing with early morning erections, but I'm sure Eiji's used to it all. 0_o' He'd be the one hyper-aware of everything that was happening in the clubhouse! :P) He's also really interested in relationships, and apparently anything goes... remember this...?



Hideous screencap, I know, but interesting that Taka-san's mother features in Eiji's range of 'people to be attracted to'. :P

Eiji needs reassurance and security (from Oishi) but once comfortable in that, he would love the creativity provided by a third party. Someone to mess around with, to bitch with... sure, he does that with Oishi but I'm sure he'd be quite happy to oscillate between the two and facilitate their relationship. He loves fixing things.

Oishi is a traditional sort of person, but as we've discussed before, once he thinks something is right he will devote himself utterly to it. And if there's a person who' s in need of some of the boundless love Oishi's shown himself capable of giving, or a person who will make Eiji happy, or improve things between them, I'm sure he'd embrace them completely.

Also, it's all about role. Take Momo for example, imagine that they're all a little bit older...
Eiji and Momo love to hang out, do boy things, lounge around in their underwear in summer and read their sister's girly mags, anything. Eiji really thrives on the fun that this kind of relationship brings.
Oishi is someone who needs to feel needed, who loves to give and take responsibility. He's already helped Momo to grow a great deal, being his support and mentor in the 'doubles for three' episode. Momo respects Oishi a lot, and admires him deeply. 
Eiji and Oishi might be secure enough in their relationship to include Momo, to share with him that which they share already. The sort of people that they all are allows for care and support in all directions, the boundaries to their relationships are already in place, with Oishi at the head.

Another example I like (mostly because it's a gigantic advertisment) is including Gakuto. The discovery that the golden pair + 1 made such a fantastic sexy threesome came from personal experience at seishun_high, an RP that had Oishi, Eiji and Gakuto a librarian, history teacher and drama instructor respectively at a run-down high school.
Both Gakuto and Kikumaru have an incredible thirst for bitching, and irritate eachother at every opportunity, if only to hide the incredible lust between them. The arrival of Oishi as the school's new softly spoken handsome librarian causes some consternation, however, as Kikumaru just about falls over his own feet to impress him. Gakuto lusts after their incredibly loving relationship, and... well. You'll just have to see.
Here's a little sexy ficlet by pixxers, that will set the scene of the lusty redheads perfectly. :P
And a list of all the logs. I know that recommending your own RP is even worse a taboo than recommending your own fic, but damn, it's fun. And sexy. ;3

"It's called professionalism, moron."
"It's called sexual frustration, you pantywaist."

The nicest guy in the universe and the two bitchy redheads. How could it NOT be hot?



by ponderosa

In fact, alternative polyamorous pairings work terribly well in alternative universes!!! Can't you imagine Oishi and Eiji as two samurai, whose protege, Ryoma, is theirs to seduce on the balmy summer nights? Or a school camp? Oishi, Eiji and Tezuka have to share a cabin... shame that the golden pair naturally gravitate to eachother's beds in the middle of the night... not such a shame and Tezuka is shocked to find them cuddled over him! 
Captain Atobe of an 18th century naval frigate might also take a special interest in two of his lieutenants. Perhaps he notices their charming camaraderie and wants some of it for himself.... :O
Anyway, once again, the wonderful pixxers has demonstrated the beauty of it all, in a gorgeous new fic. It doesn't need any introduction, it does that quite well by itself. ;3

Darling Oishi

by Pixxers

“Like this. See, Oishi?”

Gakuto hesitated; lingering in the hallway to listen in on the conversation taking place just on the other side of his employer’s door. While that voice - that familiar, detestable voice - was not anything that Gakuto would shirk his responsibilities to listen to, he found that he was quite unable to quell his interest in his employer’s response.

Gakuto bent - careful and quiet - to set his tray on the floor at his feet that he might move closer to the door that kept him from Oishi.

Oishi and Kikumaru.

Scowling and somewhat thankful for the cover of darkness in the hallway, Gakuto stepped forward, touch light and ears straining for every exchange. Inside the room, Oishi Shuuichirou stood before a full length mirror, beautiful, long fingers tangled in the length of gnarled silk he’d attempted to wind about his neck. His posture, even in the privacy of his own bedchamber, was the very picture of strict, social perfection.

Gakuto coveted him in the most unacceptable of ways. Ways that would get him sacked and shipped out of the Oishi household in less time than it took for him to gather his meager belongings and set out on his own if ever he were discovered.

And then there was Kikumaru, moving forward to bat Oishi’s hands away, happy to secure his friend’s ascot himself when his demonstration hadn’t been enough. If gender and societal constraints weren’t enough of a deterrent, Kikumaru’s presence certainly would have been, for Oishi coveted Kikumaru as Gakuto coveted Oishi. That Kikumaru did not see it or, worse, chose not to see it, only served to lower his status that much further in Gakuto’s eyes.

The two men stood close - too close - while Kikumaru made short work of Oishi’s necktie. Gakuto’s angle, and the distance between them, did nothing toward concealing the yearning in Oishi’s eyes. He stood, straight and still, while Kikumaru attended him and it was with no small surge of anger that Gakuto realized that it was his responsibility - his right - to dress Oishi and make him ready for the evening’s entertainment.

