Eternal Samurai (6 page)

Strong, workworn fingers teased down Tatsu’s shaft, brushed lightly over his balls, lingered on that taut sensitive stretch behind. Then Tatsu’s world exploded as Sage’s hot tongue took that first light lick over his cockhead. The wet velvet surface traveled up and down Tatsu’s swollen organ, lapped along the pulsing vein underneath, danced in circles over the ridge below his throbbing crown. Swift licks teased the slit. Stretched lips slid all the way down to the root as Sage, in one powerful gulp, took him all the way down.

Tatsu’s head reared back in a silent howl as that wet heat enveloped him in a maelstrom of sensation. The exquisite suction of that burning mouth sent his hips jerking in hungry response. He arched off the blanket, drove himself deep into Sage’s throat. Fire and ice shivered over his skin. His cock hardened almost to the verge of pain. His balls threatened to blast their load with the next suck.

Cold air and disappointment hit Tatsu at the same moment as that mouth pulled off. Not yet, don’t go yet, his mind cried. For so long, so freaking long, he’d dreamed of this. Even a moment’s delay felt like an eternity.

“You ain’t commin’ yet, pretty boy.” Hard fingers clamped around the base of Tatsu’s prick, squeezed and squeezed, held back that driving release. “Ass in the air,” he growled.

Tatsu flipped over onto his knees. He buried his face in that musty blanket that reeked with the vinegary scent of old sweat and horse dung. He didn’t care. Heard Sage’s breathy laugh of delight against his neck as the Indian’s warm weight settled on him. Silken hair fell in an obsidian waterfall around them both, its tickle following the blazing trail of Sage’s tongue down Tatsu’s knobby spine to his crack.

“God, you’ve got a fucking gorgeous ass,” Sage murmured against the blush heating Tatsu’s rump. The words vibrated through soft suctions over both cheeks. Kisses accompanied by nips, even a couple of painful bites that made Tatsu jump with surprised pleasure.

“You like that? Good.” Sage’s honey-thick voice was filled with dark, secret promises.

Sage’s hands on his buttocks—feather light caresses, hard squeezes—sent shockwaves over Tatsu’s body. A gentle tugging on his balls, then an insistent press as thumbs spread his crease. Brushes of heated breath travelled deliberate and slow down his crack. Then that slick, shiver-causing press of Sage’s tongue worked deep into his crease. Rolled around his rim, slurping and tasting. His hole quivered with want but that tight muscle remained clenched.

Tatsu heard a quick spit followed by a gentle caress of slick fingers. The touch jolted his entire system. A wild frission exploded from Tatsu’s pucker, through his balls, his cock, his belly.

Sage teased and tapped over that resisting muscle until it pulsed with need and finally softened. “Ready?” he whispered, didn’t wait for a reply. He slid his forefinger finger in all the way to the knuckle.

Tatsu gasped at the abrupt fullness, the unexpected burn. Fought the convulsion of his viscera trying to reject the foreign assault. A second finger vibrated in. Then a third forming a he wedge that curled against his walls, firing sparks deep into his gut. The first brush across the sweet spot deep within his center sent him into a convulsion of delight. The pulsing waves of ecstasy consumed him and obliterated the last vestiges of pain and fear.

“
Dozo, dozo
, please. Fuck me. Now!” Tatsu ground his forehead against his clenched fists, moaned.

The Indian laughed with pure delight. “Sweet boy, don’t have to ask me twice.”

A muscular, sun-browned arm wrapped around Tatsu’s sweat-slicked waist, pulled him to his knees. Scalding skin pressed against his back. He felt a momentary chill as Sage’s fingers slipped out of his ass. Then the hot, swollen head of the Navajo’s cock pressed against Tatsu’s quivering pucker, nudged hard and popped past the first ring. Stilled a moment, feeling the heat around him. Then, in one powerful surge, Sage buried his entire length in Tatsu’s scalding core.

Oh Gods, that cock was huge! It hurt, a deep ripping, tearing invasion of his vitals. Tatsu clenched his jaw against the painful stretching of his anus, suppressed the urge to push out that strange fullness invading his guts. He did not care. He had Sage’s dick buried in his ass, and, no matter what, Tatsu intended keeping it there until they blasted over that edge.

Sage saw the rigid curve of the knotted backbone. That slim body clenched against the invasion. Knew he was delivering a visceral, primal kind of hurt. He froze.

“Fuck me like you want to,” Tatsu ground out between his teeth.

“Oh Jesus,
Atsilí,
you’re so fucking tight, so hot,” came Sage’s gasp. “If I move, I won’t be able to stop.”

