Foxfire (Nine Tails, 1) (8 page)

Hiro raised one eyebrow. “I won’t run
this time.”

“
Doesn’t mean I should
push you.” Masaki winked as he emerged from the water and went to
his clothes, producing a towel out of thin air and quickly covering
himself, though not before giving Hiro a nice glance.

“
That’s not pushing?” Hiro
asked, laughing. He stood and dusted his jeans off.
“Tease.”

Masaki tucked the towel in and held
out one hand. “Am I forgiven my deceit? Meeting people is easy.
Letting them in on my secret isn’t.”

Hiro hesitated, but then he nodded and
shook Masaki’s hand. “Yes, but honesty from now on. I’ll do the
same. I won’t behave as I did last night anymore.”

Masaki picked up his clothes. “Then
I’ll see you tonight. I must tell my friend I’ve changed my mind
about attending. You’ll find clothes in your room, and we’ll leave
about seven.”

“
Okay.” Hiro took up his
pad. “I’ll finish this, give it to you tonight.” Then he walked
away, glancing back with a smile a couple of times.

Masaki watched him go, wondering what
had happened to bring Hiro around so quickly. He shrugged and
headed for the house, not willing to question his good luck too
much, lest it run out on him. If Inari had somehow orchestrated
this, he would simply have to trust that his kami had acted out of
love.

Chapter Four

Hiro felt the tingling Inari had
promised. He hesitated in his actions, as he’d been about to change
clothes for tonight. A glance at the clock told him he didn’t
really have time to wait. Though he felt bashful, embarrassed, he
began to undress slowly. He stripped completely, even changing his
boxers, though he hadn’t needed to do so. Thinking of Masaki’s
body, which he hadn’t been able to put out of his mind, he stroked
himself for a moment. Would Masaki enjoy watching him? Had he
watched before?

Hiro moaned as his hand moved over his
cock. Why should he be ashamed? He couldn’t help what his body
wanted. Leaning back against the wall, he thrust his hips up to
fuck his fist. Imagining Masaki watching made him ache. Inari had
no reason to lie about how Masaki felt. Hiro paused, reaching down
to fondle his balls. Pre-cum leaked from his tip, and he pictured
Masaki licking it from the head. Sucking him. Touching him. Hiro
thought about how good it would feel to run his hands over Masaki’s
muscles, over his chest and thighs. He took hold of his cock again,
pumping faster. He came with a moan, watching the cum arch up as he
stroked hurriedly. He reached for a towel, but then he paused.
Participating in the voyeurism and putting on a show for Masaki
made Hiro feel bold and empowered. He raised his hand and licked
the cum away before cleaning up the floor.

As he dressed, Hiro felt the tingling
cease. Was Masaki jerking off now? Or had he done so as he watched?
Hiro smiled as he looked at himself in the mirror. He’d never have
believed it a week ago, but if things went well, tonight might be
the night he’d waited so long for.

* * * *

Masaki accepted a glass of champagne
from the waiter, but Hiro waved him away. Most of the art didn’t
spark Masaki’s interest, but a few colorful prints had pleased him.
Talking with Hiro, or more accurately listening to him chatter, had
kept him entertained well enough. Even when Hiro didn’t seem to
like a sculpture or painting, he would still find something to
compliment about it. He spoke of lines and contrast and
composition, and Masaki tried to keep up. If he learned about all
these things, he could talk to Hiro about his art, which he very
much wanted to do. As they walked, Masaki considered his reaction
to Hiro’s art. He’d never been an art lover and certainly was not
artistic himself. Had Hiro’s work spoken to him for another reason?
Was it fate? On a whim, he scanned the air between them, looking
for a red string. He’d never actually seen the red string of fate
connecting two beings, but Inari had assured him it did exist,
though one had to be very powerful to see it.

“
Do you like this one?”
Hiro asked, amusement in his voice.

Masaki glanced up and saw Hiro a
couple of feet away, walking around a metal sculpture of a
nine-tailed fox. The nine tails flared behind it, like the flames
of a fire, and the metal had a bronzed look with copper highlights
here and there. The fox looked fierce and menacing, yet it walked
over a field of beautiful flowers, which seemed to be made of
chunks of colored glass.

