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War isn't pretty, but that is part of its charm.
His master has a penchant for finding it on his doorstep, though not for any real purpose, if Higekiri is to be frank. Minamoto no Yoritomo has a way about him that is decidedly off-putting, annoying, and outright infuriating to a number of individuals, and yet, here he is, standing proud in the face of victory.
For a battle sword, there's not much more one can ask for in a master…ah, well, to correct that again, Higekiri supposes he doesn't know any differently, and he'll stick to that excuse. Yoritomo is the first master kind enough to awaken him, and to a blood-stained world view at that--to a world view that involves desecrating all that his brother, Minamoto no Yoshitsune, stood for.
…to a view from above his own brother, prone and bound in the dirt, where he, Higekiri, once Sun-Nashi once Tomokiri once Shishi-no-ko and so forth, stands with a handful of severed, pale green hair trailing to the ground from his fingers, from his own blade.
So long. Higekiri sucks in a slow breath as he flicks an errant chunk of the hair from the blade, listening to his master's laugh. And so much of it. Was Yoshitsune's hair so long? He hadn't spared a glimpse to the dead body of his brother's ex-master, but he can only assume, judging by Yoritomo's incredibly visceral reaction. He has an annoying, niggling itch to keep cutting to make it at least a little more even, but instead--"Is there anything else, my lord?"
Usu-Midori doesn’t want to see his beloved brother’s smiling face or hear his soft sing-song voice, any more than he wants to see his new master’s manic eyes. His head feels too light, his heart too heavy, and his most fervent wish--to be snapped and smashed with the rest of them instead of desecrated--has been ignored.
“Renaming you destroyed your powers, so the legends go. This one is now Hizamaru once more.”
Please, no, let me keep the name he gifted me--he was gentle and strong and saw the soft light of the mountains of Kumano in me, not the too-harsh slice of an executioner--
“And as your new master--Saniwa, he is mine, isn’t he?”
“He will obey you in every command, Minamoto-dono.”
“Good. Your command--look at me when I’m speaking, Hizamaru.”
The words are snapped out, too intense for the situation, and Hizamaru’s eyes shift up to meet those of Minamoto no Yoritomo. (“Aniue,” his beloved master had still called him, as if the years had not changed Onimusha and Kurou into strangers in a fierce contest.)
Yoritomo’s eyes shine with something all too like glee as he looks down, and places a hand too-familiarly on Hizamaru’s cheek. “Forget, Hizamaru. Forget my arrogant little brother. Forget you ever had him as a master.”
The geas throbs in his heart, and Hizamaru’s chest twists painfully, his body reacting to his automatic rejection of the order before it’s fully spoken. He grinds his teeth together, looking up with eyes full of hate, biting down any response.
“Take him away, Higekiri. To your room, I think. Refine him...oh, as many times as you can. I suspect from his whimperings that my dear departed little brother was far too lax with his possessions in that way."
"As you wish, my lord." It's an order that Higekiri doesn't hate, actually. He could have happily done without the smile that Yoritomo had given him before first ordering him to refine Hizamaru in front of a crowd, and the whispered "He's your little brother? Then you understand." The rest, however--that Higekiri has little shame in admitting that he'd enjoyed. Does that make me so terrible?
In the eyes of Hizamaru right now, probably yes. Higekiri crouches, pulling up and tightening Hizamaru's hakama as subtly as he can before hauling him to his feet once more, the bindings on his arms unravelling. "Up we go--mm, shall we?"
Hizamaru stumbles, and grabs onto his brother for support--it feels so natural, like something they’ve done a thousand times, even if this is the first time he’s seen that eerily familiar face looking over at him. Then he remembers--Higekiri at Yoritomo’s side, eyes wide and delighted to find him crouching with the rest of Yoshitsune’s army’s weapons, so many abandoned, so many masterless. He yanks his arm out of his brother’s hold, limping slightly when that aching stretch in his ass burns and stings, makes his face flush. “I can walk,” he spits. “And I’d rather crawl than have you help me.”
"Haha, don't say that, don't say that." Seriously, don't say that, or that's what will end up happening.
Ignoring Hizamaru's words, Higekiri grabs him by the wrist, dragging him after him before Yoritomo can think to consider that suggestion. His walk is brisk, mercilessly so no matter how he knows his brother must be hurting, because needs must, and he's had enough of Yoritomo's leering for tonight. "Mm…how to put this," he muses aloud. "You need to learn to act grateful. He could have been much more unkind."
“I don’t fear being broken,” Hizamaru gasps, and has to clutch at the wall to keep from falling, the stress and shock and pain of the day making him weak. “And you--gleefully doing his bidding? Attacking my master? Anii-ja, this isn’t like you!” I know, though we’ve never met, because I feel you in my heart as surely as it exists.
"Being broken should be the least of your worries, little brother." As if he hasn't already made that clear.
