Day seven excerpt challenge

Okay - it's day seven - a full week and I've managed to stay on schedule (I know, a minor miracle). I'm still alternating, so it's a Ripples day. Something a bit more upbeat today, though - it isn't all gloom and doom, I promise!

In the world of the ninja only one thing is certain, death. Whether it be swift or slow, peaceful or filled with pain, few could escape its clutches and make it to thirty. To reach the age of forty, as both Yoshi and Makoto had, was nearly impossible.

The corollary to this, of course, is how rarely shinobi, even retired ones, have a chance to relax and just enjoy a little normalcy. Yoshi was determined to enjoy the opportunity while he had it. After all, their official honeymoon ended tomorrow. He was sure the Shuhan was chomping at the bit to have Makoto back in his office taking a bit of the workload. Tonight was a rare chance to socialize without work getting in the way. The press of a warm body against his back distracted him from his train of thought. He leaned back into the interrogator and tilted his head for a kiss. “I missed you,” the shadow wolf admitted.

“You know Souta's going to freak out when he sees that, don't you?” Makoto deftly changed the subject as he watched his husband touch his tattoo for the thousandth time.

“Better here in our house than out in public somewhere,” Yoshi decided. “Everyone's going to see it eventually.”

“I may have to quit my job and spend my days guarding you from your legion of stalkers.” The interrogator leaned in to release a warm breath against the kanji standing out in stark contrast to the pale skin it decorated.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” The shadow wolf pulled away to continue cooking. “Be useful and set the table.”

“You must have noticed them. You are a ninja after all, and they're hardly subtle.” Makoto shook his head. “Don't play innocent with me.” He grabbed plates and chopsticks and carried them into the lounge and dropped them on the kotatsu.

“You could at least spread them around. The Shuhan is coming for dinner, after all.”

“Don't change the subject. Daisuke won't care and you know it," Makoto retorted. "We were talking about the small army of fans stalking you around town.”

“You're imagining things. It's just the novelty of our marriage. You'll see, it will all die down in a week or two.”

“I seriously doubt that anyone who sees you is going to forget you, sweetheart.” The interrogator wrapped strong arms around his husband, pulling him back into a broad chest so his tongue could trace the inky marks proudly displayed at the juncture of neck and shoulder. “Has anyone mentioned this?”

“Mayu, of course,” Yoshi replied with a chuckle. “She waffles between it being sweet and disturbing.”

“Disturbing how?”

“A mark of ownership, like branding a cow. It's alright,” Yoshi hastened to add when the look on the interrogator's face became ever more stricken. “I reminded her it was my choice and told her to butt out.”

“Sweetheart, if it's a problem you could cover it.” Sharp teeth nervously worried Makoto's lower lip. “The last thing I want is for people to think you're my property.”

“You don't want people to know I belong to you?” Yoshi's brows knitted together as his smiling face grew solemn. “If that pleases you.” He traced some kanji in the air and touched two fingers to the mark so it faded into his skin, leaving no indication it was ever there.

“That's not what I meant.” Makoto formed the kanji to dispel the concealment. “I just don't want you to feel uncomfortable. People can be so rude.”

“Why would I care what they say?” The shadow wolf gave an eloquent shrug. “What could they possibly come up with that would be worse than the truth? I'm sure more than one person has made a snide comment about you being my bitch . . . hmm, Takahashi-san?”

“Who in the hell do you think would actually say something like that to me? You do remember what I do, don't you?”

“Don't be an idiot.” Yoshi swatted the torture master aside to get to the oven. “There are plenty of people who aren't fooled by your bad ass routine. In fact, there's two of them now,” he continued blithely when the bell rang. “Go let our guests in.”

“We aren't done talking about this,” Makoto warned as he opened the door.

Day Six in my excerpt challenge

It's day six, and, as I am alternating between my two most active WIP, today is an Onna Bugeisha day. A bit more of the interplay between Hiroshi and Kenshin at the start of their training together.

By the time night fell Hiroshi was more exhausted than he thought possible. The afternoon passed in a blur, 'falling training' mostly consisted of Kenshin throwing him into things at high speed. His bruises were bruised. All he could think of was a long soak in the furo followed by sleeping for a week.

When he failed to appear for dinner Kenshin went looking. The last thing he needed was his apprentice escaping from his home on the first day. When he went to check the bathhouse he found his wayward pupil sound asleep in the furo, head barely above the water line. His fingers hovered above black clouds and half a flower intricately inked on an exposed shoulder. Of all the secrets his student held, this was one he never expected. “Oi, wake up, time for dinner.”

