The desk was messed up with papers, a blemish in a strangely pristine room illuminated by soft candlelight. Dancing shadows were cast about, the wood marred here and there by splotches of black ink. Tenpou had been writing- or attempting to write- had gotten some ink smudges on his cheek and this was the messiest Kenren's seen him in four days.

And it was suddenly like he stood in a room with a masked stranger who smiled out of mechanical habit and not bland amusement, whose eyes were not Tenpou eyes because Tenpou eyes were lusty when it came to being alone in dim candlelit rooms with less than two feet between him and Kenren. The way Tenpou looked at him now- as analytic as ever- quietly with his eyes whispering and not ravaging over exposed skin...it was as if Kenren were a torn picture he had tried to piece back together with the help only of a previous memory of his true image. The memory would superimpose itself upon the picture...

And then Tenpou kissed him, ticking his senses with soap and cologne that seemed to take on a different scent now- as if it were on different skin. Soft. Soft. And not demanding more than a simple touch but it felt like so much more than that because as innocent as it was, it made him warmer warmer and so Kenren being Kenren, took it past innocence and forced Hakkai's mouth open with a probing tongue, tasting something slightly of cinnamon, maybe of vanilla, maybe of mint. The absence of tobacco was curious, and he pressed further to take in more.

"Mmh!" Hakkai violently pushed him away and clutched his stomach. It burned so much-as if it were being ripped open. Again. Because the mind's memories were strong. It caused his shoulder to burn. It made him think of rain. And blood. And then he knew...that scent of youkai was so strong now...that they were ready to feast. "Hurts." was all he said, but it was enough for the Taishou to understand and he went to cradle the other man if he weren't pushed away. Again.

And he was going to protest, again, if a gentle hand hadn't cupped his cheek and shaking, stroked it gently. "Get dressed, Taishou. Full uniform. We have no time for any of that now." Hakkai said apologetically, though a sense of numbess had taken over him, and slowly, steadily, he got up and worked his way to the desk.

Kenren just couldn't place Tenpou's expression- one of solemn rumination on dark thoughts that implied more than the general ever thought his marshal had experienced.

"Taishou." Hakkai insisted to the general who hadn't yet moved and pointed to the pile of black clothes- now neatly folded- sitting at the foot of the bed. "Your uniform. I will not have my general stark naked in the middle of an attack.

Kenren sighed. This was pure madness; paranoia. "You're insane, Tenpou." But he complied anyway, frivolously tossing away the covering sheet and noticing Tenpou turn away in embarrassment, a blush creeping into his cheeks.

Tenpou never blushed. Or turned away.

A brusque knock on the door of Tenpou's study broke their momentary silence. They looked at each other, then the marshal walked into the next room, closing the separating door behind him before answering the one hiding the visitor.

"Oh, it's you..." Kenren heard Tenpou say in the other room, tacking "sir" hastily at the end of his greeting. It must be Goujun.

Silence and the general could just imagine his commanding officer taking a still-eyed perusal of the study. And he could imagine Tenpou twiddling his thumbs as he kept the dragon king outside of his little sanctuary.

"Won't you come in?"

A ruffle of clothing, the stepping of boots that even *sounded* polished pierced the air- as a dragon's presence would, whether he be in this form or that. Goujun looked to the Marshal, who stood as erect as he could, given his sling-cradled injury.

"You keep clean quarters, Tenpou Gensui."

"It's not usually like this, sir."

Deep, blood red eyes bored into Hakkai's relentlessly until turning away abruptly towards the ink stained desk, and his ink stained face and fingers. "No, I'd imagine not." With one look alone, Hakkai felt violated, as if the dragon king had merely used his claws to effortlessly rip away into his mind and, with cunning deliberation, pick out a certain thought he deemed useful to keep in mind.

It made him uncomfortable, to say the least. "What can I do for you, sir?" he all but stuttered.

"Nothing. I was just checking that it was really you, issuing those foolish orders and not your foolish general."

"It was me, sir."

"Yes, I'd imagine it would be. Kenren Taishou would be too dense to even-" He paused. "But given that you are a kami as well, you should have been unable to perceive it also."

"Perceive what, sir?" The eyes came to him again, narrowed as his white scaly body stilled, waiting to feel the direction of some invisible wind. One slender ear moved- ever so slightly- the look in his eyes changed, and before Hakkai knew it, sharp claws grasped his uniform and Goujun pulled him closer, the other hand forcing his chin up as the dragon king lowered his face to a vulnerable neck.