Reluctantly pulling his attention away from his beloved to bestow a bit of it on Kikumaru - who was so incredibly undeserving that to look upon him when Oishi was present made him feel dirty - Gakuto was forced to admit that the two men complimented one another beautifully. While his clothing was admirable enough, Gakuto was not fooled by its flash and sparkle. Kikumaru’s family was not - and would never be - as well off as Oishi’s and anyone who cared to notice it would have instantly been able. It was Gakuto’s hateful opinion - particularly during moments like these - that Kikumaru continued to plague Oishi with his presence in a blatant effort to further himself socially. Gakuto did not care if he were being unreasonably hateful. His thoughts were his own and he reasoned that, as long as he did not call Kikumaru out in front of their peers, he was perfectly within his rights to think as ill of him as he liked.

Retrieving his tray quietly, Gakuto nudged the heavy door open, spearing Kikumaru with a guarded, reproachful glance before forcing a smile for Oishi.

“I’d assumed that you might wish for tea before the party, Oishi,” he explained, setting the tray on Oishi’s bureau before sweeping him with an appraising glance. “You don’t need any assistance with your ascot, then?”

Oishi smiled, sneaking a surreptitious glance in his friend’s direction as he shook his head. “Ah, no thank you, Mukahi. I believe Kikumaru has handled it well enough, wouldn’t you say?”

No, Gakuto wouldn’t say. Oishi’s smile, however - that expectant, hopeful expression that spoke plainly of his desire for an effortless, non-confrontational evening - overruled whatever sharp retort had been poised on the tip of Gakuto’s tongue.

His silence, and the tight smile that accompanied it, were certainly not indicative of his feelings on the subject and he studiously avoided eye contact with Kikumaru when he stepped forward to straighten the knot of Oishi’s ascot.

While he’d decided to keep his scathing remarks to himself, Gakuto was not so willing as to allow Kikumaru the last word - such as it was.

Oishi laughed nervously, smiling down at his manservant - holding his gaze for a moment - and it wasn’t until Oishi turned to check his appearance one last time that he glanced at Kikumaru. To his surprise, the other man was staring directly at him, some inscrutable expression on his face and Gakuto was only barely able to resist taunting him with a sneer.

For all Kikumaru’s seeming indifference, Gakuto knew that there was no love lost between them. What continued to confound Gakuto, however, was Kikumaru’s apparent ignorance when it came to Oishi’s true feelings where he was concerned. The way Kikumaru watched Gakuto - so silently amused - was reason enough to suspect that he’d correctly guessed at Gakuto’s preoccupation with his employer. If a stranger’s love was so easily recognized, why, then, was it so difficult to understand the longing in Oishi’s eyes - a man that Kikumaru should have known as one might know a brother?

Gakuto could not, given the truths of Kikumaru’s character, imagine that he was unable to recognize the depth in Oishi’s eyes. It was more likely that he’d realized Oishi’s feelings and was simply unwilling to return them. And so it went on, this friendship that Gakuto was forced to endure - watching from the wings with an aching heart and the certainty that he would never be enough - Oishi so cautiously hopeful and Kikumaru so casually unaware.

As certain as Gakuto was that all the world was a stage that he might one day grace, the drama unfolding just before him was a farce that he could have happily done without.

Kikumaru turned away, making an offhand comment regarding the skirts that might be theirs to lift that night, and Oishi followed. The tips of his ears were red and he did not respond.

Eyes narrowed, hatred a pure, consuming fire in his heart, Gakuto wondered if Oishi realized that Kikumaru’s comment had not been meant for him.

***

For the next several hours, Gakuto did what he could to busy himself in Oishi’s bedchamber. Folding clean linen, emptying and refilling the porcelain pitcher that sat on his bureau, turning down his bed and laying out the bedwarmer. It felt as though no time had passed whatsoever when Gakuto curled up in the window seat, wondering if Oishi had ever considered that a person made a much better bedwarmer than copper and coals. Even more disheartening was the idea that he had considered it and was, even now, attempting to work out how he might persuade Kikumaru.

Gakuto sighed, resting his head against the windowpane despite the cold lurking just outside. The glass was frigid and unyielding against his face and Gakuto fought to suppress the ache in his heart as he gazed outside. Lanterns illuminated the front walkway and he was just able to make out the few carriages that were positioned nearby - drivers anticipating the needs of those guests who preferred an early evening.

While it occurred to Gakuto that he could retire to his own room for the evening if he so desired, he had no intention of sneaking down the back stairs and hallways to reach the tiny room that he shared with no one. Bigger than a broom closet but certainly not comparable to Oishi’s own bedchamber, Gakuto’s room was cold and dark no matter how many candles he lit in order to maintain some false sense of enjoyable ambiance. Much more content to sit in Oishi’s room and surround himself with comfortable things, Gakuto would somehow manage to stay awake until Oishi retired. Parties like these sometimes carried on long into the night and, regardless of the hour Gakuto sought his own bed, he would be expected to rise early, still.

His thoughts drifted, never centering on any one thing for very long before Gakuto closed his eyes and began to doze. Snug in one of Oishi’s spare blankets, he wrapped his arms around himself and fell into odd, disjointed dreams of a man that would never be his.

He slept for hours that seemed like mere minutes by the time the door opened again. Immediately awake, he surged to his feet, blanket still wrapped tightly around his shoulders. His fingers and toes were freezing - he’d let the fire go out.

“Oishi! Forgive me, I…”

Holding up a hand in a silent bid for silence, Oishi sighed and began to tug at the knot of his ascot. “Please, Mukahi. You don’t have to apologize. It’s very late.”

