Touga... persuades Saionji to duel for the Rose Bride. Takes place
between episode one and two. Rated R, contains semi-graphic sex of the
m/m, vaguely coercive variety.


Conviction
by Ophelia Coelridge


By day, the kendo hall was a room like any other. A room with four
walls, a floor, a ceiling, windows, a door. Mornings, it glowed warmly
in the oblique slant of sunlight through the high windows. After
classes, the light was muted and diffuse. 

Tonight, it was full of darkness and sharp-edged shadows. Tonight, it
was a prison. 

Kyouichi Saionji had lost the duel. Lost the Rose Bride. Lost his
honour. And now he was trapped. Student Council President Kiryuu Touga
stood in the doorway and held him pinioned with no more than brilliant,
blue, cruel eyes. 

The polished wood of the floorboards gleamed palely. Touga gleamed
paler. He was awash in the moonlight flooding through the open door.
Bright hair fell as black as spilled ink around a face that seemed all
sharp cheekbones and sensuous curve of lip and brow. White skin shone
above the severe lines of his dark kendo gi. 

"You lost to her," he said conversationally. Saionji snarled and turned
his head. 

Bare feet stepped silently across the open floor. 

Long fingers caught Saionji's chin deftly, and slowly, inexorably,
turned it back. "And you lost the Rose Bride," Touga continued. 

"But."

He leaned in closer. 

"You."

Closer. 

"Know."

Closer. 

"That." So close that the final word was breathed out against his lips
in barely-audible whisper. Something unnamable lurked in his eyes.
Something dark and malicious and oh so pleased. 

By daylight they both knew Saionji would have protested. He would have
raised his arm, raised his bokken to cleave the air with an audible
swish, would have told them all in a clarion voice that rang like a
bell, and everyone would have known that the Rose Bride belonged to him
alone.

But it wasn't daylight. 

Touga began to pace around him, the lean, graceful prowl of a hunting
cat. A predator. Saionji shivered, a quick jolt that shuddered up his
spine and under his skin. When Touga stopped just out of sight, Saionji
could feel him, a line of heat against his back. 

The bokken fell from Saionji's unresisting fingers and clattered noisily
to the polished, wooden floor. 

Touga’s fingers closed around his wrist like an iron bracelet. Saionji
tensed, hands balling into fists. A rustle of cloth as Touga dropped to
his knees. Slowly, joint by joint, he straightened each finger until
Saionji’s hands hung loose by his side. Touga’s unbound hair slithered
across one bare wrist, and soft lips brushed his palm. Saionji shivered
again, a convulsive shudder that crept across his skin. 

A breath of a kiss at the wrist, and Touga began to work his way up the
bare skin of his forearm. A flicker of wetness at the crease of his
elbow, tongue swiping the salt from his skin. Open kendo gi sliding down
to leave chest, back, and arms bare, all flat planes and tensed limbs.
Lips lingered with the heat of an exhaled breath on the tautly muscled
sweep of his shoulder. 

Touga reached the juncture of shoulder and neck, and stopped, tasting
the exposed skin with an open mouth. One arm circled Saionji’s waist
loosely, long fingers unerringly tracing the sharp-edged contours of his
hipbone through the thin cotton. The other snaked up until his other
hand slid up Saionji’s throat, catching at his chin and forcing his head
back. Unrelenting fingers dug sharply into his jaw. 

Saionji closed his eyes in what might have been an escape and might have
been a surrender. 

Tongue flickered over the corded tendons, and Touga bit down suddenly,
catching the tensed muscle between his teeth. Hard enough to hurt,
enough to mark him, but not enough to break the skin. 

"You lost her," Touga whispered hotly, lips tracing the words against
his ear. "But then again, she never really was yours to begin with, was
she?" The hand at his throat tightened. The hand on his hip dropped down
lower. 

A gasp. 

A moan. 

A shuddering intake of breath. 

A cry. 

Touga’s lips curved upwards in a triumphant smile. He pulled Saionji
back against him, one arm a steel band across his shoulders, the other
back around his waist. Saionji sagged in his grip like a marionette with
the strings cut, each breath an open-mouthed gasp for air. 

Touga traced the sweat-damped tendrils of hair plastered to his neck,
and slowly slid around so they faced each other once again. Head tilted,
foreheads meeting, he smiled again, and idly brushed a thumb up from the
curve of his captive’s jaw, and over his parted lips. 

Touga slowly pushed him to his knees. One hand slid around, up his neck,
through the sweat-soaked tangle of hair, cupping the back of his head. 

"Why don’t you... Touga tilted Saionji’s head back until their eyes met.
"...take her back?" 

The other hand came to rest on Saionji’s shoulders, palm cupped
possessively over the imprint of his teeth. "Tell me you don’t want
this."

Saionji said nothing. 

END 

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