“Waited. For. You.” Tatsu panted, rocking onto Sage’s cock with every word. “Move!”

Sage moved. That thick rod burned as it pulled almost all the way out, then dug back in. In an instant, the pain dissolved into a sweet flame that burned all the way up Tatsu’s spine. Then Sage’s cockhead stroked against his prostate.

An indescribable burst of pleasure rocketed through Tatsu’s entrails. Psychedelic lights danced beneath his tight-squeezed eyelids. Wicked heat sizzled over his body down to his toes, to the ends of his fingers, coiled in his balls and burned across his lips.

Tatsu’s throbbing prick, so close to its release, screamed for touch. He groped beneath his belly, reaching for that aching rod. Sage’s iron grip jerked his hand away.

“Not yet,
Atsilí
. I’m gonna make you scream when you come.” He pulled out with a sudden jerk that felt good to both of them.

A quick flip and Tatsu’s trembling legs rested on the Navajo’s broad shoulders. Sage’s mouth tasted him, laved hot, needy licks along his quaking thighs, nibbled over his tightening sac, delivered several throat-deep sucks to his cock, leaving it dripping with saliva and precum.

A moaned “Oh
kuso
,” followed by a string of need-ladened, sex-filled “fuck me’s,” spilled from Tatsu’s parted mouth.

The Indian looked down with a curious wonder at the sooty eyelashes fluttering low over pink-dusted cheeks. Lower lip caught in his perfect teeth. Dusky skin hot and flushed, thrumming with sensation. That thin, tough body taking him, balls-deep, in the ass. Such delicate beauty hid a will of steel. Samurai steel. This beauty had waited for him. Sage’s breath blew out from lips parted in astonishment.

“Anything … anything for you.” With an urgency unknown to him, he rolled the head of his prick against that brown, puckered hole. Left a sticky trail over the pulsing muscle. A whispered “ready?” then he drove in until his cock was buried to the root in Tatsu’s ass.

The aching pleasure of that stretch was so absolutely incredible that Tatsu lost himself. He used his legs to drag Sage deeper, stilled his cry against the excruciating fullness. Begged in two languages for more of that rigid length. Felt the Navajo pull back until only the head of his cock rested just inside the first ridge of muscle, that dragging exit stretching him in a delicious new way.

Then Sage fucked in deep, hips twisting and grinding. Riding him. Tatsu lost himself in the shocking pain-pleasure of that invasion. He rocked against the Navajo’s pistoning body. Heard himself babbling, “
Fakku, fakku
.” Demanding more pain, more pleasure. Begging for every inch of that wonderful, fat Navajo cock.

And Sage responded, Pistoning into him, until both were utterly engulfed in waves of ecstasy. Ecstasy and a beautiful sense of the rightness of it all.

Sage’s fingers took Tatsu’s cock, jacking him with every pounding thrust. “Come for me, sweet Ninja Boy,” he panted in a voice turned gravelly with sex and long-denied want.

Those words fired sheet lightning that shot from Tatsu’s balls, his pucker, out his cock. Then Sage’s wide crown rolled over his prostate. The climbing chill in his ass turned into blazing heat. “
Iku, iku!
I’m coming!” His orgasm ripped through him, sending pulses of glistening cum over his chest.

Sage slammed one final time into Tatsu’s center. His body froze for a moment. Then, his nuts emptied their load, driving his spunk out of his cock in pulses of pure, scalding heat.

“
Atsilí!
”

The Navajo’s cry shattered Tatsu’s heart. He looked up at his copper-skinned lover, saw the eyes flaring with a wild radiance, the face contorted yet fiercely beautiful in its carnal pleasure. Sage flung his head back. His shining, black mane fanned the air like the wings of a great, obsidian bird. He was primal, untamed, gloriously savage, as he poured himself into Tatsu’s accepting core.

Spent but not sated, they lay curled together, watching the smoke drift up through the hole in the roof. Sage dragged a blanket over their bodies, caked with dry sweat and sticky with cum. Lassitude, warm and heavy, spread through Tatsu. His ass throbbed with a delicious ache. His heart was filled with joy

“Are you staying in Santa Fe?” Tatsu cringed at the grating need of his entreaty.

Sage propped himself onto one elbow and pecked Tatsu on the nose. “Maybe. For a while.” Those mahogany eyes held no real answer. He rose and began dressing. “Come on, we’d better get back. Your uncle’ll be worried.”

For six days, they went nuts with each other. Sage took what he wanted, and Tatsu took what he needed. Their fucking was hard and messy and painfully glorious. They took each other wherever and whenever they could. When Tatsu complained his ass was raw from taking the Navajo’s dick, Sage rimmed him until he spilled himself over and over, and his body had no more to give.

