Chapter Text
It starts at the onsen.
Taka doesn't mean for it to happen. He doesn't mean to stumble upon Lord Sakai sitting in the pool with his well-defined arms and his sparse chest hair on display, his eyes closed and his face calm. He doesn't mean to look, either, as Sakai opens his eyes and gives him a nod, standing up to step out of the hot pool, his naked body gleaming tantalizingly in the steam, his flat belly, his strong thighs, his shapely ass.
Taka doesn't mean to stare but above all, he doesn't mean to get caught doing it. Lord Sakai's eyebrows arch faintly and Taka feels all his blood rush up to his face. He knows men don't normally look at other men's asses that way, not unless they are a very specific type of deviant. The type Taka knew he was before he even knew most things about himself.
He tenses up, expecting some kind of rebuke or mockery. Or worse, violence. Sakai doesn't seem the type, but people aren't generally kind to Taka when they find out. He's accepted it as being normal, just as he's accepted this about himself. There is no changing it, and there is no changing how other people think of it, so Taka just has to live with it.
But if Lord Sakai is offended, he doesn't show it. He doesn't say anything, his face impassive and his eyes slightly narrowed in a way that reminds Taka of when he scouts out an enemy camp, focused and a little calculating.
Then he turns to rub himself dry with a linen towel and Taka looks away hurriedly, removing his loosely-tied yukata so he can step into the hot pool of water, shifting until the water is up to his chin, his hair fanning out around him, concealing him.
He hears Lord Sakai walk away quietly, and doesn't turn around.
***
After that, Taka is very careful. He stills looks at Lord Sakai in the eye -the man likes obedience but isn't particularly impressed by subservience, he's found- bowing politely every time he steps into the forge to make a requisition. He speaks when spoken to, carefully weighing his words. Yuna notices, giving him curious looks though she doesn't ask.
Lord Sakai doesn't treat him any differently. He isn't cold but he is distant, in the way he seems to be with most people, closed-off. He doesn't try to make small talk with Taka beyond practical questions about the grappling hook and the Mongols, and doesn't linger once he has what he wants from the forge.
He talks with Yuna still, and sometimes Taka is invited. They eat and drink sake and Taka occasionally contributes to the conversation, watching them both. Lord Sakai is a little more expressive, when he talks to Yuna, his eyebrows furrowing as she fearlessly contradicts him, though he never raises his voice. She makes him smile too, small but genuine, and talk about his past, his home, his family. Taka drinks it all in, and tries not to feel too intensely jealous at the way his sister seems to have gotten past the thick walls Sakai built to protect himself.
In any case, there is too much to do to worry about what this could be. Between the nightmares keeping him up at night, the grappling hook prototypes he endlessly puts to the test, and the knot in his belly every time Yuna and Sakai leave for another dangerous mission, he scarcely has any time to consider it.
***
The first time it happens takes Taka almost entirely by surprise. He spent the evening watching Lord Sakai slaughter an entire Mongol camp, safely tucked away on top of a nearby hill. He watched as the samurai first took the archers out, climbing on top of their watchtowers silently and slitting their throats, then sent a couple of black powder bombs on their fire pit and in the middle of the confusion and smoke, sliced his way through the Mongols one by one. Their leader he kept for last, sheathing his katana as they stood off and then drawing it back out almost supernaturally fast, taking the Mongol's head cleanly off in a single blow.
It is much later now and Taka is lying in bed in his narrow room above the forge, his eyes wide open in the darkness as he replays the various scenes from the evening in his mind. The shooting, the bombs, the duel. It is not how samurai should fight, Taka knows. A samurai should fight honorably, and give his enemies the opportunity to see him come and defeat him in a fair fight.
Sakai doesn't always do that. Taka does not blame him : the Mongols are many and there is only one of him, but he knows that by the rigid rules of the samurai, he has relinquished his honor for efficiency. He is no samurai anymore, despite his armor. He is no ronin, either, no mere mercenary. He has become entirely other, a storm contained within a man, the wrath of an entire people compressed into a sword. A ghost, the people are beginning to whisper. A vengeful spirit come to save the island from certain doom.
It is odd, Taka thinks, that he feels no fear when he thinks about Lord Sakai. He should, the man could kill him in an instant, but he can't bring himself to. He feels many things for Lord Sakai, respect, gratitude, some amount of awe, but not any fear. He wonders if this is what it's like to be on friendly terms with a vengeful spirit, an onryo, what it is like to look a ghost in the face and know it means you no harm.
There is no noise at all that announces his coming, but suddenly Taka sees a glint of something move in the corner of his eye and when he turns his head, Lord Sakai is there. His heart leaps to his throat and sends a full-body jolt through him. He lifts himself onto his elbows, his eyes wide. Sakai doesn't say anything and they stare at each other for a few long seconds.
There is only one possible reason for Lord Sakai to be in his room in the middle of the night, and they both know what it is. Sakai tilts his head to the side minutely and Taka feels like he is being asked a silent question, like he is given a choice. If he shakes his head, he knows Sakai will leave without a word and never speak of this again.
Instead he sits up on his straw mattress, his chest bare under his thin blanket. He never looks away from Sakai, afraid that he might dissolve back into the shadows if he takes his eyes from him for even a second. Slowly, he moves to a kneeling position, his chin tilted up invitingly. Only then does Sakai come closer, kneeling down in front of him, one knee and then the other, close enough to touch. He's not wearing his armor, only a black kimono tied tightly at the waist. He still smells faintly of black powder but he doesn't smell of blood anymore; he must have bathed.
