"Since there's no help, come let us kiss, and part!

Nay, I have done: You get no more of me."

All of Me (RG Veda)

"...therefore I believe our best choice would be to move the cavalry to this point, and attack in a wedge formation..."

"I'm afraid I can't agree..."

"But there's always the threat.."

The war council had degenerated into another shouting match.

Ashura-oh toyed with the fine gold pointer in his hand, and sighed. There was a kink at the back of his neck from bending over the map too long. He put down the pointer precisely along the right edge of the map. Once that always signaled the end of a discussion. Tonight no one even bothered to notice.

"Gentlemen, let's stop here tonight." Arguments in the room came to an abrupt halt. Several people turned and looked at him with surprise. He had not raised his voice many times that night. No doubt they had forgotten his presence in the room.

"It's very late. No purpose is served by making last minute changes. Only confusion will result. I suggest that you all return to your quarters and get some sleep. You'll find it much better to face the enemy tomorrow well-rested and with clear minds."

"But my lord, what about the defense on..." One man started to object.

"Good night," he said in a voice that brooked no objection. Even in his present diminished state that voice was still obeyed.

"Good night then, m'lord." They bowed, and filed out of the tent one by one.

With their exit a breeze finally dared to venture into the tent. Ashura-oh took a deep breath, They had been arguing non-stop over the plans of tomorrow since dusk, having gone through almost all possible permutations of troop deployment, all variations of defense and attack. Had he not put a stop to it, they would have gone on arguing through out the night. Once that was inconceivable. He merely presented his plan, and with minor changes that was how it stayed. When was the first time someone raised a hesitant voice, and suggested that perhaps they should try something else? Even before that, he had seen the generals and the strategists whisper heatedly amongst themselves, only to fall abruptly silent and red-faced when he walked by.

They were simply not used to losing. They had seen the seamless formations of the Ashurian army unravel before Taishakuten's onslaught, witnessed the undefeated legions lose ground again and again to an upstart, until they found themselves facing the enemy before Zenmi-jou. He had seen their confidence in him erode, the troops' morale disintegrate. Now every time he raised his voice it was inevitably drowned out by nervous objections and counter-arguments. He did not even know why he bothered, when he knew that the outcome of the war was determined so long ago. Did he not chose it himself that fateful night? Except that he had always been the strategist of strategists, and still was. It was jarring to know that his men no longer thought so.

He found himself studying the map again. Perhaps...he twirled a small red marker between his fingers. There. He reached out to move several of the flags to their optimal positions. An useless gesture, nevertheless it made him feel better, a small sop to appease his pride.

It occurred to him that even now, he could still change his mind, and turn the tide of the war. Just a few changes, and tomorrow this time he would be reinstated in Ashura-jou with Taishakuten's head hanging over the city gate...he shoved the thought away, pushing away the map physically as though to remove the temptation.

The pain in his neck still persisted, and had migrated lower to his shoulders, a dull ache under the weight of the armor. He wanted to take it off, but some instinctive precept held him back. No soldier in his right mind would even consider it on the eve of the battle. Then abruptly he saw the ridiculousness of it all. He had chosen his fate.

The presence of a breastplate, or lack thereof, would affect nothing. With a sound of bitter amusement he started to unbuckle the straps.

Already the pain was less without the weight of the epaulettes. He sighed with relief and leaned back in his chair. Without the constricting metal around him he found he could hardly support himself. He was weary to the bone. Not just from the battles, or even from losing them. That he had expected. What he never considered, ridiculous though it seemed in hind sight, was how he would explain them. The excuses, the prevarications that he needed to prepare, the all night war councils where he had to present the battle plans that he knew would lead them to disaster...the effort was becoming too much to bear. But tomorrow all lies would end. Tomorrow it would be finished.

