#second helping

by powerbottomvik Viktor/Jayce ✦ explicit ✦ one-shot ✦ 1k

Viktor languidly starts to move his finger in and out. Velvet walls clench and twitch around him, but Jayce continues to sleep soundly. Another finger easily slips in and Jayce lets out a quiet whimper. Viktor stills his hand as his partner readjusts, curling into himself a bit more and, conveniently, pushing his ass to the edge of the bed.

or

Viktor fucks his sleeping boyfriend **with embedded art!**

Bottom Jayce Week Day 3: Domestic Sex

{Additional Tags}

Storia Di Musica #368 - Lynyrd Skynyrd, Second Helping, 1974

Nel continuare i dischi che hanno un legame con il numero 3, oggi l'aggancio me lo dà questo disco, che nacque da un esigenza pratica: un bassista fondatore della band si deve assentare, viene sostituito da un altro, quando torna il bassista titolare il secondo, quasi per caso, viene spostato alla terza chitarra, e nasce così uno dei motivi più famosi del suono unico ed emozionante dei Lynyrd Skynyrd. La grande band del southern rock deve il suo fantasioso nome alla storpiatura di Leonard Skinner, il professore di ginnastica del loro liceo di Jacksonville, Florida, che non amava tanto i capelloni scalmanati. La band inizia a suonare insieme in un posto nelle campagne di Jacksonville, chiamato Hell House per il caldo infernale nelle giornate estive. Furono notati dal mitico Al Kooper, che li vide suonare in un locale di Atlante dal nome Funocchio's, e li presentò alla MCA, producendo il loro primo leggendario disco: (Pronounced 'Lĕh-'nérd 'Skin-'nérd) del 1973. È proprio durante le registrazioni di questo disco che Ed King, proveniente dagli Strawberry Alarm Clock, è chiamato a sostituire Leon Wilkenson. King è un bassista non eccelso, ma se la cava, però è un grande personaggio che è simpatico a tutti, quindi al ritorno di Wilkenson viene spostato alla terza chitarra con Gary Rossinton e Allen Collins, che formano il più famoso three guitars army. Nella storia della musica non è una novità, anche gli Allman Brothers Band, gli Eagles, i Moby Grape e anche Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young usavano le tre chitarre, ma nessuna di queste formazioni le ha esaltate così tanto, da creare un suono distintivo, caldo e vibrante come il loro carattere schietto, emotivo e perfino un po' folle (leggendarie le scazzottate sul palco tra loro, ogni tanto). Dopo il disco di debutto, fanno da spalla ai The Who in un tour negli Stati Uniti, con la fama crescente: la band inglese presentava il suo Quadrophenia, ma alla serata del Cow Palace di Daly City California (passata alla storia anche perchè Keith Moon stravolto dalla droga non finì il concerto, sostituito da un groupie della band, Scot Halpin, alla batteria) si rifiuta in un primo momento di suonare perchè il pubblico a gran voce reclama più minuti per i Lynyrd Skynyrd.

