TRIBUTE

by Kitty Fisher

He stood alone in the vast chamber, the sombre darkness of his robes a contrast to the golden opulence of his surroundings. Quite still, breath so soft as to hardly betray the reality of his life, he waited; poised, balanced, energy singing in the stillness of his bones like a flame hidden by shadow. He waited.

And the chamber around him glowed in the lamp–light, the gold of the walls, the transparent richness of the rose silk hangings that shrouded the great bed. He almost moved at the thought, almost turned to glance back, but the impulse was steadied, his lack of stillness only betrayed by the faint swish of heavy silk as his robes shifted around his bare feet to delicately dust at the cold marble floor. What could have been a sigh shivered in the air, but he didn't turn and look at the bed, scarcely thought of it. Told himself it meant nothing — and lied.

Minutes passed. The carved dragons that twisted up the bed–posts swirled in the flickering light. The silence hummed like a bell long sounded. No servants waited on him; all were sent away. No court officials, or princes, or nobles, or priests, or ambassadors. No one at all, but himself alone in the great chamber where his father had first taken his mother nearly thirty years before. This was his own concern. For an emperor could steal time — and tonight belonged to himself alone. And one other.

He shivered as if cold, though it was warm enough for the windows to be flung open to the warmth of night.

And took a sharp breath as the vast, carved doors whispered open.

One man came through. Thin, straight–backed, dressed in the simplest of thin white robes that barely disguised his shape, hair unbound to spill darkly around his shoulders, he walked steadily across the floor, flinching only slightly as the doors closed behind him, the sound loud as thunder, echoing up to the painted ceiling, filling the room then echoing away.

A few paces distant from the sombre, solid figure who waited, watching, he seemed to hesitate, then knelt, carefully, gracefully, quite still, though his chest lifted with the swiftness of his breath, and his hands at his sides were clenched tight, knuckles bone–white under skin.

"Wah Dee."

The kneeling man bowed his head deeper.

"Come to me."

A flicker of something hidden, and the kneeling man shuffled forwards, closing the few paces between them.

The emperor looked down, the tight expression on his face flickering momentarily, then he reached forward, placing his hand on the bowed neck, letting his fingers linger on the cool skin where the long hair parted like waterfalls of the darkest silk.

"I've been waiting. But you came." A shiver under his hand, but no answer. "Thank you."

A startled movement, quickly surpressed.

"Easier by far that you came of your own will — for the peace of our lands I would have forced you to this, but I am glad it did not have to be so..."

This time the breath caught, and broke into a soft sound that could almost have been laughter.

"Wah Dee, look at me."

Nothing. No movement, just a still, slender man kneeling at his feet, neck bowed in silent, graceful disobedience.

"Look at me." This was the emperor, a god–king with a thousand slaves ready to die at the snap of his fingers. "Now!"

And slowly the bowed head lifted, and the emperor brushed the long hair aside to meet dark, expressionless eyes set in pale skin. The high, slanting eyes of a cat, a sharp nose, and a bruise that curved long one high cheekbone. A blunt–nailed finger traced the mark, and the emperor swore like the soldier he was.

"Who did this? On whose orders were you hurt?"

This time the sound truly was laughter, though humour was entirely absent. "Yours. Or so they told me."

"Why?"

"In case I changed my mind. Merely a taste of what I might expect were I to spurn your gracious offer, your Highness." And the soft laugh sounded again as he bowed low, kow–towing on the floor in the deepest of obeisance, spreading his limbs across the golden tiles, gossamer robes spilling like moonlight around the fine bones of his body.

Left standing, the emperor blinked then, after a long moment, crouched down. "Wah Dee."

"Yes, Lord, how may I do your bidding?" Even muffled by the floor, his bitter tone took away any gift the words may have held.

"Look at me."

He began to rise, to lift his head. "I am yours to command. Ah—!" He twisted away as a hand rested on his back, curling away from the touch and the pain it brought.

"Be still."

This command was obeyed, though he turned his head away in shame. Sword–callused hands carefully peeled the robes from his shoulders, baring his back, and the marks that welted around one shoulder.

An indrawn breath, then a light touch. Maybe because he was prepared now, the prone man stayed quite still.

"I never ordered this." His gaze counted six rattan blows, each one separate on the pale, chilled skin.

"No?"

"No."

"What a shame it happened then."

"Kneel up." The emperor cursed softly as he was slowly obeyed. His strong fingers cupped a stubborn chin and forced a meeting of eyes. "I did not want this. I swear."

After a moment of internal battle, the taut muscles released their tension. "I should have known the truth."

"Why?"

Wah Dee turned slightly and took hold of the hand that touched his skin, holding it for a moment, then bringing it to his mouth to brush his lips against its warmth. "Because you are honourable. Because despite the fact that I have been given to you as tribute, you must remember what it was like when we were children, when you were my friend."

"I remember more than friendship."