Hiroshi woke in a world of pain. The hot water did little to relieve the ache of muscles pushed far beyond their usual bounds. “Huh, what?”

“I would not have expected you to have a tattoo. Such a rebellious student I've managed to end up with. Sakura at dawn, and done by an irezumi master.”

“It's permanent, of course I went to a master.” Kenshin's gentle teasing picked at his student's last thread of patience. “Is nothing in my life private anymore?”

“Not from me.”

The smug smile on his master's face pushed the normally reserved Hiroshi over the edge. “You have got to be kidding me. As if being relegated to this mausoleum isn't enough, now you're spying and prying for my father as well?”

“My questions are my own,” Kenshin retorted. “And what I find is for me as well. You flatter yourself. A boy like you isn't worthy of such a grand plot. Now get out and dress, our dinner is getting cold.” He reached out to give Hiroshi a hand, only to have his arm slapped away.

“I'm perfectly capable of getting out of a tub on my own. Now turn around, I don't need you ogling me.”

“You think an awful lot of yourself. Why sakura? I would have pegged you for a dragon or perhaps yokai. Something more obviously manly, in any event.”

“It was Jun's suggestion,” Hiroshi admitted. “He thought it suited my personality.”

“Indeed.” Kenshin stepped behind his student, tracing the pattern with calloused fingers. “It is beautiful. New life from the darkness. I approve.”

“Thank you, I guess. Not that I need your approval.”

“Sit.” Kenshin pushed his student down onto the bathing stool, then knelt in front of him. “I want you to be able to walk tomorrow.” Strong fingers began kneading tired feet, pushing into tender arches until they relaxed. “Next time tell me when I'm pushing you too hard.”

“I did. You laughed at me.”

“My apologies, I forget not everyone works themselves as hard as I do.” Knotted calves gradually eased under the insistent pressure, and Hiroshi groaned, curling into the painful bliss. “After we eat I'll give you some lineament for your hands. It will toughen the skin so it doesn't tear. For now we will alternate days, swordsmanship one day, hand to hand the next. Just until you get used to the routine.”

“I'll try harder, I promise.”

“You did very well for your first day. I just set my expectations too high. We will find a balance, I'm sure.” Kenshin stood and hoisted him to his feet. “Better? Do you think you can walk to the table?”

“I'll manage. Give me a few minutes to dress and I'll join you.”

Excerpt challenge, day five

Today's entry in my excerpt a day challenge to myself is from Ripples. I'm midway through a total rewrite with major plot changes . . .but I'm pretty sure this part stays.

Makoto looked over at his slumbering husband with a frown. Even from halfway across the yard he could see how thin the other man was. Pi'natsu had even come to him and asked him to intervene, explaining how worried the pack was about their master. He had soothed the wolves as best he could, but inside he shared their concern. The last six months had aged the shadow wolf ten years and the interrogator worried he didn't have much time left.

“Sweetheart, wake up, it’s time for dinner,” he whispered as he gently shook a bony shoulder.

“Hmmm, what time is it?” Yoshi rasped hoarsely as he slowly stretched, reluctantly pulling himself from the cocoon of sleep and into the real world.

“Almost six,” the interrogator rumbled. “Dinner’s on the table, otherwise I would have let you sleep.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” the shadow wolf assured him. “It smells delicious.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Makoto scolded, arms folded across his chest.

“What? It does smell good, I’m hungry.” Yoshi retorted as he stood and headed towards the house.

“Stop.” The interrogator caught a thin wrist in his large hand and pulled the shadow wolf into his arms. “You know what I mean, don’t joke about your death. It hurts to think you’d leave me so easily.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Yoshi kissed the scar running across his husband’s cheek before heading into the house, leaving the interrogator to stare pensively after him.

Hiroshi's training begins

Today's excerpt is from Onna Bugeisha - Hiroshi's training begins

Dawn spread fingers of fire across the heavens, ribbons of rosy light painting abstract patterns on the shoji and rousing Hiroshi from a restless sleep.

“Time for morning kata.” Kenshin's too cheery greeting rattled the bones of his apprentice's skull.

“It's barely dawn. Why do we have to start so early?” Hiroshi groaned, pulling the covers over his face and snuggling deeper into the futon.

“The day is most productive when it starts with exercise.” Kenshin yanked the covers off his slumbering apprentice, prodding him off the futon with his foot. “We rise at this time every day, I'm sure in time you will get used to it.”

