| |
Juro stayed until Lord Kwan’s full recovery, sending for the annual ginseng tea rather than travel back and forth. Despite whatever trouble occurred because of me, he was dutiful to his friend. A trait that I did admire. So, I couldn’t understand why he didn’t act that way towards everyone else. Still, there was a lingering scorn, and we didn’t speak to each other. I behaved as a servant, and he ignored me for the most part.
Whenever Lord Kwan had the strength, he tried to atone for his actions in healing others, delaying his own recovery. In serving Lord Kwan, I tried not to fuss too much and annoy him. With the repairs needed, court was canceled. I felt relief for that, though I wished it was under a different circumstance.
“I will not be returning in autumn,” said Juro, mounted on his horse. “The year may be more difficult for harvests, but it is for the best. The earth needs to rest.”
Lord Kwan nodded. “I am in your debt, my friend.”
Despite his coldness, it didn’t feel right for me to not say anything. He’d stepped in when we needed help. “Lord Juro,” I called, quieter than I intended.
He stiffed a moment, looking down from atop his cheek.
I made my polite gestures and a deep bow. “Thank you.”
There I stayed until cued otherwise.
“If,” said Juro, “in one year, you have changed your mind, Hisa.” He was slow to turn his head slightly to me. “Do not hesitate to send for me.”
I kept still, not knowing what else to do. His tone remained distant, but the phrasing personal.
He kicked off, trotting out of the inner gate before going into a canter. Thunder groaned beyond, ushering another series of rains.
I’d forgotten. The anniversary of my arrival into Lord Kwan’s service was today. Time was picking up, in a hurry to get to the next summer. I had to tell him. Before I never get another chance, I had to tell him how I felt.
Easy enough in theory, but I could never find the right moment. Another week had passed. Lord Kwan stayed up in the late hours sending formal apologies and cancellations. Tedious work. Through it, I stayed beside him with jasmine wine at the ready.
It was a hot and humid night, as always, when I noticed how quiet things became. The rain had stopped, long enough for crickets and other insects to start their night songs. Late, with everyone else in bed hours ago.
This was it. I could get my rejection and scurry to my room without being noticed. I closed my eyes and counted.
“Lord Kwan?”
He paused, his mind catching up. Since Juro’s leaving, he seemed distracted, taking longer than it should to complete his written regrets. Gumiho probably weighed on his mind, and I regretted that I’d began. But, if I didn’t, I might not have an opportunity like this later.
I swallowed, working to steady my voice. “I... only have one year left. After that, I’ll be going back to my village.”
He watched me.
“It feels like I’ve been here longer than four years. So much has happened.” I was losing it, rambling when all I had to do was say three simple words. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to have learned so much.” My voice quivered, and I started to feel frustrated with myself.
He stared, brow pressed and jaw loose, blinking slow and deliberate.
“I’ve... there’s something I wanted to say. And—for a while now—I...” I could feel tears welling up. My body rebelling to prevent me from telling him. “I...”
He kept his gaze. I couldn’t take it. I was losing this battle against myself, and started to look away. Started to. His hands caught my face, bringing me in for a deep kiss. It surprised me.
He stopped suddenly, pulling away and giving me a fearful look, as though I should scold him or slap him. Instead, I grabbed his shirt and brought him back to me with all the force I had. Imitating the kiss he’d given me years before, I pried open his lips with mine, becoming the exploratory one this time.
He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against him. My hands left his shirt, gliding behind his neck to keep us together. His tongue took lead, I straddled his hips, his fingers fled from anchoring, feeling my sides and down to my thighs.
A rush of excitement, though I fumbled in my attempt to mimic. His hands went under my dress, sliding to the back side of my hips to grab and play. I squeaked in delight.
Things went faster, more than I could keep up with. He’d unfastened the ties of my dress, and removed my blouses. My trembling hands struggled to take off his layers as well, and he compensated by ridding himself of it for me. We were on his bed, bodies rolling against each other. I broke from his kiss, needing breath, and his lips fast found the side of my neck, causing my skin to tingle.
He’d undone his trousers, tossing them aside, and slid mine off with a gentle, firm grip. I could smell him and feel him and taste him and see him, our voices lost to panting breaths. Always I pulled him back to me, and always he obliged. My face was hot. My heart was racing. My lungs couldn’t keep up. I was dreaming. But I was awake.
His fingers explored my body—from my breasts to the small of my back to my waist to my rear. Then between my thighs and up. I stopped, startled by the touch and pushing my hands against his chest. I noticed then that the lamplight was snuffed out. We were bathed in the glow of the stars and moon as the clouds departed the sky.