Counting doors--two, three, one more--Higekiri comes across the room he calls his own. Yoritomo doesn't quite know what to do with a tsukumogami other than treat them as another decently useful, less mortality-bound (magical) subordinate, which Higekiri finds delightfully in his favor, as it grants him his own chambers that aren't a storage room at all. He pulls Hizamaru inside and slides the door shut with a thud. "I can feel how his geas pulls at you," he calmly says, releasing Hizamaru's arm. "Think how it pulls at me, when he is the first master to truly bring me to this world."
“I won’t forget my master.” Saying it aloud hurts. That’s good. At least it means that Yoshitsune still burns in his mind, his secret little smile and his shining eyes and his slender soft hands that will never grip his hilt again. “I can feel how it pulls at you too, Anii-ja. And it isn’t so powerful as you say. I can handle the pain.”
Higekiri's head tilts, and he steps closer still. "Why bother?" he softly asks. "Pick your battles, won't you? There are better arguments to have with our master, certainly."
“I won’t forget him. I can’t. Everyone else...they’re all gone.” Hizamaru’s voice trembles on the last word, and he slumps down to the tatami mat, legs in a loose seiza that his master would rap him with a fan for. “It’s the least I can do, to remember.”
"Would they want you to suffer like this? Don't be a martyr," Higekiri chides, his mouth twisting in consideration as he regards his brother. He then steps away, rummaging for a small knife that he brandishes with a twirl of a finger. "Are you comfortable there? I'm going to even out your hair." I must.
Hizamaru’s fingers shake a little when he touches the ruined ends of the hair he’d been so proud of--just like his master’s, Yoshitsune had exclaimed in delight, and he’d give anything to be called Usu-Midori again one last time. “We look like twins now, I suppose. Do you think...it will come back?” He’s seen it before, Yoshitsune buying some trinket for Imanotsurugi only to have it vanish the next day, changing something on Iwatooshi to have the change fade in the sunlight.
Higekiri drops down behind him, his eyes lidded as he starts to neatly even out the hack-job he'd done on Hizamaru's hair. Well, orders are orders, especially when Yoritomo is there and frothing. "You've heard what they say of Sanjou blades, haven't you?" he hums, trailing his fingers up through his brother's hair, rubbing it the wrong way. "'They never break, they never rust, what they cut can't be reversed.'"
“And a geas doesn’t bind them,” Hizamaru spits back, even if he holds as still as he can. Furious or not, Higekiri’s hands do feel good, and his eyes lid a little, the pain from his geas receding at that bit of contact.
"But that's not true, if it's our true master! You lived with Imanotsurugi and Iwatooshi, you know that firsthand." The knife isn't as sharp as his own blade, but it still levels and cuts decently enough, and Higekiri starts feeling less anxious about this haircut already. "Mmm…are you so angry with me?"
“Yes.” Imanotsurugi and Iwatooshi were never asked to do anything they didn’t want to do--except “leave me, save something of us, find us in the next life.” “Are you enjoying cutting my hair so much?”
Higekiri pauses, a slow smile curving his lips. "Is it obvious?" he cheerfully asks, another piece of pale green hair tumbling to the floor. "It's soothing, and I'm making you look so cute. All that hair you had before dwarfed you. If that makes you angry, I'm sorry."
“You think your master wanted you to cut it because it looks better this way?” Hizamaru asks sourly. “He did it to humiliate his brother. You had to be able to see that.”
"The way I see it, you can either be angry about that, or you can enjoy how handsome you look." Higekiri leans forward, hooking his chin over his brother's shoulder from behind. "What will make our master more upset, I wonder?"
Hizamaru turns to the side, realizes how close Higekiri is all of a sudden, and turns back, face burning. Higekiri is warm and solid behind him, surprisingly comforting despite everything, despite the way his body still aches, and he leans back into that, eyes sliding shut. “I don’t care if he’s happy or angry. I just want him dead.”
"Shhh." Higekiri's eyes slide sideways, eyeballing a last strand of hair that's just wrong, and he snips that off before setting his knife down. He scoots closer, his arms circling low around Hizamaru's waist. "Saying things like that must hurt."
“Not at all.” It hurts so badly his lip wobbles, so badly it feels as if he’d rather rip his own skin off than keep talking, like his stomach has turned inside out and is punching a hole through his heart. But with Higekiri’s arms around him, somehow... “Less when you’re holding me.”
In this, Higekiri wishes he weren't such a liar. Maybe then he could understand how much his brother was hurting instead of just attempting to imagine it and empathize from there. At most, Yoritomo's orders are fluttering nuisances, a to-do list at the back of his mind that won't stop reminding him, and far stronger is the need to make his master shut up and not strike out at him in a fit of rage.
He also wishes that being cuddled up this close to his brother didn't enable him to hear so much more of his pain. "Hiza…ah…no, what was it. Something-midori?" Feigning forgetfulness is wise here and now. "Mmn, whatever," Higekiri breathes, turning his head aside to bury his face into the side of Hizamaru's neck. "If this makes it better, that's good."