“I seriously doubt that.” Hiroshi scrubbed a hand across his eyes, squinting up at the mirthful face of his master. “You are getting far too much enjoyment out of this.”

“What do you usually do in the morning?”

“I sleep through the morning, like any civilized person.” The curt reply was a sharp contrast to the whirlwind hair and pillow creases marring otherwise perfect cheekbones. “Couldn't we skip morning practice and start after lunch?”

“And then you'll want to wait until evening. You've spent enough years dawdling in bed, time to actually do something.” A strong hand latched onto Hiroshi's rumpled yukata and heaved him to his feet. “Your father expects me to turn you into a warrior. Get dressed and meet me in the dojo. The sooner we start, the sooner you get breakfast.”

The strappy ties on his hakama were a puzzle he couldn't decode in his half asleep state. Forty minutes passed before Hiroshi entered the dojo, hair roughly scraped back into a bushy tail, hakama tied in an impatient knot barely restraining his crumpled yukata. The sight of his new master peacefully meditating, hair and garments perfectly arranged, was enough to drive him to despair.

“I see you finally made it.” Dark eyes opened to study his reluctant student. “Tomorrow I will expect you to join me for meditation. Clarity of mind is crucial for productive training.”

“Clarity of mind assumes I am actually awake,” Hiroshi quipped. “I'm not sure that is possible so early in the morning.”

Kenshin's laugh was open and unexpected. “Let's get started.” He selected a bokken from the weapons rack. “Show me what you know.” He handed the wooden sword to his student, ignoring the electric tingle that rushed through him when their fingers brushed.

Hiroshi wobbled through the first of the simple kata he remembered, conscious of the poor showing he was making. As much as he disliked the warrior arts he wanted to make a good impression on the man who was giving up so much to train him. His attention was focused on Kenshin's reaction, further distracting him from what he should have been doing.

“Just stop,” Kenshin snapped. “Obviously we need to start at the beginning.” He snatched the bokken from lax fingers. “Lesson number one, how to properly hold a sword. Like this, see, all the work is done by these fingers, the others are just a guide.”

He handed the weapon back and watched critically as his apprentice tried to duplicate what he had been shown. “Better, but more space between your hands. It's a lever, you get more power that way.” Calloused fingers wrapped around Hiroshi's pampered digits, sparking another frisson at the contact.

The next few hours passed in a blur. When Kenshin finally called a halt the bokken needed to be pried out of his student's hands. “I think I'll be doing that cut in my sleep,” Hiroshi grumbled.

“Just make sure you soak your hands after we eat. I wouldn't want you to be unable to practice tomorrow.”

“Are we done for today?” The hopeful look directed in Kenshin's direction had him feeling momentarily guilty.

“We're done for this morning. Let's get something to eat and then we'll work on hand to hand skills for awhile.”

“How many of hours do you practice each day?”

“That depends on my duties. Eight to ten hours when I'm home, less if we're in the field.”

“Just kill me now,” Hiroshi declared. “There's no way I'll survive the week.”

the end of his world

I've decided to alternate excerpts from my current batch of WIPs - so here's a snippet from Ripples, the final book in the Shinobi Saga.

It was quiet. Too quiet. The bank of monitors watched dark and silent over the still form swathed in bandages. Yoshi hovered over the bed, hesitant to touch for fear of causing more pain.

“You can't hurt him.” The shadow wolf spun to face the nurse. It wasn't often someone snuck up on him. “He's heavily medicated. With luck he'll just slip away without regaining consciousness.”

“What would be lucky about that?”

“No pain,” she whispered, quickly jotting down some things in her chart. “Stay as long as you like. We ease the visiting rules in circumstances like these.”

The shadow wolf eased onto the bed, careful not to jostle any of the bandaged limbs, and rested his head on the broad chest. This was the beat that kept his world turning. The slow steady sound of his life dissolving around him.

He could have been there forever, or no time at all, lost in the steady rush of blood through the otherwise lifeless body. And then, a skipped beat, and another. Yoshi wondered if, perhaps, he could match the rhythm. Anything was preferable to watching while his world came to an end.

My brain is on fire

So, yesterday I posted an excerpt from the work in editing. Today I'm going to switch it up and post a bit from the piece currently burning up my brain and trying to flow out my fingers. 

