"Am I and what have I done with your Tenpou, right?" Hakkai waved a nonchalant hand dismissing the idea as if it were simply preposterous that Tenpou was not Tenpou. "Don't bother Taishou."
"Yes sir, not bothering sir."
From his desk, Hakkai silently stood up with the ease of someone who had been awake for quite some time, Kenren noted, then resettled himself at the other man's side, careful not to jolt his own shoulder.
"But in full uniform?" Kenren pursued, scooting over to make room.
"Mmh." Hakkai agreed. "For here and there."
"Ah."
The desk was messed up with papers, a blemish in a strangely pristine room illuminated by soft candlelight. Dancing shadows were cast about, the wood marred here and there by splotches of black ink. Tenpou had been writing- or attempting to write- had gotten some ink smudges on his cheek and this was the messiest Kenren's seen him in four days.
And it was suddenly like he stood in a room with a masked stranger who smiled out of mechanical habit and not bland amusement, whose eyes were not Tenpou eyes because Tenpou eyes were lusty when it came to being alone in dim candlelit rooms with less than two feet between him and Kenren. The way Tenpou looked at him now- as analytic as ever- quietly with his eyes whispering and not ravaging over exposed skin...it was as if Kenren were a torn picture he had tried to piece back together with the help only of a previous memory of his true image. The memory would superimpose itself upon the picture...
And then Tenpou kissed him, ticking his senses with soap and cologne that seemed to take on a different scent now- as if it were on different skin. Soft. Soft. And not demanding more than a simple touch but it felt like so much more than that because as innocent as it was, it made him warmer warmer and so Kenren being Kenren, took it past innocence and forced Hakkai's mouth open with a probing tongue, tasting something slightly of cinnamon, maybe of vanilla, maybe of mint. The absence of tobacco was curious, and he pressed further to take in more.
"Mmh!" Hakkai violently pushed him away and clutched his stomach. It burned so much-as if it were being ripped open. Again. Because the mind's memories were strong. It caused his shoulder to burn. It made him think of rain. And blood. And then he knew...that scent of youkai was so strong now...that they were ready to feast. "Hurts." was all he said, but it was enough for the Taishou to understand and he went to cradle the other man if he weren't pushed away. Again.
And he was going to protest, again, if a gentle hand hadn't cupped his cheek and shaking, stroked it gently. "Get dressed, Taishou. Full uniform. We have no time for any of that now." Hakkai said apologetically, though a sense of numbess had taken over him, and slowly, steadily, he got up and worked his way to the desk.
Kenren just couldn't place Tenpou's expression- one of solemn rumination on dark thoughts that implied more than the general ever thought his marshal had experienced.
"Taishou." Hakkai insisted to the general who hadn't yet moved and pointed to the pile of black clothes- now neatly folded- sitting at the foot of the bed. "Your uniform. I will not have my general stark naked in the middle of an attack.
Kenren sighed. This was pure madness; paranoia. "You're insane, Tenpou." But he complied anyway, frivolously tossing away the covering sheet and noticing Tenpou turn away in embarrassment, a blush creeping into his cheeks.
Tenpou never blushed. Or turned away.
A brusque knock on the door of Tenpou's study broke their momentary silence. They looked at each other, then the marshal walked into the next room, closing the separating door behind him before answering the one hiding the visitor.
"Oh, it's you..." Kenren heard Tenpou say in the other room, tacking "sir" hastily at the end of his greeting. It must be Goujun.
Silence and the general could just imagine his commanding officer taking a still-eyed perusal of the study. And he could imagine Tenpou twiddling his thumbs as he kept the dragon king outside of his little sanctuary.
"Won't you come in?"
A ruffle of clothing, the stepping of boots that even *sounded* polished pierced the air- as a dragon's presence would, whether he be in this form or that. Goujun looked to the Marshal, who stood as erect as he could, given his sling-cradled injury.
"You keep clean quarters, Tenpou Gensui."
"It's not usually like this, sir."
Deep, blood red eyes bored into Hakkai's relentlessly until turning away abruptly towards the ink stained desk, and his ink stained face and fingers. "No, I'd imagine not." With one look alone, Hakkai felt violated, as if the dragon king had merely used his claws to effortlessly rip away into his mind and, with cunning deliberation, pick out a certain thought he deemed useful to keep in mind.