Without another word, Gakuto moved to spread the blanket over Oishi’s bed and retrieve his employer’s nightdress. He laid it out silently, avoiding eye contact with Oishi as he busied himself with the hearth. The fire would die in the night, Gakuto knew, but Oishi would be warm and sleeping soundly by that time.

When the flames rose to Gakuto’s satisfaction, he turned, somehow anticipating Oishi’s need for silence. Gakuto didn’t talk to fill space and, to that end, felt no particular need to bombard Oishi with polite conversation. Likely he’d had his fill of that during the course of the evening and was glad for the solitude and peace of his own bedchamber. 
He stood, dressed in white linen from neck to ankles and Gakuto’s every emotion slid to a grinding halt in the pit of his belly. Dark eyes, dark hair, tanned skin - the faint candlelight only serving to accentuate his every attribute - Oishi Shuuchiroh seemed, to Gakuto, something untouchable and perfect.

Oishi looked away first, turning to climb beneath the blankets and, finally, Gakuto stepped forward, murmuring, “But, Oishi…your bed is…”

Turning away, tugging the blankets around his shoulders and neck, Oishi’s voice was barely audible when he finally spoke. “I’ll be warm soon enough, Mukahi. Please, don’t worry over me.”

Wanting to lean over Oishi’s still form, wanting to touch his hair and smooth the blankets over him, Gakuto backed away from the bed slowly, some part of him still so hopeful that Oishi might call him back.

Glancing out the window on his way past, Gakuto saw Kikumaru, bundling into a carriage with a Countess that Gakuto recognized from previous parties Oishi had hosted. Clinging to one another and laughing uproariously, the sight they afforded was enough to make Gakuto shake his head in disgust.

While Oishi slept in a cold, lonely bed, Kikumaru was gallivanting into the night with a woman whose charms were no secret to half the men in their circle.

Idiot Kikumaru, Gakuto thought, feeling Oishi’s slight as keenly as if Kikumaru had dealt it to him. Didn’t he know that Oishi had planned the evening’s event solely in his honor?

Idiot Kikumaru.

***

Having slept just long enough to clear the cobwebs from his mind, Gakuto rose just before noon, feeling certain that Oishi would not yet have arisen. The house, as he strode along the hallways as though he were Lord and Master, was still and cold. The evening’s revelry had taken a toll on everyone, though Gakuto was certain the kitchen staff was even now preparing a brunch for the family.

He’d washed quickly, donned his best clothes and tied his shoulder length hair back with a ribbon. He might not have been a gentleman in the strictest sense of the word and he knew that he would never possess the leverage or status to lay claim to Oishi’s heart, but Gakuto had pride and would allow nothing to wrest it from him.

The shoes that clacked imperiously along the downstairs hallways were significantly lighter, their steps quieter, at the top of the steps - away from the rest of the staff’s eyes - so as not to awaken the family. Gakuto was silent when he eased Oishi’s door open and he lay his shoes just inside the doorway when he closed it again.

He turned, breath leaving him in a slow rush when he moved closer to the bed. Swathed in white and covered with the heaviest, whitest blanket Gakuto had been able to find, Oishi lay, still and perfect, against his pillows.

The shades were drawn tight, the room was stale and cold and though Gakuto was loath to make any sound that might disturb Oishi, he knew that he would need to warm the room significantly before Oishi would be able to bathe.

Standing over the bed, Gakuto folded the edge of Oishi’s blanket, trailing fingertips over the crisp crease he’d made. His fingers were dangerously, dizzyingly close to Oishi’s face and Gakuto’s heart skipped a beat when Oishi’s breath warmed the back of his hand. His stomach clenched and his groin tightened and, after a moment of near-euphoric proximity, Gakuto backed away.

He busied himself with the early morning tasks that had become habit: coaxing the flames to life in the hearth, fetching water to heat for Oishi’s bath, laying out his clothes for the day. By the time he was finished - the huge copper tub filled half-way and situated before the fire - Oishi began to stir. He rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn and murmuring into his pillow. As much as Gakuto would have liked to pretend Oishi’s still-incoherent mumbling had been a greeting meant only for him, he didn’t bother deluding himself. Kikumaru’s name was etched as deeply into his own psyche as it was in Oishi’s - it was impossible not to recognize it.

Gakuto forgave him instantly, however, the moment Oishi turned those big, sad eyes on him. It was not his place to offer comfort to Oishi, no matter that Gakuto well knew the sinking sort of disappointment one experienced when one awoke to realize the sweet, sweet dream one had passed was nothing more than the mind playing cruel, desperate tricks on the heart.

Meanly, briefly, Gakuto was tempted to rub salt into Oishi’s wounds. ‘This is what you get,’ he wanted to insist, ‘for loving him and not me.’

He didn’t, of course. Not only as to do so would result in his immediate dismissal, but rather that Gakuto would rather die than be the source of Oishi’s hurt.

“Good morning, Oishi,” Gakuto said clearly, posture ridiculously straight. As though standing taller would enable him to catch Oishi’s attention in ways he’d failed to do before.

Oishi scrubbed his eyes again, hair tousled and tangled in those ridiculously long eyelashes of his. Gakuto’s heart turned over.

“What time is it?” he asked drowsily. Faintly, Gakuto heard his belly rumble and he turned away to hide his smile.

Testing the water with his elbow, he tossed over his shoulder, “Not yet noon. By the time your bath is done, lunch will be served.”

