The Blood Burns in My Veins by Megan Derr

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

 

"All human wisdom is contained in these two words - Wait and Hope."

― Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

 

 

Though the idea of being his usual utterly drunk self had less appeal of late, Naoki couldn't resist getting a bit of a warm buzz going before he headed out to enjoy the Festival of Color.

The festival technically was an all day affair, but the real fun began with the setting of the sun. All the rainbow-hued lanterns were lit, the music turned sultry, and the alcohol began to flow in earnest. Masks were put on, identifying marks removed, and the illicit escapades began.

Naoki still did not know what he had been thinking, inviting Dante to find him here. His words in the aftermath of their second kiss had made it clear that though he clearly would not mind doing far more than kissing, no such thing would be happening.

I am a man full of secrets and lies, and you would not like the truth they mask.

He had the sense that was more than Dante had ever revealed to anyone, except perhaps the friend who had come with him to Verona, the one he considered his only family. What would it be like, to know Dante so well, be so close, that he was considered family?

Best not to think about it. He didn't even fully understand what he felt for Dante now, except confused and frustrated. No sense in pondering things that would never be. That he didn't even want. All he wanted was to be left alone.

Also, he was married, and given the efforts he'd made regarding his matrimonial requirements, likely a father in several months.

His stomach churned. A father. He wasn't fit to take care of himself, let alone a child. The thought was terrifying.

Whatever. These were problems he could agonize over later. For the present, he was going to enjoy the festival and be happy for a few hours. If he was lucky, he'd get to enjoy the novelty of being happy for an hour or two.

Unfortunately, the moment he let his guard down, his stupid brain turned right back to memories of stolen kisses. The heat of Dante's body as the cold rain soaked into their clothes, the strength of his arms, and the skill of his kisses. The taste of sweet lotus wine in Dante's warm mouth, that husky voice calling him tesoro mio like Dante actually meant it, even though that was impossible.

Mercy of Oceana, he wished he'd never met Amore Dante. He felt the man was going to be an ocean's worth of trouble before this was over… Whatever 'this' was.

He finished off the potent plum liquor he'd chosen for that evening, then picked up his mask and slid it into place. He owned several of them, each meticulously custom designed and made by a mask maker who seemed to enjoy the leeway that Naoki gave him, instead of being made to make the usual assortments to demanding specifications.

This one depicted a beta fish, the beautiful blue and orange scales gleaming in the candlelight. His clothes matched, a yukata in the same colors, with a vivid purple sash embroidered with faint gold and silver bubbles.

Scooping up his sandals, he headed off, slipping out via the back door to be absolutely certain he wouldn't run into his stepmother.

In the entryway, he stepped into his sandals, double checked he had everything he needed, and finally was out the door and for a few precious hours, free.

The night was cool, not quite chilly, the perfect temperature for a night of carousing. Dusk had only recently fallen, and across Verona people were getting ready to join the festival or had already been at it for hours. Naoki hadn't been able to sneak off more than a couple of times as a child, Izumi far too strict and watchful, but the older he got, the less she was able to stop him, and the easier it became to find ways of sneaking out anyway.

He hummed as he walked, one of the many songs that fishermen sang while out on their boats, working in time to the beat of it, hauling in catch after catch. Oceana appreciated a good song, especially when it was about her, and the fisherman took the matter seriously. A pleased Oceana meant a generous haul; a displeased Oceana meant there was nothing to take to market, and therefore no food to eat.

Given the way the water thrummed and sang in his blood when he called up his magia, Naoki tended to agree with them. When the ocean was displeased, the whole world suffered.

He could smell and hear the festival long before he reached it. Takoyaki and calamari; bread filled with red bean paste, matcha cream, espresso cream; every roasted meat and fish imaginable. So many flavors of gelato and shaved ice. The varieties of alcohol were uncountable. That was just the start of the food and drink available.

After some deliberation, Naoki decided to start his night with takoyaki and beer. Not his usual drink, but nothing went better with takoyaki, and they were one of his favorite street foods.

