vatheon | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Akechi Mitsuhide [

wavesoakedlegs] and Chōsokabe Motochika [

behisstrength].
When: Morning.
Where: Their home.
Style: Action.
Status: Closed.

[Mitsuhide's hair is truly Mitsuhide's one vanity -- not that Motochika can blame his lover. Long, thick and luxurious, silken to the touch; anyone would find Mitsuhide's hair a delight. He certainly does, and that is why after a few minutes of simply watching Mitsuhide tend to it, Motochika cannot resist any longer.

He rises from their bed, where he was stretched out, and comes to stand behind Mitsuhide, who sits at his vanity a handful of steps away. With one hand Motochika catches Mitsuhide's wrist to still his lover's brushing. With the other, Motochika combs his fingers through Mitsuhide's locks.]

Let me.

[While it's not an unusual request of his, this time Motochika has something a little different in mind.]

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[His one vanity indeed.]

[Mitsuhide spends a certain amount of time every day tending to his hair; the sheer length of the locks makes this a necessity. Anyone who spends a lot of time in his company will soon note that he takes more time and effort with it than is truly needed, however. The young samurai knows how attractive it is, and while he will never say it out loud, Mitsuhide has a certain level of pride in the silken expanse.]

[He pauses when Motochika grabs his wrist, and looks over his shoulder with a slightly exasperated smile.]

If you wish.

[Mitsuhide isn't opposed to it (at least not now; there have been occasions when he has become slightly irritated at Motochika's theft of the comb), but he cannot help but tease his lover a little:]

I rarely brush my hair entirely by myself, lately. Do you aim to completely steal away the task from me, my Lord?

I do.

[Motochika answers playfully. He gently tugs Mitsuhide's captured wrist higher and presses a kiss to the back of Mitsuhide's hand before he slides his grip round, then releases his hold to take the brush from Mitsuhide's fingers.]

And after victory is mine, I will stake my claim on washing your hair too.

[Mitsuhide isn't entirely sure if that comment is a full joke; knowing Motochika, it could well be a proper statement of intent as well. After a moment of thought Mitsuhide shakes his head a fraction, lets his lover take the comb and laughs softly.]

We shall see.

[For now, he treats it as a joke and plays along.]

I am far from adverse to sharing the shower with you, but you are very aware that I still like to take some of my washes alone. If I were to lock the door during those times, it would be a simple and efficient means of keeping the rights to washing my hair for myself.

Cruel.

[Motochika laughs, not serious at all.]

But effective.

[He smiles as he starts to brush though Mitsuhide's hair.]

I shall have to content myself with reign over cutting your hair.

[Closing his eyes for the moment, Mitsuhide tips his head back and hums softly.]

I remember when you found out I was having a local cut my hair...

[He laughs.]

You were not very impressed about that.

No.

[Motochika agreed.]

I was right here. [He smirks as he brushes Mitsuhide's hair into three sections.] Tell me, Mitsuhide... what did you fear from my hands?

[Motochika reaches out to open one of the small vanity drawers.]

Don't be ridiculous.

[Mitsuhide's eyes open a fraction; when he speaks, he sounds amused.]

It was not a matter of fear. I simply did not wish to inconvenience you, Lord Motochika.

Oh?

[From the drawer Motochika retrieves a long rectangular parcel. He shuts the drawer afterwards, then places the brush down onto the surface of the vanity.]

You know better now.

[There is the rustle of tissue paper as Motochika unwraps the parcel behind Mitsuhide. Inside are elaborate purple cords, partially beaded with deep purple and blue and gold glass, ending in a white decorative feather, dyed with a blue gradient at the base -- lavish hair ornaments.

He does not allow Mitsuhide to look at them before he affixes them, then guides them into the plait he begins to braid Mitsuhide's hair into. Rather than weaving it straight, Motochika gently pulls it to the right, intent upon having it eventually rest over Mitsuhide's right shoulder.]

I most certainly do.

[Mitsuhide tries to turn his head to see what is in the package, but is stopped by Motochika. He pouts a little, and instead tries to see what they are in the reflection.]

The only other person you seem to 'allow' to touch my hair is Gracia.