With that thought he let himself drift, thinking only of how pleasant it was to sit down without the steel cage surrounding him. A breeze caressed him through the thin material of his shirt. He became aware that he was dreaming. There was the warmth of another human body beside him. A hand cupped the back of his neck. A soldier's hand, hard and smooth with callus of a swordsman. Not so very strange that he was dreaming of Taishakuten again, only strange that he dreamt of him this way, when he had always found their sessions together exhausting. He had never understood how some people considered seduction an amusing game. To constantly anticipate what Taishakuten wanted, to keep his attention occupied, to keep the passion under his control...they were as draining as the war councils in their own way. But he needed to think of neither. Only the soothing pleasure of flesh against flesh. Ashura-oh shifted, and pressed back against the hand. Its warmth was melting the knot at his nape. Then something hard pressed into his shoulder. It was a sensation he was familiar with; the beveled edge of an epaulette digging into his arm. His eyes opened abruptly.

"Not even a guard at the door? Isn't that careless of you. Ashura-oh?" A low voice, with its faint undertones of irony, whispered in his ear.

So it was not a dream, after all. He supposed he was not really surprised. It was something that the Raijin would do. Slip into the enemy camp the night before their last battle, still wearing that flashy silver armor. Reckless, mad, and direct. He turned his head slightly, so he could look at the face a breath away from his own. As always he was vaguely disturbed by the intensity of those pale eyes. The mask he had always worn with Taishakuten slipped back onto his face with the ease of long practice. It was almost second nature to him to adopt that carefully chosen look of preoccupation, letting his gaze rest for only a moment on that face so close to him, before gliding away to the distance, as though he had not really seen it. It was merely self-defense against the devouring eyes. Self-defense also, to ignore the unvoiced demand in them, and find another topic.

"That last battle was well fought, Taishaku." He said in a neutral voice.

It had never failed to both infuriate and fascinate Taishakuten; Ashura's manner of never acknowledging his words and questions except in the most oblique ways. His eyes never stayed on Taishakuten's face, but seemed to pass over it, as though it was merely an interesting obstruction in the line of sight. At times that preoccupation had its charm, but other times Taishakuten simply wanted to plant himself before Ashura, and focus the face up so that the eyes had nowhere to look except at himself.

It never worked. He knew how his part should be played.

"I thought you might consider an advance, since I fulfilled my part of the bargain so well."

"Did Shashi help you?" Ashura-oh asked, not sounding as though he cared.

"No!" Taishakuten answered, too quickly, then added, "Does it matter? I did not come to talk of Shashi." He slipped one hand into Ashura's shirt, and brushed over a nipple, not encountering any resistance, nor expecting any.

"I'm tired, Taishaku." Ashura-oh said. He made no effort to stop

Taishakuten's hand from traveling lower, though he really could not bear the thought of another one of the seductions that the Raijin seemed to expect. There were better ways to get it over quickly.

"Will you do something for me?" He asked, letting his lashes veil his eyes. Slowly, he raised one hand and traced one finger along the edge of the collar-bone, exposed over the top of the breastplates. The armor was truly outrageous. Any decent archer from 500 feet could pick him off with ease.

"Anything," came the not so very surprising reply.

An arrow-right...there. Ashura-oh rested his finger in the hollow at the base of his throat. He counted to five, felt Taishakuten shiver. Sometimes it was nice to be the one who twisted the knife.

"Go home, Taishaku." Ashura-oh said, and turned his face away.

He heard the sudden intake of breath, knew that the eyes were growing hard until they resembled cracked ice, and that the hand at Taishakuten's side had clenched into a fist. But frankly he was not very interested. He knew what would happen, had studied it until he had it down to a science. Taishakuten would either stride out of the door wordlessly, or, if he had less control at the moment, throw Ashura-oh on the floor and satisfy himself. Either way, he would be gone within ten minutes, and leave him in peace for the rest of the night.

Hands seized him, tightening around his arms painfully. They were going to leave marks. So this was how tonight was going to be. In a way he was glad. He had not treated Taishakuten well, in fact used him in a despicable way. This would be a small portion of his penance.

"Damn you...how could you do this to us?!" Taishakuten shook him hard, once. At times like this Taishakuten knew he had lost. When that gentle preoccupation turned into indifference, and Ashura would remain locked in that place where he always retreated to, alone.