È sempre Al Kooper che li guida in questo secondo, magistrale Second Helping, del 1974. Disco meno prorompente del primo, ma più poliedrico, con una canzone passata alla storia. Perché è il disco di Sweet Home Alabama, una delle canzoni del rock americano. Nata in risposta a ad Alabama e Southern Man, due canzoni di Neil Young nelle quali egli aveva criticato l'Alabama (e tutto il sud degli Stati Uniti d'America in generale) per il perdurante razzismo nei confronti dei neri, la canzone dice esplicitamente: «spero che Neil Young lo ricordi, un uomo del sud non ha bisogno di lui». Tuttavia tra la band e Young non c'è mai stato astio, anzi Ronnie Van Zandt la cantava spesso indossando una maglietta con la scritta Neil Young, e fu Young ad autoaccusarsi di essere stato troppo "accusatorio e sussiegoso, non pienamente ponderato e troppo facile da fraintendere". Sweet Home Alabama è l' equivalente di Smoke On The Water del southern, verrà usata in decine di pellicole cinematografiche, telefilm, perfino nei cartoni animati. Ma il disco è pieno di canzoni che diventeranno classici: la dura e rabbiosa Workin’ For MCA, cavallo di battaglia sempreverde nei torridi concerti, è un atto di accusa nemmeno tanto velato sull'avidità del music business; gli slow blues I Need You e la splendida The Ballad Of Curtis Loew, altro episodio antirazzista, mostrano il loro animo più intimo e melodioso, Swamp Music è un altro manifesto di fierezza (gli swamp sono le zone paludose della Florida dove sono cresciuti). The Needle And The Spoon e la cover di J.J.Cale Call Me The Breeze, che diventerà molto più famosa dell'originale, sono altri esempi del perfetto amalgama tra blues ed hard rock, con le chitarre che ruggiscono selvagge in un turbine di riff e assoli travolgenti.

Chapter 11: Puzzles -Shingen's POV... what does he really think about Katsu? And what will he do when he finds that pretty spy again?

Shingen x OC; Kenshin x MC (Mai)

Previous Chapter: here

Logline - Disguised as a boy, Katsuko finds herself working for Shingen, but her dangerous masquerade becomes difficult to sustain when she falls for the man with a fatal secret.

He’d been deep enough in sleep that the knocking barely registered on him, might even have been part of an unremembered dream, as was the swish when the door slid open, and the sound of Katsu’s feet, padding as lightly as a cat, to his desk. But those sounds in succession were enough to drag him into awareness and squint his eyes open for a brief moment as the young man propped a stack of messages on his desk, next to the puzzle that he still hadn’t solved.

Solved in time, rather. Shingen had been putting the puzzle back together every night, so that each time Katsu picked it up, he had to begin anew. It didn’t seem to frustrate him though, and whenever he restarted, he approached the puzzle with enthusiasm and an apparent strategy that Shingen knew would eventually prove successful. Perhaps, one of these afternoons, he would give Katsu more time to put it together, or more likely Katsu would solve the thing faster – he was getting closer each day. For now, watching his new messenger as he concentrated on finding the solution was proving to be an entertaining diversion.

There was a tactical brain in there. A tactician’s temperament? Maybe, maybe not. Katsu was certainly too impulsive, sometimes too quick to speak, too quick to sarcasm (which might be Yukimura’s influence). And of course, the young man was focused on the search for his brother, a search that after all these years, was likely to be futile.

Though it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have his mitsumono keep an eye out for Toshiie as well  – once Katsu had an answer, one way or another, perhaps Shingen could help guide him in a direction that would allow him better use of his mind and instincts.

Katsu softly walked to the door, then possibly prompted by those instincts, turned and looked back at Shingen. He closed his eyes, keeping them shut until he heard the door slide closed a moment later.

“I suppose I imagine myself a teacher now,” he thought to himself. His old friend Kennyo would laugh at that idea, but maybe all that was needed to find teaching rewarding was to have a compelling pupil. It was similar to how he felt about guiding Yukimura from a rebellious teenager to the capable adult he had become … maybe these things would be part of his legacy.

Meanwhile, he had a viable plan for the unneeded courier whom he had basically taken on out of pity. You’re guilty of being impulsive from time to time as well, he told himself. The young man potentially could have been an enemy agent. But Sasuke had vouched for him, and Katsu had passed the tests that should have revealed him to be a spy, had that been the case. Instead, his somewhat rash decision had paid off by rewarding him with a messenger who was fast, reliable, and quick-witted.

