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araminia16 · 4 years

Text

Best of the Situation (1/2)

Chapter 2

Beau slammed her fist into the metal door three more times before delivering a frustrated kick to the offending object. The sharp zing of pain shot up her leg as she limped back to the single bed where Jester waited. The usually talkative tiefling now sat quietly on the bed with a somewhat vacant stare at nothing in particular.

Beau had woken first after the camp came under attack and a sharp pain drug her into unconsciousness. She woke fully clothed in a room with thick opaque glass on either side and a single metal door with no visible way to open it. Jester woke up shortly after Beau groggy and now afraid. It was too much like the Iron Shepherd's even though Beau had taken her icy cold hands and promised she wouldn't let anyone hurt Jester.

Beau sat aggressively back down on the bed and the pent up aggression clawed now at her throat.

"Beau," Jester whispered. "What do you think they want with us?" Her voice shivered in the air as Beau absorbed the words.

"I really don't know, Jess."

Luckily they didn’t have to wait long for a figure to appear from thin air nearby. Beau instantly leapt for it and collided with the wall as her foot passed through the now apparition who merely chuckled at the attempt to disable it.

Beau righted herself and stalked around the cloaked figure. It was impossible to tell what the race was, let alone the gender even as they began to speak, “Hello. I’m sure you have plenty of questions as to why you have awoken here in this rather nice room together. Your companions are well and you will not have to stay long so far as you follow the rules.”

“Yeah well I’m not much on rules,” Beau crossed her arms over her chest with a glare.

“Beau,” Jester’s chided which was enough to silence her further.

“You might want to reconsider your stance on them for this particular trial. This is a rather exclusive...club of sorts where our patrons have certain tastes and volunteers are obtained from nearby. You will not be harmed unless you wish it and you are free to go once you have fulfilled the terms I will lay out.”

“Why should we believe you? You totally abducted us.”

“You can think whatever you wish but the door over there will not open unless I will it. You will be compensated for your time as well so do not worry. And your pairing has been chosen by our patrons. Along with those of your companions. They seem to have a taste for the exotic as well as some girl on girl action if you will.”

Beau let the words process before she interrupted with a sharp sound, “Girl on girl action? You want us to fuck in here? What the hell kind of sickos are you?”

“I was getting to that but yes. We want you to ‘fuck’ as it were. Our patrons will be viewing from beyond this room eagerly but there will be no interruptions as such. When they have been satisfied with what they see they will notify me and the door will open. A purse will be in the hallway out of this complex and once you leave the location will be purged from your memory.”

“People want to watch us have sex? Mama had some ladies who did that sort of stuff but I don’t think I want to.”

“And that is entirely your choice. If you choose not to participate here then you will be rendered unconscious and transferred to the room where the patrons tastes are more about blood and pain than pleasure. Either way you will win freedom and healing should the latter be necessary.” The voice did not waver as it outlined torture as a possible option.

Beau cringed and Jester gave a high noise of distress, “I think we’ll pass on that.”

“Excellent. I would have been rather put out to mar such a pretty canvas as the blue one.”

“So we have to have sex and then we get to leave? No questions asked?”

“Precisely.”

“Do they have requests? I mean if they are watching us screw why not add to it?” Beau’s biting sarcasm attempted to mask the distress she felt clawing at her throat.

“Oh. Many. Would you like a list? Each request is worth a monetary amount which will be added to the purse should they be fulfilled.”

“What constitutes as sex?”

“Well for our male/female pairs the parameters are easier. For females only there must be flesh exposed and one or both must come but there are no rules necessarily on how it comes about but if the patrons are not satisfied you will remain until they are. Though they are not cruel about the whole ordeal. Most just have a voyeur complex and wish to fulfill it.”

“I need to pee,” Jester announced the figure gestured to a part of the room where a door swung open and the tiefling nearly ran to it and shut the door firmly behind her.

“We going to be fed? And get our weapons back?”

“Oh. Yes. They should also be on the way out. I can tell you aren’t happy with this arrangement and I do apologize for the inconvenience but the girl is rather pretty so it won’t be any real hardship.”

“She’s my best friend and she was kidnapped before. This is not good for her at fucking all.”

“Ah. Well nothing to do for it now. I shall produce food in the room for you both and allow some time to acclimate. When the stone on the wall changes from red to green things will be viewable so do keep it in mind and try not to insult the patrons. They do not take well to it.” With a nod the pleasant monotone figure vanished.

Jester sagged against the wall as the taste of bile and vomit twisted her mouth in a grimace. The sweat along her limbs and face now cooled rapidly from the panic which gripped her. She couldn’t be taken again. Not again. Couldn’t watch them hurt Beau and wherever Fjord, Caleb, Caduceus and Yasha were she wanted to know they were safe. She couldn’t be alone again where they talked about her as if she weren’t there. As if she were just an object. She had seen Nott disappear before they were taken and hoped her goblin/halfling friend was safe.

