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May. 9th, 2010 12:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat8cha"Natori. I'm surprised to see you." There were a number of emotions on Matoba's face, none of them surprise. Sadistic joy, yes, excitement as well, and that strange emotion that lends itself to detective and researches alike the emotion that drags people through hundreds of hurdles just so they can shout 'EUREKA!' to the world. Natori knows the look and knows the feel of it. He doubts Natsume knows it though. Natsume was... really innocent.
In a lot of ways.
"Natori-s" Matoba places a hand gently on Natsume's mouth. Natsume, wisely, shuts it. Natsume is splayed across Matoba's lap, his shirt hanging off his bound together wrists, his fly undone and his orange underwear showing above the pushed down waistband of his pants. He looks thin and small next to Matoba, who is several years his senior.There are paper wrappings around Natsumi's ankles, not bindings like the scroll wrapped tight around his wrists, but shackles. Considering how much trouble Natori knows Natsume to be he has to admit it was a wise idea on Matoba's part. Still, paper bindings wouldn't be enough to keep Natsume in one place. Trauma and physical exhaustion might be.
"Matoba. I told your servants," too kind a word for the black creatures that served Matoba, "that he was my friend and I would not forgive further rudeness."
Alone, without a shiki or his stick, without Nyanko, Natori would only be able to rely on paper and his own magic. That and charm, but he doubted Matoba cared about his charm.
"You did didn't you." Matoba's hand ran up and down Natsumi's thin chest. It was impossible to miss the fact that Natsume was breathing fast and shallow, that a red blush was slowly spreading down his ears and neck and chest, or that his nipples were perky and a dull dusky gold.
Natori pretended he didn't notice. He didn't think Matoba was buying it though.
"Is he just a friend?" Matoba and Natori had been young spiritualists together, two young men with terrible futures ahead of them. They had met now and again, and before Matoba had become... Matoba, Natori and he had experimented in dark rooms at night under a borrowed futon. They had been too old for it to really be an experiment, but no woman could fully understand what they were suffering.
No ordinary man either.
"Yes." Natori wonders if Natsume did something stupid like tell Matoba his name. Natori hopes not, and he will not use Natsume's name in Matobe's presence. He's sure Matoba notices.
"Not anything more?" Long slow strokes of Matoba's dangerous elegant figures. "Not a brother, or a student, or a," inestimably damning pause "lover?"
"*No*." Natori's not sure if he was not definite enough, or too vehement in his denial. Matoba likes to play games sometimes. Natori really dislikes becoming entangled with the Matoba group. They're ruthless, they don't care about Ayakashi (not that Natori did, he was a big bad demon hunter, no matter what. ...Natsumi had not made him go soft.) Matoba had once also found it amusing to play games with Natori and those he was close to, before Natori stopped being intertaining and Matoba moved on. And now Matoba had moved on to Natsume, who was bright and vibrant and young and INTERESTING… and close to Natori. Natori wondered which of them Matoba was playing games with.
"That's too bad." The hand on Natsume's lips isn't firm enough to stop Natsume from shouting and swearing, his body twisting in Matoba's grip when Matoba slips a hand into Natsume's pants.
"I was going to ask if you'd share."
In a lot of ways.
"Natori-s" Matoba places a hand gently on Natsume's mouth. Natsume, wisely, shuts it. Natsume is splayed across Matoba's lap, his shirt hanging off his bound together wrists, his fly undone and his orange underwear showing above the pushed down waistband of his pants. He looks thin and small next to Matoba, who is several years his senior.There are paper wrappings around Natsumi's ankles, not bindings like the scroll wrapped tight around his wrists, but shackles. Considering how much trouble Natori knows Natsume to be he has to admit it was a wise idea on Matoba's part. Still, paper bindings wouldn't be enough to keep Natsume in one place. Trauma and physical exhaustion might be.
"Matoba. I told your servants," too kind a word for the black creatures that served Matoba, "that he was my friend and I would not forgive further rudeness."
Alone, without a shiki or his stick, without Nyanko, Natori would only be able to rely on paper and his own magic. That and charm, but he doubted Matoba cared about his charm.
"You did didn't you." Matoba's hand ran up and down Natsumi's thin chest. It was impossible to miss the fact that Natsume was breathing fast and shallow, that a red blush was slowly spreading down his ears and neck and chest, or that his nipples were perky and a dull dusky gold.
Natori pretended he didn't notice. He didn't think Matoba was buying it though.
"Is he just a friend?" Matoba and Natori had been young spiritualists together, two young men with terrible futures ahead of them. They had met now and again, and before Matoba had become... Matoba, Natori and he had experimented in dark rooms at night under a borrowed futon. They had been too old for it to really be an experiment, but no woman could fully understand what they were suffering.
No ordinary man either.
"Yes." Natori wonders if Natsume did something stupid like tell Matoba his name. Natori hopes not, and he will not use Natsume's name in Matobe's presence. He's sure Matoba notices.
"Not anything more?" Long slow strokes of Matoba's dangerous elegant figures. "Not a brother, or a student, or a," inestimably damning pause "lover?"
"*No*." Natori's not sure if he was not definite enough, or too vehement in his denial. Matoba likes to play games sometimes. Natori really dislikes becoming entangled with the Matoba group. They're ruthless, they don't care about Ayakashi (not that Natori did, he was a big bad demon hunter, no matter what. ...Natsumi had not made him go soft.) Matoba had once also found it amusing to play games with Natori and those he was close to, before Natori stopped being intertaining and Matoba moved on. And now Matoba had moved on to Natsume, who was bright and vibrant and young and INTERESTING… and close to Natori. Natori wondered which of them Matoba was playing games with.
"That's too bad." The hand on Natsume's lips isn't firm enough to stop Natsume from shouting and swearing, his body twisting in Matoba's grip when Matoba slips a hand into Natsume's pants.
"I was going to ask if you'd share."