Having dealt with – at least theoretically – Katsu’s future, Shingen turned his mind to the lovely spy he’d encountered last night. Who had sent her? And for what purpose? Not assassination – he’d taken a good long look to ensure she wasn’t hiding any weapons. Then a second look to confirm the first… and appreciate the view. When he’d first seen the little beauty, water droplets sluicing off her body, he’d momentarily thought she was indeed the mermaid he’d called her. Her feigned shriek of surprise had brought him back to his senses. None but a spy would have braved that cold water. Though the waterlogged nymph had obviously miscalculated just how cold that lake could be at night.

He’d decided to give her the opening she’d planned and teased her by stealing her blanket. He’d expected her to rush out of the water, plaster her body to his, then thank him for warming her, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. Whoever had sent her was clearly aware of the reputation he’d carefully cultivated. Had the night gone as he’d anticipated, he would have lowered that body to the blanket, and enjoyed thoroughly exploring every inch of her, before sending her back to her master (whoever that may be), without the information she sought.

As recompense for refusing to satisfy any attempt to extract information from him, he would have physically satisfied her body’s needs. He’d envisioned her face flushed from pleasure, lips swollen from his kisses, and body humming with the aftermath of their play. It had promised to be a mutually enjoyable encounter.

That’s what ought to have happened.

He laughed at himself as he smoothed out the blanket she had left with him. Apparently, his spy had had a different agenda. Instead of seductive kisses from a practiced siren, he’d received a spirited bargaining session from a mischievous sprite. It had been, well, entertaining, to watch her try to outmaneuver him… until she’d actually outmaneuvered him.

She’d be back. Maybe he hadn’t gotten what he’d wanted from her, but neither had she received the information she’d sought. This had simply been her opening raid, in what likely would prove to be a longer battle. She would approach him again… if he didn’t find her first. Their next encounter would go more his way.

He eventually drifted back into sleep amidst plans for such an encounter.

“I really am moving like an old man this morning,” was his self-deprecating thought when he eventually hauled himself out of bed. It had been a late night, but he was used to late nights. This morning was… just a slow morning. That was all. He stretched, wincing at the familiar weight pressing on his chest and the ache in his joints, hoping that it didn’t herald a return to the cycle of illness and semi-recovery that had dogged the past few years. Perhaps he had simply moved wrong.

There was the sound of running feet outside, then a knock at the door.

“Yes?” He reached for his yukata then winced again as it fell to the floor, forcing him to bend to reach it.

“It’s Katsu.”

Alerted by a note of urgency in his messenger’s voice, Shingen said, “Enter.”

Katsu rushed in, skidded to a halt, blinked, and fixed his eyes on the wall behind Shingen. Shingen almost laughed at Katsu’s attempt at polite blindness, but he wouldn’t have rushed in without a good reason. Maybe that pretty spy had been found. He shrugged into the. “What is it? Did someone find her already?”

Katsu took a deep breath. He held out an arrow. “Someone just shot this over the wall at Mai.”

Damn it.

“Was she hurt?” Clearly, she hadn’t been seriously injured, or there were already be alarms clanging throughout Kasugayama. He took the arrow that Katsu was holding. No blood on it, so Mai was likely untouched. But the thought that someone wanted Mai dead… and the thought of what Kenshin would do…? His friend was not as broken these days. But much of that was due to Mai’s influence, and if something happened to her… Shingen didn’t want to contemplate the ensuing chain of events.

“No. Yoshimoto saved her life.” Katsu’s attention stayed firmly on the arrow. “We were on the back grounds, when it came over the wall. Yoshimoto pulled her out of the way and covered her with his body, and the arrow landed right where she had been standing. She refuses to tell Kenshin, but … Yoshimoto and I felt someone in authority needed to know.”

He had a feeling that Katsu and Yoshimoto had had to do some fast talking to get Mai to agree to even that. She tended to be oblivious sometimes to the danger of her position as Kenshin’s Lady.

He glanced down at the arrow his still had in his hands. Definitely not the type that his archers used, and not from the Kasugayama armory either. “This isn’t from the Kasugayama armory.”

Katsu pointed to the feathers on the shaft. “Sea eagle feathers are fairly easy to obtain around here, though.”

