Disclaimer, I own nothing

Genre: AU, historical drama
Pairings: Crawford x Ran
Rating: 18/NC17
Warnings:yaoi, angst, NCSish


White Butterfly : Chapter 15




Winter came quickly to the old Fujimiya estate. Of all of them Naoe took the snow hardest, he caught a passing sickness from the cold and under Baba’s instructions wore a shinobi’s kamen over his face to soften the air. He wore layers of goose fat and herbs on his chest for his weak lungs and was forbidden to leave the house except where absolutely necessary. The twins had taken to bundling him to the bathhouse wrapped in a futon.
Aya watched this with a calm and rather dry amusement.
Fuji and Tezuka had come in from the moon shrine with an exclamation that it was too cold to live out there in the winter because with the wooden fretwork the brazier’s kept no heat. It meant a rearranging of the rooms although there were plenty. Fuji decided that he liked the doll room because it opened only, to his knowledge, unto the main courtyard and was private from the rest of the house. Protestations that it was Aya’s room were met with soft pliable promises and gentle cajoling until everyone involved in the arguing just gave up. Aya had stoically said that he was happy taking one of the other rooms as his own, or even sleeping in the banquet hall with the other servants but Rukia, more than Crawford, was dead against it.
It was easy to forget that Rukia was so tiny when she got something in her head to work on. With an agenda she was a powerful force of nature, where her brother wheedled, cajoled and even threatened, Rukia dominated. Although she barely reached Crawford’s chest even he sometimes gave way to her domineering, though she could cajole as well as her brother.
She decided it would be best, for the winter at least, the Aya lay out his futon in Crawford’s room for several reasons, one it would bond them in ways that Aya’s reticence to be alone with him was preventing, and that it would mean less braziers, she herself slept in the same room as the twins and her demon- Farfarello.
Both Aya and Crawford had protested until Rukia had become this sweet natured little idiot and before they knew what had happened they had both agreed for fear of making her cry. They had done it with the terrible knowledge that they had been completely manipulated and there was nothing that they could do about it.

-

Crawford retired late and often sat by lamplight reading his correspondence whilst Aya lay in his futon, which was on the opposite side of the brazier to Crawford’s and pretended to sleep. He lay on his side turned away from the golden light and contemplated the skin of his hands, it was after Crawford retired to his own futon and his breathing settled that Aya could sleep. Sometimes Crawford acknowledged that he was awake to wish him a good night, sometimes not.
Crawford made no move to touch him, or acknowledge him other than those quiet good nights.
When they awoke a cold breakfast with steaming hot tea with laid out for them on the small table in the screened off partition of the room beside the door. They shared it.
“They think we’re fucking,” Aya said bluntly as he cracked open an egg over his rice.
“Does it bother you?” Crawford asked sipping his tea, “That they think we are, or that we’re not?”
Aya coloured for a moment remembering the searing pain that had accompanied his first time, but also the terrible dread that he might want to do it again. He wanted to do his duty and he was Crawford’s concubine. Since the night that Rukia’s lessons had finished neither of them had touched the other. Sometimes, Aya had thought that Crawford might have wanted to, but he never did.
“Sometimes, master,” Aya was always careful to call him that but he was not in any way subservient, “I would like to perform my duty to you, but other times I am scared of it. The servant girls snicker behind my back and when I mention it to the twins or even to Fuji they ask why I don’t just strike them.”
“It is within your place to do so.” Crawford answered. “You are equal almost to Rukia in this household.”
“I know, but they are just simple girls that do not know better.” He answered, “and smacking them would not make me feel better.” He offered him a smile.
“I offered you mizuage and you refused me,” Crawford said, “and then driven mad by jealousy I hurt you but did not know that I had, I can see why you are wary of my touch.”
Aya frowned, laying down his chopsticks, “I am confused, master, I hear that sex is something wondrous and you hurt me, you hurt me so much that I thought that I would die.”
Crawford’s face had darkened but he said nothing.
“Then the twins showed me what it was to be,” he stopped short of the word, “loved and my body reacted, it was maddening, and as I walked from the bathhouse last night I saw Tezuka and Fuji.” Crawford rolled his eyes; it wasn’t that unusual a sight. If the two of them thought that they were alone then the innocent touches became gropes and often complete penetrative sex.
“Fuji thinks you envy him, he thinks that the reason you watch Tezuka is that you desire him.”
“No,” Aya exclaimed shock. “I don’t, I…”
Crawford smiled, sometimes Aya was charmingly young. “What do you want, Aya?” he asked him.
“I don’t want this,” Aya said with a sigh, “I don’t want these feelings and these decisions.”
“Do you know what you’re asking?” Crawford said.
“Yes,” Aya said, “I want you to be my master in more than name.”
Crawford almost spluttered on his tea. “You wish to be my pet?” He asked incredulous, “for me to treat you like you treat Kimi, deciding when she urinates and what she eats.”
Aya lowered his head, “yes, master, it must seem silly of me that I wish no more freedom than my dog.”
Crawford sighed, “I’ve no interest in that.” He said sharply, “if you wish to push our futons together I will not stop you, but I will not touch you in passion until you touch me.” He stood up, “now if you will excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.” And with that he excused himself. He left Aya confused, sticking his chopsticks into the unfinished tamago-gohan he swallowed back his tea and left the room himself.