[The young samurai hums, and then smiles widely.]

Something a little more decorative today, is it?

That's right.

[Motochika pauses his plaiting when he reaches the side of Mitsuhide's neck; he keeps his lover's locks segmented with one hand as he gestures in the mirror with his other hand, drawing circles in the air.]

Turn towards me, Mitsuhide.

[That request earns another pout, though it's completely put on. Apparently, Mitsuhide is feeling a little playful right now. He nonetheless turns around and looks up at Motochika fondly.]

Denying me my own reflection, now?

[Mitsuhide can't help it; he laughs enough that his body shakes with the motion.]

Edited 2012-11-26 16:46 (UTC)

That was not my intent.

[Motochika says, smiling warmly indeed as he basks in Mitsuhide's laughter. He waits until Mitsuhide stills to continue plaiting, in order to avoid pulling Mitsuhide's hair uncomfortably -- but this time he does so towards him. As he works, he lets the back of his hand brush against the elegant line of Mitsuhide's throat.]

Only a bonus.

[Mitsuhide closes his eyes again, willing himself to remain as still as possible while Motochika finishes his hair.]

You consider ownership of my reflection a bonus?

[He is still teasing, of course.]

Do you really need it? You look upon my face every morning, every evening and much of the time inbetween...

[Laughter in his voice, Motochika gives as good as he gets.]

That is not enough to sate my desire.

[He leans in until their breaths mingle, his fingers still working.]

Every glimpse must be mine.

[Mitsuhide raises an eyebrow... and then shifts his head backwards a fraction. There is challenge in his face and his tone.]

I think getting every glimpse is quite impossible.

[Motochika tilts his head at a defiant angle, and huffs a laugh.]

That will not stop me.

[He reaches out behind Mitsuhide and picks up a hair tie -- blue, embellished with matching purple cord -- and ties up the end of the plait. His hands fall to rest on Mitsuhide's thighs; he smirks, but makes no other movement, staying right where he is.]

There.

[Mitsuhide lowers his hands to grip onto Motochika's wrists.]

Thank you. [He says, soft and genuine.] Allow me to gaze upon my reflection once more.

[That said, Mitsuhide removes his lover's hands, rises, leans in as if to kiss Motochika, but at the last moment turns around and peers into the mirror instead.]

[The ornamentation woven into his hair is very fine indeed, suitable dressing for a formal event. A very appropriate choice too, considering the white feathers that are something of a motif for Mitsuhide. He smiles, and touches the plait.]

It's beautifully done.

[Mitsuhide stands up straight, and turns a fraction to one side.]

You have talent, when it comes to handling hair.

[While the near kiss is a terrible tease, Motochika is evidently pleased by Mitsuhide's response to the work of his hands. He of course knows that he is skilled in this, and so takes the compliment with grateful nod.]

It was my pleasure.

[He steps in closer.]

[Mitsuhide responds to that by stepping away himself. He looks over his shoulder, regards Motochika thoughtfully and then says, in a soft, warm voice:]

You should not come too close.

[His eyes grow half-lidded.]

You might ruin my hair.

[With challenge in his eyes, and an amused smile on his lips, Motochika advances. He is happy to engage Mitsuhide's purposely alluring baiting, knowing what will follow.]

Then I shall touch it up, afterwards.

[Mitsuhide walks away again, and this time? He keeps going, striding straight out of the bedroom.]

I cannot allow that.

[The young samurai shakes his head, putting on a completely serious voice.]

You should not have to do it again.

[Motochika follows, though this time he also reaches out to attempt to catch Mitsuhide by the arm.]

It won't be ruined.

I think the risk of it being ruined is rather high, Lord Motochika.

[Mitsuhide picks up his pace when Motochika tries to grab Mitsuhide's arm, and weaves out of the way. He heads towards their back door.]

You reject that thought?

Yes.

[Motochika remains undeterred, and continues to pursue.]

I will keep my hands low.

[Mitsuhide gasps in a dramatic fashion.]

Lord Motochika! That's rather inappropriate.

[He takes long strides towards the back door and opens it, stepping out and closing the door behind him just to tease.]