“Hey, Jessie. Are you okay?” Beau’s gruff tone came through soft and gentler than usual and Jester summoned up her mask.

“Yeah. I just had to poop too. No big deal. Is that creepy guy gone?”

“For now yeah but this is such bullshit. I can’t believe these creepy fuckers exist here where they can just kidnap us and expect to watch us have sex.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know if you were listening or talking to the Traveler but these jackasses want to watch us screw and if we do they’ll let us go.”

“Not to keep us?”

“Not from the way that person talked. If it was a person.”

“But you don’t like me like me, Beau.”

“You don’t have to like like the person you have sex with, Jester. But I wanted to talk to you first before this all starts up and you have to real with me, okay?” Beau did like like her but that wasn’t the point.

“Sure.” Jester staggered to her feet after the dizziness passed and a new anxiety twisted her belly up as she sat on the toilet cause she really did need to pee.

“Have you ever had sex?”

There it was. The daughter of the Ruby of the Sea had to have had sex before. She read enough smut to be an expert at it by now but aside from masturbation Jester hadn’t even kissed anyone let alone done more. Her mama told her once she started it wouldn’t stop and so she should save it for someone she loved. “No.”

“Okay. Have you ever done anything at all?”

“No.”

“No kissing?”

“Fjord didn’t count and neither did Caleb so no. It sounds really dumb doesn’t it?”

“No. Not at all, Jess but I mean I can try to get us out of here again. When they come to try to take us to the torture room I’ll just pop pop and we can escape.”

“What if it doesn’t work? I don’t want to be tortured again, Beau. I can’t.”

Maybe Beau noticed the way her voice changed in pitch and she quickly soothed, “Okay. Okay. So what do you want to do?”

“It’s no big deal right? Sex? The books make it not a big deal at all. We’ll just do some stuff and leave.”

“But you don’t like girls so that might be a problem.”

“I like you, Beau and I know you won’t hurt me because you are my best friend so its better than some stranger who doesn’t care about you. Is it a lot different with girls? We haven’t read that many lesbian smut books for me to know.”

“Same general idea but I’m glad you trust me. I means a lot.” And it did. The way Beau’s treacherous heart thudded at the idea of kissing Jester and of touching her and making her moan brought a blush to her cheeks.

“I don’t know if I want them to watch me and see me naked and stuff.”

“I’ll keep you covered up.”

“Okay.” Jester stood and cleaned up before she opened the door to find Beau sitting against the wall close to the door. She looked up at Jester’s fragile smile and sighed.

“I’m so sorry. We should have done a better job keeping watch.”

“It’s not your fault Beau but you better pee quick before the stuff happens. I know I can’t orgasm when I need to pee.”

“Yeah.” Beau leaned onto her hand a popped her feet under her in one smooth motion. She used the bathroom and splashed water over her face. Sex had never made her nervous before but her hands trembled traitorously until she clenched them into fists and wiped the excess water off her face. Her hand lingered on the doorknob and she took a deep breath before she joined Jester in the other room. The stone on the wall still gleamed red and Jester sat on the bed with a barely touched plate of easy finger foods and a half empty glass of wine nearby.

Beau approached her slowly and slid into the bed next to her with the plate between them. Even though her stomach snarled for nourishment she couldn’t do much more than a few bites to curb the hunger and a full smooth mouthful of wine.

Jester stared forward with her hands in her lap over the symbol of the Traveler at her belt. Her fingers twitched and clenched while Beau watched. “Should we take some stuff off now or--?”

“Maybe our boots or something. Just to be comfortable.”

Beau leaned over the side and unlaced her boots while Jester did the same. She moved the plate of food off to a side table and was about to open her mouth to talk when the light changed to green and the words died in her throat.

#Beaujester #Critical Role #Mighty Nein #beauregard lionett #jester lavorre #beau/jester #two shot #part one #rated M #sex or torture #virgin jester #supportive beau

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theotherjax · 7 years

Note

BEFORE THE BEGINNING

This really seriously got away from me, and thank fuck for that.

Under the cut: Overwatch, Pre-Fall, young!Fareeha and Genji, talk of cybernetics, prosthetic parts being taken off and wobbly in case that needs a warning. Also rampant posthumanism but I guess that’s a matter of perspective.

They weren’t really a family. It was a nice sentiment, and they bandied it about during the good times, when all the pieces seemed together to make something more in the whole. But put together any collection of oddities and there would be that want, to belong with the belongingless, and all of them were sharp enough to know it. It made encounters shoot sparks sometimes when exposed wires were forced to brush too close in the hope of completing a circuit. They wanted, but they weren’t really family, because there wasn’t really intimacy about it when they were all busy trying to turn their oddities into heroism before the whole world.

t took a particular kind of intimacy to have someone walk in on you when your face was off. Genji did not have that intimacy with Fareeha Amari, age fifteen.