“Just call me Hizamaru.” At that, at least, some of the pain subsides, knocking it down to a dull, pulsing nuisance. His arms still tingle and twinge from where they’d been bound behind his back when he reaches up to squeeze Higekiri’s shoulder, and he exhales slowly at the contact. “I wish...I wish he hadn’t made you do that. With me. In front of everyone. That’s not how...I wanted it to be.”
"You had plans for it to be a certain way?" Higekiri teases, his arms tightening their hold from behind as he noses behind Hizamaru's ear. "That's so cute. You've never known me before now, what if I hadn't been wonderful?"
Hizamaru tilts his head, quizzical. “I didn’t mean with you. I meant...” At least Higekiri is warm and solid and feels like something he can cling to when everything else is horrible, even if he’s part of it, a sickening part of it.
"Of course it would be with me, though. Who else could it be?" Higekiri's fingers absently fiddle with the ties of Hizamaru's hakama. "You can hate me for enjoying it, if you want. It would have been nicer, in private, but it just took one look at you…and well, I wanted to."
Hizamaru slaps at Higekiri’s wandering hands on principle, feeling his face flush at the words. “I meant it was the first time I’ve been refined. That isn’t how I wanted it to be, but...at least it was with you.”
Higekiri's hands pause, even if he doesn't remove them. "That was the first time?" He should feel guiltier about this, definitely, but instead, he can't help the surge of pleased, smug emotion that wells up within him. "Oh, all the better that it was me. You were so cute."
“It isn’t like you saw my face!” Hizamaru isn’t entirely sure why he’s upset, only that he is, because Higekiri always has to tease him. Despite the fact that this is only the first day they’ve known each other, he knows that full well--Higekiri has to tease him, and it’s awful. “I’m not cute, I’m no more cute than you.”
"Wrong. You're so cute."
Higekiri topples his weight forward against his brother's back, his face nuzzling more firmly into the back of Hizamaru's neck. "The noises you made were the best," he murmurs, his eyes lidding as he feels the hair on the back of Hizamaru's neck prickle and stand on end underneath his touch. "The cutest. I'm glad our master ordered me to refine you again, and again, and again."
The heat rises in Hizamaru’s neck and face, even as he struggles against Higekiri’s hold on principle, vastly more because it tickles abominably. “A-ah, don’t, Anii-ja, that’s way too much already!” The idea of being refined is so vastly different from the idea of being refined on Yoritomo’s orders, and what he’d give for that second part to vanish...
"Ehh? What's way too much, I haven't even done anything."
Higekiri's arms tighten in accordance with Hizamaru's wriggling, and his mouth presses hot and eager to the back of his neck. "Just because our master ordered me doesn't mean I don't want to do it anyway," he breathes, his hands firm on the ties of Hizamaru's hakama this time, and unraveling them with a swift yank. "Maybe I'll turn you over and look at your face this time, that sounds good…"
For just a moment, Hizamaru remembers the jealousy he’d felt, listening to others coupling happily, taking joy in a willing body, gasping and laughing and moaning in the arms of their beloved. He’d longed for that kind of belonging, that kind of rightness in being held, and Higekiri’s arms are so strong, fit around him so well, know how to touch him perfectly even if they’ve really just met.
He lets his eyes slide closed in a nod of capitulation, pressing back against that welcoming warmth, not trusting himself to speak, knowing he’d only say something embarrassing. Is it so bad to survive and move on? Would they hate me, for finding some means of comfort so soon?
Feeling the way that his brother relaxes (and it is relaxing, not resigning) makes Higekiri shiver, and his face buries into the shortened crop of Hizamaru's hair. "Good boy," he whispers.
He makes good on his threat, then, and pulls Hizamaru around before he can protest, pressing his back down to the tatami mat as he leans over him. "You're so cute, not watching your face this time would be a shame," Higekiri sighs, his eyes lidded as he pulls at the sash of Hizamaru's kimono, swiftly yanking it open. He slinks forward, nestling his hips between Hizamaru's thighs when one of his fingers errantly drags over a nipple. "I can play with you properly this time."
The noise that comes out of Hizamaru’s mouth is somewhere between a squeak and a squawk, covering his face with his hands even as his traitorous legs spread in what could only be called eagerness. The moment had been bad, but Higekiri had felt so good sliding deep inside him, a memory that makes him shudder even as his brother plays his body like his beloved master’s wooden flute. “It’s embarrassing,” he mutters, because he has to protest, or how base will his brother think him? The cloth parts, and the chill of Yoritomo’s castle feels like nothing confronted with the heat of Higekiri above him.
"Is it? Ah, don't cover your face, little brother." Higekiri beams as he pries Hizamaru's hands away by the wrists, and one-handedly pins them over his head. "You've got two options--I can tie you up, or you can be good," he brightly says, fixating on the way that Hizamaru's nipples harden just underneath the rub of his thumb. The first, slow drag of his thumb over a nipple turns to a gentle, teasing pinch the next time, and his fingers squeeze vice-tight about Hizamaru's wrists. "I want to see you…and hear your voice. No hiding."