Music and chatter filled the air, punctuated by the cries of vendors and hawkers, and announcers roaring over all of them to let everyone know when the next bit of entertainment would start. Plays, singing, comedies, shadow shows…

This was the Verona that Naoki loved. Where everyone simply got to be.

When he was finished with round one, he switched to sweets and saké.

He was just contemplating whether he wanted to take a boat ride with a fresh round of saké or attend one of the shadow shows when a familiar form caught his eye.

No matter how she tried, what she wore, he would know his little sister anywhere.

Haru did not normally come to the festivals; his stepmother was far more strict with her carefully closeted away daughter, the jewel of her game pieces. Haru had ventured out with him just once, years ago, but that was all. Normally Naoki returned with piles of food and trinkets for her.

What had been worth the trouble she'd get into later for sneaking out? That mysterious lover? He'd thought that was just a casual, once or twice thing, but this pointed to it being more than that. Hmm…

Too curious now to let it go, Naoki went after her, following from a distance, both helped and hindered by the crows they had to weave and wend their way through.

Eventually, she came to a stop in front of a closed-up flower shop, trying and failing miserably to look like she was simply idling about. Naoki tucked himself behind several food carts, where he could see but would not be seen himself unless someone knew to look.

After a few minutes, during which Haru looked increasingly anxious and uncertain, another woman approached the shop. Naoki's heart jumped into his throat at the way Haru's face lit up; even the mask she was wearing could not hide the utter joy, the pure, unfiltered happiness that ran through her as she spied the other woman.

She immediately pulled the mystery woman into her arms and kissed her as thoroughly as masks and the public setting allowed. Naoki wished he could hear them, but only for his own morbid curiosity. His little sister was enthralled, no mistake. How enthralled? How deep did this little infatuation run? What kind of trouble would she draw, and be willing to get into, to hold her lover fast?

There he was getting ahead of himself. Haru was young. Likely the relationship would burn hot and fast, and some silly blowup would end it in another week or two.

Still. He could not remember when he'd last seen her so happy.

The women slipped away, and Naoki didn't bother to follow. He'd pried enough into his sister's life; he wasn't going to go looking for secrets that weren't his. All he'd wanted was to confirm his suspicions and ensure the lover in question was nobody dangerous. If that slip of a woman was a danger, he could not see how.

He returned to his own fun, which entailed some skewers of teriyaki chicken and a heaping pile of fried olives and fried rice balls, which were stuffed with either salty bonito flakes or spicy tuna.

Near to overburdened with food, he went in search of a relatively quiet place to sit to enjoy it, pausing only to purchase another beer to wash it all down with.

He finally found a seat tucked away in a little square, up a short set of stairs, where he could eat in peace but still watch the festival and listen to the music.

Dancing could be fun. He loved to dance, but it was vastly more enjoyable when he had someone with him—which, minus the year Haru had come along, was never. He was still holding out faint hope that Dante would seek him out, but given the sheer numbers, how was one man supposed to find another, never mind they would both be masked. He should have been bolder, asked Dante to meet him at a certain time and place.

Dante seemed the sort to enjoy a challenge though, the thrill and rush of a chase, a hide and seek.

He ate at a leisurely pace, enjoying the salty, savory foods with the bitter, slightly flowery beer. Eventually, though, all the goodies were eaten up, and he definitely needed a walk after so much rich food.

Rising, he considered his options, then turned away from the vibrant crowd to walk some quieter streets for a little while, take a little more of a breather before diving back into the noise and color.

He hadn't been walking long when the sound of laughter caught his ear, followed by indistinct words in a familiar, deep, intoxicating voice that chased him into dreams. So Dante was here. Sort of. What was a man who liked attention doing so far away from it?

Naoki hesitated, but as the laughter came again, he set his shoulders and went in search of it. Though it was faint, and the distant noise of the festival was an additional challenge, eventually he drew closer to it.