“
It’s interesting. Do you
like it?” Masaki asked, moving close enough to see if it was one of
the items for sale or a permanent part of the museum’s
collection.

“
It must’ve taken ages to
make. Yes, I do. I’m not sure what it means though.”

Masaki glanced at the
title:
Revenge.
That seemed odd, but it made more sense as he examined it.
The kitsune did look as if it wanted vengeance. “Perhaps the artist
is here. I could ask when I inquire about the price.”

Hiro’s gaze darted over to his. “It’s
huge, so it’s probably expensive.”

Masaki smiled. “Not a
problem.”

“
But, I mean,” Hiro bit
his lip, “don’t buy it because I like it.”

Masaki stepped forward and took Hiro’s
hand, kissing it gently. “I can tell it fascinates you, and it
intrigues me as well. It’s one of the largest pieces here. Plus,
the artist might need the money.”

Hiro didn’t pull his hand away.
“You’re right, but you don’t have to do things to please me. I’m
enjoying myself.”

“
I’d do anything to please
you, but that’s only one motivation. I always buy something at
these shows.”

“
Like my paintings and
sketches.”

“
Yes, though I bought
those because I loved them.”

Hiro slipped his hand from Masaki’s
and turned back to the sculpture. “It’s up to you, but I would like
to meet the artist, if I could.”

“
I’ll go make inquiries,”
Masaki said, moving across the room to find Chiasa. She was always
pleased to see Masaki and would likely be thrilled to arrange the
sale of such a large piece. He threw one glance back at Hiro, who
knelt on the marble floor examining the flowers at the base of the
sculpture. Masaki smiled. Despite still seeming a bit nervous, Hiro
appeared to be enjoying himself, which was all that mattered right
now.

* * * *

“
You like my work?” a soft
voice said behind Hiro.

He turned and stood, finding a very
petite girl standing there. She looked about his age, but she was
short and thin, her long, thick black hair overwhelming her frame
and covering almost half of her face. She seemed shy and timid, so
Hiro smiled and nodded with enthusiasm.

“
Yes. I love it.” He could
hardly believe someone so small and frail could’ve made this
sculpture, which actually towered over her, but then he reprimanded
himself for the thought. It was unfair to think that her size had
anything to do with her creativity or her ability to do
metalwork.

She pushed her hair off her face and
looked up at the face of the fox. “I’ve always loved foxes.” She
smiled. “I caught one once, but I wasn’t allowed to keep
him.”

“
Probably for the best.
Foxes belong in the wild.”

She kept looking at her sculpture as a
woman with a clipboard passed by swiftly and handed her a small
slip of paper. The girl giggled, her eyes bright as she looked up.
“Mr. Kitamura has bought my sculpture.” She reached forward and put
her hand on Hiro’s chest, just above his heart. “I hope you both
enjoy it. I’m honored.”

While Hiro was happy she was pleased,
he wondered why it meant so much to her. “He said he always buys
something at showings. Is he considered a good patron?” He could
think of no other reason for her to be honored by the
sale.

“
I’ve always admired him.
I observed you together,” she lowered her eyes, though her hand
still rested on Hiro’s chest, “but don’t dare approach
him.”

Hiro looked across the room. “He’s
coming out of a side room now. Wouldn’t you like to meet him? I’ll
make the introductions.”

She stiffened a moment, but then the
shy smile returned. “No, but thank you. I am content.” She pulled
away and hurried off before Hiro could stop her. He watched her go
until he heard Masaki clear his throat.

“
Was that the artist?”
Masaki asked as they watched her go, her hair rippling in waves
behind her. “Chiasa said it was a young girl.”

“
Yes, that was her. She’s
shy, and she ran off before I got a chance to really ask her
anything. She seemed happy you bought her sculpture. Honored, she
said.”

Masaki blinked and then furrowed his
brows. “Really? She must’ve seen me at other shows. Chiasa said
this is her first piece.”