An onna bugeisha is a warrior princess, and the emperor's sister Mai wants nothing more than to be just that. Her brother and his council want her safely married and far away.Thus begins this twisted quadrangle of love and desire set in 16th century Japan. Mai sets her sights on the stoic samurai, Kenshin. Kenshin desires his new apprentice, his master's son Hiroshi. Hiroshi longs for his lover, the cross-dressing actor Jun. And Jun, well he just wants revenge. Duty, honor, love and bloodshed collide in this tale of homoerotic love. 

Intrigued? Check out my Pinterest board for some visuals I'm using for inspiration.

Jun studied his reflection in the small hand mirror, tilting his head from side to side to make sure the illusion was perfect. “How do I look?”

“You look beautiful, as always,” Hiroshi assured him. Indeed, with his makeup applied and dressed in layers of silk Jun could rival any courtesan. “Are you off to the theater, then?”

“No, silly. I'm going with you.”

An icy frisson crept up Hiroshi's spine. Jun might be beautiful, but the thought of passing him off as a woman to his father was one he couldn't contemplate. “That would not be wise. If you are discovered we will both suffer for it. Just wait here for me, I will be back soon.”

“But if he thinks you've found someone he will stop pushing you to marry. I do not wish to lose you to another.” Jun pressed himself against his lover, using all his skill to convince Hiroshi to go along with his plan.

The heady scent of sandalwood and sakura left Hiroshi breathless. It was all he could do to fight the urge to unwrap the layers hiding his lover from view and carry him back to bed. For a moment he was lost in contemplation, picturing that perfect mask smeared across pristine sheets. The consequences of being late to a meeting with his father, though, outweighed his burgeoning erection. “It is impossible. Even if he were to believe your disguise, you lack the pedigree he demands. I will deal with my father. I've managed to evade his matchmaking this long, I'm sure today will be no different.”

Jun's smile slid into a pout. “But I get so lonely when you're away. You wouldn't want me to have to seek another's company.”

“Threatening me isn't going to change my mind.” The blatant manipulation turned regret into anger. “Perhaps it is time I find a more suitable consort.” Hiroshi pushed his lover away to continue dressing, pulling on his heavily embroidered kamishimo and sliding his swords into the proper place. And then he was gone.

The mirror smashed against the wall, followed by an assortment of bottles and boxes as Jun vented his fury on the contents of his dressing table. Rage dissipated and turned to tears. The illusion broke, leaving a weeping mess crumpled in its wake. 

The anniversary that wasn't to be

This is a scene from the conclusion to the Shinobi Saga, Ripples (which is still in editing). It was cut from the first draft . . .but I'd love to find a place for it. Just in case it doesn't survive, though, take a peek and let me know if you'd like to see it included.

Makoto’s mouth went dry at the sight of the shadow wolf lounging in the door frame of their room with a predatory look on his face. “Sit.” Yoshi maneuvered the interrogator onto the bed on the opposite side of the room.

"Shi-kun, what’s going on?” The shadow wolf merely kissed his forehead and strolled back to the other side of the room. Makoto certainly enjoyed the view, his husband looked absolutely edible in a loose white silk shirt and a pair of fitted black pants, a black silk scarf wrapped around his face.

"Just stay there,” he crooned. “I have a surprise for you.”

The interrogator jumped when low sultry music started playing, and his heart sped up to match the beat when Yoshi’s hand moved to the top button of his shirt and he realized what was going to happen. He continued to stare, mesmerized, as a hand slowly traveled down and flicked open one button after another, allowing tantalizing glimpses of alabaster skin.

Yoshi turned his back to his husband and slipped the scarf free of his face, tossing it over his shoulder as he cast the seated man a sultry smile. Makoto wondered if his pants might catch fire when the shirt finally slid free of broad shoulders, leaving him with a view of a pale, perfectly muscled back criss-crossed with black leather straps.

So distracted was he, that he didn’t notice the hand slowly unfastening black pants until they slid down toned legs and the interrogator’s blood pressure spiked. Makoto’s mind desperately tried to process the image he swore was in front of him, the shadow wolf, bent slightly at the waist, dressed in nothing but black silk stockings, a black leather garter belt, leather collar and wrist cuffs and those maddening straps.

“Like what you see Ma-ko-to?” Yoshi sing-songed as he wiggled his ass enticingly. The interrogator was only able to reply with a guttural croak, eyes going wide when the shadow wolf spun in place and advanced to writhe erotically inches from his face.

“You said you wanted to see me in a garter belt and stockings,” he continued to tease as he rotated his ass. “But you don’t seem to like your present.”