Close enough to realize there was a second voice. Who? Naoki's stomach churned, all the food he'd just eaten roiling unpleasantly. Was Dante with some lover? But no, surely not. He would have mentioned it, would not have kissed Naoki twice.

His oft-mentioned friend Forthwind? That seemed likeliest.

Naoki's steps slowed as he drew close enough to hear the voices clearly.

"All that fun out there, and you're making us work."

Dante laughed. "Just a bit longer, and you can go have all the fun you want, caro. The real fun doesn't start for nearly another hour anyway."

Caro? That sent ice through Naoki's blood and left a knot in his gut that he did not like remotely. What did he have to be jealous of? A couple of kisses? Ha. He was a fool, but he wasn't that stupid. So what if there was someone Dante called 'caro.'

It wasn't the endearment though, that made him feel cold and alone. No, it was the open, honest affection in it. Whoever this 'caro' was, he was really and truly dear to Dante. Did he have a lover after all, was that one of his secrets?

Well, Naoki had gotten what he deserved for being a snoop.

He could not seem to make his feet move though. His whole body felt leaden. Tesoro mio. Had Dante ever meant the words? It seems to suit you.

Go, before we do something we will both come to sorely regret.

At least Dante had been considerate enough to warn Naoki that he was a mistake waiting to happen.

Even now, though, that word clanging in his head and souring his stomach, Naoki still wanted badly to make that mistake. See what it was like to be with someone who thought tesoro mio suited him, what those clever hands and that wicked mouth could do when they were unfettered.

More laughter jolted him from his thoughts.

"Dante! Stop that!"

Dante's beautiful, deep and gravely laugh came again, better than the warmth of good alcohol. "I will do no such thing, caro."

Naoki made a pained noise and turned to go—and slammed right into a rickety set of shelves filled with seedlings and other plants, sending some of them toppling to the ground to shatter across the cobblestones. Of course, of course. Oceana hated him, whatever magia she'd gifted him.

He turned to flee but hadn't even made it halfway down the alleyway when he heard footsteps, and then a familiar hand wrapped around his wrist and drew him to a halt.

Naoki cringed inwardly as he turned. "Gomen, Dante-don. I was walking off some food and heard your voice… When I realized I was on the verge of intruding, I tried to leave. I did not mean to interrupt you and your companion." Dante smelled of sweat and freshly turned earth, like he'd been rolling about on the ground or something.

Naoki almost laughed, but he was afraid what would happen if he lost control of the laugh. This was what he got for breaking his lifelong habit of staying as drunk as possible as often as possible. He knew better, but he'd been stupid anyway. Would he ever fucking learn?

"Why so glum, tesoro mio?"

"Don't call me that," Naoki snapped, so much venom in the words that Dante let go of his wrist and recoiled slightly. "Not when your 'caro' is waiting for you to return."

A soft snort cut in before Dante could speak. "I am most definitely not waiting for him to return. I'm tired of working. Who is this, Dante, and why would someone so beautiful waste their time on an oaf like you?"

Dante laughed and swept them an exaggerated bow. "Ishikawa Naoki-don, I make you known to my friend—brother—Faria Forthwind."

Faria laughed. "Oh, of course, I missed your scar in the weak light. You're the one who put Dante in his place by giving as good as you got. Nobody that I'm aware of has ever bested him in a duel, Ishikawa-don, though many have tried. Only you. Bravo, bravo, bellissimo, is that how you say it here?"

"Just so, caro," Dante replied with a chuckle. "If you do not mind cleaning up, after that the night is yours."

Forthwind rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. Go and be your useless, pretty self, Dante. I will see you later." He winked at Naoki, and then slipped away as quietly as he'd come, leaving Naoki painfully aware he was alone with Dante.

His cheeks burned as he looked away, looked at anything but Dante. "Gomen. It seems I made assumptions, and I had no right to be angry, even if they'd proven correct."

Dante smiled, slow and hot and utterly devastating. "Normally jealously is an ugly look, but I like seeing you with life to you, carissimo."