A sudden spark of pleasure darts through Hizamaru’s body, making his back arch in surprise. It hadn’t felt like this before--it had been brutal, swift, and utterly dominating. This...well. The vice-tight hand on his wrists is certainly all of that, but combined with the teasing to his chest making him writhe, all Hizamaru wants to do is rut up against his brother shamelessly. The words don’t make much sense, a confusing jumble when he’s so hungry for more, and he stares up blankly, face flushed, feeling his cock harden almost painfully. “I...ah...just tell me what you want,” he says after a struggle.
Higekiri exhales a slow breath through his nose, the last little coping mechanism he has regarding his self-control when Hizamaru looks like that underneath him. His hips press forward, down, letting his brother feel how hard his own cock is and how it strains against the material of his hakama. "I want you to beg."
He could be nicer, he could, but where's the fun in that? Just tugging on an already-tormented nipple brings a shiver down his own spine with every arch and wriggle of Hizamaru against him.
It’s a strange feeling, to have someone playing with his body as if he knows it better than Hizamaru himself does. He twists and whines, trying to get away from that prodding pinch as much as it sends spikes of tingling pleasure through him--it’s too much too fast, no matter how it makes his cock throb, his breath come fast, and his feet, his hands find no purchase, no leverage to help him. “Anii-ja,” he breathes, feeling broken and lost already, eyes blown wide when he feels the stiff press of Higekiri’s cock above him. His voice falters, and all he can remember is how it felt to be facedown with that thick cock buried in him, and his mouth opens and shuts silently, brain unable to supply it with words when it’s so flooded with hormones.
"Not good enough," Higekiri hums, his voice a cheerful sing-song as his fingers nimbly switch to the other nipple, pulling and twisting it with every hitch of Hizamaru's breath. "Ask nicely for what you want, or you can wait."
“Wh--what do you want, bastard?” Probably not the kind of ‘nice’ his brother is looking for, but Hizamaru feels so flustered he can’t think of a single good word. He strains against the hold on his wrists, whimpering at the tug to his nipple, twisting to rub up against that answering hardness--just a little more, with just another twist and press he won’t even need more touches--
Higekiri tsks, exhaling a disappointed little sigh as he pulls his hand away and painstakingly shifts his own body away as well. "I told you what I want, little brother. I want you to beg." He regards Hizamaru through his lashes for a moment longer, then shrugs, releasing his wrists with a last squeeze as he sits back. "I guess you don't really want it, if you can't be good…"
The sudden loss of pressure is disorienting, enough that Hizamaru blinks vaguely up at his brother. “What...I thought you wanted me to...?”
It isn’t as if he hasn’t seen lovemaking before, among swords and men. It’s only that Higekiri is breaking all the rules, at least as he’s known them to be written.
"Mmm, shall I say it more plainly? Ask me nicely, or I'm not going to take you." Higekiri watches his brother, shrugging helplessly. "It can't be helped. I just want to hear how much you want my cock inside of you, I don't think that's such a terrible thing…"
Without Higekiri’s warmth above him, the room feels very cold after all, and Hizamaru draws his legs together up to his chest, suddenly feeling very exposed. The geas starts aching, twisting his belly again, and all the startled pleasure vanishes into sick pulsing and shivering. “If--if you don’t want me, fine, you’re the one who--”
"You're not listening to me."
Quick as a snake, Higekiri grabs one of Hizamaru's hands, hauling it forward to press it between his legs and against the hard line of his cock. "Does that feel like I don't want you?" he breathes, his eyes flashing. "Swallow your pride, little brother, and ask for it."
Hizamaru’s indignant protests die in his throat at the first pulse of that thick hard cock against his hand, and he swallows. He still stings and aches where he’d taken it the first time, but that memory is powerful, enough to make his breath quicken. “I...” Higekiri’s eyes are so intent, they burn into him, make him feel younger than he has in years. “...Please. P-put it back in, I want...”
He swallows hard, trying to find his courage when everything feels so jumbled in his mind. “I want it in me.” He curls his fingers, squeezing, tracing over the shape of it under those hakama, feeling his breath quicken when his palm slides over the damp fabric at the tip. “Anii-ja...tell me what to say, I don’t know...”
"T-that's already good," Higekiri groans, his head bowing forward when Hizamaru's fingers squeeze around him. His cock jumps and pulses underneath Hizamaru's hand, and Higekiri scoots forward again, his grip on Hizamaru's wrist unrelenting. "Say…mm, say you need it." Higekiri's head tilts, his tongue wetting over his lower lip. "Maybe…'Please, Anii-ja, I need you to take care of me.'"
A reckless impulse seizes Hizamaru, and instead of complying, he surges up, covering Higekiri’s mouth with his own, his own tongue tracing over where Higekiri’s had just licked, sucking that lip between his teeth with an urgent little moan, fingers squeezing and rubbing over that hard cock when he does. Higekiri tastes like home, like something he thought he’d lost a long time ago, like the bursting freshness of ripe fruit and the slow baking heat of an August afternoon, all wrapped under the crisp bite of chilled steel, and Hizamaru can’t possibly get enough.
