Sedonia Guillone

Genji nodded and remained respectfully quiet. The slant of the sun told him it was time to return to the village. His troupe had just arrived the previous day, and their stage would be near completion. Rehearsals would go on this evening, and then when the news of their arrival had spread, there would be the usual wandering in of samurai looking for an evening’s companion. Genji sighed. “I must return. I have a few moments to dry out on the bank, and then I will go back.”

The ronin started as if given a shock. He bowed to Genji. “I’ll accompany you,” he said. “It’s safer not to travel alone.”

Genji hovered on the verge of refusing the offer. After all, he had his tanto and wasn’t afraid to use it…he believed. However, he found Minamoto’s company oddly comforting, showing Genji how lonely he actually felt in spite of his busy life. His fellow tobiko could never really be true friends, even Aoki. Especially Aoki who coveted Genji’s position in the troupe. Aoki would not want to remain an understudy indefinitely, and so there was always an undercurrent of tension among the troupe members. With a sigh, Genji climbed from the pool, retrieved the pile of his things from the rock, and went to the grass where he sat dripping and worked his fingers through his wet hair. The long strands would comb out much more easily when dry if he worked any tangles out beforehand.

Peripherally, Genji saw Minamoto recline on the grass roughly an arm’s length away. He kept his back turned, so as not to steal glances at the samurai’s magnificent naked physique stretched out on the grass in the sun. Working his fingers down the fall of his hair, Genji turned slightly and caught a glance of Minamoto’s lower body. The man’s musuko was no longer soft between his muscular thighs, but stretched halfway erect, blooming with reddish color.

A jolt went through Genji’s body, sending in its wake a series of tingles that concentrated in his own member. He’d thought himself jaded after serving so many samurai with his body, but for some reason, life now infused his male parts, even his nipples, which began to tighten into small hard peaks. He looked back down, pretending to concentrate on his hair with all his will.

“Your hair is so beautiful.”

Minamoto’s deep voice behind him made a spike of heat through Genji’s middle.

Genji pulled in a small breath. With his fingers still engaged in untangling his hair, he turned. “Thank you,” he said softly.

The samurai had turned onto his side, propped on his elbow, watching Genji tend to his hair as if he were watching something of beauty unfold before him. “I didn’t know a man could move so gracefully…like a swan.”

Heat tingled mercilessly now in Genji’s cheeks. Such praise was a far cry from having his ass grabbed lustfully by a ribald admirer. The occasional riot that had broken out among audiences over Genji’s favors wasn’t nearly as flattering as this simple poetic admiration.

Unfortunately, it didn’t matter. There was no use in entertaining the attention. He had only his survival to think of and would only think of that…until he met the one man in the world he could surrender his heart to. As flattered as he felt, Genji accepted the praise with a mere gracious nod of his head and a smile then went back to the task of undoing the tangles in his long hair, still vividly aware of the samurai’s admiring gaze on his bare skin.

“Are you spoken for?”

Now, Genji’s heart lurched. He turned again. “Spoken…for?”

Minamoto nodded, his eyes shining toward Genji. The samurai’s musuko had stretched fully now and wept a glistening droplet from the tip.

Genji swallowed hard. Many emotions roiled within him at the question. Minamoto was naïve, a quality Genji found endearing. If Genji had wanted to, he could have fabricated a lover, or even perhaps a wife waiting in a far off province for his return. But he found he didn’t wish to lie to this samurai as he sometimes lied to others in order to keep them away. He cleared his throat again. “No. I’m not spoken for.” When the samurai didn’t answer, Genji looked down at the grass, pretending once again to concentrate deeply on combing his fingers through his hair. Sudden movement made his body tense. He froze, waiting.

“Genji.” Minamoto’s voice was closer now. The heat of the larger man’s body whispered over Genji’s skin. A large hand hovered above his shoulder, and the samurai’s breath, harsh and tight, pulsed close to Genji’s face. Genji dared to look up.

And met the samurai’s now-fevered gaze. “May I…touch you?”

Genji’s body began to tremble, not out of fear, but from something else deep inside him. No one had ever asked his permission before touching him. The newness, the sweetness of it, made shivers pass through him. “Yes,” he said before thought could intrude.

“Thank you.” The samurai’s voice was husky, tight. His fingers dropped lightly onto Genji’s bare shoulder.

Genji’s heartbeat sped wildly. His eyelids fluttered briefly, at the wonder, the need coiled in that small touch.

Minamoto explored Genji’s skin, as if testing it. “Softer than I’d imagined,” he said in that same heavy voice, hushed with wonder.

Genji heaved a breath with difficulty now that his heart pounded. His look dropped to the other man’s broad, heaving chest. Minamoto made him feel virginal, new, just by the look in his eyes.

Minamoto’s hand closed more firmly over Genji’s shoulder. Sheer need came through in the light grasp. “Genji, I…want you.”

The man’s other hand encased Genji’s other shoulder, and Genji could only tilt his face upward, imprisoned as he was in that firm yet impassioned grasp.

“Genji,” Minamoto repeated, his voice as tight as his breathing. His musky scent radiated in the warm summer air between their naked bodies. “I want you. Please.”

4 Nymphs from Literary Nymphs

Four Stars from Rainbow Reviews

Speak Its Name Reviews

4 Cherries from Whipped Cream Erotic Romance Reviews