Fuji liked to practise his calligraphy on the observatory balcony over looking the lake. It gave him a very good view of what was happening whilst being sheltered from the weather. He had a heavy wool shawl about his neck, tied like a cape, to leave his shoulders and arms free. He knelt at a small table and drew delicate designs on scrolls of rice paper as truly he watched what was going on below him. Tezuka was practising his sword work. It was a stirring sight as the tall strong Buchou moved through the katas with sleek beauty.
“I know you watch him,” Fuji said his brushing never lifting from the page as he copied out a long and complicated poem from memory, “most places I go people watch him.” His smile was slightly sinister and his eyes narrow. “But at the same time I know that he is mine, and he will never betray me.”
“I,” Aya stammered, “I don’t want him, I,”
Fuji laughed, “touch him and I will kill you, he will not betray me but I can feel the weight of your eyes on what is mine and I did not fall out of the empress’ favour to be taken over by a boy.”
“I,” Aya stammered quickly.
“Beautiful though isn’t he, the way that dangerous things often are.” Fuji laid down his brush on the elaborate stand, “he might kill you himself.”
“I,” Aya stammered, “I belong to Crawford.” The words gave him a sense of peace.
“I know,” Fuji said, tapping a clean brush against his cheek and his smile was innocent, “a terrible dilemma is it not,” he tilted his head, “touch him and if the Buchou does not kill you then I will, and if I do not Crawford will, and he will not be as kind to you in murder as he has been in life.” He laughed, “there is simply one way to survive this, you must swear to him that you have no interest in him.”
“I don’t.” Aya protested.
“Would you prove it? I have nothing to trust to your faith other than that you watch him and I know that you do not share Crawford’s lust, I know he sates himself with the twins because you will not let him touch you, is it because you watch my Buchou?”
“I,” Aya protested, blushing brightly, “I have no interest in this,” he said, “I,”
“Will you give me a token of your good faith,” Fuji said.
“I will,” Aya said quickly.
“Then lay out your hand,” Fuji said, “your left hand, and I’ll cut it off.”
Aya clutched his hand to his chest, “but,” Aya protested, “I belong to Crawford, if he gives you leave to cut off my hand then you can do it.”
Fuji laughed, “finally,” he said, “ a bit of backbone, go to Crawford, tell him that you want him to fuck you, tell him to want him to touch you, tell him that you want to awaken the lust within you, tell him you want him to wake you as a man.” He stood up, “but first, turn around and lower the nape of your kimono, there is a message I want to write to him.”
Aya did as he was told, but then Fuji hissed. “Utsukushii to saiai,” he said, “that is what he has had engraved on you, but you are cold, you have no idea the gift that you squander.”
Aya left the nape of his kimono lowered as he bowed to Fuji, the deep bow that Shion had told him was for the emperor and left.
He walked down the stairs and back to the library room where Crawford mostly stayed.
Crawford sat leaning against the wooden edge of the open door watching the wind in the cherry tree beside the moon shrine. He was thinking. He looked very tall and very strong sitting there like that, a cup of tea in his hand and the brazier to his left. Part of Aya wanted Crawford’s strength to blanket him, to cover him and protect him, the other remembered that this man was the one who would avenge his parent’s betrayal. The Takatori had sent him to woo this man, to make this man promises on their behalf and he couldn’t do it.
Crawford seemed to barely notice that he was there.
Part of him wanted to run from the room, to take solace in one of the hidden rooms that he kept to himself, but Lord Fuji seemed to think that he wanted Lord Tezuka when his only memory of such an event had led to a long and debilitating illness.
“I’d say you were letting the cold in,” Crawford drawled, “if I were not sat at an open door myself.”
Aya swallowed and then began to untie his obi, “I want you to fuck me, master,” he said, using the words that Fuji had told him to say, “I want you to touch me, I want you to awaken the lust within me you know is there, I want you to awaken me as a man, I want to do my duty.”
Crawford looked at him, really looked at him as if he weighed him up completely with his gaze, “no,” he said calmly, “if your lust boils over within you, take care of it yourself, I have other concerns today.” Then he turned back to the cherry tree as the wind whipped it.
Aya didn’t bother to tie his obi again, “perhaps, master, it is something that I can help with. My father ruled these lands, and although I am not him, I can try.”
Crawford looked at Aya again, and then he frowned, “these walls have ears, Aya, there is no one here I can trust.”
Aya looked at the floor for a moment, “follow me, master, there are delights of the flesh that I can show you that no other can.”
“I told you, no.” Crawford snapped.
“Master,” Aya returned, “I know secrets, such secrets that you would weep to learn them yourself.” He was trying to be coy but it did not work like that.
“Aya, there is nothing you could show me that I do not know.”
Aya leant in against Crawford’s ear and whispered. “I know the secrets of this house, we could go where no one listens, I may not please you, but you are my master and I would try to help you.”
Crawford turned and pinned Aya to the floor, throwing one leg over him so he was straddled in place. “Show me,” he whispered against his ear, “if we do it like this no one will suspect a thing, they will think that your promises of lust have overwhelmed me and I could not resist you, do not flinch,” he said licking a hot wet line up Aya’s throat to his ear, “if I touch you.”
Aya nodded as Crawford picked him up, settling his thighs about his hips, “tell me where to go.” He whispered.
“Into the corridor,” Aya said as Crawford’s tongue found the contours of his ear, “the futon closet at the end, there is a false wall, push me against it and I’ll unlock the mechanism.” Crawford nodded and buried his face against Aya’s neck and carried him, occasionally pushing him against walls for moments as Aya laughed. It seemed to startle Crawford more than the apparent demands for sex had. It seemed that Aya liked this, that he enjoyed it, which baffled Crawford even more.
At the futon cupboard he slammed Aya into the far wall and Aya laughed even harder, his thighs squeezing about Crawford’s back as his left hand fumbled about and then found a knot in the wood of the wall’s frame. The wall swung back to reveal a small antechamber and it was only when he had closed and locked the door again that Aya climbed down from Crawford’s lap.
“This,” Aya said, “is on the of the secrets of the house, the hidden courtyard and the temple.”