"So do I." The emperor nodded as the words whispered across his skin, and he shivered in a flash–fire of arousal. "Wah Dee..."

"Pu Li."

"Yes, call me by my name." The emperor crouched down, and pulled his prisoner to his feet. Lifting him lightly, his muscles barely straining, bringing him to his feet, bringing them eye to eye, mouth to mouth. "I want you. Still want you even after all these years."

"I would have come to you, even without the guards and the beating."

"Forgive me."

"Yes." A small smile lighting the thin, sharp features.

"Is something so amusing?"

"Yes. A slave does not usually forgive his master. Have you ever asked forgiveness for anything, ever?"

"No. But you are not the usual slave. You never would have been. Never will be."

Wah Dee lifted his hand and touched Pu Li's concerned face. For this simple gesture alone he could be executed; taken and hung by the neck so he strangled exquisitely slowly, maybe even taking a day or longer to die. "Will you have me executed for this?"

"No."

"Or this?" He leant in, and kissed the emperor of all China, and smiled as the emperor kissed him back.

And without another thought the emperor picked him up, holding his fine–muscled frame lightly, walking to the wide, ceremonial bed with his slave, his one–time lover in his arms, placing him on the dusky rose silk covers as if he was made of finest porcelain.

Pu Li knelt beside him. Black robe against white. The wide echoing room vast around them. He watched as Wah Dee curled his long hair over his shoulder, and lay back, settling into the pillows, his gaze steady, sombre. "Do you still scream when you are pleasured?"

"I haven't screamed for anything in a very long time."

Pu Li smiled. "Then I have a challenge."

"You like them, it is rumoured."

"In battle, yes. Here? My concubines do not usually offer anything but willing, skilled flesh."

"Then what am I? For I am certainly willing and skilled enough too."

"You are not a concubine." A teasing smile. "Though they have dressed you as one."

"The robes are cheap, I told them so. No, I am tribute, from a vassal state to the greatness that is your Highness." Even though supine he gracefully sketched a bow.

"You are mine, without doubt."

"Yes."

"I am meant to mark you as mine, prince, as I have marked your country."

"I am you Highness' abject slave. Do with me what you will."

"Oh, you have learnt a pretty turn of phrase. Did my ministers tell you to say that?"

"Yes. Though it is truth. And I am here for you to use, however you wish."

"I am going to claim you."

"Yes." Soft breath as the tribute looked up and the emperor smiled.

Pu Li leant forward and began to unfasten the maligned white robe. There had to be fifty small fastenings; he unlooped each one in turn, strong, square fingers deftly working down from Wah Dee's throat, across his chest, down to his groin, his thighs, slipping the silk knots free, intent, carefully slow. As he worked, the fabric parted slowly, delicately, skin revealed in tantalising glimpses. Golden skin, flat, almost concave belly, the beauty of half–awake cock where it lifted from dark, curling hair.

When the last button was free, Pu Li smiled, and slowly pushed the silk open, pushing it aside, sliding it free of the wide shoulders.

There were more bruises. Pu Li bent his head and kissed one that flowered by one nut–coloured nipple. He pressed his lips to the warm skin and breathed. Scent like honey and musk.

"You are still beautiful, Wah Dee."

Heavy–lidded glance, soft colour touching the high–boned cheeks. "I am not a boy anymore."

"Nor I."

Wah Dee lifted his hand and stroked the midnight–dark silk of his emperor's robes. Curling onto his side he let his hand trace upwards, resting it on the dragon that curled, black on black, on Pu Li's breast. "Take this off."

Peremptory.

"You command me?"

"Yes. Here I can, if you give me leave."

A smile, and Pu Li stood, to slowly unfurl the sash that cinched his robes, ten feet of finely woven rare silk spilling to the floor. Four fastenings held his black robe closed; he parted them one at a time, his eyes fixed on the dark intensity of the man lying naked — apart from bruises — across the ceremonial bed. With a shrug of his shoulders, the robe slithered to the floor.

"Is this how you want me?"

"Yes." Soft breathless agreement. "It is how I remember you."

"I have changed."

"Not that much."

"Enough to make me who I am."

"But not enough to take away the boy you once were." Wah Dee slid himself off the bed, his white robe left behind so that naked he stood up, uncurling his slim body, his hair trailing around his bare shoulders. "I am yours. If you were that changed I would have fought, and died rather than be here."

"Even though I own your lands?"

"Yes, even with that between us." A smile and Wah Dee was there, standing close, their height almost of an equal, his body less muscled, less solid that his emperor's, his eyes the same shade of darkest chestnut. "My lord, why are we talking?"

A smile, lifting the straight, serious line of Pu Li's lips. "To make this all the sweeter?"

"I think we can make this sweet enough."

"Yes." A soft sigh, and Pu Li reached out a hand and, cupping the back of Wah Dee's head, pulled him close. Mouth to mouth, breath soft between them.