Standing, Oishi yawned, stretching his arms overhead and causing his nightshirt to billow around his ankles. “You’re too good to me, Mukahi,” he allowed, voice soft and sincere and still attempting to cover the lingering hurt of the previous night.

Gakuto. Call me Gakuto, he wanted to insist, though he wisely answered with a non-committal smile. “Come. Your bath will grow cold.”

Gakuto stared, transfixed, as Oishi’s long, graceful fingers plucked at the buttons parading down the front of his nightshirt. He sighed and tilted his head, drawing attention to the smooth, graceful arch of his neck. Gakuto inhaled slowly.

“Last night…why can things never go according to plan, Mukahi? It’s as though the effort I expend will never be enough.”

Gakuto didn’t ask for clarification. He knew precisely to what - or rather, to whom - Oishi was referring, though he would never have been able to let on that he understood.

“Would that I knew the answer to that, Oishi,” was all that he allowed.

Stepping forward, Oishi gazed at Gakuto, those beautiful, soulful eyes dark with all that he could not say. To his credit, he did not avert his gaze, even when Oishi licked his lips in preparation for another earnest question.

“Would you tell me, if you knew?”

Gakuto’s reaction to Oishi’s tone, the shape of the words on his beautiful mouth, was very nearly visible. Reigning in his emotions, Gakuto met his employer’s eyes and ignored the sharp spike of longing that borrowed deep into his chest.

“I would move Heaven and Earth to give you what you seek, Oishi,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Oishi paused, lips parted in obvious surprise, clearly taken aback by Gakuto’s intense sincerity. He stood, expression open as only Oishi could manage, shirt hanging off of one shoulder to bare the skin that Gakuto yearned so to touch and kiss and cherish.

Stomach clenching painfully, Gakuto’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d given away with such a declaration. “I…I…” he stammered, wanting so badly to call the words back - to pretend he hadn’t crossed a line that he’d had no right to even venture closely to.

Oishi shook his head, confusion written plainly in his eyes as he stepped toward Gakuto. “Mukahi…”

“I’m sorry,” Gakuto said, stumbling as he turned to flee, “I misspoke, Oishi…”

As he hurried from the room, and just as he closed the door tightly behind him, he called back, “Forgive me, Oishi. Forgive me.”

In his own room again, he braced himself against the door and tore at the placket of his pants, reaching into them with the sort of sickening need that should have made him ill.

Instead, he felt buoyed by his daring, jaw clenched in desperation as he jerked his cock quickly. When he came, sullying his finest undergarments with the consequence of a most indecent lust, Gakuto was only barely to stifle Oishi’s name on his lips.

He did not possess the right to speak that particular name. Not like this. Not ever like this.

***

He was sorting through Oishi’s correspondence in the front parlor when the housekeeper knocked timidly on the open door. Gakuto looked up, annoyed to have his train of thought interrupted. He’d been replaying the events following his misstep in Oishi’s bedchamber for the past hour.

Dressed in his riding clothes rather than the morning coat and trousers Gakuto had laid out for him earlier that morning, Oishi had paused in the doorway, met his servant’s eyes directly and said - in that clear, strong voice that made the hair on the back of Gakuto’s neck stand up, “Would you please be available to me when I return, Mukahi?”

At Gakuto’s blank stare - far too apprehensive to risk speaking a single word - Oishi had waited for Gakuto’s perfunctory nod before he continued. “We should talk, you and I.”

Again, stupidly, Gakuto had nodded while his heart had flopped around wildly in his chest in a distressingly inaccurate rendition of a normal heartbeat. “Of course,” he’d finally murmured, but - by then - Oishi had already turned to go, his boot heels clicking an even more confident staccato in the hallways than Gakuto had managed just that morning.

That morning - that seemed like several lifetimes ago.

Reverie interrupted by the housekeeper’s clear voice, Gakuto startled, attempting to appear as though he hadn’t been caught unaware.

“Eiji Kikumaru,” she announced primly before bowing and scurrying away. Gakuto frowned.

Bitch. She knew the Master was out and while she couldn’t have known how Gakuto detested Kikumaru, Gakuto reasoned that she should have. The nosy cow made it a point to know everything else that went on in the Oishi household.

He stood to bow politely, though he’d have sooner tossed the man right out on his prissy, velvet-encased ass.

“Good Afternoon, Sir.”

Kikumaru smiled brightly and twirled an errant curl. “Somehow, Mukahi, I do not believe you mean to wish me a good afternoon at all. What do you say to that?”

Scowling, Gakuto took his seat again, flipping through envelopes that bore the return addresses of familiar names. “I say that you are not half so vacant as you appear to be upon first impression.”

To his surprise, Kikumaru laughed and sat down opposite Gakuto on the small settee. ‘You’re such a wildcat, Mukahi. I cannot, for the life of me, understand how Oishi manages not to see it.”

Stiffly, Gakuto retorted, “Oishi is blind to character flaws, as evidenced by his fascination with you, Kikumaru.”

The expression on his face spoke plainly of his amusement regarding Gakuto’s lack of respect. Truthfully, he’d become accustomed to it. He’d learned early on that Gakuto enjoyed the sort of freedom and consideration that most employers would not have tolerated. With a little smirk, Kikumaru leaned in, voice lowered conspiratorially. “I don’t recall indicating that I consider your disposition a character flaw, little Mukahi.”