Makoto’s finely honed control snapped and he snagged the lanky man and pulled him into his lap, grinding up into plush cheeks as he devoured the shadow wolf’s mouth. “You do know you drive me absolutely crazy, don’t you?” he mumbled when they broke for air.

“Then I guess you’ll have to punish me.” Yoshi stretched his arms out in front of himself, wrists together. “Would you like to cuff me?” He batted his eyelashes, watching in amusement as the usually stoic interrogator practically tore his own clothes off before settling back onto the bed.

“Actually, I think you need a good spanking,” Makoto growled, yanking hard on the outstretched wrists to pull the lanky form over his lap, smoothing a hand over pert buttocks before raising his arm and delivering a stinging smack.

Makoto could feel himself hardening even further at the sight of the reddened cheeks twisting and flexing as he delivered blow after blow, and if his moans and rock hard erection were any indication, the shadow wolf obviously was enjoying it as well.

Finally Makoto could take no more and he lifted the man in his lap and stretched him out face down on the bed, immediately diving in to nip and lick welted flesh, laving the sore area with soothing kisses. He impatiently spread the shadow wolf wide, burying his face between muscular cheeks to lap at his entrance, reveling in the fluttering pulses as he thrust his tongue inside.

“Mmmm, you taste good.” He flipped the lanky form easily, crawling up his body to capture his mouth in a dominating kiss. Makoto pulled back to look at the man beneath him. The shadow wolf looked thoroughly debauched, hair tousled, lips red and swollen, nipples hard, leaking erection bobbing in time with his heartbeat. "Wait a minute." 

"Sweetheart, when did you get your nipples re-pierced?” he growled, watching in fascination as the little silver hoops moved slightly with each breath.

“I did it this morning after my shower. Do you like it?” the shadow wolf asked. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Oh, I’m surprised all right,” Makoto replied. “But didn’t it hurt?”

“I've nearly had my dick cut off. I think I can handle a couple of piercings,” Yoshi said with a snort of repressed laughter. “Do you like it?”

“Very much.” The interrogator swept him into another oxygen stealing kiss, coaxing long legs to wrap around his waist. The shadow wolf let out a breathless sound as Makoto’s thick erection slowly pierced his ring until the head was encased in velvety heat. “Do you like this?” The torture master nuzzled the cords standing out on the long neck, nipping lightly and watching in fascination as red bloomed on the pale skin.

“Yessss.” Yoshi tried to move, growling in frustration when the interrogator kept him pinned in place, teasingly rotating the tip of his erection inside his tight passage but denying him any deeper penetration.

“Please, move,” he begged as he struggled, desperate for more stimulation.

“Not yet,” Makoto husked. “I want to enjoy your outfit.” With that he pulled out completely, lifting the surprisingly light shadow wolf and positioning him bent over the small table. His attention riveted on creamy cheeks, still bearing surprisingly erotic red hand prints from his earlier spanking, framed by the kinky leather garter belt. The interrogator's eyes lingered on the strip of tender flesh visible at the top of Yoshi’s thighs. The contrast between pale flesh and the silky black stockings sending his blood pressure rocketing until he could see his pulse in the throbbing of his cock.

Thick fingers stroked silky flesh before roughly spreading the reddened cheeks, thrusting into the shadow wolf’s tight entrance to the hilt in one swift stroke. “More.” Yoshi howled as his husband began a series of erratic hard thrusts to his prostate that had him writhing.

The scarred man grabbed a perked nipple between his fingers and began to play with the small ring, twisting and pulling it as he listened to the chorus of noises falling from soft lips. So absorbed was he, in fact, that he failed to notice just how close to orgasm the shadow wolf was, and he was caught by surprise when every muscle in the long body went rigid as his seed shot out onto the table.

“Like that, do you?” Makoto rumbled as he picked up the pace, slamming into the clenching passage as Yoshi jerked and writhed. He grasped the already hardening cock firmly and began a corkscrew motion, sliding easily in the thick cum coating the rigid length.

“Oh gods.” The shadow wolf moaned when a calloused thumb began playing with the slit, stretching and rubbing it before dragging blunt nails up the underside to scrape over the ridge. Yoshi came again with a strangled shout, and Makoto felt the tightening coil inside him snap as he came hard, roaring incoherently as he dove in and out of his husband’s hungry ass. He finally collapsed in a sweaty heap gasping for breath, pulling the pale figure backwards with him to lay panting on the ground, still buried balls deep inside.

“Happy Anniversary ‘koto,” the shadow wolf finally panted out, flailing his arms a bit as he tried to sit up.