The morning mist still clung to the hills and spilled down to the lake. The sun was rising and as the chill started to depart from the air, he shivered.
Inside the hut another man traced the curves of the woman lying next to him with his eyes. The world was silent and cool from the night, and yet under the large fur pulled up to their waists it was warm. As he reached out, she turned over to meet his touch.
“Were you watching me again?” She said in soft Japanese.
The Red Assassin twitched as the sound of a voice broke the calm. Even though the voice was female, it hurt his ears from standing in silence for hours. Having not moved his feet to avoid noise, his soles ached and the small of his back was gripped in a ball of nerve endings.
She pulled back the fur to reveal ivory skin and a small patch of dark hair between her legs. His cock reacted in a way that gave him a great need to bury it in her. Like a cat, she sprung on to her knees and stradled him. She rubbed her soft pubic hair against his balls and grapsed his cock in her hand. Leaning forward she whispered,
“He’s still there isn’t he?”
He nodded briefly and smiled.
Reaching down she guided his cock into her and relaxed her weight. He groaned as the warmth enveloped him. She was still wet from the night before and the smell of his own cum climbed into his nostrils.
After listening to her soft moans, the same smell of sex reach his nose. He found it offensive and screwed his face up. Eventually the sounds grew louder and a rhythm took over. Faster and fast the beat grew.
With her hands on his chest she rode his Samurai cock. Up and down, up….and down; faster and faster she went until finally he took hold of her hips and planted his seed inside her once more, forcing her up off the ground as he arched his back.
“I need to drink.” He said in lazy voice some minutes later.
Standing slowy he wrapped his hand around an unsheathed katana sword and walked humming to himself toward the door.
Outside the Red Assassin raised his sword with both hands. He imagined it to be very heavy so that when the time came the killing blow would have weight and power. It was razor sharp and very old. He imagined the blade catching the samurai behind his neck, and due to the restricted space he would continue with the downward stroke allowing the blade to exit cleanly above his chest; the sword would be true.
He reached the door, and took deep breath.
The Red Assassin looked across the face of the door, adjusted his grip, and then closed his eyes. It was too late to move, he had misjudged his target. It all happened as the sunlight hit the water and turned the mist to flames. Turning his head to watch such a beautiful sight, he smiled.
Holding his weapon with two hands he drew the handle back past his body keeping the blade horizotal. The Assassin on the other side of the wall would now know his mistake and was making peace with himself. Quickly gliding to the left he thrust the sword through the thin wooden wall taking a long step forward and twisting his hips. He let out an audible guttural groan as his inner power exited through the entire length of the sword and into the man currently bathed in the morning’s beautiful glow.
The sunlight fell from the Assassin’s eyes and his knees buckled. Holding on to his sword the weight was too much and his elbows fell to his waist. He was dead before the blade bounced off the ground.
Inside he withdrew the blade as fast as it went forward. The tip touched the floor and blood ran in rivulets which pooled in the dust. The naked ivory skinned doll wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his back. Today was not going to be their last sunrise.
Oh I like this… it made me think of Shogun, which I love!