Technically speaking, Genji’s lower jaw wasn’t even supposed to come off outside of upgrades or heavy maintenance. He must have been exceptionally drunk to do it, and in possession of tools one should not possess while exceptionally drunk. Or perhaps it was McCree who actually did the unhinging, because he was certain it had been McCree’s idea to test whether Genji could remote-taste things through his artificial palate when it wasn’t all in one piece. Genji couldn’t strictly taste anything to begin with - he had certain chemical sniffers, but the signals they fired translated to salt present, not salty. But he had been exceptionally drunk and figured the worst thing that could happen was accidentally poisoning himself, which was of course a weak deterrent. So now his chemical sniffers were pitching little fits at the quantity of ethanol soaked into their bedding in his tongue, and he was too damn hungover to lock the screws in his jaw hinge right, and a teenage girl in a set of slacks nicked from his commanding officer was staring at him from his doorway, looking like she was going to need her own jaw screwed properly on again.

“Didn’t your mother teach you to knock?” Genji snapped, feeling everything in his skull rattle a little out of alignment.

Fareeha went as hot a red as her brown complexion showed and seemed to shrink just a bit further into Commander Reyes’ black hoodie. She was at that gangly stage where everything her body did unwillingly showed. “I, um, I was knocking and the door wasn’t, it just opened.”

“I always lock the door.”

“Well you, didn’t last night. Maybe because you and Jesse, um, he said I should check you’re okay - “

“Tell him to fuck off.” Genji’s English was still heavily accented, and worse when he didn’t have full control of his mouth, but he had learned to enunciate very specific words.

Fareeha twitched. A gesture wrung between the shrinking cringe that came form being fifteen, and the jerking up of her chin that came from being Fareeha Amari. Genji didn’t wait to see which would win out. He whipped to his feet and walked up to the door, hand already held out to slam it shut.

Fareeha’s eyes widened. Then, inches from his hand to the door, she mumbled, “Ya Allah, that is really cool.”

Genji froze - not because he was flattered, not because he was surprised that she didn’t back off, but because he realized she wasn’t looking at his face. His chest. His armour was entirely off. Fareeha had probably never seen him that dismantled before. The metal that clasped his throat, the intricate circuitry woven around his ribs, down to the lining of the cartridges along his prosthetic arm, the glowing self-monitoring readouts on the synthetic mesh of his stomach - “If it’s ‘so cool’,” he snarled at her, with venom he couldn’t possibly give his superiors or fellow soldiers, “why don’t you try it?”

“I would if I could!”

They weren’t really a family, and so Genji only knew from rumours, from McCree’s gabbing, that Fareeha wasn’t the most interpersonally astute girl around. McCree’s common description - fond, but as patronizing as only one kid could be to another - was “a huge dweeb”. A strange shoot grown in strange soil, in Overwatch. But this was extreme.

She was fifteen. He was a cybernetically enhanced assassin. He couldn’t slap her.

“I mean, it’s strictly medical technology,” Fareeha continued, a huge dweeb, not picking up on his shocked seething rage. Or possibly the chin-jerk had won out after all. “Angela said so. But maybe by the time I enlist some of the stuff would be available as an elective upgrade. Like ummi’s eye? You know she volunteered to test it out when she - “

“I didn’t volunteer,” Genji said, so tightly he thought the screws in his jaw might lock themselves.

“I know. Just - “ finally, finally, a thunderstruck look descended upon Fareeha’s face and shoulders. She looked a little gray, or perhaps green. “I - that was really stupid, I’m sorry, even for an idiot like me that was really, it’s just that this is so - “

She raised a hand, young and ill-fitting and half-finished, in a vague longing gesture at the chrome and steel of him.

Genji took a steadying breath. He’d been finding those hard ever since vents and pumps had become involved. Being able to see the internal state of his body displayed in digital red at any given second on what passed for his skin was also no help. He wanted to tell her to get out of there. He wanted to tell her that this wasn’t what he dreamed about getting when he was growing up into himself. He half-turned and gritted out, “your mother will not approve.”

It was a fatal mistake. Even without looking, he could feel Fareeha’s presence expand, feel her self strain at the seams of her awkward youth. “Mother won’t approve of anything I want to do.”

“And you should listen! This is not a game, it is not “cool”! This is my body!” Despite himself he threw those words at her feet, at her face, his living hand flashing down the cold dead length of him, look, take a good look! “No one wants this!”

Fareeha took a step back. She looked mortified. He felt the memory of bile at the back of his throat - no real bile anymore - at the look he always read as pity. She was fifteen, she wasn’t a child. He could reach out and grab the back of her oversized hoodie and shake her inside it and make her look -

He hadn’t realized how fast he moved until realizing that she had tried to counter him, that the tears in her eyes were a reflex response to the collision of her bare wrist against the metal of his arm. She might have succeeded, if he had only been a man. Through all her disapproval her mother had trained her well. It occurred to him then that Ana would not truly stop her daughter from anything, not even this, if Fareeha truly wanted it. The ones who loved her would back her to the end. The stress alarms floating in his artificial vision rose bright red, and he could feel his systems begin to hum into battle mode, preparing endorphins, stimulants, coolant, everything he needed to be rendered calm and precise.

