Work Text:
Kuya has lived for many years. Many, many years. Time passes him by with a duality cast by ennui. His day to day comes slowly. The world, its people, its goings-on, he navigates through his surroundings as though swimming in a sea of molasses. It dulls his sense; stretching out seconds to infinity. In the same vein, time passes by quickly; he is hard pressed to remember anything of real importance to mark its passage. Moments jumble together in his mind, meshing into one long unremarkable reel. He blinks, and ten years go by. He blinks, and twenty more pass along. He cares less and less about the petty grievances of mortals he used to watch avidly, and age-old tricks lose their luster.
The boredom is excruciating. Many mortals would disagree, of course. To them, immortality is a pipe dream. An unimaginable power. Kuya looks upon those who would seek it with disdain and some measure of pity. To live an immortal life is to live by the pace of one’s own mind; with all its trappings and pitfalls. Many yokai have gone mad within the breadth of their lifetime. Their minds buckling under the weight of regret, and grief, and the knowledge that the years will continue ever on.
Immortality is lonesome. It is a miracle that he has someone to call upon every now and then. Quincy has found a kind of peace with it all; preferring the isolation and undertaking a voyeuristic kind of guardianship. They meet every tens of years or so. Kuya has always found his friend’s steadiness admirable, he embodies the traits of the earth so well in the diligence of his care.
Kuya, however, is not so easily entertained.
Even as a young fox, he had sought adventure. Back then, he enjoyed testing his limits and learning magics, ancient and new. He had enjoyed the thrill of going to new places and meeting new people, and the mischief that could be born of it all. He had played many roles in his lifetime: intrepid voyager, supportive friend, wise adviser, passionate lover, local nuisance, a short-lived villainy, and many more. But all his stories have faded into obscurity. His exploits are now history to many, most of which relegated to folklore or simply lost to memory. And for those who do remember, they hold him in high regard—looking at him with covetous, awed, and fearful eyes. The distance of their gaze is palpable.
Nowadays, Kuya stays away. He doesn’t care to bother anyone and resorts to the bare minimum to ensure the survival of those around him. Time remains his grand puppeteer, pulling him along indifferently. But now, he keeps his tethers short, holding himself aloft, as he jumps from one distraction to the next.
So Kuya is long lived and powerful, and thus, he need not sleep for very long.
He wakes in bed with the breeze kissing his skin. Eiden is fast asleep beside him, an expected result of their late night intimacies.
It still fills Kuya with great satisfaction to see the consequences of their entanglements. Eiden, naked and ravished, boneless in his bed. His desperation had been so delicious. So addictive. Despite his insistence that he had only visited to return one of Kuya’s books and that he really had to be on his way, Eiden had given in so easily at the barest hint of interest from the fox.
He is a mystery, their young master. Kuya has seen many like him. In fact, he has met many who are more than him; some braver, some cleverer, some kinder, some lovelier—and yet, Eiden remains the focal point of his interest.
Perhaps it boils down to his essence and its mysterious link to Huey; that is surely the logical conclusion to be drawn—regardless of how disparaging such assertion may be.
And yet…
Kuya is a master of illusion and deception. He has a unique relationship with truth, and a deep understanding of its complexities. So while it may be easier to dismiss Eiden as a mere substitute, it rings hollow in the face of his personhood. Huey had been a force to be reckoned with. He had earned Kuya’s respect and begrudging admiration. Eiden, on the other hand, is… amusing. He is naive, at times nonsensical. A little frustrating. Captivating.
Huey had caught Kuya’s eye—both figuratively and literally. Eiden blinds him to the inevitability of another tomorrow, keeping him firmly in the moment. The weightlessness that comes from such sightlessness is an unexpected reprieve.
Not that Kuya will ever admit to it. Such sentiment is useless to him. He has felt some version of it before, and he knows how it ends. Sentiment is fatal to beings such as he. It is unwise. Ill-advised. Foolish.
And yet...
Kuya huffs out. He watches how his breath makes the strands of Eiden’s hair sway. He takes a moment to lean into his space and breath in the scent of him, before laying on his back, and looking unseeingly to the skylight above. Daybreak is painting the sky in hues of red and orange.
