[ SDK: Spectrum | Candlelight ]
Aug. 31st, 2004 10:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tacticianFandom: Samurai Deeper Kyo
Genre: General
Characters: Yukimura, Sasuke [Shindara]
Warning: M/M pairing, unedited, bad writing.
Disclaimer: SDK belongs to Kodansha, Kamijyo Akimine
Yukimura slides the door open gracefully, despite the fact that it slams loudly against the wall. In the hazy candlelight, Yukimura is flushed yet pale, like the red moon against the white. His elbow is resting on the door frame and he stands with a certain curve to his body that is disturbingly appealing. His overcoat slides off his right shoulder and that smooth expanse of neck looks so unguarded. “Sarutobi Sasuke,” he announces, slurring all the vowels, “I think I'm very drunk.”
Sasuke tilts his head slightly and a strand of long, night-black hair falls over his shoulder. There is amusement in his deep voice as he says, “You think?”
Yukimura smiles and like always, it is dazzling. He allows himself in, gliding to stand before the other man, smelling of expensive wine and seduction. He lowers himself to his knees, and surprises Sasuke by teetering forward until he is on his hands as well, leaning dangerously close with a predator's stance to accompany his predator's stare.
Yukimura opens his mouth, runs his tongue over his teeth, and then says, “We are going to war soon. The unrest among the nobles is worsening. I think that we will finally have a chance to rule this land. What do you think, Sasuke?”
Darkness creeps into Sasuke's expression, a terrible knowledge of something yet to come, but it dissipates quickly, expertly hidden with practiced indifference. He is silent, eyes straying down the dip in Yukimura's back, the contours of his exposed throat. He can feel hot, ragged breath on his chest, focused eyes tracing the line of his mouth. “Only you can say something as bland as that looking as you do.”
The Sanada laughs, throwing his head back in reckless abandon. Suddenly, his hands are on Sasuke's collar, tugging them down with arousing impatience. Sasuke's hands are creeping under the gaudy yellow jacket to brush fleetingly over his shoulder blades in a tempting butterfly's touch, tangling itself in Yukimura's silky hair. Somehow, between gasps and shoves and trying to eat each other whole, Yukimura chuckles and murmurs, “Only you can say something as bland as that in return."
They only do this when Yukimura is intoxicated (intoxicating). They only do this on quiet, lonely nights when they can afford to let down their carefully built-up walls an inch, when they can fool themselves enough to think that they can trust each other better than their enemies. They do this when they know that everyone is asleep, away from prying eyes and prying ears, where no one can witness what they do and make them admit to it in the morning.
Despite the supposed intimacy of the act, Sasuke believes that it is only an indulgence. Passion doesn't exist in the worlds of men like Yukimura. Hearts are such troublesome things. The whole ordeal is silent; no one says a thing. If it hurts or not, there is no one to admit it. In the morning they are always in separate rooms, sleeping separate sleeps, dreaming separate dreams plagued with separate demons.
Sasuke smiles against the other's wet mouth, surges forward and pins Yukimura to the hardwood floor with the length of his body. He feels dizzy and delirious; it is a side-effect of having the other man so painfully close, skin brushing against heated skin and the friction makes him go mad, burning in the chilly night. In a flash of blinding whites and slanderous scarlet, he lets sensation after sensation roll over his senses, flattening them to a paper-thin dimension consisting of touch alone, adamantly refusing to think of tomorrows.
Tomorrow catches up. Three days later he leaves without a word.
A/N: Part one of a few, dealing with Yukimura and his Sarutobi's. :D
Genre: General
Characters: Yukimura, Sasuke [Shindara]
Warning: M/M pairing, unedited, bad writing.
Disclaimer: SDK belongs to Kodansha, Kamijyo Akimine
Yukimura slides the door open gracefully, despite the fact that it slams loudly against the wall. In the hazy candlelight, Yukimura is flushed yet pale, like the red moon against the white. His elbow is resting on the door frame and he stands with a certain curve to his body that is disturbingly appealing. His overcoat slides off his right shoulder and that smooth expanse of neck looks so unguarded. “Sarutobi Sasuke,” he announces, slurring all the vowels, “I think I'm very drunk.”
Sasuke tilts his head slightly and a strand of long, night-black hair falls over his shoulder. There is amusement in his deep voice as he says, “You think?”
Yukimura smiles and like always, it is dazzling. He allows himself in, gliding to stand before the other man, smelling of expensive wine and seduction. He lowers himself to his knees, and surprises Sasuke by teetering forward until he is on his hands as well, leaning dangerously close with a predator's stance to accompany his predator's stare.
Yukimura opens his mouth, runs his tongue over his teeth, and then says, “We are going to war soon. The unrest among the nobles is worsening. I think that we will finally have a chance to rule this land. What do you think, Sasuke?”
Darkness creeps into Sasuke's expression, a terrible knowledge of something yet to come, but it dissipates quickly, expertly hidden with practiced indifference. He is silent, eyes straying down the dip in Yukimura's back, the contours of his exposed throat. He can feel hot, ragged breath on his chest, focused eyes tracing the line of his mouth. “Only you can say something as bland as that looking as you do.”
The Sanada laughs, throwing his head back in reckless abandon. Suddenly, his hands are on Sasuke's collar, tugging them down with arousing impatience. Sasuke's hands are creeping under the gaudy yellow jacket to brush fleetingly over his shoulder blades in a tempting butterfly's touch, tangling itself in Yukimura's silky hair. Somehow, between gasps and shoves and trying to eat each other whole, Yukimura chuckles and murmurs, “Only you can say something as bland as that in return."
They only do this when Yukimura is intoxicated (intoxicating). They only do this on quiet, lonely nights when they can afford to let down their carefully built-up walls an inch, when they can fool themselves enough to think that they can trust each other better than their enemies. They do this when they know that everyone is asleep, away from prying eyes and prying ears, where no one can witness what they do and make them admit to it in the morning.
Despite the supposed intimacy of the act, Sasuke believes that it is only an indulgence. Passion doesn't exist in the worlds of men like Yukimura. Hearts are such troublesome things. The whole ordeal is silent; no one says a thing. If it hurts or not, there is no one to admit it. In the morning they are always in separate rooms, sleeping separate sleeps, dreaming separate dreams plagued with separate demons.
Sasuke smiles against the other's wet mouth, surges forward and pins Yukimura to the hardwood floor with the length of his body. He feels dizzy and delirious; it is a side-effect of having the other man so painfully close, skin brushing against heated skin and the friction makes him go mad, burning in the chilly night. In a flash of blinding whites and slanderous scarlet, he lets sensation after sensation roll over his senses, flattening them to a paper-thin dimension consisting of touch alone, adamantly refusing to think of tomorrows.
Tomorrow catches up. Three days later he leaves without a word.
A/N: Part one of a few, dealing with Yukimura and his Sarutobi's. :D