“
She’s kind of odd. Maybe
she has a crush on you.”

Masaki chuckled. “So, someone has to
be odd to like me that way?”

Hiro started to apologize, but then he
laughed as well. “Um, well, you never know. Maybe weird, artsy
types like us are drawn to you.”

Masaki stepped a bit closer. “Perhaps.
You do seem to enjoy my company.”

Hiro slipped his hand under the jacket
of his suit, his chest itching suddenly. “Tonight was fun. I’ve
never been to a show like this one. Only the small ones in our own
city when my work was on display.”

Masaki extended his arm, and after a
brief hesitation, Hiro took it. He glanced around, but no one
seemed to care. Being gay was still relatively taboo in Japan, but
perhaps among artists and the types of people who acted as their
patrons, this might not be the case. Hiro had certainly encountered
more liberal, enlightened individuals since gaining recognition as
an artist.

“
Would you like to have
your pieces in larger shows? Chiasa said she would like to see your
work. I told her which gallery still has a few of your paintings.”
He smiled. “The few I haven’t bought.”

Hiro couldn’t help beaming. Masaki had
paid close attention to everything he’d said tonight, as if he
truly respected Hiro’s thoughts on art. “Nice of you to share me
with the world, just a little.” Sobering a bit, he added, “It means
a lot to me, knowing someone who’s seen and done so much truly
likes my work.”

Masaki smiled, but then he stopped and
pulled Hiro aside. “Are you all right?”

“
What?”

Masaki took hold of Hiro’s wrist. “You
keep scratching your chest.”

Hiro hadn’t even realized he’d still
been doing it. His skin burned now from all the scratching. “Yeah,
I’m fine. Maybe something bit me.”

“
Why don’t we head home?
It’s getting late. The arrangements have been made. The sculpture
will be packed tonight, and one of my brothers will bring it to us
tomorrow. He’s here attending an opera tonight, I think. Something
like that.”

Hiro nodded. “Sure. We’ve seen
everything.” He let Masaki lead him to an empty room, where he
opened a portal and helped Hiro through. Hiro felt his stomach do a
little flip as he wondered what else was going to happen on their
“date”.

They walked a few steps, and Masaki
stopped, pulling Hiro to his side. “How about here? In this small
clearing, surrounded by the moss. Coming upon the sculpture would
be a nice surprise for anyone walking in the garden. Morning
glories grow around the edges. See?”

“
Yes, that would look
nice. What colors do you have?”

Masaki smiled, slipping his hand into
Hiro’s. “Every color possible, and even a few that aren’t, but
mostly blue and lavender. They would look nice ornamenting the
sculpture.”

“
A few that
aren’t?”

“
Some that are not
natural. It’s my presence, the magic in the air.”

They sat on a bench nearby, which Hiro
hadn’t noticed until that moment. Masaki draped his arm across the
back of the bench, and Hiro leaned close but didn’t press against
the other man, even though he wanted to.

“
So what other kinds of
magic can I expect?” Hiro asked.

Masaki formed his lips into an O shape
and blew out a small flame, which expanded into a greenish ball of
foxfire. The next was orange, the one after that blue. Hiro watched
them floating over the clearing.

“
Does that make your mouth
hot?”

“
You could find out,”
Masaki said, inching closer.

Hiro stiffened once he realized how
his question had sounded. But then he turned to Masaki, who licked
his lips and gave a faint smile. “I suppose I could.” Hiro moved
in, nervous and wishing Masaki would take over. Their lips touched,
and suddenly the itching and burning from his chest spread all over
Hiro’s body. He sucked in a breath, and the feeling faded
instantly. He kissed Masaki again, this time letting his tongue run
over Masaki’s lower lip. Though the kiss was sweet, Hiro moaned,
lust overwhelming him. He deepened the kiss until they both gasped
for breath, and then he said, “Make love to me, in the clearing.
It’s so beautiful out here.”

Masaki searched his face, caressing
his cheek and stroking his hair. “You’re certain?”