Title: Perspicacity
Fandom: Saiunkoku Monogatari, season ii. Based almost entirely on episode 30.
Rating: R/Mish for sexual situations
Archive: No archives unless I put them there myself, no MSTings.

MAJOR spoilers through the end of series ii! There are English subbed episodes into the 30s on veoh dot com. Do yourself a favor and find out who Seiga and Tan-Tan are before reading this! ; )

Perspicacity

She sat on a bench in front of the dressing table. Her back was straight and, in spite of being a part of the body that could hardly be called ‘expressive,’ somehow disapproving. Seiga checked in the doorway for an instant, partially because looking at the great Kou Shuurei brought so low amused him, mostly to make sure there were no retainers in the room. The ladies of his own household were not present, nor could he sense Seiran, the over-protective guardian of the Kou family. More than anyone else – the emperor, General Ran, even her surprisingly dangerous father – only Seiran possessed the sheer ruthlessness to prevent this union.

Except even Seiran didn’t have the sheer ruthlessness to stand against Shuurei’s own determination. Of all the men in her life (and there were many), only Seiga could do that.

Which was why, of all the men in her life, only Riku Seiga could blackmail the princess of the Kou clan into marriage.

A smirk curved Seiga’s mouth. It was amazing what a little research could uncover about a respected clan, and equally amazing what lengths the young daughter of that clan would go to in order not to have her father’s secret life exposed.

Seiga was really quite pleased with himself.

Stepping into the room, Seiga went to his bride, stopping just behind her. There was a small standing mirror on the table, tilted up slightly. Glancing over her shoulder into it, he could see the clenched muscles of her determined jaw, as well as the dangerous gleam reflected from his own pale eyes. Fully prepared to do her duty, as always, even if it was something so unpleasant as having physical relations with him.

…amusing…

Reaching up, he pulled the cloth from his head, allowing his shoulder-length hair to fall free. Her eyes flicked in the mirror, glancing at the movement with involuntary nervousness. For an instance her eyes widened before composure once more ruled her expression. She had never seen him with his hair down before, which was why he had pulled it free. Men who professionally wore their hair up always seem to take it down during private moments with her. Kouyu and General Ran came to mind.

Their gazes caught and held for a second before Shuurei, properly, lowered her chin so she wasn’t looking directly at him.

Kou Shuurei behaving properly?

…very amusing…

Seiga lifted one hand and skated his fingers gently through her styled hair, removing pins and ornaments until the dark locks fell free. He was most careful with the flowered pin that he knew was a gift from the emperor, setting it softly on the table by Shuurei’s folded hands. It was true that he had stolen the emperor’s preferred bride, but he himself was sworn to the emperor’s service and protection; Seiga would never behave in a disrespectful manner towards any past or future gifts the emperor bestowed upon Shuurei.

If his personal opinion of Shi Ryuuki included the belief that, like his older brother Seiran, the emperor was too weak a man to handle Kou Shuurei properly, that was buried so deeply in Seiga’s mind that even the most talented witch from the Hou clan would never be able to scry it.

He let his fingers twine through Shuurei’s hair, brushing his thumb against the side of her neck. Her pulse was steady. That brought another smirk to his lips. Whether she was a virgin or not (and that was something no amount of research could reveal), based on the adversarial nature of their relationship she had to be terrified of what she assumed was required of her this night. Kou Shuurei possessed nerves more tempered than the finest blade when faced with physical danger.

Seiga rather liked that about her.

“My bride is quiet tonight,” he finally murmured as his hands fell oh-so-lightly to her shoulders. “How unusual.”

Shuurei’s shoulders twitched into an involuntary roll before she stilled under his touch. Even though it was undoubtedly revulsion, it showed that she would react to him physically. For now, Seiga thought, that was good enough.

When she remained silent Seiga tightened his grip, pulling Shuurei to her feet. Her head ducked again. Rather than fight she was determined to be as passive as possible.

How little his bride understood him. Seiga enjoyed baiting her, teasing her, arguing with her, but he would never physically harm her. It wasn’t that he couldn’t hurt a woman, he certainly could if needed, but forcing Shuurei would be counter-productive. She would pull into her usual self-righteous shell, and he would not be able to achieve what he wanted from this marriage.

Or to put it another way: she would win, and Shuurei winning against him was unacceptable.

He undressed her with the same care he used when taking down her hair, keeping his hands gentle, smoothing the layers of cloth away with long strokes. Seiga was delighted to discover the flush that bloomed along her cheeks also ran across her chest, although he didn’t permit his gaze or hands to linger on any part of her. When the last of the under-kimonos pooled around their feet he embraced her from behind, face buried against her long neck. He felt her breathe deeply through her nose, a classic method of maintaining control, and smiled against her skin.

At that moment Seiga was glad she refused to look at him. The tender expression on his face would have given Shuurei the advantage.

He turned his head enough to glance down her bare arm, the smile morphing into the usual smirk when he saw her small hand balled into a fist. “You’re being very brave, aren’t you?” he asked rhetorically, his voice smothered against her skin.

Shuurei’s knuckles went white.

Seiga laughed, that soft “hmph” of sound he knew annoyed her, and bent enough to slide one hand down Shuurei’s flank.

When he stood again, he had her in his arms.

Shuurei turned her head away when he laid her on the bed, still refusing to look at him as he shrugged off his robe. Instead of throwing it to the ground Seiga used it as a cover, casting it over Shuurei’s prone form before crawling under it as well to rest against her side. He slid one arm under her shoulders and slung the other across her waist, nuzzling his nose just under her ear. “You should let me do your hair before we go to work tomorrow,” he said lazily.

She exhaled sharply, not quite enough to be a snort. Every bare patch of her was rigid with tension where it pressed against him.

He was rigid with a different sort of tension, but Seiga was a strong-willed man firmly in control of his own body. After rubbing his hand across her side he rested it over one small breast, feeling the erect nipple against his palm. She did the breathing exercise once more, the slow inhale that told him she was more frightened than excited or even curious. Seiga grinned ruefully. He kissed the side of her jaw, then the corner of her mouth. “I’m tired, aren’t you?” he said, making his voice husky with (supposed) weariness. He played with her skin lazily as if too sleepy to do much else, never getting anything from Shuurei apart from those deep, controlled breaths. The heartbeat under his hand never sped up.

She wasn’t winning at this. It was far too important.

Seiga stretched and moved his hand towards the more neutral territory of Shuurei’s waist, tucking his forehead against the curve of her shoulder. “Don’t leave without me tomorrow,” he warned, careful to keep his voice lazy and devoid of threats. “Wouldn’t want your friend Tan-Tan to think there was trouble in paradise.”

Shuurei did snort at that, immediately biting her lower lip to reign in her small display of spirit. Seiga smiled in satisfaction. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to sleep.

per·spi·cac·i·ty (n): acuteness of discernment or perception.