Maybe Hizamaru didn't say anything, but ah, this is close enough, isn't it?
Higekiri hears himself make a sound, something between a moan and a low growl as he lurches forward, kissing Hizamaru hard. It's a mistake to be that eager--or is it a good thing? Either way, Hizamaru is sharper than he is, somehow, and Higekiri tastes blood on his tongue as he shoves his brother onto his back again.
His hands shake, over-eager, over-stimulated when they rip away Hizamaru's hakama entirely. His own cock is freed much more easily, and the dripping head of it rubs against the inside of one of Hizamaru's thighs, nudging up higher, rubbing against that tight hole. "Just say 'please', one last time," he rasps, and a glance down at Hizamaru's blood-stained lips makes him wonder how his own must look right now.
Some rebellious part of Hizamaru makes him hesitate. Maybe it’s his real master’s voice, still urging him to be smart, to keep from giving away any of his whole self, to remember that pleasure of the flesh is noting compared to the torment of betraying his sacred calling--but that part of him is small and cold compared with the warmth that calls to him now, that sits between his legs and plans to have him. “Please,” he breathes, hearing the catch of a whimper in his own voice and hating it, even as his thighs spread, looking up at his brother’s predatory grin. Please help me forget everything that hurts.
"That's a good boy."
He could be nicer, he could be kinder, he could be a lot of things, but to be fair, Hizamaru doesn't seem interested in any of it. He squirms and shivers and looks for all the world like he needs this, even if he won't say it--but that can change. Higekiri knows he'll come around eventually.
"I bet," Higekiri softly exhales, his thumb dragging over the tip of his own cock, spreading that slick fluid down the length of it, "you're still a mess inside from when I had you last. Don't worry, that means it'll be a lot easier."
Easier is a relative term, especially when it comes to arranging those long, trembly-tense legs, when it comes to prowling further between them until the angle is easier. Higekiri's grip switches to grabbing his brother's hips, pulling him onto his cock and paying little mind to the resistance and tension. The head of his cock pops inside, and he leans forward with his first, long thrust entirely in, wasting no time in burying himself completely and giving them both what they want so badly. It's still slick, just like he'd said, and the sensation of that makes his vision spin. "There," he pants out, planting a hand next to Hizamaru's head, his nails biting into the futon underneath them. "Isn't that--ahh--so much better?"
Hizamaru’s eyes roll back into his head with the first long thrust in. He hadn’t appreciated this properly the first time, hadn’t understood what was coming, had only been conscious of the sudden pain and fullness. This time, he feels every slick centimeter, every brutally intent bit of the heavy girth sliding into him, filling him inexorably, making his thighs tense and shiver, his breath catch on a pant, a groan, a helpless whine. His fingers make shaky little half-fists, clenching and unclenching involuntarily as his whole world narrows to where his brother is fucking him, owning him, taking him with deliberate, thorough rocks of his hips.
His head rolls back, and his arms come up, resting hesitantly on Higekiri’s shoulders, fingernails scrabbling at the skin there to try and hold on, try and find some purchase, try and find something to cling to when the world itself is so overwhelming. “Anii-ja,” he whispers, squirming as he’s filled so full he can’t possibly take it all, until his stomach feels like it’s cramping and his ass stings and twinges with every slick slide. “It’s, it’s so much, I can’t--”
"Mnn, but you are, so keep being good for me, won't you?"
Hizamaru feels like he's made for this. There's no other way to put it, not when his cock fits inside so perfectly, not when every centimeter is inside and there's nothing left to give, and Hizamaru squirms and pushes back like that's just on the side of too much. Higekiri's breath escapes hot against his brother's throat, his nails biting into those lean hips when he grinds forward long and deep, holding Hizamaru against him with every thrust. Sweat drips down from his own hairline, and Higekiri sucks a droplet up from Hizamaru's shoulder when it splatters there. "It was so fast last time," he breathlessly recalls. "I'm gonna take my time with you now."
Hizamaru shakes his head--not a negative, not arguing, just unable to do anything else, unable to process what he should do when the first few grinds into his body steal his reason and make him insensible. Higekiri’s sharp teeth against his neck make him whimper, and his hands drag down his brother’s back, nails scoring into the pale flesh over his untied kimono. “S’like...I can feel you in my throat,” he slurs, eyes unfocused, mindlessly rutting down for more even when his body wants to twist away.
Higekiri's back arches up into those nails with a slow hiss of breath, which just makes him shove up harder into Hizamaru, no matter how he wants to take his sweet time. Being buried inside his brother makes everything coherent in his mind come to a resounding halt, no matter how he'd like to be able to keep it slow, to keep teasing. "You look so happy about it," he taunts on a ragged laugh. Pausing, squeezing Hizamaru's waist in his grasp, all with his cock buried to the hilt--it's the only way he can keep this up, even though it drives him slowly mad to feel Hizamaru wriggle and clench around him. "Maybe next time, I'll make sure you really have something down your throat. Ahh, you're so tight around me like this," Higekiri distractedly mutters, snaking a hand down and tracing his fingers around where they're connected, over that slick, stretched hole. "You keep squeezing like you don't want to let go, do you like it so much?"
