"Good night, Elder Brother." Mika says, timidly, and draws back away from him, from the kiss. Masahiko knows what he *should* do, that he should leave, go along with the dismissal, and the two of them never speak of this again.

Instead, he steps forward: Mika steps back, steps back again. Distressed, fluttering steps, and Masahiko keeps backing him up, slowly and deliberately, until he has nowhere left to go, until his back is pressed against the wooden platform of his curtained bed.

Mika is tense, rigid, as Masahiko leans over him, rests his hands on either side of his body, caging him within the circle of his arms. His brother is tall, but Masahiko is taller still - and not willow-slender, unlike delicate, slight Mika.

"Has he had you yet?" Masahiko asks. Mika is silent, long lashes fluttering closed over lovely violet eyes. "Your betrothed," he adds, unnecessarily, and Mika finally shakes his head, his eyes still closed. So he still hadn't let Fujiwara Hiroshi behind his screen. "I'm surprised. You know even with the formalities you won't be married in the court's eyes until you've spent three nights together, in a row - and your banquet is tomorrow and you haven't even spent one."

Carefully, he reaches up, to push a stray strand of pink hair away from Mika's face. "I'll just have to teach you about that aspect of marriage, then. Since your betrothed has been remiss."

This close, he can feel Mika trembling, like a little leaf, and enjoys every moment of it. "No, please," Mika whispers, sounding on the verge of tears. "I don't...please."

Masahiko strokes Mika's hair, with a terrible, implacable gentleness. "Don't fight me, Mika." he says. "You allowed me behind your screen."