Cheeks flushed with indignation, Gakuto lay the letters in his lap and straightened his spine. “I would ask that you not play your elementary little mind puzzles with me. I will not encourage the liberties you wish to take, I promise you that.”

Kikumaru arched a brow, expression carefully neutral. “You are loyal to Oishi, are you not?”

“Unlike some.”

Smile fading, Kikumaru did not move. “You speak as though you know what is between Oishi and myself.”

Gakuto snorted derisively. “What I know or do not know is certainly not the issue. What you know - or pretend not to know, as the case may be - is all that matters to him.”

“You’re in love with him.”

Kikumaru’s words, so softly spoken and matter-of-fact, served to silence Gakuto as no other provocation would have. He paled, fingers stilling on the fragile vellum envelopes in his lap and it was with every fiber of his being that he struggled to maintain his composure.

“You overstep your boundaries,” he finally managed, voice tight and choked. His heart was pounding, his breathing quick - he worried that he would faint and succeed in embarrassing himself further.

When he raised his eyes to Kikumaru’s, took in that familiar, wolfish smile and the mocking gleam in his eyes that he did not possess the decency to hide, Gakuto stood impulsively, sending a handful of the letters tumbling to the floor.

He felt awkward, lips parted, cheeks flushed and completely out of his element as he cast about for something - anything - suitable to say that might somehow return his poise and dignity to him. There was nothing, however, of his typical scathing wit when faced with the possibility that his secret desire might not remain as such.

“Kikumaru…” he began, blinking rapidly and wondering what he might do to secure the detestable man’s silence, but when Kikumaru moved to kneel at his feet, shuffling through the discarded parchment with all the eager chivalry of a true gentleman, no words were forthcoming.

Gakuto swallowed past the lump in his throat, tried to convince himself that Kikumaru had no real redeeming qualities - could not be trusted regardless of the heated, sincere look in his eyes. Likely he’d used that same expression on Oishi countless times even when he had no intention of following through.

Lifting his hand, offering the letters to Gakuto as though the act alone held some significance that neither man would be willing to acknowledge aloud, Kikumaru waited patiently for Gakuto to take them.

“Don’t you want them, Gakuto? Your darling Oishi’s letters?”

He took Gakuto’s hand, then, thumb stroking the sensitive inner wrist, and Gakuto found that he’d been effectively subdued. That there was no hint of mockery in Kikumaru’s voice - in his eyes - made Gakuto unable to shy away.

Gakuto did not answer - correctly assuming that Kikumaru’s question truly warranted none - and simply stood. Captive. Breathing fast. Completely and effectively trapped.

Kikumaru tilted his head, brought Gakuto’s wrist to his mouth and pressed his lip to the rapid pulse just beneath thin, pale skin.

“You are wasted here,” he murmured. “Tell me why you love him so.”

Gakuto scowled, the spell between them broken easily by Kikumaru’s ill-timed words. He knelt before the other man, then, tugging his wrist from Kikumaru’s grip and snatching the envelopes from him. Close enough now to see the flecks of blue in Kikumaru’s eyes, Gakuto’s determination wavered; what was he in comparison to this noble, beautiful man?

Narrowing his eyes, but doing nothing in the way of concealing the emotion lurking there, Gakuto met Kikumaru’s eyes and hissed, “Tell me why you don’t.”

Whatever glib, automatic response Gakuto had been expecting never came as Kikumaru gripped his upper arms and pushed him back against the settee behind him. Having pinned him so effectively, it was all too easy to wind his arms around the smaller man against him and Kikumaru was quick to silence Gakuto’s nearly immediate, indignant sputtering.

With a defiant protest dying on his lips, Gakuto’s eyes widened when Kikumaru slanted his mouth over his own, soft lips teasing and provoking as he attempted to coax Kikumaru into a slow, forbidden intimacy.

After a moment, with Kikumaru’s hands strong and hot at his back, Gakuto relaxed, parting his lips with a curious sort of wonder. Never had a man so fine sought to share space with Gakuto. The men he’d known in his life were the sort that took what they wanted and were not always so careful in the claiming of it.

Kikumaru was different. He was warm, strong - careful. He touched Gakuto as though he might break under his attentions and, to his own humiliation, Gakuto found himself responding.

Arms winding around Kikumaru’s neck, Gakuto tilted his head, moaning softly around the sudden startling intimacy of Kikumaru’s tongue pushing against his own. He did not protest when Kikumaru hauled him closer still and it was with no small rush of shame that Gakuto sprawled in his enemy’s lap and encouraged him with all the protests he simply could not give voice to.

For long moments they kissed, lips clinging in a tentative exploration as Kikumaru’s hands slipped to settle at Gakuto’s waist. Distantly, Gakuto knew that he should move - should push Kikumaru away and revile him - again - for his appalling faithlessness. It was with a heavy heart and a rush of misery that Gakuto realized that he was truly no better.

As completely as he’d given his heart to Oishi, he was yet unable to refuse another man’s attentions. He was weak. He was disgusting. He was unfit.

Turning his head, breaking their kiss, Gakuto made some small sound of distress when Kikumaru’s damp lips slid against his cheek. He cringed away, ashamed.

“Stop it,” he murmured, pushing at Kikumaru’s chest and inching away in an attempt to put necessary space between them.

Kikumaru shook his head, eyes hazy and lips puffy and Gakuto - fleetingly - wanted very much to seek his warmth again. He hated Kikumaru - hated him almost as violently as he hated himself - and yet wanted nothing more than to feel his body, his heat, once more. It had been so long since another living soul had expressed such an interest in him.