“I’m sorry!” Fareeha burst, even as she planted her feet down into a defensive combat pose. “I’m sorry this happened to you, I’m sorry I always say the wrong thing! I know you hate it, I just, I do want this. For my body. I want to be fast, strong - faster and stronger than anyone!”

“You want to be a weapon?!”

“I want to be a soldier!”

Genji let her go. She didn’t even slump, just settled, brittle but instantly braced, as straight-backed as her growing bones could make her.

“You’re a child,” Genji said, with more weariness than disgust. I was also a child. They didn’t care. “You don’t know what you want.”

A fatal mistake. Again. When he looked back at her she looked him in the eye. “This is my body,” she said again. “It’s about doing what I want. I - Angela thought you’d understand.”

Genji closed his eyes. “Angela didn’t ask what I wanted.”

“She said you were going to die,” Fareeha answered, “and that dead people can’t make choices.”

It was the most Angela thing Genji had heard in over a year of actually knowing Angela; and at the same time it was all of Overwatch, Ana with her cutting wisdom, Morrison with his do-your-damn-job grit, Reyes with his unrelenting faith in change, in possibility. All of it rolled up into this girl that grew up in this collection of oddities that wasn’t really a family. Genji’s heart spasmed through the battle prep. He tightened his jaw.

His jaw made a creaking noise, and a screw popped out of the hinge.

Fareeha made a strangled noise that was quite possibly a word Ana wasn’t supposed to know she knew.

Genji considered his options. He could initiate system shutdown and attempt to die on the spot. He could fly into a rage that would definitely end with him having to explain the set of circumstances to Reyes, if not, worse, to Ana. Or he could…

Fuck.

He had to reach out and realign his jaw, and keep a hand up to keep it realigned as he spoke. “You fucked it up, so you come help me fix it properly.”

Her eyes lit up. Maybe it was his third fatal mistake of the day. Maybe instead of showing her the horror of it - of having to have a part of you fixed, worked on with pliers and a screwdriver - he was encouraging her, whatever her fantasies were, of being gleaming, impervious, easy to repair. But his head hurt too badly to care now, he just wanted to be in one piece again. Let Ana work it out of her system, or age. Age would do it. No one really wanted to grow up to all changed, all remade.

He let the door drift open, and Fareeha followed him gingerly into the room. She pulled out a stool next to the bed as he dropped onto it and groaned at Athena to dim the lights. Her lips pursed.

“Angela told me you can switch off hangovers if you want,” she said, almost like it was a dare.

Genji shook his head, though it made his vision swim. “They make me feel human.”

Fareeha looked down at her hand. She was holding the loose screw between a thumb and forefinger, rolling it carefully. Her eyes passed between it and him. “I guess I understand,” she said, in a tone that said she didn’t really, but would try to for his sake. Maybe it was fine for now, Genji thought. Maybe it was the first step…

That is really cool

“Come on.” He turned his head to let her see what was unfinished in him. “Let’s get this over with.”

#jax does wurdz #overwatch #fareeha amari #pharah #genji shimada #i do popular fandoms now deal with it #oh my god I wrote a thing look everyone that hasn't happened in like months #omgomgomg

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adolphuslongestaffe · 7 years

Text

Defiant

Chapter 6: Nonstandard Vernacular

When Jesse arrived in the hotel room, the commander was just entering from the balcony door.

“Jesse,” he said, forgoing a greeting, “did you hear or see anything on your way back here? I mean, did you know you were being followed?”

“Well I supposed I was,” Jesse said. “Weren’t you shadowin’ me?”

“I wasn’t the only one. Someone came over the wall of Shimada castle after you left the gate. Masked, dressed in black or dark blue. I stayed on the rooftops and kept eyes on him. He followed you along the roofs on the opposite side of the street till you were in view of the hotel. He stopped on that building across the square and watched you go inside, then he turned around and took off back toward the castle.”

“Masked like a ninja or somethin’?”

“Yeah,” Reyes said.

Jesse shuddered. “I don’t like the idea of bein’ exposed like that, boss. Gives me the willies thinkin’ someone had a clean shot on me the whole time without me knowin’ it.”

“I wouldn’t have let him take it,” his commander said. “But I don’t think you were in danger. If they wanted you kill you, they wouldn’t let you leave the castle and then do it in the street.”

“I guess they’re curious about me on account of me gettin’ friendly with the master’s kids, then.”

“Most likely. I’ll have to be more cautious when I follow you from now on. I don’t want to risk their spies seeing me by mistake. Did you find out anything interesting from the boys?”

“Nothin’ we didn’t know already. But I’m workin’ on it. I got a feelin’ the older one knows a lot more than the younger one. I’m goin’ back tomorrow at noon. I’m gonna learn to play the koto.”

“They’re giving you music lessons now?” Reyes laughed merrily at the idea. “What did you do to make them like you so much, blow both of them in the hot tub?”