Sakai reaches out and his hands -the hands that have saved Taka's life, killed hundreds of Mongols and almost single-handedly hauled Tsushima back to its feet and into a fighting stance- land on Taka's shoulders, carefully. Sakai's fingers are warm and gentle despite the sword callouses, stroking up his shoulders and neck and going into his long hair. He pitches forward and Taka goes with it, drawing a sharp intake of breath when their mouths meet.
The kiss is not tentative but it is careful too, at least at first. Taka keeps his eyes open, so dazed that he is almost unresponsive, his lips parted and his arms at his sides. If it didn't feel so real, Taka would think this is a dream his deviant mind came up with to taunt and torture him with what he can never hope to have.
He knows it isn't, still, mostly because this isn't how he would have imagined it at all. He would have imagined Sakai to be a lot more assertive, demanding and taking what he wants; what Taka would be too happy to give him.
Instead the man is kissing him patiently, his mouth only opening after a while to lick at Taka's lips. The rush of heat that goes down Taka's chest and pools in his groin almost blindsides him and suddenly he's kissing back, his mouth opening wide and his arms coming around Sakai, fingers digging into his shoulders. Sakai makes a quiet noise at the back of his throat and responds in kind, lips and tongue and teeth, heatedly enough that they have to part for breath quickly, panting against each other.
Taka leans back and they end up on his straw mattress, Sakai's hips fitting neatly between his spread thighs, their bodies aligned. He's getting hard between their stomachs and as the man settles against him, he can feel that Sakai is too. He arches his hips to line them up and rocks as hard as he can, hissing between clenched teeth at the rough pleasure that comes with the friction. It's too dry and too clumsy to be satisfying and yet he can't stop, moaning as quietly as he can manage when Sakai ducks his head to suck on his lower lip.
Sakai leans up on an elbow and makes quick work of their clothes, his face thrown in sharp relief by the moonlight, his eyes dark. He looks foreboding, like an ink etching of a samurai, and yet Taka feels no fear. He lies under Sakai panting, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wide as he tugs on the strip of cloth that keeps his yukata tied loosely and parts it, baring them both.
Then it's skin on skin, and the feeling of one of Sakai's muscular thighs against his cock, rubbing and rocking. Taka's head goes back and he shivers when Sakai kisses down his throat, his stubbly chin rasping against sensitive skin. He runs his hands down the solid muscle of Sakai's back, nails digging a little.
He'd known Sakai wasn't truly a ghost, made from smoke and righteous wrath. He's seen the man bleed; he's seen him naked. But to feel him, warm and heavy and aroused, is another matter entirely. For all the legends swirling around his prowess, Sakai is still but a man.
The idea makes Taka rock harder, his hips lifting from his straw pallet. It's so good and yet the friction is not enough, taunting him with pleasure. After a while Sakai seems to agree, finally reaching to close his hand around them both, squeezing.
“Lord Sakai,” Taka whispers, awed and weak with pleasure, his hips bucking. The man huffs and sucks a careful bruise into his collarbone.
“Jin,” he corrects, and Taka whines, closing his eyes. He doesn't know that he will ever be able to call him that. It is too startling, too intimate. He might have to never call Lord Sakai anything again, he thinks with grim determination.
But there is no time to worry about this now, not with Sakai stroking them both in quick, short strokes, his fingers slick from the way Taka is dripping already. Taka's eyes roll back and he opens his mouth to groan, as his pleasure builds, choking on it when Sakai's free hand comes to rest against his mouth, muffling him.
The feeling of that, almost as much as Sakai's stroking hand, is what sends Taka over the edge. His entire body goes tight with it, almost too hot as he comes hard enough to make his head spin. Through the rush of pleasure, he dimly registers Sakai following him almost immediately, warm and slick against his stomach, entirely silent. It sends a jolt through Taka's over-sensitive system and he nips on Sakai's palm without meaning to, tasting salt.
Sakai must take that as a request to pull his hand away because he does, even as he's still panting against Taka's shoulder, his other hand cupped between them to keep most of the mess contained. There is a moment of stillness, both of them catching their breaths, sweat cooling on heated flesh.
Taka fumbles in the dark for a piece of clean cloth and offers it silently, watching in the dim light as Sakai wipes his fingers carefully, his own stomach, and then Taka's. He shifts and Taka fully expects him to stand up and disappear back into the darkness, but he merely rolls onto his back, discarding the stained cloth and sighing quietly, pleased.
They lie down side by side for what feels like a long time, Taka's heartbeat going back to normal, his breathing evening out. Sakai is warm at his side, his skin feeling hot where their naked shoulders touch. It sends a shiver down Taka's spine and he reaches over in the dark to pull his blanket up, making sure it covers Sakai's body as well. Sakai moves and Taka rolls onto his side to make room on his straw pallet, watching him in the dark as they end up face to face. Sakai's face is still unreadable but it also seems softer, somehow, less guarded.
“I'll be gone before dawn,” he says after a few seconds, quietly. He does not sound hesitant and yet it sounds like a question, like asking for permission.
“Yes,” Taka agrees and he closes his eyes, settling down to sleep.