Author's Note: I wrote this during attempts to write the next chapter of 'Into the Fire'. Was not intending it to be as long...or as adult as it turned out. But, roads and good intentions and all that...
Disclaimer: This story is rated M for adult themes and language. Read at your own risk.
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Invincible
He sighs her name into her hair, as if trying to bridge the gap with his family, as if holding her can do that.
But she was never really family.
"You should have died."
The words are muffled and come from Ayano, pressed against his chest. He pulls back and looks at her dirt-covered face, skin cut from the battle, and gives her a cocky grin, "Nah."
Her eyes are wide and glassy and Kazuma has the feeling that, if he let himself, he could trace every emotion he's ever had reflected in them. He closes his own eyes and says, "But it was pretty close."
He isn't sure what it would be like to die, what it would look like, but somehow the knowledge that she was there, arms outstretched and holding Enraiha with him made it impossible to contemplate the end. Because he wouldn't do that to her.
Ayano's face-welts, burns, cuts and all-backs away from him, voice shaking, "I'm being serious. You're never serious."
"I am. It wasn't going to happen."
"Well, you did everything to the contrary," she fumes, "You just went ahead without me—"
"And it worked," he finishes smoothly. The gap cannot be closed. There is something here and it is stone between him and her and Kazuma has no idea what can be done about it. He is far away when she yells out.
"Oh shut up!"
Kazuma thinks he's seen Ayano at her most vicious before, but the woman in front of him is a whole new experience. Her hair is dark and filthy and it hangs around her like weeds, her red eyes shine with fury, making her look so much like a Youma it's uncanny, and frightening, and with the smoke rising and the fire around them maybe he is wrong and it is the end of the world. Damn it all.
"I am twenty years old, Kazuma. I am the leader of the Kanagi family, wielder of Enraiha and I am your goddamned partner and you pull heroics like these on me? Such stupidity I have not yet witnessed from anyone! Do you have a fucking death wish?!"
Kazuma looks away from her and the silence hangs around them like smoke, a barrier getting more opaque and firm, a barrier he has never figured out how to beak. He's not sure he can. And maybe it's because she'd tired of him, or from the battle, or from something else, but Ayano leaves the field, her dark hair a fading smear of red in the distance, moving away.
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o.o.o
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There is not enough alcohol in the world to help her right now, but there is something in Ayano that is whispering about missed opportunities and last changes and she just wants it to shut up.
The wine is a birthday present she's had for months and she was never really saving it, though what had possessed her to bring it in her luggage when she and Kazuma had traveled across the earth for their mission, she wasn't sure. She wasn't the type to save something, knowing that death could come whenever—she'd just not had occasion to drink. Until now.
He's driving me to it.
She scowls and takes another gulp from the plastic cup, for some reason not having wanted to just drink from the bottle. Maybe it's just a little less pathetic this way. Maybe.
She spreads her legs in front of her, dirty and bruised and cut. A gash runs from her ankle to her shin and when she presses her fingers to it she feels the slice all over again. She gulps more wine before setting it on the hotel bedside table and stretching out, her arms across her stomach.
The wound was her fault, really, she'd been too slow and stumbled, unable to catch up. But it was also his—Kazuma's damned pride as he held her back and went ahead without her, as drained as he'd been. She'd wanted to punch him. She still might…as if it would make a difference. Her thoughts are frustrated, but her body is tired, and in the competition between the two, exhaustion wins out.
Ayano is unsure for how long she sleeps, but she feels herself waking up several times throughout—each time the face of the spirit coming towards them, black, blue and overwhelming...Kazuma leaping to his death…
Her eyes slowly adjust to the dark.
Her head feels heavy and dizzy so she scoots back to where she left the wine, but finds it gone. Her breath catches and she looks around, almost screaming when she sees a figure sitting in front of the window. Ayano releases a strangled breath and glowers. Of course. It's just like him to simply go in wherever he pleases without question, without permission.
The red-head feels renewed anger in her gut and, seeing that he is in possession of her bottle, snatches it away from him and makes it to the bathroom without another word.
Whatever I've done to piss of the world, she thinks gloomily, it must have been one hell of a number.
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o-o-o
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Ayano can't decide if she should drink while in the shower or the bath.