“You know me, boss,” Jesse grinned broadly. “Anything for the mission. But no, I reckon it was the train robber stuff. Genji says I’m like a real life Jesse James.”

“Alright, Mr. James, what’s your instinct about being in the castle? You feel safe there?”

“Safe as I ever feel anywhere. Why?”

“Unfortunately, their spies following you puts a damper on your mobility at the moment. I want to do some recon at Imagawa Castle, but I can’t take you with me and risk them finding out what we’re doing. You think you can handle it solo tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll be ok,” Jesse said. “It’s just a music lesson. I shouldn’t be there for more than a couple hours.”

“What’s the name of the older brother again?” Reyes asked.

“Hanzo,” Jesse said.

“Hanzo. He’s a good looking boy, isn’t he.”

“He is. Just about the most beautiful boy I ever saw.”

“Jesse,” his commander said. “Seriously, watch yourself, ok?”

The boy’s face flushed and he fidgeted uneasily under his commander’s keen eye. “What do you mean, boss?”

“I mean don’t piss off the Shimada clan by fucking the master’s heir. It’d be war.”

“I don’t think there’s much chance of that, boss. He don’t like me very much. I think he agreed to teach me to play out of plain courtesy.”

“Alright, Jesse. Just be careful.”

“Course I will. Say, you hear anything from Commander Morrison?”

“No, but I didn’t expect to. He won’t risk communicating with us unless it’s something big. Now let’s get some sleep. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”

Jesse returned to the castle the next day at fifteen minutes before noon. He found the gate guards fully instructed and expecting his arrival. They opened the gate and bowed as he approached, telling him that the young master would see him in the tea house in the garden. He made his way to the indicated structure, where he found the young master serenely waiting with his instrument already set up. Jesse mumbled an apology for being late.

“You are precisely on time, Mr. McCree,” Hanzo said.

“Please, just Jesse.”

“Jesse,” his host said, adding a kind of breathed quality to the vowels that gave the name an unfamiliar ring in its owner’s ears.

“Well, I’ll be,” Jesse said. “You say my own name better’n I do. How do you get it to float around way up in the air like that?”

This appeared to have annoyed his host, and Jesse was instantly uncomfortable, which made him defensive. He shut his mouth tightly and turned away to set his guitar down.

“Jesse,” Hanzo said.

The cowboy turned around to face him and waited.

After a pause, the young man continued, “You must excuse my delays in responding to you. My English is not strong, and your nonstandard vernacular is…difficult for me.”

“My—my nonstandard vernacular,” Jesse repeated.

“Yes. You speak very quickly and you use idioms and turns of phrase with which I am not familiar. I pause because I am attempting to understand. I do not mean to offend you.”

Jesse was stunned. Had that been it? Had he been assuming this man hated him because of a language problem?

“Oh boy, I’m real sorry,” he said. “I get ahead of myself and I forget some folks ain’t accustomed to my way of talkin’. Don’t feel bad, though. Most people from my own country can’t understand me either.”

This statement elicited a smile from the stoic young archer. Jesse thought it was the prettiest smile to ever light up the world, but he knew better than to say so. His host directed him to sit beside him and began to instruct him in the basic theory of the instrument, which was similar enough to the guitar so that Jesse wasn’t entirely lost. Then the young man played some basic scales so Jesse could observe the placement of the hands. He couldn’t help turning his head now and again to look at that lovely face, and his host was not unaware of the fact. He thought he’d been particularly sly about it, but suddenly the young man looked up at him and caught him in the act.

“Jesse,” he said.

“Hm?”

“Are you paying attention?”

“Uh huh,” Jesse said absently. “I’m payin’ attention.”

His host smiled again, a very slight but genuine smile, and returned to the task. Jesse tried a few notes, then Hanzo adjusted his hand position, then they repeated the process. Jesse made his best effort, but he found his hands would cease to function properly when his instructor touched them, and so he couldn’t get more than half a scale out before he lost the plot. But they persevered until Jesse was able to play a full scale on his own. Then they moved on to a basic melody. After the third or fourth attempt, Jesse was able to play the first part. He was exceedingly pleased. The other young man took his hands and adjusted them again. Jesse began to pluck at the strings, but then his heart skipped a beat and he froze in place. The other set of hands had remained resting on his. He cast a sidelong glance at his instructor, to find that he was gazing up at him.

“Jesse,” the young man said. “Would you like to kiss me?”

Jesse blinked at him stupidly, attempting to ascertain whether he’d actually just heard those words, or was losing his grip on his sanity.

“Would I—you…I uh, yeah. I mean, yes. Yes, please,” he managed at last.

The archer lifted his hands and placed them on the sides of the cowboy’s handsome face. He leaned in and cautiously brushed his lips against Jesse’s. Jesse took him by the sleeve and collar and pulled him closer. He pushed the other boy’s lips apart with his own, caressing his tongue and inhaling his intoxicating scent. His head spun. He was dizzy and breathless. He felt the kiss in his entire being. Hanzo drew away, blushing like a rose, and looked at the ground.

