A faint coat of rouge had transferred to his lips.
Dreamily, Misao raised his trembling right hand and, with the pad of his middle finger, he wiped the color from Masaomi’s lips in a tender caress.
Masaomi’s eyes grew intent.
He whispered something Misao couldn’t hear, his whispered breath sweeping up his neck and Misao arched his head back. He felt Masaomi’s soft hair on his neck and heard rustling cloth as he loosened his obi.
Suddenly, Misao opened his eyes wide.
His heart pounded manically in his chest. His vision swirled in confusion, but then Masaomi’s lustful face was once again before him.
They gazed at each other. The passion raised the question “why?” in his mind, then melted it like wax.
Weaving between the layers of kimono and women’s underthings, Masaomi wrapped an arm around Misao’s waist. He held him tightly and pulled him up, bringing his lips to Misao’s.
The heavy embroidered kimono slipped from his shoulders and fell to the floor.
Misao sat before Masaomi in nothing but his red slip, devouring him with kisses.
His mind was a swirling blankness and he knew: this was pleasure.
It didn’t matter what happened now, he thought. He could do anything.
Pulling back the red slip, Masaomi’s palm found his knee. He stroked the skin of Misao’s leg up to his inner thigh, and Misao groaned.
Their joined lips pulled apart. The next instant, Misao clung to Masaomi’s shoulders and cried out senselessly.
His eyes burned with the pleasure of Masaomi’s touch on his skin.
“Ahah! Yes!”
“Do you like that?”
Masaomi’s voice was at his ear, but rich with an unfamiliar lust, making Misao’s passion burn even brighter.
As Masaomi stroked Misao’s leg, his thumb rolled over the tip of his organ and they heard a wet noise. Misao’s panting breaths grew quicker.
His delicate fingers clung to Masaomi’s vest desperately.
He pressed his forehead into Masaomi’s collar bone and shook his head.
“Don’t hold back.”
When Misao felt the warm exhalation behind his ear, a cry that had been caught in Misao’s throat broke free and he strained his head back. His entire body stiffened. When his muscles relaxed and his eyelids fell heavily, Misao rested his cheek on Masaomi’s shoulder, as if he were falling.
Masaomi’s lips gently brushed the skin of his temple.
The wild heaving of Misao’s shoulders had dropped the red slip from his body.
He slowly raised his head and looked up at Masaomi. Misao felt embarrassed by the passion in Masaomi’s gaze, but he pulled his body back slightly and raised his knees. He rested his hands on the man’s shoulders.
Masaomi looked up at Misao, smiling.
“I wanted to do this with you.”
As these sweet words passed his lips, Misao kissed them away, his face trembling in slow waves.
Masaomi stroked Misao’s back as he held him, then slowly dropped his hand to rub the hills of flesh and squeeze them. He slipped a wet finger from his other hand between them, exploring Misao’s rim.
Misao felt his face twisting painfully at the tightness he felt as Masaomi’s finger plunged inside him. Masaomi pulled his mouth away to look into Misao’s face, as if he could feel the change in the tension of Misao’s tongue as they kissed.
“Misao?”
Misao shook his head at Masaomi’s concern. He stared frantically back at the man who watched him.
“Relax as much as you can. It’s all right. I’ll be nice.”
Masaomi reassured him and adjusted his grip on Misao’s waist.
He checked Misao’s reaction constantly as he opened his body, almost too politely. When he’d taken Masaomi’s warmth inside himself, Misao no longer felt the pain.
He wrapped his arms around the man’s broad back.
He was so happy he thought his joy might crush him.
“I wanted so badly to hide myself in your arms,” Masaomi breathed against the skin of Misao’s temple. Misao rolled his head back and sighed.
“It’s like a dream.”
The breath tickled his earlobe. The man’s whisper conquered him.
Behind the screen, Misao pulled his heavy kimono over his naked body and sat up, legs shaking. Masaomi was beside him, kindly trying to fix his ruffled hair.
He thrust the last hairpin through Misao’s chignon, then pulled the kimono from Misao’s shoulders.
Misao hunched up slightly in his total nakedness before Masaomi placed the red slip over his body.
“Thank you.” Misao said shyly. He started to tie the slip shut, but Masaomi stopped him.
Misao looked up at him in confusion and felt Masaomi’s soft hair on his face. His lips trailed over Misao’s collarbone, leaving a tight, sweet ache on the skin.
“Ah”
A small cry escaped him and he softly lifted the eyelids he had shut reflexively.
He raised his passionate gaze to Masaomi’s dear face. Masaomi held the back of Misao’s neck and pulled him close to share yet another kiss. Misao’s hands had only rested on the cloth covering Masaomi’s chest, but they inched upwards until his fingertips brushed the man’s shoulders, when he surrendered himself to an impulse and clung to him. Masaomi’s hold around his waist tightened in response.
Their lips were pressed so firmly together that Misao couldn’t even breathe.
His brain ached with passion.
Masaomi sucked on his tongue and Misao answered.
When their lips pulled apart, a faint, luscious voice mingled with his gasping.
He rested his cheek on Masaomi’s chest.
“I don’t want to ever let go.”
As soon as this powerful emotion was past his lips, they heard the sound of footsteps pattering over the floor.
Misao caught his breath and turned to look. Masaomi drew Misao’s body back against him and held him tightly. He laid his cheek against his right temple. Misao could tell he was watching the same direction Misao had turned to look at.
A human figure appeared through a gap in the folding screen.
It was Sazu.
She turned her head this way and that, and when she saw the two of them tangled together behind the screen, her jaw dropped.
But she was a true child of the brothel. She seemed to understand what was going on immediately.
Misao opened his mouth to say something to her, but nothing came to him, and in the end he closed his mouth again.
“Mmmmy older sister” Sazu stammered, after much effort. “She wants me to tell her what’s going on in here...”
Misao’s brows knitted and he jerked his head. Even he didn’t know if he’d nodded or hung his head.
He started to stand up, but Masaomi’s arms stopped him. He turned his head to look at Masaomi in confusion.
“Let me go, Masaomi.”
Masaomi’s lips brushed Misao’s request away, then pulled him back.