Midsummer Moon

The moon is white gold.

June night. Spill of the pure light against my sheets, shadow of leaves like black paper cut-outs. The warmth is hands brushing over me: the soft places in the crook of my elbows, the pulse in my throat. This body of mine, this green-eyed new me. Midsummer.

Midsummer, full moon — an old story. At the precession of Inari only knows how many conjunctions the sacred blossom opens in the Temple, and the earth flowers alongside. A myth, I suppose: I cannot calculate the influence of any god, not even my own. Though apparently He has not forgotten me, apostasies notwithstanding. How many years since I was Dedicated? I feel it still. The first time in this body. Tonight His Power waxes to its full.

Impossible to sleep, so I have not planned for it.

It makes me want to dance. The call is ancient-old, beyond blood or body, though blood hums and the body arches to the imagined touch. No matter that the rules whisper danger — danger in the game I play to live this second life of mine — still this is one bond I have never been interested in breaking. Inari, Inari, dost hear? Thy servant comes to worship thee.

Gently, gently, I slide open the window.

I've found the clothing I want as well. The shirt is silk, and very loose around me, creamy-soft as if spun out of cobwebs. The pants are slim, and undyed linen. They lace up on the sides, in the old-fashioned manner I'm fond of. I have a weakness for clothes-that-I-never-wear, as Kaasan has dubbed them; though of course I do wear them. Now, for instance. She doesn't have to know.

I am the other me tonight.

Shinjuku is Never-Night, all blazing neon and cars and snatches of laughter. A crowd even this late. The sodium-strobe streetlights drown the moon. Music floats out from the danceboxes, beats smooth and deep, doki-doki, the air as warm as blood. I drift with the people, letting the revelers in fashionable dress guide me; sometimes following one girl or another, intrigued by a flash of white arms lifting, shrill laugh or toss of long tea-brown hair. Inari, Inari... In the Temple the youko maidens would be dancing, silver and red and black, the circles enfolding each other like flowers. Ningen females are such fragile things, the girls as young as me especially. It would be funny if I met someone from school. They gather around me at school with starry doe-eyes, and I am quite polite and gentlemanly... there. Lovely girls. I want to dance with them.

A group of boys lounge on the sidewalk before a nightclub; hair slicked back like Yuusuke's or long and dyed, leather jackets falling open to reveal a flash of gold chain in the neon lighting. They leer as I approach, calling out suggestive comments.

"Oy, ojousan! Care to join us? Purty lady — wanna play?"

Oh, if they knew. I laugh, glancing at them — can't help myself — and my reaction is greeted by a chorus of whistles and catcalls. There are a couple of cute ones; nice builds under those muscle t-shirts. I swing my hips a little as I pass. They follow me, I know without turning, and laugh again to feel their desire against my skin. Yoshi — still got the touch.

I duck into the next alley and dance up the fire escape, onto the roof and the next one. Higher. Skipping on chimneys, clotheslines, balconies; higher, higher still, upwards to the edges of the sky, the Tokyo high-rises framing the night. Thousands of lights spin below me, blaze into the face of the dark heavens. Earth-stars that put the sky-stars to shame. There are no lights on the grass in the depths of my memory, only the glow of dew in glory-of-night-cups, fragrance to love inhuman loves by. Suddenly I want that. The grass beneath my feet damp and sweet, the taste — what was her name that last time? Or was it a he...?

The darkness there. Trees.

I dive, to feel the wind.

Window ledge, roof, overpass. Lamppost to lamppost, then into the park. Inari knows how far I am from home. This body of mine would tire normally, but tonight the branches spring up to meet my leaps and speed me into the next. And why not?

I land in a clearing within a circle of cherry trees. Their gnarled forms are moonlit sculptures, foliage shadowy green against a darker sky. The blossoms are long gone. They murmur greetings to me as I pass beneath them. The grass is drenched with dew; I kick my shoes off to walk barefoot. The park is expansive, private property probably, dotted with similar copses of sakura. Must be lovely in April, a gathering place for lovers —

A flash of something in my peripheral vision.