A good point, however, the arrowheads would have to be -

“I could go around to the blacksmiths in the area and see if anyone makes arrowheads like these,” Katsu echoed his thoughts.

It was a worthwhile plan. However, it could keep. “You can do that later.” He went to the desk for paper and a brush. “Can you draw?”

“Not at all.”

Shingen added that to his internal list of “things to teach Katsu.” He wasn’t much of an artist himself, but map making was a learnable skill. He sketched out a map of the archery grounds…. Perhaps only a semi learnable skill. Few people would look at that drawing and recognize the Kasugayama yard. “Show me where everyone was standing.”

Katsu joined him at the desk and drew little sticks with circles at the top – oh, was that supposed to be Yoshimoto (side squiggle to represent his queue) and Mai (long squiggles for hair) and Katsu (no squiggles)? He then added some circular squiggles above the wall. What were those? Trees?

Katsu had been correct. He could not draw at all. He took “teach Katsu to draw” off the mental list. Maybe Yoshimoto or Mai could make that attempt.

He leaned over Katsu and pointed to the odd squiggles. “The arrow came from there?”

Katsu’s posture was perfectly straight and still under his arm and his voice sounded uncharacteristically inflectionless. “Um. Around there, yeah. This one, probably.” He traced an invisible line across the ‘map’ toward the circle/sticks. “One of these trees had to be it. There’s a lot of cover – I climbed the wall, but he was gone when I got there. Or well hidden.”

Climbed the wall? Shingen glanced down at Katsu’s hands which had a broken nail, and a network of scrapes and scratches from the rough stones. He pictured Katsu scampering up the wall like a snow monkey, his face alive and intent upon solving another kind of puzzle. On the heels of that image came an unexpected surge of lust. He batted that thought away - he could not take advantage of Katsu’s trust in such a way.

His silence gone on too long - Katsu turned to look at him, his eyes curious, and suddenly conscious of his undressed state, Shingen stepped back and fastened his yukata. Absurd idea, he repeated to himself. It was simply residual feelings from last night’s unfinished encounter with the spy.

Katsu seemed to think his silence was indicative of disapproval. “I should have searched the woods. Now it’s too late. I’m sorry.” The tone was even more apologetic than the words.

“Don’t beat yourself up. I doubt he stuck around after that one shot. He was likely gone before you even got to the wall.” He patted Katsu on the shoulder, reminding himself that his role was of a mentor.

“I’ll go take a look around anyway,” Katsu said, clearly eager to get to work.

As Shingen ought to as well. This attempt on Mai was a far greater issue than either the search for an impish sprite or the unexpected attraction to his messenger. He followed Katsu “That’s a good idea – I’d like to do that as well, if you don’t mind showing me.”

Katsu gave him an odd look. “I don’t mind, but you might want to get dressed. Or at least put some outside sandals on.” It appeared that Katsu had already heard about the ground spike incident. The castle gossip network was nearly as efficient as his mitsumono.

“I’ll get Yoshimoto, since he might have seen something I didn’t, and meet you there.” Katsu practically flew out the door.

Shingen grabbed for the rest of his clothing. Outside there was a thump and a clatter that he ignored in favor dressing as quickly as his aching joints would allow.

Katsu and Yoshimoto seemed to be in agreement that the tree towering over the West side of the castle wall was the most likely source of the arrow. Glad that the short walk to the grounds had loosed up his stiff joints, Shingen knelt on the ground under the tree, even though the soft grass would not have retained any impression of the archer’s feet.

“Maybe we’ll be lucky and he snagged his clothing in the tree?” Katsu said.

Shingen looked over his shoulder to see Katsu prowling around the tree, and the next thing he knew, the young man was scrambling amongst the branches.

“Are you sure you didn’t steal that one from a troupe of acrobats?” Yoshimoto murmured.

