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Tokiyuki won't say it out loud for a variety of reasons that go from not wanting to stroke Yorishige's ego to it simply being embarrassing, but he does like the man. Of course, he's a pervert, his prayers may be a sham (according to Shizuku and Tokiyuki trusts her judgment) and he is just trouble in general but Tokiyuki has learned to appreciate these parts of him ever since their second meeting – not from the first, that one was too disastrous to recall. If one would ask him what he likes the most about him, Tokiyuki would his eyes. They're the first thing he noticed about him – well, after the blinding divine light. Yorishige's eyes are clear, seeing straight through his soul, and they shook the boy to his very core when the man called him a hero.
Though, at this very moment, the only thing these eyes inspire in him is vague disgust and excitement as he feels them all over his body. With a sigh, Tokiyuki sits on his futon, rearranging the front of his kosode which loosened up after the strange game Yorishige insisted on playing – a “pillow fight” that he proclaimed to be a thing in the future, but who would trust him? Even asking for the two of them to sleep together tonight rings like an excuse to his young ears. Tokiyuki is still but a child, but his experience of these past two years left him with some understanding of the world. (His retainers would surely disagree about this assessment.) After spending so much time helping and studying under Yorishige, he has noticed something.
The way the priest treats him is different – not in regard to their status of course as that much should be obvious. No, it's more… subtle than that, if anything Yorishige does can be considered subtle. An accumulation of small things that together paint a picture of lust. His emerald eyes lingering on Tokiyuki's body for a little too long, especially the days his clothes are in disarray after sword or archery practice. The tip of his warm fingers brushing against Tokiyuki's cheeks and neck with both too much gentleness and too much ardor when he teases him. The way he insists on staying near Tokiyuki, their bodies so close together that the young prince may as well just sit on his lap. To others, it may look like the normal doting of a father or a caretaker but Tokiyuki knows better. The eyes that acknowledged him as a hero stare at him with the intensity of a beast observing its prey.
It's unnerving. Slightly disturbing. But more than these mixed feelings, it's exhilarating in a way that's so reminiscent of the thrill of fighting it hurts. Tokiyuki's mind screams at him that it's a dangerous road to walk on, that he has all the right to go back and forget about it but then again, hasn't he lived his life on the edge since the day he lost it all?
So when Yorishige insists on them sharing a futon in the creepy way Tokiyuki has gotten used to, contrary to the man's expectations, he simply nods. While Yorishige freezes at his meek answer, Tokiyuki crawls to his side, laying down next to him with his back facing the priest's chest. Being so bold is kind of embarrassing – Tokiyuki truly doesn't understand how Ayako can be so straightforward with her affection. What should he do now? On the battlefield, his trained body can move on its own but in the bedroom, he is inexperienced yet wanting, a sapling wishing to be a grown tree.
If nothing had happened, he'd betrothed by now, still without experience yet having been taught enough to perform during his first night. But now… In front of his eyes, the candle's flame dances wildly as restless as the thoughts spiraling in his head. He wants nothing more than to be helpful to his benefactor and will gladly warm his bed if needs be – he likes the idea of it even. The only problem is that there's nothing he can imagine himself doing – he doesn't even know how it works in the first place.
Rustles of fabric and the outside air hitting his sweat-soaked skin are what pull Tokiyuki out of his thoughts – the upper pan of his kosode is pushed to the side, exposing half of his torso. Involuntarily, he gasps when a large hand cups his flat chest kneading it with force.
“To think I would be allowed to touch my lord like this…”
“S-stop talking like a pervert!”
As Yorishige's raspy voice reaches his ear, Tokiyuki suppresses a shiver. Soon, he finds himself lifted high up as Yorishige sits up on his futon. Tokiyuki is plopped up in his lap, still imprisoned in his arms. He has been in direr situations, where his life was so close to ending that his survival could be considered a miracle, yet it's been so long since he froze up like this. It's not scary per se. Rather, being at the mercy of someone, especially one he trusts with his whole being makes warmth bloom in his chest and his heart skips a beat. His breath hitches in his throat as both of Yorishige's hands find their places on his chest, touching it so lightly that it feels akin to sweet torture. His kosode is swiftly discarded, leaving him unguarded and naked as the day he was born.
“Lord Tokiyuki, if you'll allow me,” Yorishige says as one of his hands creeps downward, seizing Tokiyuki's right thigh. “Please, leave yourself to me.”
Tokiyuki has never been able to understand exactly what's going in Yorishige's head but at this moment, it matters very little. His body pressing against the prince's small form is a steady rock that Tokiyuki wants to grab onto. Though unaware of what's going on, he instinctively spreads his legs, allowing Yorishige's hand to go further, dipping between his legs. It's the first time someone else has touched him here and though Yorishige simply wraps his fingers around his small penis, it's too much for Tokiyuki whose whole body writhes, sparks flying in front of his eyes. The man's other hand stays on his chest, keeping him in place even as unknown sensations take hold of his body. His feet graze against the futon and his toes curl as voiceless cries leave his mouth.
His mind is in a daze, unsure of what's truly happening, yet his body is sharp, honed by practice to stay awake even as his thoughts melt away. Through teary eyes, he sees Yorishige's hand move up and down, each gesture sending a chill down his spine and feeding a foreign weight in his lower stomach. It's hot. Tokiyuki is unable to tear his gaze away from his crotch, taking in the view of Yorishige's thumb focusing on the tip of his penis, gently grazing against the slit as a clear liquid comes out of it. Wet sounds fill the room and break the silence, alongside the faint echoes of Tokiyuki's confused moans.
Something hot pokes him from behind, its length long enough to reach the middle of his back. If his mind were focused, he'd have no problem guessing what it is – unfortunately, it has gone blank a while ago. The thing rubs against the small of his back, smearing slimy liquid all over his skin but Tokiyuki doesn't even give it a second thought. Not everything registers in his head anymore, and all he can concentrate on is the sweet feeling of pleasure creeping on him and making him forget what he wanted to do in the first place. The hand around his penis moves faster, and Tokiyuki feels it without knowing what it is – all he understands is that it comes from the depth of his body and that its release will make him experience heaven.
A few seconds later, his hips buck up as far as they can while he's still held up in place and his mind goes totally blank. Instantly, his body relaxes, becoming limp in Yorishige's hold, and he closes his eyes for what feels like an eternity. (Halfway between dream and reality, he feels a warm fluid splash on his back, but it's wiped away quickly.) But when he opens them again, he's still in his caretaker's arms, his breath ragged and his hair a mess. Yorishige raises his hand to his mouth, gulping loudly something Tokiyuki can't see anything but a white liquid trickle down the priest's chin.
“Exactly as I foresaw. My lord, you've finally become a man.”
“Thanks?”
He has not the faintest idea what the man is talking about, but there's a more pressing matter at hand. Is it okay if he's the only one feeling good? He can't remember exactly all that happened, but he feels like all the focus was on him and his gratification. His goal to be helpful to Yorishige can't possibly be achieved this way as he indulges in selfish pleasure. Though his thoughts are still disorganized, Tokiyuki opens his mouth to voice his apprehensions.
“Mr. Yorishige–”
“In the future, they'd call me a 'shotacon',” Yorishige whispers sleepily while hugging Tokiyuki against his chest.
“What kind of nonsense are you spouting again?!”
“Shotacon”? The word doesn't roll off the tongue or even sound entirely Japanese. Its meaning is even muddier though he guesses it's something shameless. Are the people of the future all perverts like Yorishige? The thought follows him in his dreams and Tokiyuki wonders if he is the cause of this particular problem.