“How can you do this to Oishi?” he demanded, leaning back against the arm of the settee, chest rising and falling in an effort to catch his breath and calm the pounding of his heart. “What kind of friend are you?”

“A better one than you are capable of being,” Kikumaru responded, slowly gaining his feet and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You lie to Oishi. You lie to yourself.”

Glaring up at him, Gakuto snarled, “You lie to everyone!”

Turning away, raking a hand through tousled curls and wandering to the window, Kikumaru sighed heavily. “I did not come to fight.”

Following suit, Gakuto rose on still-shaky legs, busying himself with the envelopes that lay at his feet. “Then you should not have come at all.”

It occurred to Kikumaru, then, that his feelings for Oishi - his secret, hidden, completely unacceptable feelings for Oishi were no secret and never had been. And who better to recognize a man’s heartbreak than someone suffering from one, himself? It hurt Kikumaru to realize that he’d caused Oishi pain and, by its very nature, hurt Gakuto as well. To love was no effortless task - to hide that love under layers of nonchalance and lightheartedness was even less so. Kikumaru recognized his desire in Gakuto. He was simply unprepared for the emotions such a realization brought.

Kikumaru remained silent and, as Gakuto began to imagine that he’d succeeded in getting the last word, his unwelcome companion spoke again. “Gakuto. Did Oishi mention where he was headed?”

Snorting delicately, Gakuto stacked the letters on the table for safekeeping until he could offer them his full attention. “Why do you ask? Do you need to borrow some money or something equally despicable?”

Scowling at Gakuto over his shoulder, Kikumaru did not turn completely away from the window. “Stop baiting me, you superior little harpy. You’re not the only one who cares for Oishi.”

Hands on his hips, eyes narrowed in clear issuance of challenge, Gakuto drawled, “Is that so? I suppose now you’re going to tell me that you do harbor some sort of tender feelings toward him, mm? That you yearn for him so intently that you deemed it necessary to test your ardor on me, first?”

“You self-righteous little tart,” Kikumaru spat. “You weren’t exactly overzealous in denying my suit, if I recall.”

Eyes wide, Gakuto took a step forward, cheeks flush with anger. “Your suit? I think you must have fallen off that old mare of yours and damaged what little brain that rotgut liquor you’re so fond of hasn’t managed to eat, Kikumaru.”

“Do you dare to insinuate that I am a drunk?!”

Gakuto leaned in, sneering in obvious triumph at having loosened Kikumaru’s tenuous hold on his temper. “It would be the very height of redundancy to ‘insinuate’ an obvious truth, Sir. Even a drunken ne’er do well like yourself should realize that.”

“I’ll have you know that I have not consumed a single spirit all day long!” Kikumaru thundered, slamming his hand against his thigh to emphasize his vehemence.

“Ha!” Gakuto crowed. “The day is still quite young!”

Unable to maintain his composure, Kikumaru grabbed Gakuto’s upper arms and pulled him close, lips curled in a sneer very closely resembling the one Gakuto wore, himself. They glared at one another, neither willing to give an inch. After a moment, Gakuto smiled in obvious provocation, lifting his chin in blatant challenge. “You disgust me. You’re a coward and a cad and not fit for Oishi to wipe his boots on.”

Fingers tightening at Gakuto’s thin arms, Kikumaru hauled him flush against his body, his chin nudging Gakuto’s. “You mouthy, disrespectful little street urchin. Oishi may not know how to keep a servant in line, but I assure you that I do.”

Eyes narrowed to dark, spiteful slits, Gakuto growled, “I do so envy your own servants, Kikumaru. Or - at least - I would if you had the wherewithal to actually employ a few. It must be so embarrassing - being the poor rela…”

Effectively silencing Gakuto with another of his hot, masterful kisses, Kikumaru dearly regretted being unable to hurl insults while still sucking on Gakuto’s tongue. Distantly, he knew he would have to stop soon - it simply would not to do for someone to enter the room and bear witness to him shamefully pawing his best friend’s manservant. It was about that time that Gakuto hooked one ankle around the back of Kikumaru’s calf and wound his arms around Kikumaru’s neck once again. Against his lips, the shorter man hissed, “How I despise you.”

Lowering his hands to the servant’s bottom, lifting him so that his feet cleared the floor, Kikumaru nibbled at his lips and grunted his satisfaction. “The feeling is mutual, I assure you.”

Clawing at Kikumaru’s shoulders, wanting dearly to rip his shirt away from his body - though Gakuto couldn’t quite decide whether such a desire was borne of frustration or a true physical need - he broke the kiss with a loud, lip-smacking sound when a familiar shape caught his eye. With the insult fading on his lips, Gakuto pushed at Kikumaru’s shoulder and stumbled back.

“Cat and mouse, is it? You are the most detestable cock-tease that I have ever had the displeasure…,” Kikumaru began, ready to embark on another venomous tirade before Gakuto brushed past him without a backward glance.

“Oh, do shut up. You prattle on like an old woman, Kikumaru.”

Kikumaru watched in confusion as Gakuto pressed his nose against the window, squinting to make out what he’d seen on the lawn. Never - not in a hundred years - would he ever entertain the possibility that he might be in need of corrective spectacles. He’d sooner go blind than suffer the indignity.