"Do what? Taishaku?" He echoed without much interest. Why doesn't he just get it over with? Then he felt himself lifted bodily and deposited on the bed. Taishakuten's familiar weight settled over him, pressing him into the mattress. He spread his legs a little, letting his eyes focus on a point somewhere on the elaborately patterned roof of the tent. It was quite comfortable, actually.

Even now, seen through the haze of desire, the perfection of the face below him never failed to take Taishakuten's breath away. The smooth marble of the brow, the deep set of the eyes, the gentle slope of the cheek. Taishakuten did not know whether he wanted to throttle that slim white throat, just so the eyes would look at him and not through him, or if he wanted to take Ashura away, and lock him somewhere so that no one else could ever look on that beauty.

There was a slight crease between the brows that had been there all evening. He reached out to smooth it. Then he threaded his hands through Ashura's hair, and spread it to form a dark corona on the pillow.

"Do you think I'm so blind that I don't know what you are trying to do," Taishakuten whispered. "Does it please you to force me to this?" As though to demonstrate, he pulled the head up from the pillow, and locked the lips in a bruising kiss. A familiar pleasure surged through him. Suddenly he did not care that he was being manipulated. To be able to taste Ashura, to be able to possess him would be enough. He would not ask for more. He bent to seize another kiss. The mouth opened without urging, It was something he had forgotten, that Ashura had always been compliant, had never refused him, even at times like this. Now the legs opened wider, accommodating him... But the eyes retained their faraway look.

It occurred to Taishakuten that even when Ashura had been the seducer, and made love to him with such devastating skill, those golden eyes had always been fixed somewhere else. With a curse Taishakuten pushed himself away.

And finally, finally, Ashura's gaze shifted onto his face.

"What is it, Taishaku? Developing a conscience at this late stage in life?" He asked. Then he sighed, a sound that seemed to contain a world of weariness. He raised one arm over the pillow, so that his shirt fell open. The other hand he dew carelessly down Taishakuten's throat. Then he allowed his lips to curl into a seductive smile. An involuntary spark of lust leaped into the silver eyes.

Ashura-oh did not miss it. "So that's what you want, the full banquet, with all the seasonings," he laughed. A strange, faintly contemptuous noise that grated on Taishakuten's ears. "My apologies, Raijin." Ashura said, as he ran his hands through the fine strands of silver hair falling around him, so much softer than his own. "I'm really not up to my usual performance today."

He let his hands fall back, and turned his face away.

"I'm just so tired," he said, knowing his mask was slipping, and not really caring. "Tired of lying, tired of knowing the truth, tired of keeping up this facade and this constant performance." The figure beside him suddenly became very still. He could sense the shocked silence emanating from it.

"Is this a lie, too?" He had never heard Taishaku's voice like that, perfectly calm and neutral, without even the slightest hint of irony or that ever-present sneer. But there was the barest edge if a tremor in it.

He did not want to raise his head, did not want to know what would be in the eyes above him. Who was he that he could reduce a warrior to this? With a throat that had gone abruptly dry, Ashura-oh heard himself reply, "Your promise is not a lie."

A hand was under his chin, forcing him to look up. He knew that he must not, had carefully planned all their encounters, done all he could, just so they would never arrive at this point, but Taishakuten's strength was undeniable. He loomed over him, filling his sight, so that he could not look beyond, could only look up, and meet his gaze. In that moment something passed between them, things spoken in the silence best left unsaid. And Ashura-oh knew that he was well and truly lost. His defense laid bare, his camouflage stripped away. He was mesmerized, like a small animal by a giant jungle cat, as slowly, inevitably, Taishakuten lowered himself over him again, their gaze still locked. The silvery hair fell around him in a shower of silk, whisper soft on his shoulders and his face. They enveloped him in a cocoon of light, a secret place where he and Taishaku existed. And suddenly he no longer felt naked. He sighed, tension flowing out of his body with his expelled breath, as their lips touched finally. Soft as the flutter of a butterfly's wings.