“What’s the matter darlin’,” Jesse said softly.

“I—I am not certain I did that correctly,” Hanzo said falteringly. “I apologize for my…lack of experience.”

“Oh, sweetheart, it was perfect,” Jesse said. “The most perfect kiss in the history of time, maybe.”

The archer didn’t look up, but he laid his head on the cowboy’s broad chest and allowed his long, silky hair to be stroked. Jesse wrapped his strong arms securely around the other boy’s body.

Before he could think to stop himself, he asked, “Have you…have you never kissed a boy before?”

“I have never kissed anyone before,” the archer answered quietly.

He raised his eyes to look into Jesse’s. Jesse stared down at his beautiful captive. It was impossible. How was it that no one had ever kissed those perfect lips. This boy couldn’t be real. All at once, the stoic young master was entirely transformed in Jesse’s eyes. Still the same in essence, but as if viewed through an altered lens. Pristine angles where Jesse had seen hard edges before. Refined diffidence where he had seen haughty aloofness. He saw through the mask to the vulnerable, unworldly young man beneath.

“But…did you like it?” Jesse asked.

The black-eyed angel smiled shyly and turned away again.

“Yes. I liked it very much,” he said. “I would like to kiss you again, if that would be acceptable to you.”

Jesse answered by kissing him again, this time with more urgency. The archer gasped and gave a little groan. His body went slack and pliant in Jesse’s arms. Jesse suddenly felt powerful, masculine, almost omnipotent, exhilarated by the keen sweetness of the other young man’s ready submission to his desire. In direct contradiction and at the same time, he knew he had been utterly conquered. Knocked down. Defeated. No quarter given or requested. He would be this boy’s willing slave, a dog at his feet if he wished it, from this moment on. He was in love.

“Acceptable,” Jesse said, laughing blithely. “Darlin’ I don’t want to do anything else but just kiss you forever and ever.”

His darling frowned thoughtfully. “Jesse, that would be very impractical. How would you eat and drink? You would starve to death.”

“Sure I would, but what’s that to me,” the cowboy said fervently, squeezing his quarry tight, as if to prevent his escape. “Let me starve to death, I say. If I die kissing those lips, I’ll die a happy man and that’s that.”

The absurd idea coupled with Jesse’s theatrical delivery elicited an actual laugh from the young master. A low, soft laugh that was music to Jesse’s ears. It was the first time he’d heard it. He laughed as well, from pure delight in the suddenly and drastically altered state of their interaction. The archer allowed his impetuous cowboy to kiss him again, then gently freed himself.

“I must go to my training now,” he said, standing and straightening his loose-fitting tunic. “May I walk you to the gate?”

“Well, sure,” Jesse said cheerfully, but with a hint of disappointment. “I can find it on my own, though, if you need to get goin’.”

Hanzo stood thinking for a moment.

“Jesse,” he said. “You told me that you had never seen a person use a bow. If that is something that interests you, you would be welcome to observe my exercises.”

“That is something that interests me very much,” Jesse said, raising his eyebrows. “You sure you wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all. Do you shoot?”

“Not with a bow. But if I’m lucky, I can hit the broad side of a barn with a revolver.”

“Would you like to practice together, then? I can have ballistic targets prepared.”

“I’d love to,” the cowboy said, “but I don’t have a weapon on me.”

“You may borrow one from the armory. It is no trouble.”

“Armory?”

“Yes.”

Jesse appeared perplexed.

“I am certain you are aware of the nature of my family’s business.”

“I’m not, though. I mean, I heard a rumor about rival clans or something, but I ain’t a hundred percent clear on what that means.”

Hanzo clarified. “We operate a powerful trade syndicate. Within the law, but close to its edges. In our profession, we are often required to defend ourselves from other such syndicates who seek to encroach upon our livelihood, sometimes with violent force. As such, we are trained thoroughly in combat, armed and unarmed, as a matter of course. We also keep a store of weapons at our disposal, should the need arise.”

“That a fact,” Jesse said, pushing his hat back to express his appreciation of the sentiment. “I guess that’s just plain prudent, then.”

“It is. My life and the lives of my family have been threatened many times.”

“You ever scared?”

“Once,” the archer said. “When I was six years old. I was traveling in a car with my father. We were stopped by a roadblock and armed men assaulted the vehicle. My father killed two of the men, and our guards dispensed with the others. It was over very quickly and I was unharmed. But I was afraid, yes. Now, I am not.”

Jesse eyed his friend closely. He certainly didn’t look like the kind of man to get scared. He looked like the kind of man other men feared and were right to do so. There was a detached, calculating quality to him that Jesse hadn’t observed before. This young man was dangerous. A killer, his mind whispered. He pushed the thought away and returned to the immediate subject.

“Well I pity the dumb son of a bitch who comes lookin’ for trouble with you, darlin’,” he said. “I remember that arrow stickin’ out of the target dead-center.”