He fell silent, though, his heart lodging somewhere in his throat when he recognized the stately, high-spirited bay that Oishi had recently acquired. Picking its way across the immaculately manicured lawn, the horse was outfitted with the livery Oishi typically used on whichever mount he happened to be riding. Gakuto would recognize that saddle anywhere - it had been in the Oishi family for years. The reins were loose and dragging the ground and an immediate, debilitating fear settled in Gakuto’s chest.

“Oh, no…” he breathed, flattening his palm against the glass. “Kikumaru, look.”

Moving close behind the other man, Kikumaru peered over Gakuto’s shoulder in an attempt to see what had upset him so much that he practically radiated tension. “What am I looking at?”

“There,” Gakuto pointed, tapping the glass with the tip of his finger. “That’s Oishi’s newest horse. He must have taken him out instead of his usual mount.”

With a terrible, overwhelming sense of foreboding, Gakuto was suddenly cognizant of the rain that had recently begun to fall. It dotted the walkways while the breeze scattered leaves and set the pussywillows to swaying - to and fro, this way and that.

“But where is Oishi?” Kikumaru asked tentatively, clearly reluctant to have his own suspicions confirmed.

Gakuto grabbed Kikumaru’s wrist and marched him toward the front entrance. “I don’t know. But we’re going to find out,” he stated.

Kikumaru did not argue. To do so never even crossed his mind and it was with a sudden possessiveness and nerve-wracking anxiety that Kikumaru swung into the saddle, leaning down to offer a hand to Gakuto. When the other redhead was seated securely behind him, arms tight at his waist, Kikumaru spurred his mount into action, kicking it into an almost immediate canter.

Oishi’s errant mount, ears pricked and prancing, darted away in a gleeful game of ‘catch me if you can’. Kikumaru followed - praying that they were merely jumping to conclusions, praying that he hadn’t let his chance pass him by.

A life without Oishi was no life at all. He swore to himself that - if God had not snatched his chance away - he would tell Oishi so. Consequences be damned.

***

While Kikumaru and Gakuto raced headlong into an approaching storm, their thoughts a similar swirl of negative energy, Oishi limped along a muddy path, cursing his own awful luck and clumsy nature.

He’d been so conflicted, so emotionally mixed-up, that his only thought had been to mount his fastest horse and ride hard until the ache in his heart dissipated. What he’d received for his trouble was a quick ride, an embarrassingly graceless tumble off a rather majestic animal and a sprained ankle.

He’d limped along for perhaps a quarter of a mile when the pounding, rhythmic hoofbeats reached his ears. When he spotted his horse galloping toward him, Oishi had barely believed his eyes. That he could inspire that measure of loyalty in so newly acquired an animal lifted his spirits just enough that his lonely heart did not ache quite as it had.

When the horse did not slow its pace or otherwise indicate that it intended to stop at all, Oishi’s eyes widened and he yelped in surprise just that split second before he was forced to dive out of the animal’s path to avoid being trampled.

Rolling over in the mud, Oishi looked up just in time to see Kikumaru and Gakuto race past on Kikumaru’s own mount, in obvious pursuit. He struggled to sit up, waving his arms and calling out above the wind, “Eiji!”

Gakuto looked back, grabbing at Kikumaru’s collar and yelling into his ear to stop.

“Oishi!” He yelled, looking as though he’d have stood in the stirrups if only he could have.

Kikumaru turned the horse without any warning, whatsoever, glancing around wildly until his eyes settled on Oishi. Paying no attention to Gakuto’s very loud admonitions regarding his riding skill - or lack thereof - their horse had barely slowed to a walk when Kikumaru swung one leg over the animal’s neck to land in a near crouch in a puddle of water.

Wobbling a bit, he grinned as he steadied himself and - without wasting another moment - took off at a sprint in Oishi’s direction. Gakuto watched, heart in his throat, as Kikumaru slid to his knees before Oishi, fingers closing about his friend’s arms as he pulled him up, pulled him close.

Oishi shook his head, confused and surprised when Kikumaru framed his face with wet, slippery hands, licked his lips and went in for the sort of kiss that Gakuto had always hoped he would one day find the courage to offer Oishi himself.

He sat, frozen atop Kikumaru’s mount as the two men clung to one another, muddy and wet and smiling into a kiss they seemed unable to end. When Oishi pulled away, confusion written plainly in those lovely, lovely eyes, he shook his head again in an attempt to make any sense of the events that had unfolded before him. Kikumaru’s bright laugh rang out - unhindered and honest as Gakuto had believed him incapable - and he babbled at Oishi in an endless bout of nonsensical confessions. Gakuto shook his head, though no one was watching him at all. It was too soon - it was all happening too quickly to offer him the opportunity to stop it.

Separated by the short distance as they were, Gakuto couldn’t quite make out Kikumaru’s exact words but, then, he reasoned that he didn’t actually need to hear what passed between them to understand he had no place there. Ignoring the tears against his cheeks, happy to pretend that raindrops could ever be so hot, he turned Kikumaru’s horse and set off after Oishi’s mount.

They needed this time alone - Oishi had waited long enough.

Gakuto fervently wished that he were able to forget that he’d been waiting just as long and he hoped that Kikumaru would catch a chill in the next few hours and oblige Gakuto by keeling over and dying.

But he knew he didn’t mean it. And, somehow, that particular admission only served to increase his misery. Just when he’d begun to imagine it simply could not hurt any worse.