For a while they stayed so, with only the slight erratic exchange of breathing between them. Then a shudder passed through Taishakuten. It released something in him, and for the first time he let himself kiss Ashura the way he had always wanted to. His tongue traced the outline of the full curve of the lower lip, the delicate indentation in the center of the upper lip. Slowly he moved his head from side to side, feeling the velvet of Ashura's lips brush gently against his.

It was pleasure beyond words, to be kissed like that. Somehow he had never imagined that Taishakuten could have kissed so, never allowed himself to imagine that this could be. It was a balm for his soul. His weariness fell away from him, replaced by a treacherous warmth which stole over his body. The callused hands brushed over his face, down his arms, then stole underneath his robe to send shivers down his spine. They were like warm water flowing over him, molding every curve and plane with a tenderness that stole his breath away. ThenTaishaku's tongue was between his lips, gently asking permission that he could not deny.

Ashura's mouth parted beneath his. Taishakuten discovered the warm inner wetness of the mouth, sweet and tender, and the taste made him want to savor it, to bring cries of genuine pleasure to Ashura's lips. He realized that he had never heard him cry out when they made love before. Ashura's skillful ministering had always succeeded in making him forget any pleasure but his own. He dragged his mouth away, trailing his lips along the exposed neck, nibbling at the slender column. He pressed his face into the curve at the base of the neck where it joined the shoulder; licked away the drop of salty sweat gathered in that little indentation before traveling lower. He flicked one brown nipple with his wet tongue. Ashura made a hissing sound as if he had been burnt. Taishakuten took the hard little nub into his mouth and sucked hard. The voice above him erupted in a groan of pure passion.

Ashura-oh's hands tangled in Taishaku's hair, helpless under the onslaught of pleasure. He could feel Taishaku's hardness pressing into his thigh like a burning brand, even through the layers of silk. Suddenly he was desperate to feel Taishaku's skin underneath his hands. He tore at the straps of the armor. Through some miracle of coordination he made the buckles give, and then shoved aside the bulky pieces without detaching himself from Taishaku.

Taishaku rose in his arms, incredible the friction of skin against skin. Then they were devouring each other, plundering each other's mouths, Ashura ran his hands greedily over the smooth skin, tracing the muscles on the back, feeling them undulate underneath his palms as their bodies writhed against each other. One rough palm brushed over his nipple, abrading it. He whimpered, begging for more. That sound did unprecedented things to Taishakuten's heart. He tore his mouth away from Ashura's, and slid his lips to the nipples below, which his finger had teased to hardness. He pressed two fingers together into the warm cavern of Ashura's mouth, felt the soft tongue tracing the same pattern on his finger tips as he did on the nipple.

Ashura-oh made an incoherent protest when he felt the fingers withdrawn. Then Taishaku's mouth reclaimed his, at once both giving and taking. Their tongues plunged and receded, and Ashura's response was a deep tugging, as if a thread of sensation linked his mouth with his loins. Taishaku's hand skimmed down to his knee, and then traveled slowly upward. Brazenly Ashura opened his legs wider, affording the hand better access. Taishaku explored him unhurriedly, taking his erection in an infuriating light grasp, testing the heavy furred weight below, then traveling lower still, probing him with a wet finger. The tip slipped into him. Another finger joined the first, stretching him, preparing him. Suddenly his body was on fire, he was desperate for Taishaku to take him, to possess him completely.

Then the hand withdrew. Taishakuten raised himself, poised for a moment at the entrance. Slowly, by fractions of an inch, he pressed in. He realized that he was trembling from the effort of holding back. Ashura's eyes were watching him, a fierce and greedy expression in them, urging him on. He wanted to see it forever.

With a muffled cry, Ashura brought his legs up and locked them around him, rocking back his hips to offer him even deeper entry. Taishakuten's body convulsed, and he lifted his head to curse softly in surprise, as if he had not expected to respond with such swift intensity. He had to remember how to breath. He raised himself up, nibbling a path up to Ashura's throat, and caught the earlobe between his teeth.