The kiss was gentle. Almost tender. As he pressed close, Pu Li slid his hands around Wah Dee's shoulders, his fingers curling into the hot, ridged weals before he remembered they were there. He felt the shudder of pain as if it was his own.

"I'll kill the man who caned you."

"Don't." Breathless, sharp amusement. "Though I believe he enjoyed it more than I could have wished."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." Wah Dee smiled, and with a teasing look under his long lashes, knelt at his emperor's feet.

"Oh..." Pu Li shivered, looking down, watching as Wah Dee opened his lips and sucked the end of his cock into his mouth. Jerking as if knifed as wet heat engulfed him. Gasping, hands reaching for the dark head as his knees trembled and his entire body screamed for more.

A mouth like none of his concubines. Like none of his slaves. Wide and skilled — that had been no lie — and the sensation so intense he was moaning, softly, as an accompaniment to the gentle wet sounds that were driving him insane. As the tight mouth took him root–deep and then sucked him deeper, swallowed around him again and again.

Colours like mist behind his eyes. Pleasure, such pleasure, from this one act.

But he wanted...

He wanted so much.

And the emperor stroked his hands over Wah Dee's head and stilled his movements. Shuddered as the wide mouth slid off his hard and aching cock. As the man who was tribute, an offering to his power, to his empire, knelt back, smiling, his lips lush, wet, infinitely desirable.

"I want you to fuck me."

Coarse words. Words that made him jerk, his cock glistening, eager. "Yes."

Wah Dee stood, and with a look back over his shoulder, turned, and climbed onto the bed. Enticing as a whore he crawled to the centre of the expanse of rose silk and carefully laid himself down. Spreading his limbs wide, golden skin prefect against the dark pink. He dragged his hair around one shoulder, and, with a shift of his strong thighs, spread himself in invitation.

There was oil, ready. Pu Li took the delicate glass flask and followed Wah Dee onto the softness of the bed, settling to kneel between his thighs, his gaze hazy as he consumed the vision of long, naked body, the perfect straight spine, the peach curve of arse, the simple, elegant offering of body. For him.

Three drops of oil, trickling between quivering buttocks. More on his own member, coating it in the finest layer, enough to take away pain, not enough to ruin pleasure.

He tossed the flask away, and knelt, ready. Hands under the narrow hips, lifting, guiding. His thick cock–head there, pressing tight to the ridiculously small opening.

"Yes." Soft, sibilant desire. Wah Dee arched back, his eyes closed with need, with anticipation. Pu Li watched him, waited. Held the moment.

The moment.

"Please..."

Pressed a little closer, just to the point where Wah Dee's body was beginning to open, to flower for him. Paused. Watched as the tip of his cock was engulfed, eaten greedily, the waiting body eager for more.

"Please..." Greed in the desire–darkened voice. Need as well. "Pu Li!"

His name. It made him gasp to have it used here. Now.

"Wah Dee..." And he surged forward, hands gripping the bones of his lover's hips, he plunged in, groaning as the tight heat gripped him.

"Oh, yes!"

Such pleasure. Intense in it's singular beauty.

Just as he remembered, as if time had drawn back on itself and he was seventeen again, and this man was him companion, lover, best friend. His reason for existing.

Slide of skin in flesh. Perfection.

He pulled free, almost completely, then simply drove deep, his hips tight to heated skin, his whole body alive. Needing. So much need.

Again. And Wah Dee pushed back, meeting him.

Pu Li shuddered, control shattering as he let himself just feel. Just take.

Sounds of harsh breathing, the slick wetness of slide and thrust, belly slapping onto curving skin, ball–sac so tight he knew it would end soon. There was no skill in him to draw this out to a long elegant fuck. He wanted. Wanted. And his body was beyond finesse.

Beyond anything much more than animalistic need.

Grunting, hips grinding, his cock bruising into the sweet centre of Wah Dee's body, he groaned, knew he was close. Reaching around, taking the hot, straight length of cock into his hand, he fisted it as he thrust. Groaning as Wah Dee shuddered, arched back, his face a mask of agony as the pleasure took him. He screamed as his cock pulsed, spattering white seed onto silk. His whole body spasming under the weight of Pu Li's body, as the emperor screamed, howling as he shuddered and came, his cock buried to the heart of Wah Dee.

Neither knew anything for a while.

There was silence apart from their breathing.

Then, a soft, choked sound, and Pu Li eased free, catching his lover as he groaned, taking them both to lie together, Wah Dee cupped by his emperor's body. Held.

A kiss to a wealed shoulder.

A soft moan, a shiver that rippled through them both.

"Wah Dee. Stay with me?"

"Your tribute–slave?" A bitter laugh, and Wah Dee turned his face into the pillow.

"No. My companion. Consort if you will."

"The court will hate me."

"Do you care?"

A shake of his head and Wah Dee turned, eased himself around so they were face to face. "Pu Li..."

"Say yes."

"Yes."

He smiled, drew his lover closer, and simply held him.

END