Hizamaru’s mind is gone, fuzzy at the edges, all crackling static in between. He gasps for breath, feeling his cock harder than it’s ever been, jerking without being touched when Higekiri traces over the too-tight stretch of his hole around that thick cock, teasing his overstuffed body with the threat of more, letting him feel just how full he is now. Sweat trickles down his face as he bites his lip, tasting blood. “Stay in me.”
How he manages three coherent words Hizamaru has no idea, but it’s the only idea keeping him sane. Everything is good when Higekiri is in him, demanding, obscenely thick, completing him, and he feels slack and shivering at the same time. “Just...stay in me, please, Anii-ja, it’s only good when you’re--ahh, you’re--so big, I’m--”
"If it's so big, maybe I should be nice and take some of it out, hmm?" Higekiri's eyes are alight, hungry when he pulls his hand away, and he holds tight to Hizamaru's hips again to keep him from squirming down when he rocks his hips out, his own thigh muscles trembling in complaint. It's torture to only be buried half-way, and he feels his cock twitching, dripping inside of Hizamaru with the urge to shove inside and really fuck him. "But you look like you'll die if it's not in you--so--ah…"
Hizamaru’s eyes fly open in shock and denial, and he squirms down frantically, trying to get full again, so close to bliss he can taste it, being suddenly denied. “Anii-ja--put it back, put it back in, put it back!” He hears the whine in his own voice and doesn’t care, doesn’t care about anything except how mind-numbingly hard he is.
"So demanding, little brother!" Higekiri's laugh is a breathless one, raw around the edges when his fingers bite into Hizamaru's hips, pinning them down, forcing him to still. "If I put it back in…is that really all it would take? I can tell, you know, how close you are. You're so easy."
Hizamaru nods frantically, tears threatening to fall when Higekiri denies him still, makes him squirm and writhe and beg, doesn’t give him what he craves so much when he’s so hard. “I need it,” he pleads, hands bracing on his brother’s chest, looking up at that teasing, playful, entirely cruel face. Having just the tip inside is torture, stretching him out painfully without giving him any of what he wants, keeping him just on the cusp of ecstasy without being kind enough to push him over.
Higekiri's next breath is a measured one, shaky at the edges no matter how he tries to keep it even. "You're so cute when you say things like that," he murmurs, but a shallow thrust is still Hizamaru's only reward, barely filling him any further no matter how the tension in Higekiri's own limbs is palpable. "Say it again, beg if you want all of it."
Hizamaru is panting freely now, chest heaving, struggling against the vice grip on his hips, desperate to get filled and fucked properly if it’s going to happen. “If you,” he pants, “don’t tie me up, I’m going to punch you, Anii-ja!”
"Ahaha, is that threat for real?" Higekiri stills again, his smile deceivingly patient. "I'll leave you strung up in here for hours, if that's what you want instead."
The tears start falling in earnest now, and Hizamaru isn’t playful when he lashes out, grabbing Higekiri’s kimono and nearly throttling him. “Stop playing with me and take me properly,” he demands, yanking his brother down for a kiss that leaves both of them tasting blood.
Fresh blood on his tongue--again--is impossible to ignore this time, and Higekiri doesn't bother trying.
Wordlessly, he pulls out completely, and one, swift manhandling lands Hizamaru facedown onto the tatami mat, both of his arms wrenched behind his back. "Ask nicely," Higekiri breathes, his cock rubbing against that twitching, aching hole as he bears forward. "This is the last time I'm telling you."
Just for a reckless moment, Hizamaru is seized by the irrational desire to do as his late master would have done, to push the limits just one more time, to see if his elder brother is really telling the truth. And look where that got him.
The shiver that goes through Hizamaru at that isn’t entirely sexual, but it’s enough to bring him to his senses, just enough that he breathes in deep, back arching, knees spread apart, submitting to the iron grip on his arms. “Please, Anii-ja,” he whispers, feeling the weave of the tatami mat press into his cheek, face burning when his hole twitches in what must be a lewd sight. “Please put all of it back in, I need you to f-fill me up, please--”
In that moment, Higekiri wishes his brother's hair were still as long and flowing as the time he'd taken him less than hours prior. He'd wrap his hand up in it, use that to haul him back onto his cock, use it like reins to pull him wherever--
But it's not there anymore, and not necessary, besides. I already have you where I want you.
Sliding back in, long and deep and fully, makes Higekiri's breath catch up in his throat. He doesn't bother offering any verbal praise this time--instead, he just gives Hizamaru what he wants. Every long, hard thrust is merciless, and when coupled with the grip on Hizamaru's arms, refusing to let him squirm away for an instant, it's all the more thorough. Higekiri's breath is hot and ragged against the back of Hizamaru's neck, his teeth just shy of sinking in when they scrape against pale skin. Next time, maybe you'll be faster about doing what I say.
