Title: Prince and Dragon
Fandom: Fruits Basket
Pairing: Yuki/Hatori (rat/dragon)
Summary: Yuki attempts to be a prince in the Machiavellian sense, seducing his older cousin to secure Tohru’s place in the Sohma household. Set a month after the Cultural Festival in vol. 2 of the magna and espisode 8 of the anime.
Beta Reader: Nzomniac
Word Count: 1604
Warnings: First and foremost, Yuki is sixteen, Hatori is 27. Also they’re cousins. So, if underage sex and/or incest bother you, do not read this. This story is slash, fairly explicit in it’s depiction of male/male sex. Also includes cross-dressing.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor did I create them. I do not profit in any way from this story.
Author’s note: This is my first Fruits Basket story. I always find the best way to get into a new fandom is to write something really filthy to sort of break the ice and say, “I’m here now, messing with this world.”
Prince and Dragon
It was late in the afternoon and already dark as night outside. Freezing rain pounded down. From the mud and slush, Yuki entered Hatori’s office. It was warm and bright, well-ordered in the extreme. A world apart from all that was beyond its walls. For this, Yuki was grateful. The benevolence of nature had given what he needed to do as he planned.
Hatori was absorbed in Yuki’s medical files, his dark hair obscuring his face as always. He scarcely seemed to note the presence of the actual boy, though finally he stood and greeted his cousin.
“Yuki-kun, I’m pleased you were able to make your appointment this month,” he said. “While I understand the importance you place on your friends and your school activities, your health should have taken priority over that Cultural Festival.”
“I won’t do it again, Hatori-san,” Yuki said quietly.
“Fine. Now take your things off and let me examine you. This raw weather can’t be good for your lungs.”
Yuki slowly pulled off his wet boots and dropped the long overcoat he was wearing onto a chair.
“Have you been having any trouble breathing? Any attacks?” Hatori asked, still distracted.
“Hatori-san, please look at me,” Yuki said clearly and with surprising force. Hatori lifted his head from the file. His silver-haired, sixteen-year-old cousin stood before him barefoot in the pink and white dress he had worn the month before at his school’s Cultural Festival.
“Why … why are you dressed like that?” Hatori stammered, his pale cheeks flushing.
“When you saw me in it last month, you seemed to like it. You didn’t say anything then, but I could tell you liked looking at me in it,” the boy said. He sat at the end of the examining table and undid the buttons of the dress bodice so it slipped off his shoulder, revealing his narrow, hairless chest. He took his cousin’s hand and placed it against his warm, delicately veined flesh.
Hatori’s visible eye was wide. He was Yuki’s doctor--he had been examining him, touching him in a professional context for years, but this was vastly different.
Hatori had never cared for other men, but Yuki’s feminine costume forced him to acknowledge his cousin’s beauty. The intimacy of his hand against the boy’s breast forced him to view Yuki’s body not as something to be maintained and scrutinized from a medical stand point but as something sensual. Warm, tingling electricity seemed to run from the boy through him. He couldn’t force himself to break the connection.
Yuki caught his cousin’s tie and drew him close, parting his legs as he did till they were pressed groin to groin. Then he kissed the man. An inexperienced, schoolboy kiss but, though a decade older, Hatori was nearly as much of a beginner as Yuki. The boy’s sweet little mouth was more than enough to take his breath away. He knew he should be protesting, but he was lost in the warm wetness of the mouth. He’d never been able to kiss the woman he’d loved like this; there were so many kisses locked up inside him, so much longing.
Still locked together in a kiss, he lifted Yuki from the examining table. Yuki’s long, slender legs wrapped around his waist. He carried his cousin from the office, through the door to his rooms. to his bedroom, to the futon spread across the floor. He set Yuki on his feet and lifted the dress over the boy’s silvery head. Yuki stood before him, warm and touchable and electric. Beautiful, slender, the lacy panties he was wearing swollen almost painfully with his hard little cock.
Hatori sank to his knees, moved his hands down Yuki’s waist, over his hips, pulling down the panties and freeing the boy’s bobbing, purple-pink cock. Hard but soft and tender like the skin of a newborn infant. The doctor kissed, licked, took it in his mouth, his hands moving over Yuki’s back, his ass, between his thighs. The boy gasped, clutched Hatori’s hair. More than he had expected? What had he expected, offering himself as he had? He was a child, a virginal child. What was happening?