Generally, it was best to ignore Yoshimoto when he slid into that too-bored-to-be-bothered by it tone, so Shingen let that go. “Katsu said we have you to thank for saving Mai’s life.”

Yoshimoto took out his fan, languidly waved it around. “Katsu yelled arrow, I grabbed Mai’s arm, Mai leaped to follow. One could say that all three of us had a part to play.”

“I’m pretty sure this is it. I can see the entire training field.” At the sound of Katsu’s voice he looked up to where Katsu was balanced on a thick branch that extended nearly to the top of the wall.

Because he trusted Katsu’s expertise in archery, Shingen asked, “How difficult would it be from where you are standing, to hit a moving target?”

“It’s doable. We weren’t moving around all that much. A heavier arrow, like the one we found, can travel further than where we were standing. I mean, it wouldn’t be the easiest, but any experienced archer could do it… Yoshimoto could you come up here and see if you agree?”

Yoshimoto was examining the painting on his fan. “No.”

His mental things-to-take-care-of list expanded to include, ‘do something about Yoshimoto.’ Something in the realm of finding his cousin a vocation beyond collecting pretty trinkets.

“You don’t think you could make that shot?” Katsu was still shading his eyes and looking toward the yard.

“Oh, I could probably make the shot. I could not, however, climb that tree.” Yoshimoto shuddered. “With the wind the way it was, though, do you think he was aiming for Mai, or you, or me?”

That was a question that Shingen had been pondering as well. Mai was the most obvious target of course, but perhaps Yoshimoto had angered someone, and who knew what sort of enemies Katsu had lurking in his past. However, there were easier ways to kill someone – maybe the archer didn’t care who he hit.

“Or he didn’t care which one of…” Katsu trailed off.

Again, Katsu was thinking along the same lines as Shingen. The shot may simply have been a message. “It’s possible it was meant as a threat to unsettle Ke- “

Katsu had let go of the trunk of the tree and was walking along the branch toward the castle wall, oblivious to the wind, and the way the branch dipped with his weight. “What the hell are you doing, Katsu?” The fool was going to get himself killed.

Then Katsu sprang up to grab a leaf from the branch above him, and Shingen felt his chest clutch in a way that had nothing to do with his illness.

“Damn. It’s just a leaf.”

Did he even realize how close he had come to falling? Maybe there was a tactical brain in there, but Katsu was missing a sense of self-preservation. “Get down from there!”

“Alright.” Katsu lowered himself to hang from the branch, then flung himself to the ground, flipping into a somersault at the bottom that made Shingen’s knees hurt in sympathy. There was that clutch in his chest again.

“Why cousin, you sounded practically paternal,” Yoshimoto said, as he fanned himself.

It might have sounded paternal, but it had felt… and whatever it was he felt drowned under a wave of anger at Katsu, who had no idea of the risk he had just taken.

“What were you saying?” he asked.

Startled into repeating the last thing he said, Shingen said, “Get down fr-“

“No, before that. Something about a threat?” Katsu wiped his hands on his kimono, seeming eager to get back to the puzzle. But Shingen couldn’t think about that at the moment. The image of Mai impaled on an arrow had been replaced by an image of Katsu splatting to the ground.

“I don’t recall. Your daredevil stunt knocked it right out of my head.” He raked his hands through his hair. “I thought you were going to fall to your death.”

“What? From that height?” Katsu looked back up at the tree, still blissfully unaware of the danger. “I didn’t, so-“

Had he ever been that young and brashly stupid? Surely not. Had even Yukimura’s teen years featured this sort of insane stunt? Shingen couldn’t remember.

“So…?” Yoshimoto prompted.

Katsu looked off in the distance, then shook his head. “It’s… I had a similar discussion with my brother on the last day that I saw him.”

So this headlong rushing into danger was part of Katsu’s personality. If that was the case, better to know now, before he wasted time training him. Katsu was clearly intelligent, but maybe he never would develop wisdom.