***

No one spoke on the road back to Oishi’s estate. Kikumaru led his mount as Oishi perched atop the shamefully unpolished saddle. With Kikumaru’s coat snug around his shoulders and the object of his affections walking just a few feet ahead, Gakuto imagined that the saddle could have been falling to pieces and Oishi wouldn’t have cared one whit.

Behind them, seated on Oishi’s own disobedient nag, Gakuto ignored the chill that threatened to settle into his bones while he attempted to keep his chattering teeth under control. No matter that Kikumaru - unmitigated bastard that he was - had attempted to shove his tongue into Gakuto’s throat only an hour before, he offered nothing to Gakuto now.

Silence reigned as they climbed the front stairs, having handed off their mounts to the stableboys and made their way inside, and Gakuto hoped those lazy kitchen girls wouldn’t take all night with the hot water and fresh linens. He was completely unable to verbally abuse anyone in the state that he was currently in and if those bitches dared to take advantage of that fact, Gakuto silently vowed that he would exact his revenge in the sneakiest, most underhanded way imaginable.

Inside Oishi’s chamber, Gakuto took his place at Oishi’s side, regardless of the heart-wrenching pain that such proximity afforded him. Without looking at Kikumaru, Gakuto began to unfasten Oishi’s buttons, careful when he stripped the sodden fabric away from his body. He’d already tossed Kikumaru’s cheap, hateful coat on the floor, though it hadn’t made him feel at all vindicated.

When finally Gakuto spoke, his voice was rough, quiet. It hurt to talk - just as it hurt to breathe.

“You need to dry off soon, Oishi. You’ll catch cold.”

As he helped Gakuto with the buttons, working as quickly as he could, though his hands were far from steady, he tried to catch his servant’s eyes, to no avail. Sighing softly, he tipped Gakuto’s chin away, disheartened when the shorter man turned his head aside. “But what about you, Mukahi?”

“Don’t worry about me,” was Gakuto’s immediate answer, silently cursing Kikumaru when he eased Oishi’s shirt away from his shoulders and tossed the sopping garment to the floor. It did not escape Gakuto’s notice that the bastard tossed Oishi’s shirt directly atop his ugly coat. Kikumaru had confessed his love, had elevated his worthless self to a status that he clearly didn’t deserve while Gakuto was still only ‘Mukahi’.

Oishi allowed the two men to undress him, unable to understand why they considered his health any more important than their own. He shrugged them off only to step forward again. With one hand on Kikumaru’s shoulder and the other tentative at Gakuto’s upper arm, Oishi’s voice was soft, tentative. “But I do.”

Turning his head aside again, biting his lip to stifle his emotions, Gakuto moved out of Oishi’s immediate range. All three men stood - at an uncomfortable impasse - tiptoeing around Oishi’s hesitation and Gakuto’s prickly feelings until Kikumaru made an exasperated noise, grabbed Gakuto’s arms and spun him around.

Glaring up at him, Gakuto wrinkled his nose, preparing a barrage of expletives - not to mention a very well-placed foot - for his dearest enemy. Kikumaru, however, was becoming quite adept at interpreting that particular glare and it was with the smallest of chuckles that he pulled Gakuto to him. He wrapped his arms around Gakuto, bending to press a kiss to his lips - a kiss completely unlike the others that had preceded it. To Gakuto’s surprise, he didn’t seek to break the kiss right away and - distantly - he was aware of the soft, appreciative sound Oishi made as he was made to watch this most intimate exchange between himself and Kikumaru.

Too shocked to offer much of a reaction, Gakuto simply stared when Kikumaru turned his head to glance at Oishi. Reluctantly, his own gaze followed the path that Kikumaru’s had taken and he hunched his shoulders in preparation for the disgust and betrayal that he was certain he would find reflected in Oishi’s eyes.

“All right, Oishi?” he asked, voice completely unlike the tone Gakuto was accustomed to. “All right?”

Eyes wide, Gakuto stood, immobile, in the circle of Kikumaru’s arms. He felt he should say something - should offer some sort of excuse for what had just transpired. Clearly now was the time to lie as blatantly and as shamefully as he dared in an attempt to permanently evict Kikumaru from both their lives.

But he couldn’t. And, despite his intentions to the contrary, he realized that he didn’t want to. All that he was able to say - through all of the emotions that filled his heart - was one, softly spoken entreaty.

“Oishi…”

Stepping toward the two of them, Oishi slipped his arms around them, cradling Gakuto against his chest and bending to nuzzle his damp temple. “Gakuto,” he murmured, and Gakuto stared - disbelieving.

“Say it’s all right, Oishi,” Kikumaru urged, fingers twining in Gakuto’s fine, satiny hair -soaked through to his scalp.

Pressing his lips to Gakuto’s forehead, his soft exhalation the happiest sound Gakuto had ever heard, Oishi nodded his head faintly, a little laugh escaping him when Gakuto turned dark, hopeful eyes his way.

His heart surged when he gathered the two men - his two men - close against him. Ignoring the kitchen girl’s tapping at the door, he laughed again, closing his eyes when Gakuto pressed soft lips to his shoulder and Kikumaru rested his forehead against his own. He couldn’t imagine wanting to say anything else.

“It’s all right,” he allowed, feeling as though to say it once was simply not enough. “It really is.”

And though he could scarcely allow himself to believe it so, Gakuto knew that - for all his shortcomings - Kikumaru finally had it right.

~end~