"Please..." Ashura heard himself moan, a desperate plea. He shifted his hips impatiently. Then Taishakuten was moving within him, taking him deeply and thoroughly. Touching him in his core, filling an emptiness in him that he did not even realize was there. He wantted to cry out his gratitude,or weep for bitter joy, but he could only cling to Taishaku, and moan his assent. The long strokes evoked pulsation that originated deep inside his core, and radiated outward, bathing him in ripples of warmth.

He did not know which evoked the greater response in him, the expression of ecstasy on Ashura's face as he pushed himself slowly into the tight orifice, or the slick heat that surrounded him. The eyes were shut tightly, but the lips were open, Ashura's breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He forced himself to stop for a minute, though he hardly knew how, so that he could engrave the image on his mind, forever. Unable to help himself, he called out softly, "Ashura." The eyes opened a slit, watching him. He bent and brushed a kiss across the parted lips. Something rose in him, he did not know what it was, until he found the words on his tongue. Ashura never knew, that even at moments like this Taishaku was still capable of a gesture of such tenderness. There was something in Taishaku's eyes, something that asked, and demanded an answer in return. He could see it taking shape, forming itself into thought and understanding. But Ashura knew that it must not be said, not now, when the acknowledgment of it could alter nothing, only bring bitter regret to both of them.

Taishaku's lips moved, about to form the words. With a sound of desperation and yearning, Ashura yanked down the head above him, sealed their mouths against each other, so he could breath in the unspoken words whispered against his lips, take them into himself and keep them locked in the chambers of his heart forever. With a savage surge Taishakuten pushed back into him, filling the aching emptiness inside. This time he did not stop. The rhythm quickened, the strokes becoming sharp jabs. Their tongues careened wildly against each other. He was aware that his fingers were digging into Taishaku's back. They were going to leave marks. Then a searing heat exploded inside him, ecstasy spiraling up from the pit of his stomach. He cried out, incoherent, sobbing. The cocoon was broken, and was spilling in a shower of light.

It was an eternity 'til Ashura resurfaced. A delicious languor pervaded through his body. Ashura pressed closer to the body next to him, pulling the silvery threads about himself to reform the silken shell. Darkness still surrounded them, a last blanket against reality. He wanted to lie here forever, just listen to the steady heartbeat beneath his ears. It was that moment of complete darkness toward the end of the night, unbroken by stars. The last moment before the true light of dawn broke.

He watched Taishakuten rise and dress silently. There was a hollowness in the region of his heart, perhaps there would be painthere later, or perhaps he would be dead before he could recover feelings there. At the moment he could not quite decide which he preferred. Better to admire the fine male physique displayed before him, the graceful efficiency of movement. Simply pretend that it's another lover, who may or may not return.

Then Taishakuten came towards him and knelt before him. Knelt before him, and fixed those uncompromising eyes on him again. He knew what they would contain, and knew that he could not allow himself to answer. But he had cast away his mask, broke it into splinters, and he had nothing to conceal himself with. So he forced himself to look into Taishaku's face. Was it his imagination, or did those fine lips look softer, slightly swollen? The eyes weren't made of cracked ice anymore. There was so such hope in them, so much light. That too was part of his punishment.

"No, don't say it," he whispered pleadingly. Don't you realize what it would do to me, to you? It should never have been, there should never have been anything between us, except for that bond of power. It should never have come to this. Don't let it. Not now, not when it is too late, not when it has always been too late. He saw Taishakuten frown, then with a swift and fluent curse he seized Ashura-oh, and crushed his lips under his. Without knowing how, Ashura found arms locked around Taishakuten in a grip like death. Then abruptly the contact was broken. The hollowness was already changing into pain. In a second he would not be able to breathe.

He felt Taishakuten rise and listened to the soft footfalls stop at the doorway, half turning towards him. Was he going to say it, after all? There was a strange glitter in his eyes.

"To victory, Ashura-oh," Taishakuten said then stepped out into the dying night.

~FIN~