Cece

@smallcece.bsky.social

24 Followers 67 Following

Writer. 35. Currently in a hsnr/保鳴/호시나루 hyperfixation. You can find me at ao3 as @thelittleone

“Here, you can look now.” The person looking back at him had skin as white as snowcapped mountains and dark eyebrows that framed his face perfectly. His lips, painted a red almost as vivid as the color of his eyes, looked smaller but the makeup highlighted his cupid’s bow and the curve of his lower lip, making his mouth seem plush and voluptuous. He wondered if Sōshirō would want to take a bite. There was some blush applied to the apple of his cheeks and the white powder also covered the underside of his chin and the length of his neck. He pictured the alpha fitting his teeth to mark him and ending up with a white mouth, as if he had been eating too many sweets with wasabon sugar. Gen had to stifle a hysterical giggle at the ridiculous image. Between the striking makeup and the elaborate hairstyle, he was already looking the part of a young samurai bride. “Narumi-sama, please stand over here so we can finish dressing you.” They carefully fixed the wataboshi over his head, hiding his hair. Surrounded by the white fabric of the kimono hood, his eyes seemed larger. He concentrated for a second and a chorus of gasp surrounded him. “You really are osakabehime, Narumi-sama!” “What an enchanting shade of pink can your eyes turn into, Gen-kun,” Tsumiki complimented. “With the wataboshi framing your face, it looks even more eerie.”
“Have you lost your mind?! You can’t send her there!” “Gen-sama! That is no way to talk to your father!” “Peace, Hasegawa. I understand where my oldest is coming from,” serious green eyes, so similar to his own, bore into him. “What do you suggest we do? The emperor needs a hostage in order to keep us in line, nevermind how many times we try to express to him that we mean no harm.” “Shinomiya-sama, still, to call it a hostage situation…” Gen waved off Hasegawa’s weak admonitions with his hand. “Of course it will be painted as an amenable match for all parties involved, after all a Shinomiya could very well be the next empress. Doesn’t change the fact that Kikoru is not even 10 yet, old man.” “As I said, I’m all ears, Gen.” He clicked his tongue and started pacing around his father’s tearoom. It was clear to him why the emperor would prefer his sister over him, even though he was closer in age. Isao had legitimized him the moment he had found him but that didn’t erase the fact that his blood wasn’t as pure as Kikoru’s. Lady Hikari had come from an ancient line with ties to the emperor’s own family; it was an easy choice to make when it came to deciding the bloodline the future emperor should bear. But maybe they could excuse this if the arrangement didn’t involve the emperor, instead…
“Oh, you see many things when you grow up in a brothel. For example, did you know you can actually fall ill if you consume too much salt?” “Well, aren’t all excess harmful to your body?” “Of course, but if you eat too many salty foods or just salt in general in, say, one evening someone can actually collapse.” “Huh. But how could you actually ingest so much without noticing?” Ren’s eyes met his and then moved towards the table where Hasegawa was sitting. Sōshirō felt a shiver go down through his spine. “Did you know some people lose the ability to taste savory foods, Hoshina-sama?” He felt a small frown lodging itself in between his eyebrows at the apparent non-sequitor. “Usually, those people tend to favor sweet meals and even if you were to, say, try to prank them by adding excessive salt into their dishes or drinks they would be unable to notice the change in taste.” “Ren-san…?” “Are we serving a sweet wine today, I wonder?” He looked again. Hasegawa had not changed his expression since drinking the new jug but there were several pieces of rock salt missing from the table where the drinks were being served. Shit!
“Are you sure you don’t mind keeping a fellow like me company? I’m afraid I don’t share the same status as most men in attendance, you would have a more fruitful evening sitting somewhere else.” For the first time since they started talking, the courtesan’s smile changed the shape of his face, rounding up his cheeks. “You misunderstand, sir. I’m currently here as a favor to the mistress, even if you wanted to enjoy more than my conversation and my go skills you would go back home empty handed,” he huffed a little laugh through his nose. “And probably with a black eye.” Without his permission, a loud cackle escaped him. Green eyes seemed to glint at his break in composure and they shined like polished jade under the light of the lanterns. “That’s a fair warning,” Sōshirō moved one of the black pieces on the board. “I should count myself lucky: I, unlike my colleagues, will leave this place perfectly content with my evening.” “Oh? So you’ll leave in high spirits even when I thoroughly defeat you?” “Ah, Ren-san seems really confident in his ability to win this match.” “Every match.”
“Lift your skirt.” “Huh?” “Narumi-san, you heard me.” He clicked his tongue but followed his order. With two hands he bunched up both the apron and the dress and moved it out of the way. Sōshirō kneeled again and saw the way Narumi chest stuttered in a strangled gasp. “Higher.” When they first got together, Sōshirō erroneously thought that the only way Narumi would ever cave to his instincts was if he had to force them into it. It wasn’t something that uncommon in the military, where people thought the only way to make others follow you was through brute force. While heavily regulated, dominance play was encouraged in both alphas and omegas although any exercises with mixed participants were only done under supervision. It wasn’t the way he liked to excise his own urges but as he was just starting to get to know the real Narumi Gen, Sōshirō had been pretty much open to anything. But he had been wrong. What Narumi craved was…