He stared at me, quizzical. As much as I’d ever seen him. “Do you want me to stop?”
I answered his whisper with a meek shake of my head. “No.”
His finger went in, and we slowed all else down, falling into a rhythm. The cool of his skin felt good against the muggy, summer air. At this pace, I could enjoy every touch.
My thighs began to quiver, becoming slick with his playing.
“If it hurts,” whispered Lord Kwan. “Tell me. I’ll stop.”
I was too lost in the haze of passion to fully grasp what he meant, but I nodded all the same. Shallow, rapid nods as my chest heaved from under him.
“Good girl,” said Lord Kwan, going into me.
It hurt almost instantly, but I didn’t want him to stop. A slow rhythm allowed me to get used to him. From some deep seeded instinct, my hands went under his arms to grip his back, and my heels anchored behind his thighs. Moans and sharp breath left me without warning. We were tangled in each other, and I didn’t want it to stop.
He began a faster pace, chuffing, and I struggled to keep hold. Pinning my wrists, he continued, a playful smile on his face and a delighted growl in the back of his voice. My back arched, my involuntary noises turned sharper, coming more rapidly. I throbbed around him. My knees losing their will to cling to him. He spilled into me with a deep and labored groan, stopping a moment after.
Panting, we looked at each other, catching our breaths and smiling. He kissed me, and I kissed back.
“Hisa,” cooed Kwan. “My Hisa.”
I giggled at that, and the kiss he placed after.
“My sweet Hisa.” He kissed at my neck. “My beautiful Hisa.” He kissed at my shoulder.
I stopped. My hands pushed against his chest, suddenly aware of what’d happened—what we’d done and where I was. I became aware of my nakedness, of his, and that he was on top of me—that I was under him. That the window was wide open, as were the doors, and that his hair acted as a curtain between us and the world.
He paused in his residual passion, perplexed and staring.
“I’m not...” I whimpered, turning my face away to expose the scar on my cheek. “I’m not beautiful.”
Our breathing doused, he softly pinched my chin, coaxing me to look at him. “You are to me.”
I smiled, my heart warm and bounding. Words I thought would never be directed to me, and by the man so out of my league that I’d fallen in love with.
He kissed the top of my forehead, bringing my attention back to him. “No more tears.”
I coughed out a chuckle and echoed his words.
“I love you, Hisa.”
I couldn’t believe it. It had to be a dream. But, touching his face, I knew it wasn’t. It really was him. And he’d really said those words.
“If... If you don’t feel the same. I understa—”
“I love you, Kwan.”
****
We stayed in each other’s arms, close, dealing out the occasional caress to be sure this was real. I’d fallen asleep to the sound of his breath and heartbeat.
Morning was a different story. I’d awoken with pain an hour before dawn, curling up and wincing.
“Hisa?” asked Kwan, groggy. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything hurts,” I whimpered.
He blinked, sleep heavy in his eyes before he understood. Placing his palm over my breastbone, he drew down past my belly and thighs, to my knees. I stayed tightly curled, and he repeated the motion. The pain lessened, enough for me to properly meet his eye with bent brows. His expression soft, waiting as a wordless question was asked. I shook my head, and he performed the gesture a third time. It wasn’t gone, but a great deal more tolerable. He’d only just recovered, and I didn’t want him to over exert himself with me.
I scooted closer against him, pressing into his toned, muscled body, and he wrapped his arm back around me in silent comfort, laying a kiss atop my hair. He fell back asleep before I did, keeping me in a protective embrace.
I’d expected some of it to hurt, as Lin had explained, over estimating what I could bear. I didn’t like this part. At all. It made me think of how scared I’d been, in tandem with the excitement I lost myself in. I didn’t know what I was doing, and tried to keep up in the passionate awkwardness. A hare trapped by a tiger.
What if he didn’t like it? And his confession was habit or some sort of obligatory response?
I shut my eyes, forcing away the plaguing thoughts. He was my Kwan. I was his Hisa. Rumors about us being like this already existed in the house and in my village. So why did I feel so guilty that we gave into our emotions to make it true? If everyone else insisted it was true before, and made from greedy lust, what was wrong with now that it was born from sincere love?
Long past the rising hour, someone came to check in on Kwan, knocking. He denied them, nuzzling his face into my neck. It took everything in me not to giggle from the sensation. In moving too quickly, I winced again.