Hizamaru sobs, burying his face against the tatami mat, letting it hide the shame he should be feeling when he’s finally, gratefully full. Every part of him tingles and twitches, and in this position he can’t even rut up for more, all he can do is lay docile and pray that Higekiri needs this as badly as he does. His entire world narrows to the thick slick head of his brother’s cock splitting him open, drilling into him over and over and over, dragging him closer to the precipice with every unrelenting thrust.
He vaguely hears himself crying out, and hope it sounds less whorish to his brother than it does in his own ears. Really, he can’t even care when Higekiri strikes him one last time just right and he falls, whole body trembling as he spurts onto the tatami mat, spilling over his own thighs and stomach with a cry.
That unrelenting clench around his cock makes the last of Higekiri's self-control break, and his teeth sink into the back of Hizamaru's neck, letting him taste blood for a third time.
Unthinking, Higekiri's grasp on his brother's arms loosen, his hands bracing as fists on the tatami mat instead as he grinds forward, his thrusts more shallow now as he barely pulls out at all each time. He can feel every single twitch, every shiver that rakes through his brother's body, and the noises Hizamaru makes are good enough to be heard even over the thundering pulse in his ears when he finally, mercifully lets himself go.
Higekiri shoves in as deep as he can, panting hard as he spills. His body twinges and twitches in protest at his desire to stay close, wanting to make sure Hizamaru feels every drop inside of him, feels so full that it hurts. "This is what happens when you ask nicely," he groans, his head thunking down against Hizamaru's shoulder. "You get exactly what you want."
The mat under Hizamaru’s face is damp with sweat and tears and saliva and probably blood trickling down his neck, but he hardly notices, closing his eyes and sagging down. One of his hands comes up to press on his belly, certain he’ll feel distended, it feels so full inside of him. “Anii-ja...is so much,” he whispers, voice wrecked and shaken.
"Mm? But that's a good thing, you like that." Higekiri sucks in a breath, summoning the last bit of his strength to sit back, and haul Hizamaru with him in the same motion, back onto his lap. "Do you want to go again? We could, just like this!"
“I’ll die,” Hizamaru insists with conviction, twisting to bury his head in his brother’s shoulder, clinging to his neck. He tries to wriggle up and off Higekiri’s cock, but his legs slide out from under him, driving him down further with a groan.
"That doesn't sound like dying to me," Higekiri hums. Well, maybe Hizamaru sounds like he's dying a little, but the noise only invigorates Higekiri. Inevitably, so does Hizamaru's squirming. "If you keep moving like that, I'm not going to have a choice," he says, his eyes lidding as he traces a droplet of blood down the back of Hizamaru's neck with his finger.
“N-not doing it on purpose,” Hizamaru protests, clutching at Higekiri like his last lifeline instead of the source of most of his issues. “You’re--it’s just too much, it’s sore, I’m so full already--”
"Ahh, that's fine, it'll just make it easier…" Higekiri trails off as he gives an experimental roll of his hips upward, his breath hitching as he feels his cock twitch back to life inside of his brother. One of his arms slings low about Hizamaru's waist in the guise of holding him steady, but it's more to hold him down than anything else. "If I pull out now, it'll be a real mess. Mm," he adds, agreeing with himself, "I should come in you a few more times, then you'll really know what full feels like."
“Y-you wouldn’t,” Hizamaru gasps. It sounds impossible--he feels like he’s dying after just once, and Higekiri wants to do it again--more than once? Surely he isn’t the only one on the verge of passing out. “I’ll pass out!” Surely, that will stop him.
"You probably won't," Higekiri cheerfully argues, hooking his chin over Hizamaru's shoulder. "But even if you do, that's fine. I'll keep going. Wouldn't that be nice?" His fingers tiptoe upwards, stealing a pinch to one of Hizamaru's nipples. "Waking up to me inside of you?"
Yes, says Hizamaru’s traitorous body, shivering and letting his thighs part, squeezing down around the thick length still buried inside him. His hand comes up to close over Higekiri’s, grasping it to steady himself. “Why do you keep pinching those?”
"Because I like how you react, like--mmn, like right now, you get all tense when I say or do something you like." Higekiri shifts, bracing his knees to better roll his hips up, taking his sweet time finding exactly where to thrust into his brother from this angle. "I know you said it's sore, but doesn't it feel good, too?"
Hizamaru opens his mouth to respond, only to shudder and groan when Higekiri’s cock rubs up against something that steals his words, steals his breath, steals his very thoughts until all he can do is sink down, eyes lidding in utter bliss. He groans again, little urgent rutting mewls, hands dropping to his own thighs to steady himself as he shoves down, trying to find that sensation again, forgetting everything but the need, the sudden all-encompassing urge to chase that pleasure.