Glossary

Ameratsu – The Sun goddess of Shinto
Aneki – older sister
Bikiko - Hel
Dairai – imperial court
Daimyo – a landowner or lord.
Danna – a patron
Doitsujin - German person
Ecchi – pervert
Edo – another name for Tokyo
Fundoshi – a wrapped loincloth worn by men
Gaiden – legend
Gaijin – Foreigner
Gei - art
Genkan – small area in front of the door where shoes are kept
Genki – chipper
Geta – a type of sandal, named for the sound they make
Hakama – split culottes
Hanzubon – shorts
Hikarin – Schoen
Horimono – Japanese tattooing
Iki – sense of style.
Juni Hitoe – Lit twelve layers
Kaasan – Mother
Kawaii – an exclamation of something’s cuteness.
Kimi – she who is without equal.
Kimono – a decorated robe
Konketsu – half-breed.
Kyu – the lowest ranking in Go
Minarai – a time of learning by imitation
Mizuage – a deflowering ceremony
Moku – two corresponding lines in go – marks one area
Monogatori – lit: story of a person; romances or stories
Nagajubon – a light white kimono worn under the more ornate robes
Natto - fermented soybeans
Nigiri – a pressed rice ball
Nihonjin – Japanese person
Noh – a type of drama performed with masks
Obi – the wide belt used to fasten a kimono
Okaasan - mother
Omemie - Neu
Omusubi – wrapped rice balls
Onmyoji – sorcerer
Ouji-sama – your highness.
Seppuku – ritual suicide by disembowelling
Seppun – the act of pressing mouths together- the worst of all perversions.
Shibari - the art of rope tying
Sumimasen – the most formal way of apologising
Tabi – split toed socks
Takoyaki – fried balls of octopus and flour
Tansu – a Japanese chest. This is a distinct style
Tanto – a short bladed sword, usually used by women, part of a set
Tatami – a mat, rooms are measured by tatami
Tayu – a very high-class courtesan, also called an Oiran
Usagi - Todt
Yukuta – a light cotton kimono worn for sleeping or festivals





Chapter 16


series index



1