She settles for the shower, because the anger has spiked her adrenaline and she doesn't feel like sitting anymore. In fact, she feels like fighting, now, mere hours after she battled to the death. She barely rinses her hair of the hotel shampoo, trying to calm her mind, before she's counting all the insults and injuries over again, like a masochistic record player.
It has be three years, three god-damned years, and he still doesn't trust her. It has been THREE YEARS and Kazuma still is not honest, never giving her all the information on their assignments, always holding her behind him, always smirking and arrogant and just so damned infuriating…treating her like some twelve-year old school girl. And this after she has saved his life, again and again, after she has gone with him across the globe, and held his hand, and laughed at his jokes and, sometimes, caught looks that she might have taken to mean something more, though she never pressed him, never did anything other than be loyal, and brave, and there.
And what has it gotten her? Just a bunch of posing and bravado and that self-assured grin instead of being real or letting her in for even a second. It was…it was…
She turns off the water and looks at herself in the mirror.
It is then that something shifts. Perhaps the steam moving, clearing until she can see her own face staring back at her, barely recognizable, makes her see it. Perhaps it is the fact that she could not put this on him any longer. Perhaps it is the wine. But whatever it is, Ayano sees that it is not her. It is not about her.
Because she has been wrong, this whole time, trying to do something for a ghost, someone seeking out death.
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o-o-o
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He's watching TV with the sound off when he hears her come of out the bathroom.
The show is incomprehensible, and he can't read anyone's lips. He notices that he has been trying to figure out the goddamned plot for twenty minutes, not thinking to turn on the volume. It's almost funny and he turns toward Ayano with a smile before he remembers that they're not friendly right now. And for them, two people who have never really been friendly, exactly, this is colder than ever before.
She is simply standing there, wrapped in a towel and the Ayano that he knows doesn't do that. The Ayano he knows blushes and sputters, and runs into bathrooms with all of her clothes and comes out changed, like out of a magician's hat. At least she used to. He wonders if this is also his fault, somehow.
She finally lifts her face and looks at him, holding out the bottle she's had with her. For the first time in years, Kazuma can't read her eyes, but he holds her gaze, taking the bottle and bringing it to his mouth, standing.
A beat, two beats.
Ayano takes a step forward and Kazuma forgets where he is for a second, her eyes so blank he thinks he is seeing Tsui Ling's—it makes his breath catch and something very painful hits him in the chest. This…this is too familiar.
And then it overwhelms him: her resigned expression, the cuts covering her skin, the dark room, the flickering light. He feels the cold of the bottle warming up in his hand and he reaches out with his other, touches her shoulder. This is real, he thinks and the wind is knocked out of him, sound coming back in the form of her breathing and his, erratic and mismatched. Because, because…
Because this is real, and the world is still turning, and Ayano is silent and hurt and wet under his palm, and the show is still playing, and he is here and he will be, day after day, but he could not have. He was close. He could have died and this would be gone, but he didn't—they didn't—
And they still have to live.
Kazuma realizes that he's still touching her, but can't bring himself to stop. His heart is merciless and his fear and gratefulness combine when he looks at her and he knows that he has to say something, though he wonders if she can tell because her own eyes are widening, lips parted in wonder.
"Ayano."
He says it because he wants to tell her everything, because it seems right to, but he's not sure how to continue. The world could have ended and there could be nothing and…it pulls his heart. He would have regrets. So many regrets.
The flush is back in her face and Kazuma watches her grasp her towel tighter, realizing it must have started coming undone. He gives her a brazen grin when she mutters, "Ignore that" but it's more instinct than bravado.
"Can't," he rasps, suddenly unable to stop his hand from wandering down her arm.
Ayano gives a shuddering sigh before speaking, "Don't think you can just do…that…and make me forget…"
He moves closer, setting the wine on the table beside them, before leaning over her.
"I—I mean it," she whispers, "I've put up with a lot from you…"
But his hands are around her face and he is tall and warm, and the pads of his thumbs are making symbols on her cheeks and Ayano can't help but remember every feeling she's had about this man over the years. Dreams of wanting him to do exactly this. Still, she can't let this go so easily.
"Kazuma," she breathes, "Please say something…honest."