Naoki swallowed. It took everything he had to hold Dante's gaze as he said, "I guess getting slashed across the face tends to wake one up."

He barely even remembered seeing Dante move, it happened so fast. One moment there was a world between them, the next Dante had him pinned against the wall and was feeding at his mouth like a mortal offered wine in Oceana's deep, dark court.

Mercy of the divine. He'd thought that the first two kisses were something. This one left them in the surf. Naoki moaned as he surrendered to it, sank into all the wonderful sensations—the heat of Dante's body, the warmth of his mouth, the skill of those lips and that wicked tongue.

The kiss was so far removed from everything else he'd known, from his decidedly unpleasant husbandly duties, that he could have wept. Instead he clung for dear life, tangling his fingers in the long fall of Dante's soft hair, worn unfashionably loose like always.

When Dante finally drew back several minutes later, they were both panting, foreheads pressed together, every breath shared, and he could feel the drumming of Dante's heart against his own. "This is a bad idea, bello."

"You have secrets, I know. To be honest, I do not care right now if you are some imperial assassin sent to murder my family because His Imperial Majesty has finally gotten completely fed up with us. I'm an adult; I've been warned. I want to do this anyway. Stop being honorable, Dante, and fuck me like we both want."

Dante groaned and kissed him again, hitching him up the wall, wrapping Naoki's legs around his hips, grinding against him and making them both shudder. Tearing away from Naoki's mouth, he worked his way along his jaw and down to his throat, lavishing attention upon it in kisses and licks and nips, leaving Naoki shivering and keening, aching desperately for more than rutting in an alleyway could easily provide. Not that he was complaining. If Dante was so overcome he would fuck Naoki in a public place and damn the consequences, Naoki was all for it. No one had ever wanted him so badly, and the thrill was dangerously addictive.

Eventually, though, Dante drew back with a groan and set Naoki on his feet again. "Much as I would love to fuck you right here and now, tesoro, I think it's time we sought a bed. Are you all right with coming to my place, or would an inn room or similar be more comfortable?"

"Your place," Naoki said, biting at his lips, his jaw. "Now."

Dante gave him one last searing kiss, and then took his hand to lead him through the streets and alleyways, until they spilled out a short distance from the Golden Chalice. It seemed to take forever to reach Dante's room on the uppermost floor, though it had only taken minutes.

The door had barely slid shut behind them when Naoki was once more pulled into Dante's arms, and kissed so heatedly that Naoki finally understood what it was like to be ravished. He wanted much, much more of it.

They stumbled their way through the suite, discarding clothes as they went, stopping frequently to taste and touch and tease. By the time Dante finally pushed him down onto the thick, soft bedding, Naoki was ready to come apart.

"You are beautiful enough to have been born from Oceana herself," Dante said as he pulled away from Naoki's mouth and started working down his body, that hot, hungry mouth leaving a scorching trail that reduced Naoki to pleas and whimpers, left him shivering with need and tension, on the very edge but still not quite there.

Teeth nipped at his left hip, then Dante's tongue dragged across his stomach before he dipped lower still and sank his teeth into the soft skin of Naoki's inner thighs—first one, then the other, leaving them throbbing with a delightful soreness he hoped would last at least a few hours, though more likely they'd be gone in minutes.

By the time Dante's mouth dropped over his cock, it took all Naoki possessed not to come apart immediately. He did scream Dante's name and sink a hand into that beautiful hair, gripping it tightly as he fucked Dante's mouth, went as deep as he could, as deep as Dante could take. It was the look in those eyes, as Dante stared up through his lashes, that finally undid Naoki. He came with a cry, ragged and broken, the world whiting out around him briefly.

When he came back down, his chest was heaving, and his breathing stood no chance of calming down as he took in the sight of Dante above him, eyes hot, cock hard and wet-tipped.

Naoki touched his tongue to his upper lip. "Do you want my mouth or my ass?"

"First? Your ass, but make no mistake, tesoro mio, I will have your mouth before the night is done."