Was it...?

I turn my head.

There. A quick blur of movement; the momentary eclipse of a star. I catch my breath, and start running. It must be him; it has to be him. Inari...

I skid to a halt as I sense youki.

Not his. Something much stranger, and older.

I step forward cautiously.

I am in a rose garden. The familiar fragrance twines about me like a caress, mingling with the susurration of running water. By scent I can tell the hybrid roses from old-stock, tea roses, wild, climbing... A fountain stands in the center, surrounded by a sweeping swath of grass, dominated by one overarching cherry tree. The white form by the fountain. Slender and nude; not quite female, certainly not male. Slash of dark hair falling over its face. It raises its head, but I cannot see its eyes. In a mental croon it tells me that I am one's prey; that I am lovely in my warmth and my desire, that one shall drink me to the dregs here, in the cold earth where one nests beneath the sakura.

Challenged on my own territory. I smile, reach out to break off the most perfect damask rose from the bushes that surround me.

"Let's play then."

One shall.

I flick my wrist and the whip strikes, but the creature is no longer there. I catch its ki behind me and attack again, the whip snaking like lightning. Once more it dodges. I call on the plants about me, my abilities magnified tonight to what they were in my older self; thorns fly from the roses and the grass spears up deadly beneath its feet. It leaps and I trap it in a mesh of branches, slice into the cage with my whip, intent to kill.

The white thing simply dissolves.

Only to reappear a little distance away, sparking to life like foxfire.

I whirl, recognizing the illusion for what it is, but it is too late. The creature hisses, and unrecognizable things wrap about my arms, my legs, extending like impossible tentacles from its body. Of... its hair? Or not. The black strands pulse and twitch, warm like alien flesh against my skin. One tightens, twists, and the rose whip falls from my fingers.

The thing approaches me, skimming over the grass on immaterial feet.

I tense against the bonds, struggling. Then gasp, as white-hot pleasure lances through me. And again. Again.

What...?

It laughs, one white hand reaching out to caress my exposed throat as it croons to me. One's secret name; what one is known by in the fluorescence-studded darkness where one slumbers beneath the tree, waiting to feed on the desires of the living. Waiting to entrap. Hunger dulls, and thirst kills too quickly, but many interesting things can be done with lust. One has learnt them all. I shall learn them as well, in death.

I giggle, senses dizzying. Death. The voice murmurs release, so I stop my struggles. I arch into the pleasure instead, thrusting my hips up, begging for it. Our moans dance counterpart to one another in the quivering air as it drinks me — I can't feel my ki, don't know where it's going anymore, don't even care. Lust is the only reality, the leaves whispering and the moon whirling in the sky, the scent of roses, the earth under me, touch me, oh yes, do. I flex my fingers, feeling the Power converge at their tips. I was rising. Just a little further now; I could feel it. The climax approaching, the tree and earth and I all same, that secret place buried deep beneath me, one's alien heart tangled in the roots of the cherry... a little more...

Inari...

I cry out as I come. The Power rushes through me; for one second I smile, my eyes open wide to the moon. Yes.

And I reverse it.

The white thing screams as the earth convulses, crushing its core. The very last mental image before the connection was severed was... shock?

How — did — you...?

The black net entangling me withers. I fall to the grass, wait for my heartbeat to fall under two hundred a minute and I can touch my ki again before attempting further movement. The reversed Power combined with orgasm and adrenaline forms a brutal cocktail.

Comes in handy, though.

I adore being underestimated by the enemy.

***

Eventually the rush subsides enough for me to become aware of my situation, which could mostly be summed up by wet. With dew, and sweat, and... mattaku. I pull at the laces, wiggle until my pants are at my ankles. Damn the things. Too confining anyways —

Moon shadow across my face. "You could have gotten rid of it without going through that."

