Do not look. Do not look.

The words echoed in Takashi’s mind, but his body would not obey. Commander Nishiki, the samurai he’d loved for ten years, was taking off his kimono and Takashi could not pull his gaze from the man’s broadly muscled back. Especially when the summer sun made the man’s golden skin shine.

Takashi swallowed hard and crouched behind the rock. He fingered the bottle of sesame oil in the pouch he carried. His mother was expecting the oil for her altar to the ancestors and Takashi knew he needed to continue on his way and deliver the oil so he could return to the barracks before sundown. But now Commander Nishiki had pulled out his topknot, letting his ebony hair tumble around his wide shoulders. That done, he began unwrapping his loincloth and Takashi’s cock was getting so hard it held him captive with the power of desire.

Around them, birds twittered in the trees and the sound of the river filled the air, but Takashi barely noticed, especially when Nishiki’s loincloth dropped to the ground. Large round powerful buttocks and thighs flexed as the commander pulled off his rope sandals and made his way down the riverbank to the water. He waded in and Takashi felt almost mournful when the lower half of the other man’s magnificent physique disappeared under the surface.

Go now, Takashi. Your mother is waiting. His conscience whispered to him from an invisible place, but his musuko was so hard now it threatened to push right through his loincloth. Takashi lowered himself to his knees and set down his parcel, hoping to relieve the pressure. But it didn’t work. The commander had dipped down into the water and come up again, making rivulets stream off his golden skin.

As quietly as he dared, Takashi uncorded his weapons from his belt and pulled the sash of his kimono. Perhaps if he gave himself release, he’d be able to go on his way and complete his task. His hand was halfway into his loincloth when he looked up again and caught his breath.

Another man appeared on the opposite riverbank. He was nearly as tall and as broad as the commander only he wore the red and gold robes of a yamabushi and his dark hair was shorn almost to the scalp. Without hesitation, the warrior-monk removed his sword belt and began to unwrap his robes with amazing speed.

“No, Suki! You must not enter into manlove with Bashoru.” Kobe’s eyes were wide with fear.

Suki studied the other samurai’s face in the dance of firelight. He rubbed his chin badly in need of a shave, with thumb and forefinger. “And why not?” His own interview with the commander was for the following afternoon.

Kobe leaned toward him, bottom lip trembling. “Because he is perverse.” That last word blended with a shower of sparks from their campfire.

Suki’s hand went to the hilt of his wakizashi, but then slipped away. There was no honor in slaying a worm like Kobe no matter what slander he put forth. The truth of Bashoru’s character was evident in the dark pierce of his almond-shaped eyes and in his aristocratically rounded features and broad-shouldered stance. No samurai was finer or handsomer than Commander Bashoru. Suki had sworn to himself at age thirteen that when he found the samurai he could truly follow, he would submit to that warrior, body and soul.

After thirteen years of watching Bashoru advance in the ranks and then serving in Bashoru’s unit when he came of age, Suki was positive he’d found the one.

He narrowed his eyes at Kobe. The man was a samurai in title only. The warrior’s code, bushido, was not in him and Suki could only guess that it was Kobe’s intense physical beauty that had won him an interview with the commander. After all, Bashoru was human and most other humans, male and female, were taken with Kobe at first. “Tell me of this perversion, Kobe,” he said. “That way, I can never claim I wasn’t warned.”

Kobe swallowed hard and sat back on his haunches. “Bashoru does not merely seek a companion to replace Kazuhiro.”

And why would he? Suki thought. He pictured the commander with his kimono open, his tall broad body all smooth golden muscle. Bashoru needs faith, service…loyalty. Kazuhiro was a fine swordsman as well as a faithful companion. But Kazuhiro’s time to marry and produce children had come and Bashoru had obviously grieved the loss of his lover since he’d waited nearly two whole years to find another.

“When I went for my interview, he wanted me to…to…” Kobe’s lip continued to quake and his eyes stared into the fire.

“Never mind, Kobe.” Suki lay back on his futon bedroll and stretched his legs out toward the fire. Within his loincloth, his musuko tightened with need. He’d already decided that whatever the commander asked of him, he’d do. “No need for you to relive distress. I will wait until tomorrow and find out for myself.”