Tatsu had no words for his first taste of Sage’s cock, that heavy weight, that rich male musk, the way the silky skin moved over the iron rod within. The salty-sweet cum spurting down his throat. He loved that prick, taking it into his willing mouth and eager hole at every opportunity.

Late one night, frantic for reassurance, Tatsu rode his lover in the cramped cab of the truck parked in the shadow of a store. A storm of desperation, touching the edge of insanity, gripped Tatsu. Repeatedly, he drove his ass down so hard on the Navajo’s cock that Sage joked they were going to break the shocks. They came at the same moment amid hysterical laughter. Sage said it was like breaking the rules in school.

Tatsu, sprawling spent and sober against his lover’s chest, whispered, “
Aishite imasu
,” too afraid to declare his love in English. He was certain Sage would never say those words to him in any language. He was right.

Two days later, it was over. Tatsu found Sage’s Drifter parked in Ray’s driveway with a note taped to its chipped tank.

“Atsilí,
we walk separate paths. Another waits for you. The bike is so you won’t forget me
.” It was unsigned.

Oh Sage, why? The walls that had been holding back Tatsu’s grief shattered. Pain—for his family, for
Ojii-san
, for Sage—sliced into him as surely as if he had stabbed himself with his razor-sharp
tanto
. He let it engulf him as he clung to the cold steel of those handlebars. He bit through his lip, managed to suppress the sob tearing its way up his throat.

“
Wakarimashita.
” He told himself he understood. But he really didn’t.

Five years gone, those few precious days with Sage. The Navajo had taken Tatsu with the wild, untamable force of a desert storm. Sage took what was offered then drove it back into Tatsu’s hungry body. Time not love was their real enemy.

Staring out that grimy, bleak window over the alien Seattle skyline, Tatsu’s loneliness grabbed him, a fierce, unwelcomed clutch of hurt. He berated himself his weakness. Foolish to grieve over a love that was never meant to be. His destiny lay along the path of
fukushū.
He would allow nothing else.

.

Four

The Seattle Quarantine, 2024

A
clinging fog rolled off Elliot Bay the next night when Tatsu returned to the Educated Whore, determined to find the Irishman—the very armed and very dangerous Irishman. A man like that only survived by knowing about every threat around him. And that meant vampires. Tatsu counted on Bana remembering him, gambled that the man perhaps felt somewhat grateful for his safe escort home, even more grateful that his “good Samaritan” hadn’t robbed him blind.

Tatsu entered the smoke-filled bar just in time to spot the Irishman ducking out the rear exit. Tatsu’s “Hey, Bana,” drowned beneath the sudden blast of music. He darted across the floor, muttering his “
gomens
” as he shouldered aside a couple of customers who yelled their outrage. The steel door nearly broke Tatsu’s nose as he slammed through it and stepped into total chaos.

A huge bull vampire held Bana aloft in a chokehold. The Irishman’s fingers clawed at the tree trunk of an arm wrapped around his neck. Bana’s eyes bulged from his florid, oxygen-starved face. With a growl, the vampire hoisted the Irishman farther off the pavement. Bana’s legs flailed with futile desperation. A smaller vampire clung to the Irishman’s thrashing legs. Bana’s boot slammed into the creature’s stomach sending him reeling into two more vampires, one Japanese, circled the struggling pair.

Tatsu whipped out both swords in mid-flight as he leaped over the railing to the alley below. At his war cry, the third vampire spun toward him and aimed a gun. Tatsu danced forward and sliced his
katana
downward through the bloodsucker’s shoulder. A scream of agony bounced around in the narrow alley. The weapon fell from the nerveless fingers as the limb flopped to the ground. The creature staggered backwards clutching his truncated limb. Instantly, Tatsu whipped his shorter
wakizashi
across the vampire’s torso opening clothing, skin and viscera. Raw, steaming guts spilled out. Tatsu spared no glance for his eviscerated foe but whipped around to face the second attacker.

A Japanese vampire screamed a battle cry in
Kyotsugo,
and charged. Two-handed, he sliced his
katana
diagonally across Tatsu’s torso. The blade missed by a millimeter as with an imperceptible shift of his weight, Tatsu rolled into a half-crouch. He drove his
katana
upwards. The creature faltered, eyes bulging in shock as Tatsu’s sword slid between his ribs into his lungs. Tatsu stood, pulling the blade free with a wet pop. The creature staggered face first into the side of a rusted dumpster where he slid to the ground and lay twitching.