Hiei.

Oh, this is too beautiful.

He waits for me to stop laughing, the expression on his face assuring me that he found no humor in the situation. The usual black coat, white scarf muffled around his neck — much too hot in this weather for anyone but a fire demon. Hiei probably doesn't know what hot means. I do: looking at him is as good as a dictionary.

But that's in another sense altogether.

"I know," I murmur finally, sitting up. My voice sounds strange to me, less silvery than usual, more raspy. Throaty. "I know. But it was so much fun."

"Ch. You actually —"

"Liked it, yes." He opens his mouth for a downright savage comment — I know it — and I interrupt him. "Was that you from before?"

A pause. "Was that me what?"

"Was that you. That I followed here, I mean." I smile. "Were you there? Watching?"

I'm quite amenable to the idea.

Before he can formulate a retort, I pull him against me, kissing him full on the mouth.

Hiei freezes. I take the proffered advantage, working my lips against his. Trailing nibble-kisses to the edge of his jaw, down the line of his throat. The damned scarf — have to get rid of that somehow — and the coat...

He reacts suddenly, striking out, and I duck, laughing. I bring the scarf away with me in my teeth. Hiei splutters.

"What the hell was that?"

"Mmm..." I lick my lips, missing the taste of him already. "I think... the technical term is 'kiss'. Isn't that right, Hiei?"

His eyes narrow; speculatively, not dangerously. "What's wrong with you, Kurama?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong. I haven't felt so right in ages." Hiei looks at me steadily, and I sigh. Damnable spoilsport. "I'm youko, Hiei. We're affiliated with Inari-sama, and His powers run to vegetation and fertility — in cycles. It just so happens that they're hitting a peak."

Hiei looks almost disgusted. "You're like this because of religion?"

"Don't knock it, Hiei. I'm a Dedicate of his Temple." I smirk, thinking of the likely outrage he'd encounter if he ever tries to verify that assertion. The Temple's been spreading disinformation on me for centuries, not that I blame them. Kurama, the rogue of legend, the apostate, the reckless one who laughed at divine decree and was too powerful to die for his crime — a Dedicate! An Elder, by my age. At least I serve a god with a sense of humor. "At special moments like this we gain the use of Inari's powers... within the rites." I watch him process the sentence.

"Is that what you used just now?"

"Of course."

"And the rites —"

"Well, of course."

Hiei's eyes widen.

"So how about it, Hiei?" I edge toward him, slide my arms around his shoulders. "Want to ensure the rice crop with me? I'll give you a good time..."

Desire. Oh yes. It's there in his eyes, lambent for a moment only before they are hard again. I lift my face toward him, but he grabs my shoulders and pushes me away.

"Go home, Kurama."

"Oh, Hiei, you know you don't mean —"

"Kurama."

Something in the voice, a puzzling note beyond the obvious warning. I back off, watching him adjust his clothing with sharp movements, almost... nervous? He doesn't meet my gaze. How strange. I know he wants me, and has for a long time now. I suppose he thinks he hides it well. Truth is, I'm just too good a comrade for him to jump without a clear offer.

Of course, I did just offer.

So why is ruthless, direct, never-saw-a-tactical-advantage-he-didn't-like Hiei —

Because I might regret it.

Oh, Hiei.

Such an inconvenient time to develop scruples. Even if he's right. I am different now from what I used to be; Inari knows what I will think of myself tomorrow, after the Power's evaporated from me like water from a salt flat. On the other hand, I've only ever trusted three others the way I trust Hiei, not counting Kaasan who's a special case. And out of those three others, two are dead. So it could be much worse.

Besides which, I want him.

And I'm very used to getting what I want.

"Hiei," I say. "There'll be someone tonight. Anyone, really."

He stares at me, momentarily off-guard before catching himself and shrugging. "That's none of my business. Go rut with whomever you like."