Shivers ran down Naoki's spine, delicately racked his body, made him whimper as his spent cock tried to come back to life. He wasn't sure which got to him more: the promise he'd be sucking Dante's cock soon, or the growly, possessive way he said 'tesoro mio' like he really did believe Naoki was his.

If only was a reckless, impulsive, stupid thought, but it slipped briefly through his mind anyway.

Naoki pushed it away, ignored it, and focused on the present, the things he could have, instead of dwelling on impossibilities. "Then get to work already."

The heat in Dante's eyes flared. He gripped Naoki's thighs, spread them wide, and then withdrew only just enough to fetch a jar filled with lubricant that smelled of night blooming jasmine and cherry blossoms.

Naoki moaned as the first finger breached him, pushing and teasing, deft and sure in its movements. All the while, Dante watched him with those burning eyes, the color impossible to pin down as always, somewhere between blue and gray today, like steel in dim light.

His cock twitched hard as Dante pushed a second finger in alongside the first. Sweat stung Naoki's eyes, and heat pooled in his gut, his body determined to behave like he was fourteen again. He rolled his hips, took the fingers deeper, digging his nails into Dante's beautifully muscled skin, enjoying the divots he left, that small sign that in all Verona, Dante had chosen him to fuck during the Festival of Color.

It didn't matter Naoki was married. That Dante had secrets. That this was a stupid, reckless thing for them to do. All he cared about was the way Dante looked at him, the way those fingers felt stretching him, the memory of that mouth wrapped around his cock, sucking like it was Dante's sole purpose in life. The possessive way he uttered every endearment.

Laughing breathlessly, he said, "I'm not made of glass, Dante. It hasn't been that long. Fuck me so I feel it tomorrow."

Oh, he liked the noise that got him, low and growly and hungry, like a cat warning off would-be thieves of its food. Then he was rearing up and slicking his cock, and mercy of Oceana, Naoki could look at him all day, except he'd never get anything else done, just lose himself in sweet, dirty thoughts of everything he'd like to do.

"You look good beneath me, tesoro mio," Dante said, the husk of his voice drawing out another groan. He lined his cock up, braced himself, and pushed into Naoki in a single smooth stroke.

Naoki moaned, reaching up to cling to Dante's strong shoulders, and when that proved insufficient, when Dante began to fuck him so hard he swore he saw stars with every thrust, he shifted his grip to wrap around Dante, digging his nails into the flexing muscles of his back, determined to leave marks that would last as long as the feeling of Dante inside him, filling him up, driving him again to that wonderful precipice.

Dante abruptly reared back, nearly slipping free of Naoki's body, tugging free of his sharp-pointed grip. Before Naoki could protest, however, he surged forward again, pinning his arms and fucking him harder than ever, reducing Naoki to a world of sensation, of gasps and cries and pleading moans.

He screamed Dante's name as he finally came, barely aware of the last few thrusts before Dante spilled deep inside him.

By the time he could see properly again, Dante had withdrawn to stretch out beside him, running one hand possessively over Naoki's wrung-out body. After a lifetime of being surrounded by people who were happiest when he wasn't around, it was dangerously heady to be the focus of such claim. Such certainty that Naoki belonged to Dante, and not even Oceana herself would change that.

It wasn't true. It was simply in Dante's personality to be commanding of whatever was in his inner circle, but Naoki was drunk on it anyway.

"Do you mind if I rest here a bit before you follow through on that promise regarding my mouth?"

"By all means," Dante said, and kissed him with surprising gentleness before climbing to his feet. He returned with a warm rag and cleaned them both before drawing the blanket up over them.

It was far too easy to settle into a light doze, curled up warm and cozy there with Dante, sunk in the scent of jasmine and fresh-turned earth that lingered still on his skin. "So what were you and Forthwind up to?"

"Secrets," Dante said softly. "We were digging up secrets. Nothing for you to worry upon. Rest."

Naoki did so gladly, slipping from a doze to restful sleep.