Though shuddering and moaning wordlessly, Yuki was not beyond control. He sank to the futon, moving so they lay head to pelvis and opened the trousers of his still fully clothed older cousin. Imitating Hatori, he began sucking, and the man’s reaction was if anything more intense than the boy’s had been.
Coiled around each other like ying and yang, capturing the electricity in a circle of escalating sensation that built and finally exploded in each.
After the tremors of orgasm, Hatori clung to the boy--arms wrapped about him, face buried in the softness of his belly. The doctor thought he could cling that way forever, and it would only take away the barest edge of his need for love, for closeness, for touch. A need so strong that he had to lock it away inside him, forget about it for years at a time.
Yuki’s voice drifted to him.
“If Akito finds out, we’ll be punished,” he said. The idea of discovery by Akito startled Hatori back to the reality of the situation, to the possible devastating consequences. If Akito found out, they would be punished. Years before, Shigure had been caught fooling around with another boy. A member of the Sohma extended family. The boy’s memory had been erased, and his entire family sent away. Shigure had barely survived his punishment. Yet, Shigure loved Akito best. Perhaps, the cruel story was true: that if you beat a dog to within an inch of its life, it would be devoted to you forever after.
“Yes,” Hatori answered. “If Akito finds out, we will be dealt with very harshly. If Akito finds out, I’ll take full responsibility.”
“I don’t think that would make a difference,” Yuki said. He drew Hatori to him so they were side by side, face to face. He covered his cousin’s good right eye. Looking through his damaged left eye, Hatori could see the boy only dimly and far away as all things he had ever cherished eventually became. “Akito has caused you so much pain. What have you done to deserve it?”
He kissed Hatori again, stroking the doctor’s hair.
“If Akito knows,” Yuki whispered. “I’ll be hurt. Akito has hurt me before. I’ll recover. You won’t because you love Akito; you care if Akito trusts you. You want to please Akito. Your punishment would be worse than mine … if I told Akito.”
Hatori pulled away from the boy.
“What do you mean if you told Akito?” he asked, shocked, hardly believing what he was hearing.
The boy dropped his violet eyes, refusing to look at his cousin as he delivered his proclamation.
“Stay away from Tohra,” he said. “Let her live with us. When you spy for Akito, lie--say whatever will let Tohru stay with us. Don’t erase her memory. If you erase her memory, I’ll tell Akito what just happened. Akito will hate you forever. You know it’s true. If we lose Tohru, you lose Akito.”
The pain of it sank into Hatori. It felt familiar; it was almost a relief, a return to comfort after the strange exultation of their lovemaking.
“Is that what this was about?” the doctor asked. “Blackmail to keep your friend?”
Yuki nodded miserably.
“I’m sorry,” Hatori said. “I should have stopped you. It was up to me to stop you. I should never have let you do that. I thought … I wanted to believe…. I wanted to believe it was real. I was wrong, but please, Yuki-kun, don’t go any further with this. If you do, you might die. Akito might kill you. And…” he rested a hand on Yuki’s fragile back, as a doctor, as a cousin, no longer sensual.
“It’s wrong,” Hatori whispered, “to do this in Tohru’s name. Knowing her should make us better, not worse.”
Tears were flowing down Yuki’s fragile cheeks. “Tohru doesn’t know about things like this,” he said. “She’s good. She’s so good. I’m not good; I know all about seduction and lies and manipulating people. It’s what being a Sohma is about. I don’t want to be like this. Tohra showed me things might be different, but this is the only way I knew how to keep Akito from sending her away.”
Hatori held the crying boy.
“You should go home,” he said when the sobs finally stopped. “I’ll get you clothes from your old room. I’ll call you a taxi. Go home to Tohru.”
He brought the clothes. Yuki dressed and meekly left in the cab his cousin had called for him.
In Yuki’s absence, Hatori stood in his familiar rooms, shaken to the core. Everything he had thought he had successfully locked away, all the need, the loneliness and pain, had not been dormant but growing, building inside him, gathering strength. At a misguided invitation, it had overwhelmed everything else he was. Now that he had seen its strength, what it made him capable of, he did not know what to do with it.
The dress still lay on his futon, spread out as if waiting to be picked up by its graceful owner and put on. A false promise of love. Hatori could not bear to touch it or to see it. He turned out the lights in his bedroom. He returned to his office, to his work.
He put it away. He put it all away.
He knew it would grow stronger, but he knew of no other way.