"Very well." I gauge the tension in his body as he gathers himself for one of those trademark standing jumps, and tackle him at the last moment. The world spins as we go rolling over the grass, Hiei wrapped in my arms. I laugh in delight.

"Kurama, damn you —"

"If I'm making this hard for you, don't worry; it's fully intentional." I nuzzle into the soft hair of his nape, scenting him, flick my tongue against his earlobe. His breath hitches. "Or am I making it hard, period? That's intentional too." And I press against him for emphasis.

Hiei makes a strangled sound and struggles; I have to free him, though not without a couple more small thrusts as he twists enticingly in my arms. He scrambles a little way off and crouches in the grass defensively — but doesn't run. He's panting, I note. How kawaii.

I plan to make him want it. Enough to dismiss all the ridiculous considerations I'm sure are playing catch-22 in his head at the very moment.

Enough to take me.

I push myself up lazily on my elbows, not bothering to close my legs; bringing my knees up a little, in fact. He watches me. I smile.

"You do want it, don't you?" I tilt my head, letting my hair spill over my shoulder. One hand comes up, hovers over my throat. "This body's still virgin, you know. You'd be my first."

His shielded expression doesn't change, but lust flashes in that blood-garnet gaze. Good — he likes that.

I spread my fingers, tracing the line of my collarbone. Ten centuries of practice go into the dreamy smile. "I'll have to let you take me tonight. I won't be able to help it." Brush against my nipple under the silk of my shirt, sigh with the sensation — further down still. Playing over the curve of my ribs, my abdomen. His eyes widen as I let my hand steal between my legs, locking my gaze with his. "Would you like that? You can put it anywhere you want..."

I honestly fail to see him move. The next thing I know he's kneeling between my legs, his mouth clumsy on mine. One strong hand clamps about my wrist, preventing me from touching myself. Possessive. I hum, pressing up against him, inviting his tongue into my mouth. He pulls me to my knees. My other hand tangles in the fabric of his coat, working at the fastenings.

He stiffens when I start to tug at his breeches; likely he didn't even feel me undo his belts. Just another sort of thievery. He breaks the kiss. "Kurama, what —"

"Shh." I gaze at him through my lashes, and he subsides. "It's a free dinner, Hiei — and the maître d' suggests the house special." As I speak I slide his coat from his shoulders, running my hands over the sleek muscles of his arms. He's perfect. I've seen him before, of course, but it's not quite the same when I'm not bandaging him with strips of whatever fabric comes most handy and praying that the bleeding stops. "Which comes with your choice of hors d'oeuvres, of course..."

I pull his pants out of the way — carefully, because he's as hard as I am. He looks down at me, eyes smouldering; still a little uncertain for all of it. I feel my lips curve in what I hope is a reassuring smile before I duck my head down and take his shaft in my mouth.

Hiei's entire body jerks, and he makes a delightful little sound in his throat that goes right to my loins. I swallow him as deeply as I can — a reminder not to use height as a bellwether for other statistics — swirl my tongue against the base of his shaft, suckling, pull away letting the sensitive glans scrape against the roof of my mouth. Hiei groans, and I dimly feel his hands knotting in my hair. He thrusts into my mouth and I simply crouch there, licking him, letting him use me.

"Kurama..."

The sound of my name is exquisite triumph, and I set to work for real. He rocks against me, whispering soft pleas over and over, trembling as I bring him closer. But I want my share as well.

I pull away abruptly. Hiei makes a sound of anger; I back up beyond his reach, and after a moment his hands clench into fists. He must realize that I'm trying to make him lose control, trying to push him over the edge. I can't help myself, and I don't want him to be able to help himself either.

I smile at him, licking at my lips again. "Like that?"