The archer smiled and bowed, pleased with the good-humored reference to their inauspicious meeting.

“Hey, Hanzo,” Jesse said. “How old are you, anyway?”

“I am eighteen years old,” he replied.

Jesse was dumbstruck again. This formidable man was actually younger than him.

“I’ll be damned,” he said. “I’m older than you, then. Wait, how old is Genji?”

“He is sixteen.”

“Sixteen!” He whistled through his teeth. “See, I woulda swore he was my age and you was five or six years older, on account of you bein’ so serious and cultured and all.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” the young man said, looking up at his friend.

“It’s meant for one, but it’s just true, too. Genji, on the other hand…he had me kinda worried with all the drinkin’ and I won’t rest no easier knowin’ he’s already took on like that at sixteen.”

“It is a matter of deep concern for me, as well. I do not wish to see my brother destroy himself. But he is troubled in his spirit and I do not know the remedy.”

“Why don’t your pa do somethin’ about it?”

“My father does not share my opinion in this matter. He dismisses my concerns as pettiness and tale-bearing. So I watch over my brother and make certain no harm comes to him when he behaves recklessly. It is all I am able to do.”

Jesse wanted to take the other boy in his arms again, but he was certain such an embrace wouldn’t be welcome at that moment.

“You’re a good brother, Hanzo,” he said. “He’s lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, Jesse. I intend to be so.”

They walked together to the aforementioned armory, a mind-boggling arsenal kept in a massive, concrete-walled basement beneath the castle. Hanzo spoke with the guard while Jesse browsed the selection of weapons. He chose a Colt Single-Action Army revolver, which he was delighted to discover on a rack among the other handguns, and the two made their way to the practice range. Ballistics targets had appeared as if by magic, and the stone wall behind them was covered by a large, movable barrier made of tightly-packed hay bales.

“After you,” Hanzo said courteously, motioning toward the wall of targets.

Jesse stood contemplating the scene, hefting and spinning the revolver in his hand to get a feel for its weight and balance.

“Tell you what,” he said. “How’s about you shoot first. Six shots. Then I’ll try to get as close to your arrows as I can.”

The young archer assented to this and nocked an arrow to his bow. Jesse stepped a polite distance behind him and watched as six arrows swiftly struck the center marks of six targets.

“Yeehaw!” he exclaimed. “That’s some fine shooting, there, archer.”

Hans bowed in acknowledgement of the compliment and stepped back to make room for Jesse.

“What do you say my chances are,” Jesse said, smiling mischievously. “Think I can get close?”

His friend eyed him dubiously and laughed at the proposition.

“Alright, then. Let’s see just how rusty I am.”

With a rapid-fire report, so quick it almost sounded like a string of firecrackers, Jesse emptied the six-chamber barrel. Hanzo stood frozen in undisguised awe. In the center marks of six targets lay the splintered fragments of six exploded arrows. Jesse stepped back and playfully nudged his friend.

“Not as rusty as I thought,” he said.

“How…how did you learn to shoot like that?” the archer said at last.

Jesse grinned wickedly and tipped his hat to his friend with the barrel of the revolver. “I told you fellas I was a famous outlaw.”

“I have never seen such a thing. I—” his words were arrested by a kiss on the mouth from the triumphant sharpshooter.

They stepped apart just in time for Genji, who had been disturbed by the thunder of gunfire, to miss the boldly affectionate gesture entirely.

“Jesse,” he called out, delighted to see his friend. “What are you two doing? I heard gunshots.”

“I’m showin’ your brother here how the west was won,” the cowboy replied, spinning revolver around his finger. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No, no, I was studying for an examination. I did not know you were coming or I would have been out to see you much sooner. When did you arrive?”

“Oh, a couple hours ago. Hanzo has kindly agreed to teach me how to play that weird little floor guitar of his.”

“Koto,” the older brother said.

“Koto,” Jesse repeated, smiling broadly. “I don’t mean to brag or nothin’, but I can make it sound just like a bag of angry cats.”

Genji enjoyed this little joke thoroughly and Hanzo smiled stiffly.

“Perhaps the two of you would like to take some refreshment,” the archer said. “I must continue my exercises.”

“That is my brother’s way of asking us to go away and stop bothering him,” Genji said. “Jesse, have you had lunch?”

“I haven’t, but I can’t keep intruding on you folks’ hospitality at mealtimes. You’ll get to thinkin’ I only come for the food.”

“Nonsense, Mr. McCree,” Hanzo said. “We are more than happy to share our good fortune.”

Genji rolled his eyes and grabbed Jesse’s arm.

“Come on,” he said. “Please let us go before my brother embarrasses me any more.”

As he was being dragged bodily away from the object of his affection by an impatient, green-haired teenager, Jesse turned and looked back wistfully. The archer smiled and dipped his head, communicating everything Jesse wanted to know. Then he went with the younger brother more willingly and in a better humor.

Genji was annoyed by his brother’s comment about their good fortune, taking it as a slight to Jesse’s wayward condition, and said so.