He was woken sometime later by knowing fingers and a clever mouth, aching and desperate before he was even fully awake. "How did—" He broke off with a groan as Dante pushed two fingers inside him, twisting and crooking in just the right way.

"How did I know you like being woken up this way? An educated guess. You wear pleasure well."

The words brought a flush to Naoki's cheeks. No one had ever spoken to him so, and it made Dante far too easy to become entranced with. Clearly Dante could read him like a fisherman read the waves, knew all the ways he could get Naoki to melt.

Naoki licked his lips, simply for the way those changeable eyes flared with heat. "I was promised somebody would be using my mouth before the night was gone."

"There is a bit of night left, and you can have my cock all you want." He withdrew his fingers and dragged Naoki up and in, kissing him wet and messy, taking his mouth like a greedy thief stealing gold.

Moaning, Naoki clung, met the kiss full measure, until his lungs burned and his cock ached where it rubbed against Dante's skin. Drawing back, he licked his lips again, enjoying the taste of Dante that lingered on them.

He then pushed Dante down and finally got his mouth on all that beautiful skin, returning the torment of earlier by working his way slowly down Dante's body, making liberal use of his teeth just for the way it made Dante jerk and swear, turned his breathing to panting and took the smoothness from his words.

When he finally got his mouth around that cock, he was ready to come apart himself. He held together, though, and poured all his focus into sucking, working his jaw until it ached, his tongue until it was sore, until he could taste nothing but musk and precome—and finally the warm, salty spill of Dante's come.

He drew slowly off Dante's softening cock, wiping the mess on his face with his hand—and oofing as he was pushed down into the bedding and kissed like his life depended on it.

"You're exceptionally skilled, bello," Dante said as he drew back. "That mouth is an addiction all its own."

"Yours isn't so bad either," Naoki replied with a laugh. "I don't suppose there is food to be had around this place? You have thoroughly wrung me out."

"I'll attend it."

A few minutes later they were sitting at Dante's table, only barely dressed, sharing food and saké, conversation of idle things. As food and conversation ran out, though, Naoki found himself on—over—the table instead and fucked so thoroughly he was surprised the table didn't break.

Dante dragged them back to his bed afterward, and resisting the urge, the need, to fall asleep beside him was more difficult than not drinking every drop of wine in the house when his stepmother was in a particularly nasty mood.

Naoki managed it, though, because the sky was already just barely more gray than black. The festival was over, and so too their rendezvous, for all he wished this one evening could last until the ocean dried up.

Tucking the evening away to savor later, again and again, he got himself dressed as best he could without assistance. Not even bothering with the sash, far too heavy and elaborate to manage on his own, he instead folded it neatly and left it where Dante would be sure to see it.

Leaving nothing behind would say one thing. Leaving a small token would say something else. Leaving his sash?

Was a fool's game, but Naoki had never pretended to be anything but a damned fool.

Holding his sandals so they wouldn't click-clack on the cobblestones, he made his way home, yawning and stumbling. As there was little point in stealth at this hour, he used the main entrance, dropped his sandals in the entryway, and ambled on toward his room.

He was nearly there when he collided with something in the dark hallway. The swearing, and the voice, were familiar though, so he relaxed. "What are you doing about at this hour, Haru?"

Haru laughed, though there was a hint of sadness underscoring it. "What do you think? Same thing you were doing, by the smell of you."

"Since when do you know what sex smells like?"

"None of your business."

"Well, I hope your lover is a wiser choice than mine."

"I'm pretty sure nobody could make a stupider choice, in fact," she replied, more sadness filling her voice.

Naoki hugged her and kissed her cheek. "If you ever feel like sharing, I'm more than happy to have a round of 'who is the stupidest.' Go to bed, dream sweet things."

"And you, Naoki." She hugged him again, then darted away.

Sighing softly, Naoki trudged the last few steps to his own room, where he had just enough energy left to clean up before crawling into his bed and immediately falling asleep.