Higekiri stifles a laugh as he rests a hand loosely against Hizamaru's hip, trusting his brother isn't going to try and crawl away now. "Found something good, huh?" he sighs, leaning back onto one hand, his eyes lidding as he watches Hizamaru work himself with renewed eagerness on his cock. Occasionally, he rocks his hips up, meeting the urgent arch of his brother's back. "That's a good boy. Keep moving like that."
“Don’t wanna stop,” Hizamaru grunts, eyes closed so he can focus entirely on sensations rippling through him, on the way the blunt head drags and catches over something inside him that makes his mouth go slack, his thighs burn and tremble with every slick motion. “What....what is that?” he asks, ignoring the way his thighs want to collapse, forcing himself down over and over again, feeling his cock start to dribble fluid as if the world’s slowest orgasm is rolling over him.
"Something good, like I said." Higekiri slowly gnaws on his lower lip as he watches, adjusting his brother gently with a tug or two, making sure every wriggle down presses on the perfect spot. "Even if you didn't feel so good…just watching you would make me come again. I bet you already feel like a mess, don't you?"
That’s certainly a word for it.
Hizamaru feels totally wrecked, like the wrong end of a battlefield. Every shove up into his body makes his mouth part, makes him sob, legs giving out a little more every time Higekiri grinds against whatever it is buried deep inside of him that turns him into this. There’s an obscene sort of sloshing inside of him with every rock, something that would be utterly humiliating if Hizamaru could spare half a thought for shame. “C-can’t...take much more, Anii-ja, please--”
Higekiri shudders, and lurches forward to deliver a quick kiss to the back of Hizamaru's neck. "So much quicker to beg this time," he murmurs. "I like that."
Because of that, Higekiri is merciful…sort of. As merciful as he can be when he's buried to the hilt inside of Hizamaru, thrusting and grinding upwards, slow and thorough each time. Higekiri barely pulls out, savoring how slick his brother feels inside, and how tight he clenches down even when his body keeps trying to give out. "Are you going to come for me again, too?" he lowly asks, his fingers methodically wrapping around Hizamaru's cock, stroking the dripping mess of it from base to tip. "Mm, if you let me see that, I'll be nice and put you out of your misery." Maybe.
“Can’t,” Hizamaru pleads, as his thighs finally give out and he sags down, twitching and whimpering when Higekiri slides in so deep he’s entirely nestled inside. Everything is cramping and aching and too-tight, his skin prickles, and he lurches back, trying clumsily for another kiss. “Anii-ja, take care of me, please, you made me this way...”
Higekiri groans as he gives into the urge to fist his other hand into Hizamaru's hair, pulling him back for a proper kiss. His tongue is still sore from the first time it was cut against Hizamaru's teeth, but Higekiri doesn't let that stop him from sloppily shoving it into his brother's mouth again, tasting him thoroughly. "This is me taking care of you," he pants between kisses. "Just relax."
Lifting Hizamaru off of his cock just enough to thrust up and into him harder, deeper each time takes effort, but it's worth it. The way his cock drips inside of him anew makes Higekiri shudder, and his eyes slide down to watch where he bounces Hizamaru on his lap. "Here you go," he grunts softly. "This is--ah, how it feels, being so full of me--" And only me.
He loses himself with a ragged, muffled groan, spilling hot and slick inside of Hizamaru once more. Higekiri buries himself in deep, but even that doesn't stop some of the mess from trickling out now, leaving it to drip down his own thighs. He rocks back with a breathless giggle, his skin flushed and every part of him feeling shivery and overstimulated. "Nnn…little brother…isn't it nice like this?"
Hizamaru can only nod dumbly, his entire body all-over satiated, making him feel limp and useless, good only to be kissed and squeezed and fucked and hauled around...and adored, he thinks vaguely, nuzzling back against Higekiri. “S’nice,” he agrees, feeling as if his clumsy lips are being moved by someone else, someone with no idea of what they’re doing. “S’nice with you. Nn, so full, it’s so messy...” It isn’t exactly a complaint, if Hizamaru is being honest with himself.
"We're gonna stay this way," Higekiri happily agrees, slowly flopping sideways and dragging Hizamaru with him to spoon up against his chest. He wriggles close against him from behind, mouthing a few wet, warm kisses against the back of his neck as he paws between his brother's legs. "Too much? Can you even come again? It's okay if you can't, I'll make you do it again later."
“I...” Hizamaru shakes his head, hardly understanding the question over the pounding of his heart. Everything between his thighs is slick and wet and feels like he’s been milked dry, oversensitive and raw. It’s a long time before he can work up the energy even to rub back in contentment, a little purring noise in his throat. “Anii-ja takes good care of me.”
"Mmm, good, good, you just stay like this, then," Higekiri sighs, entirely too pleased with these results. He kisses the side of Hizamaru's neck again, draping an arm firmly around him. "I'll keep taking care of you. Just trust me."
But you’re terrible. But you grabbed me out of my master’s hall after helping his brother slaughter him. But you did all those things to me in public. But...
But he’s my brother.
The hatred and humiliation and longing for something long gone feel very small right now, next to the warmth of Higekiri’s arms. “All right.”