Hiei meets my gaze, breathes deeply — and laughs. "Fuck you," he says, and launches himself at me, pinning me on my stomach and parting my legs roughly. I cry out as he penetrates me. He's wet from my previous ministrations, but it still hurts more than I expected. Fifteen years do blur some things. I asked for it though, with all the teasing —

Hiei pulls out partway, slams into me again — hitting just the right place — and coherent thought flies out of my mind. I thrust back at him wantonly, struggling up to knees and elbows, my hips in the air. Together we find a rhythm, his hot thickness impaling me again and again, and it feels so good. Hiei draped over my hips, his weight on me, his hands... I throw my head back, shamelessly loving it.

"Nnn... oh, yes, oh, more..."

Hiei makes a sound that's half-laugh, half-growl. He presses down on me, still rocking steadily, until I can feel his breath hot on my shoulder. "Who do you want?"

Screw dignity side-saddle. "Hi-ei," I manage.

Another thrust, harder this time. "Can't hear you, Kurama." Fuck him. He can hear me perfectly, the little bastard.

"Hiei. Oh, Hiei. Ohh, oh, I want you, it feels so good when you're in me, take me fuck me please nnhh do whatever you want, harder, oh baby yes, I love it so much, do me hard please ohh..."

My tongue trips over the words: everything I've managed to pick up or make up in the X-rated film-bleu demi-monde interludes of my thousand years of life. I have no idea what I'm saying, or if Hiei's really hearing it, but the thought's there. We're moving faster now, my fingers digging into the soil, Hiei riding me, his grip on my hair pulling me back into a taut arc with my hips canted impossibly high. I don't ever remember being taken like this. Oh, Hiei, oh lord — are you watching us, Inari? Watch us...

"Not this way," Hiei suddenly growls, and before I can pant out an inquiry he's out of me and trying to flip me over. I mew with frustration — a fine time for endurance games! — but then he pushes my knees up to my chest and thrusts into me again. So hard. I moan.

"A-ahh... Hiei... nn..."

"Look into my eyes, Kurama," he purrs. "I want to watch it when you come."

I comply. His hands are on me, under my shirt, teasing my nipples; my legs hooked over his shoulders. His gaze burns into mine and I can't look away, don't want to look away. I arch into his thrusts, lascivious — yes, oh yes — my hands curling and uncurling in the grass, feeling the Power building in me again, the tingling as Hiei brings me helplessly closer. Oh, Hiei, harder... harder...

Hiei slams into me as deep as he can — once, twice — and I sob as the first wave of pure sensation crests in my loins. Utter pleasure beyond understanding. I clench hard, and Hiei gives a surprised cry as he comes as well, flooding me with warmth.

In that moment the Power slips my grasp.

I suck in my breath, trying to struggle to a more dignified position, and manage to lift my head just in time to see the cherry tree above us burst into flower. White-pink petals spiral down around us, over us. I stare, and detect through Power-heightened hearing the ripple of soft explosions as all the sakura in the park do the same.

"Hiei..."

He grins down at me, a flash of white in the darkness. "We could always try again for the rice crop."

***

Much later, I lie on the grass, Hiei sitting back on his heels beside me. I watch the moon through blossom-laden branches; the afterglow of sex still courses through my veins like wine.

"Kurama?"

"Mmm?"

"How often does this happen to you?"

"Depends. Every few years, every few decades. It has to be the solstice, for one thing, and the position of the sun and moon have to be correct, and then the planets —"

I stop, glance at him from the corner of my eyes. Hiei stares forward, the picture of non-committal. "Why do you ask?"

No answer.

"If you're going to be marking it down in your agenda, use pencil — I can't predict it exactly."

Hiei snorts.

I laugh in utter happiness, stretching my arms toward the sky. I'm not dressed, my clothes are utterly ruined, and I have less than no idea of how to get home. But all that will work out, one way or another. Time enough afterwards, too, to restore the trees to their proper seasonal activity. The moment is too wonderful to waste.

"Look, Hiei... the moon's lovely tonight..."

— Montreal, October 1999