#although i hesitated cause posting freaky nasty on main isnt a regular habit of mine—

[nabaath-areng]

“... Were it to be discovered that I am sheltering a wanted fugitive under my clans banner, the sole heir of the infamous enemy clan no less…” the lord says as he swirls the sake in the cup, “I should not need to explain the risks that come with being implicated as a participant in the tragic downfall of the Yokoyama clan.”

“Indeed, I know full well how much is at stake with you supporting me," Miyabi says, "and once again I know not how I could ever repay you for your boundless generosity." A shaky breath— "However…”

“If it is coin you seek, I am afraid I must disappoint,” Miyabi says, suddenly wondering if he’s actually bitten off more than he can chew after all. The mission to retrieve the sword he could do and did… But money? Surely the lord must know that any potential wealth to speak of burned down along with his past on that gruesome night. The lord, to Miyabi's surprise, only barks out a laugh.

“You are wise beyond your years, enough so that I forget how young a man you actually are at times,” the lord says, and the grin his lips curve into is downright searing, “I understand however that there are things that your current circumstances have prevented you from learning.��� Indeed, simply being an heir does not lend you the skill, nor the knowledge that is required to prevail in the noble world. Particularly not when everything that was promised, title included, all get razed to the ground before you could inherit any of it. He knew all this, and yet Miyabi sought this man out. His father is in all likelihood cursing his name right now, down in whatever hell Miyabi sent him to... but until his own time is up and he joins both him and mother down there, he can only do whatever it takes to survive... Including seeking shelter under his late fathers' nemesis in life, and spending the quiet eve inside his private quarters to share more than just drinks.

"I apologize for my ignorance," Miyabi says, "...as well as for my disrespect, for I would ask for your guidance and wisdom." Once more, the lord laughs. It's a more than pleasant sound, and Miyabi distantly recalls hearing rumours about his lordship never wanting for company throughout his younger years, all thanks to the man's effortless charm as well as quick wit and intellect. Like every other whisper shared between the adults back then, it was never something Miyabi was meant to hear, this he knows. But it's certainly not hard to believe it, now that the man in question is right there before him, in the very flesh. Kami knows Miyabi would never dare to presume this to mean they are equals... his is an existence that is most inauspicious, as it turns out. However, there is no denying the fluttering in his chest when the lord moves to slowly leans forward, inching closer as if he is nothing more than prey being backed into a corner.

“My dearest Miyabi…" the lord says, "As the head of my clan for just about 20 years, believe me when I tell you that far from all business agreements are settled with simple things such as goods, or even currency. Indeed, most people can be persuaded to do whatever should you wish them to, so long as you offer them that one thing they couldn’t possibly refuse in that particular moment.” His voice has lowered, not quite a whisper, but enough to make Miyabi feel as if he is being imparted something truly profound and special. As if he is special, and that he is being trusted over anyone else there is to trust. He, the murderous son. He, the only one aware of the truth, and the sole being left to remember there was ever a world with Ako in it. And yet this man looks directly at him, with not a single trace of neither disgust nor fear. He has leaned even closer in fact, radiating warmth from both body and soul, and however could one possibly hope to repay such kindness? Eyes meet once more, Miyabi can't recall having averted his in the first place, and suddenly it's as if he's struggling to breathe.

“Think, Miyabi… I know that you’re much smarter than your late father ever were. Surely you can come up with something else with which to repay my generosity?” It is now the lord’s eyes that drift off, away from Miyabi’s face and down lower to his body. His robes have begun to open by the collar after their long night of drinks and conversation, in a futile attempt to stave off the heat which stubbornly clings to him. The display is undoubtedly too inappropriate for any decent company—

Ah. Never let it be said that Miyabi is anything but adaptable to any and all circumstances. “… Perhaps I do,” he says, tugging lightly at the robe to reveal hints of his own chest. A small test of sorts, to gauge the reception of his audience, and he decides to try and top the show off with a coy tilt of the head, along a cautious gaze through downcast lashes.

The wolfish grin he receives in response confirms that Miyabi picked the right choice. He’s not entirely inexperienced, not by any means... but it has been a while, and he's under no illusion that he will be able to compare to his lordship's previous conquests. But those eyes... Miyabi can feel them as they trace languid paths all over where skin is exposed. The rustling fabric from the robe he now lets slide down his shoulders feel louder in his ears than even his own heartbeat, He cannot hold back the gasp that leaves his lips when his waist gets grabbed by two big, strong hands. Never before have Miyabi felt as small as he does right now in this moment, nor has he ever been this maddened by want and desire as strong as this. When was the last time anyone touched him? Though what does it matter what once was, now that he's seated so comfortably in his lordship's lap? He preens, for the proof of his lordship's approval presses firmly against his rear through multiple layers of fabric Miyabi cannot wait to be rid of. It's easy to fall into the performance when you have an audience following your every move with so blatant a hunger. Any and all worry that was still lingering in Miyabi's mind all but completely evaporate, like mist that rise from the surface of a calm mountain lake during early summer morning. Surely he’ll figure out how to best perform as he go, he decides. Cautiously his hands meet both skin and scale, and while his fingers trace over those strong shoulders and the scales there, so does he simultaneously relieve the lord of his robe too, shuddering from the anticipation of what's soon to come.

Miyabi leans in as if for a kiss... but stops just shy of their lips meeting, and he never knew such a small act could boost one's confidence so. “Allow me to express my utmost gratitude," he whispers, and now there is truly no turning back. The lord laughs darkly. "Clever little thing, aren't you? Show me, then. Show this lord how grateful you are." Time speeds up after that. The only thing Miyabi hears before his face is grabbed for rough, deep kisses that steal his breath away is his lord muttering under his heaving breath.

"A damned minx is what you are, boy." Miyabi prays that this night will leave them no time for actual sleep.