It made him uncomfortable, to say the least. "What can I do for you, sir?" he all but stuttered.
"Nothing. I was just checking that it was really you, issuing those foolish orders and not your foolish general."
"It was me, sir."
"Yes, I'd imagine it would be. Kenren Taishou would be too dense to even-" He paused. "But given that you are a kami as well, you should have been unable to perceive it also."
"Perceive what, sir?" The eyes came to him again, narrowed as his white scaly body stilled, waiting to feel the direction of some invisible wind. One slender ear moved- ever so slightly- the look in his eyes changed, and before Hakkai knew it, sharp claws grasped his uniform and Goujun pulled him closer, the other hand forcing his chin up as the dragon king lowered his face to a vulnerable neck.
"Um...sir?"
Oblivious to Tenpou's squirming, Goujun brought his nose close to the sweat sheened skin and worked his way through the different scents that invaded him. Soap was the most obvious sensation, then cologne, then a different musk -Kenren's, the dragon thought wryly- , but after that he found it confusing. Traces of something earthly beneath heaven's toiletries seemed to linger. Like dirt. Like humans...humans?...like youkai...like blood.
Goujun released him like a rag doll, toyed with and tossed.
"Sir, that was most inappropriate for Heaven." Hakkai breathed out with slight indignation, but Goujun was unfazed as he stepped back, nodded a goodbye then headed out, calling over his shoulder as he left.
"I am not of heaven either." the dragon king said, heavy with knowledge. "I do not totally approve of your form of intervention in this matter, but I trust that you will handle the situation to the best of your abilities. I do not approve, but good luck."
Chapter 10: Just Admit It
When Kenren finished dressing, he stumbled into the study where Tenpou was- no surprise here-reading.
"Oi, Tenpou." he said to catch the marshal's attention, but the other man was too deeply engrossed in the tattered hardback to look up. "Tenpou!"
Hakkai jumped; snapped the book shut. "Oh. It's you."
Kenren twisted his face in mock disgust. "Who else would it be?"
"Well..."
"Should I even bother asking?"
"You wouldn't get a very interesting answer." Hakkai admitted honestly before casting his eyes down towards the cover. In the weak light of the candle, the shiny leather cast a pale sheen of red over his skin. "You're the only person I sleep with around here."
"Damn straight." All the windows were closed, he had noticed; which was odd since Tenpou usually liked to keep them open.
The air was strange tonight, with a deathly stillness that set it apart from other nights. He lit a cigarette. Tenpou was fiddling around with his books again and Kenren was starting to get the impression that the marshal had forgotten all about his previous commands. Still, he said nothing because as careless as Tenpou could be when it came to bookkeeping and hygiene, he was NEVER one to forget anything that had the slightest bit to do with war. Shout out a name and page number, and he'd even quote from the damn book.
And so he smoked, closing his eyes and pretending not to look like he didn't have the slightest idea of what was happening. That's how politics went, didn't it? Hence the importance of having somebody to trust completely.
That said, Kenren wasn't actually sure where to place Tenpou in the great scheme of things.
A click of a loading gun pierced the silence in a way that was harsh and neat, like the tick of a clock, only it happened once. So Tenpou hadn't forgotten his orders after all.
Of course Kenren trusted him. After all, there was that incident several days ago. If he couldn't trust him now...but then again there was always something he felt that simply included trust. Couldn't exactly put his finger on it. Respect maybe. Most likely. Of course. On the other hand, that sounded too buddy buddy...as if they didn't sleep together...ravaged each other at the most random times, at the most random locations.
Going along those likes, Kenren could just say he was impressed...
Tenpou moved into the shadows of another bookshelf, his figure melting into the darkness where the candlelight couldn't reach. Paper was torn.
It was never too difficult to be impressed with Tenpou, who had the most uncanny way of getting things done and then smoked it off as if it were "something he just wanted to try out." As if he had stashes and stashes of plans waiting to be executed, daydreamed over millennia but never given the opportunity to be carried out on the field. Tenpou's mind was always running like that...perhaps even when he's being fucked senseless, a part of him is still with his maps and diagrams. Most likely, despite the fact that Kenren would have preferred to doubt it.