“Well, if he meant any offense, I didn’t take none, so it don’t matter much,” Jesse said. “But I do think he was just tryin’ to be polite. Your brother ain’t half so bad as he comes off. I mean, he did agree to teach me to play that koto for nothin’ but me showin’ him a thing or two on the guitar.”

“That is a strange bargain, cowboy,” Genji said.

“How do you figure?”

“He knows how to play guitar. He plays very well.”

“Peculiar,” Jesse said, scratching his chin. “Well, who knows. Maybe he was just bein’ charitable.”

“That does not sound like Hanzo,” Genji persisted. “What is he up to, I wonder…Aha!”

“Aha?”

“Jesse, my brother is trying to steal you from under my nose!”

“Come again?” the baffled cowboy said. “Steal me? How do you mean? I ain’t a wallet, I’m a person.”

“Simple,” Genji said, putting on the air of a television detective about to reveal how he had uncovered a dastardly plot. “He has no friends of his own, and no one likes him. No one but you, for some reason. So he has decided to make himself agreeable to you and to turn you against me so that he will have you all to himself.”

“I don’t think that’s it, Genj,” Jesse said, laughing outright. “I don’t see why I can’t be friends with both of y’all.”

The boy considered this for a moment.

“I suppose you could,” he said doubtfully. “But I do not know why you would want to. My brother is very boring and he worries about everything. He is like an old hen.”

Jesse’s mind was still aglow with the soft, sweet longing of that kiss in the tea house.

“Maybe,” he said dreamily. “But maybe an old hen is just what fellas like you and me need sometimes.”

“You are very tolerant, Jesse, but you will grow weary of his mothering soon enough,” Genji said decisively.

Jesse doubted he would, but he didn’t say so. He imagined being fussed over and supervised by that stern, beautiful young man. Falling asleep to the strains of his koto and waking up to his kisses. Even being scolded by that perfect creature and made to comb his hair and pick up after himself sounded like his idea of heaven. He changed the subject.

“What kind of examination you studyin’ for?” he asked.

“Differential calculus. It is necessary to complete my secondary education.”

“Secondary education?”

“It is what Americans call high school. I am almost finished.”

“Already? Ain’t you young for that yet?”

“I suppose so. But I would prefer to get it done quickly rather than linger over it. How long did it take you to finish yours?”

“Even faster, bein’ as I never bothered to begin. Ain’t much time for school and things when a body has to work the way I did.”

“You never went to high school?” his friend said in a tone of hushed awe. “How did you learn to read and write?”

“My ma taught me those things before I went to primary school,” Jesse laughed. “I ain’t illiterate, just educated differently. I can’t list the dates of important battles and whatnot, but I can sure as shit tell you how to win one.”

“That seems to be a preferable manner of education,” his friend said. “Eminently more practical.”

“That it is,” Jesse agreed heartily. “Say, Genj, Hanzo was tellin’ me about how your family’s been havin’ some trouble with a rival clan. Y’all ever have any real serious brawls with ‘em, like the Hatfields and McCoys?”

“There have been none since I can remember,” Genji said. “But my father and brother were attacked when I was three or four years old. That was the last serious engagement. It is mostly a proxy conflict now.”

“How so?”

“Their subsidiary organizations making trouble for ours and vice versa. A direct assault on us would be unwise, since it would be costly and attract the attention of the police, most of whom are loyal to us.”

“Y’all got the cops in your pocket?” Jesse said, genuinely impressed.

“Not in our pockets,” Genji laughed. “But many are members of families that are under the protection of our clan. We are loyal to them and they are loyal in return.”

“I bet that works out nice. Ain’t much petty crime in your city, is there?”

“None at all, as far as I know,” Genji said. “It would be foolish to risk the displeasure of the Shimadas by committing a small offense in their home town.”

“It would, indeed,” Jesse said.

The two friends chatted pleasantly about clan warfare and assassinations and sabotage while lunch was served to them in the main hall of the brothers’ shared space. The servants had taken away the dishes and Jesse was tuning his guitar to play something for his friend, when Hanzo entered the room, looking very grave and pale.

“Jesse,” he said, looking back and forth between his brother and the cowboy, “my father, Shimada Sojiro, would like to make your acquaintance. He requests the pleasure of your presence in his drawing room as soon as is convenient for you.”

Genji’s face drained of color as well.

“That means right now, Jesse,” he said in a stifled whisper. “Brother, should I come, too?”

“You are also wanted, yes. All three of us,” Hanzo replied. He looked positively sick.

If Jesse felt any apprehension at the prospect of a face-to-face meeting with the old warlord, he didn’t show it. He stood languidly, stretching his long arms and straightening his shirt, then he tossed his hat onto a table and gave his hair a rake with his fingers.

“That’s mighty hospitable of your pa, wantin’ to meet me,” he said. “We best not keep him waiting.”

#mchanzo #young jesse mccree #young hanzo shimada #young mchanzo #mature

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