“Beautiful,” he thinks, tickled at how long its been since he’s taken the time to see it. He wonders, “what else is there?”, and so lets his mind wander, opening himself up to the world.
He notices the flow of energy, feels it thrum in his veins. He hears the forest, the distant animals calling and the rustling of leaves and even farther, humans going about their day. He smells the lingering scents in the air, animal musk and vegetation, and soothing petrichor. He feels the sheets under his skin, how they’re slightly damp with sweat and how his own weight presses down. Interspersed in all of this is Eiden, the sound of his breathing, their mingled scent, his warmth. The gentle ‘bu-bump’ of his heart.
Kuya rarely does this. This is how Quincy prefers to spend his long years – listening to the world, allowing it into himself in a state of oneness. Kuya leans towards restlessness, needing the challenge of a puzzle to be solved or a secret to be uncovered.
In the quiet of the morning, he feels Eiden’s essence flicker. He’s stirring awake. It’s child’s play to pretend to be asleep.
“Huh,” he hears Eiden mumble as he rouses. He observes through slitted eyes and sharpened senses, as the young master blinks awake. The sight shouldn’t make Kuya feel like cooing, but it does.
“Ku—ya-ahh,” his name gets caught up in a long yawn as Eiden stretches. The man has no consideration to waking his bed partner—much to Kuya’s amusement. Then again, it might just be because it is him beside Eiden.
Like a newborn fawn, Eiden takes in his surroundings. He rubs at his eyes, looking this way and that, guilessly. Then, he rises.
Usually, Kuya would reach over, trap Eiden once more in the circle of his arms and prod him for a repeat performance, but his curiosity wins out. He fully expects the young master to take his leave. After all, he had repeatedly insisted last night that he had little time to spare, and with sunlight breaking through, it would be safe enough for him to return to the mansion and his duties. It would be prudent. Kuya has no qualms against this. Obviously, he’d rather spend his morning in familiar routine.
Obviously.
Eiden sits beside him, his back to the fox, his bare feet on the floor. He stretches once more and the planes of his back move tantalizingly, tempting Kuya with an intensity he feels should be beneath him. Then he stands and makes his way to the vanity. Kuya had divested him of most of his clothing there. He had wanted to display Eiden, he had wanted to indulge in the sight of their debauched coupling. Eiden’s reflection, his desperation– in particular – had been delectable.
Such a shame that the young master was off to more tedious matters. At least Kuya gets to enjoy the sight of his deliciously naked buttocks as he stumbles his way over. It confounds Kuya how Eiden can be so shy one moment, and shameless in the next.
But then, instead of picking up his clothing, Eiden steps forward. He goes up on his tippy toes, reaches for the window and shuts it with a ‘click’. He also pulls on the curtains, subduing the brilliant sunlight into a warm glow. Then, he shuffles back to bed. With a care he did not manage rising, Eiden reaches for the blankets by their feet, and gently sets it across their hips. He’s cheeky enough that he reaches for Kuya’s free arm and wraps it around himself. He does a sort of satisfied wiggle as he hums victoriously against the yokai’s chest.
Kuya is helplessly charmed—how annoying.
He feels Eiden’s finger draw soothing circles against his chest. It makes him want to purr in delight but he still feels Eiden’s gaze on him, so he holds the facade. There’s something searching in his gaze. What else is the young master intending?
In the loose circle of his arms, he feels Eiden shift up and lean over. He presses a kiss right where Kuya’s heart is, before settling in, right there with his ear pressed to Kuya’s chest. Kuya slows down the beating of his heart to keep Eiden none the wiser.
“G’morning, Kuya,” Eiden mumbles. In a few breaths, he’s back asleep.
Kuya opens his eyes. His eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw, clenched. Still, his hands gently trail down and settle on Eiden’s lower back. With a flick of his fingers, he wills the blanket to shift up.
“… morning, young master,” he breaths into the top of Eiden’s head.
“Stupid, useless sentiment,” he curses silently even as he holds Eiden closer.
He sleeps.