Kwan propped himself up on one arm, concern marring his expression. I shrank into myself, looking down to my legs. Following my gaze and back, he placed his palm on my breastbone. My own hands took it, preventing the spell, and my lips placed a soft kiss to his knuckles. He stared, taking a moment to understand.
“Can we just stay here? Like this?” I asked, whispering. “Just for today?”
His start of a smile returned, and he placed a kiss at my hairline. “If you want to.” He brought me back into his embrace, the two of us enjoying the silence and the touch of one another.
It wouldn’t be for half a day. Syaoran, concerned, came knocking, and refused to be dismissed.
With a sigh, Kwan got up, taking the cover sheet with him to wrap lazily around his lower half. A gesture of his hand and a fresh sheet flew from its storage cupboard to cover me. He slid open his inner door halfway, not revealing who he had in his room.
Syaoran’s concerned tone vanished, replaced with a stark and stumbling set of words. I half rolled over, trying to listen in.
“Lin would know, or have it on record,” said Kwan.
“But why to Hisa’s room?” asked Syaoran.
Kwan said nothing more, closing the door in a slow, smooth motion. In his first steps back to me, Syaoran pieced it together.
“Hisa‽”
“What did you tell him?” I asked, looking between Kwan and the door.
“I told him to bring a remedy for you.” He sat on the edge of the bed, resting his forehead on mine.
“For the pain?”
“That as well.”
It took me longer than it should’ve to realize what he meant. Bashful, I couldn’t help my next question, dropping my gaze to see his fingers shyly laying against my own. “Did you like me?”
“I love you, Hisa.”
“That’s not what I...” I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth, holding it there as I though how to phrase it.
“The sex?”
I flinched at how direct he worded it.
“I did.” He brushed my hair behind my shoulder, cupping my cheek after, and I held to it rather than the sheet. “It was with the woman I love.”
I smiled, scoffing. “Why didn’t you say you loved me before?”
“I never wanted you to think you had to agree,” said Kwan. “Why didn’t you say that you felt this way?”
“I did try,” I confessed. “But it either seemed like you wanted someone else, or that I’d annoyed you too much. And when I learned that wasn’t true, I would try to bring it up. But I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same. I worried that I’d only make our relationship too difficult.”
“Sometimes,” said Kwan, fondling my hair. “But not forever.”
****
In my room, Uno waited with a kumquat sized herbal pill and persimmon wine. I was instructed to swallow it whole and not bite down, and that the wine was meant to chase out any residue of its taste—this method being preferable to a preventative tea. Even after downing the wine, my jaw locked up from the bitterness and I shuddered (my tongue making an ungraceful appearance at the end).
Lin came in, raising a brow at my ghastly expression. “That bad?”
“I’ve never had a piece of medicine like it,” I said. “I didn’t think it’d be that big, or dry, or bitter.”
“Oh, that,” said Lin, closing the door. “Never mind then. You get used to it. I was talking about him.”
I echoed her last word, my face growing hot and my eyes going wide at the realization. “Can we not talk about that?”
“So, it was bad?”
I looked to Uno, hoping for some kind of help in escaping the inevitable conversation. She stayed seated, shifting uncomfortably, and kept her gaze down.
“It was...” I started. “It’s one thing to have it explained. And another when...”
Lin laughed. “We’ve all been there. At least you didn’t bleed—or, that’s what I’ve heard. San changed out his bedding.” She handed me a small jar of pea-sized pills. “For any leftover pain.”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t... the way you explained it—he took care with me.”
Lin leaned back where she sat on the floor. “More than I can say about his brother.”
“Lord Kwan’s brothers frequent here?” asked Uno, timid.
“Not often,” said Lin. “Don’t get me wrong, Kwang is handsome, but he’s a lousy lover.”
Both Uno and I scolded in a hushed tone.
“What?” said Lin. “It’s only us girls. All things considered, we’re doing well for ourselves.”
I echoed her last sentiment. A thought coming as my stomach churned with the medicines. “About... is it always like that?”
“Like what?” asked Lin.
“Painful?”
Again, Uno shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know, my lady.”
“It depends on the man, I suppose,” said Lin. “But I thought you said he took care of you. Only after?”
I shook my head. “No. He said that, if I said it hurt he’d stop. But...”
“He didn’t?”
“I never said to.”
“Do you think he means it?” asked Uno, unable to look either of us in the eye as the topic continued. “That he really would stop, if you said?”
I hadn’t considered. And now it was a fear. I loved him—that much was still the same—but I didn’t want to submit and endure pain every time he wanted to have sex.
“The way he doted on Hisa before,” said Lin, “he probably would.”