He gives a startled look at her tone, at the seeming pain in her voice. Isn't he always? He remembers keeping her away, shielding himself from Ren, and the family, and her, especially—his harsh words and quips—his attitude. Maybe it's just this moment, but he thinks he can be different.
"I'm sorry." He says it because anything else wouldn't seem genuine.
"I'm sorry," he repeats and it is Ayano who reaches out a hand to his face guiding it lower to her own.
She almost expects a peck on the nose, or cheek, something brotherly and chaste because this is all that she's known, all he's shown her. But when he brings his mouth to hers she knows that it's different, and long-coming, and will change everything. She moans, and the distance between them disappears in that breath.
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o-o-o
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She was never really family.
Kazuma has known it for a while before tonight, maybe from the time he first saw her and felt—felt like there was someone else out there with a raw spirit, someone like him.
Family was a word Kazuma despised. Even know, Ren was his brother. His. Brother. Those words lacked the sting of betrayal—the cult of exclusion. And he understood blood calling; he was no stranger to that. Ren and Ayano were his, plain and simple, and he would never abandon them. He wondered if he'd ever made that clear and knows he should right now but words…words escape him.
He feels all this now, with his mouth against Ayano's, her lips chapped and slightly alcoholic, the smell on her skin as much sweet as it is smoky, like a candle burned out. She moves against him and he curses himself for not having done this before because…because what was he waiting for?
Kazuma breaks away from her to look at her face, a bolt of heat running through him at the sight of her heavy lidded eyes and swollen lips. He needs to kiss her again.
He speaks, instead. "You know that I'm here to stay, right?"
Her eyes are lipid pools. She answers honestly, "Sometimes."
He holds her shoulders firmly and tenderly, "I am. Ayano, I'm not going anywhere."
He's not sure why he has to make her believe, maybe because he needs to say it aloud and he knows he can't lie to her, not with her looking at him like this: full of hope and want, her eyes warm and deeper than ever.
Ayano reaches for him again and Kazuma sinks into it, surprised and amazed at how much he'd missed by not giving in long ago. Ayano clings to him, basically tackling him onto the bed, her hair a sweet-smelling curtain around their faces, dampening their skin.
He growls and moves-pins her down, her mouth vying for his attention and her skin so insanely soft he thinks he might have an aneurysm. He presses harder against her and she is making sounds that are driving him out of his head, his hardness already painful against his pants. But Ayano doesn't back down and instead reaches for his shirt, pulling it around his torso until he obliges and throws it over his head. He hears it hit the lamp and knock it against the window, but he couldn't have given less of a damn. Ayano takes the opportunity to move back over him, kissing his chest and neck in quick succession.
Kazuma thinks about the girl he has known, the firey hair, hot temper, her incessant dramatic freak-outs, her love of her friends and clan, her unwavering loyalty—and sees the woman, just as stubborn, no less faithful, beautiful as ever trailing kisses down his abdomen…until he cannot think about it anymore. He releases a hiss when her fingers come in contact with his hip bones and Kazuma is back to kissing her, nibbling on her neck.
She's not entirely sure anything in her life could have prepared her for this, but Ayano was damned sure she's wasn't going to do anything to let it stop. Somewhere between the first kiss and the groping she decides that nothing has or could feel better than Kazuma's breath on her skin, his fingers and palms touching and stroking (far too tenderly and over the light towel still miraculously covering her) her breasts and stomach and legs. She wonders what kind of girl it makes her, to be letting this happen so soon after her first kiss and decides that those are ridiculous questions made for ridiculous people who have never felt Kazuma's body against their own.
He grinds himself against her and Ayano is embarrassed by the sound that escapes her throat. Kazuma gives her such a charming, boyish, grin though that the shame doesn't last long.
"You're so damned beautiful," he says against her ear and the words and breath used to say them made heat pool in her stomach, and Ayano moves her hips against his, feeling overjoyed when he releases a moan of his own. Kazuma reaches a hand to her breast and they both suck in air when he touches bare skin, her towel having final lost its ground. It never had a chance, really.
"Ayano," he rasps and she looks at him pleadingly. He brushes a thumb against her nipple, making her back arch more firmly against him, resulting in his erection being brought further between her legs.
"Ayano," he repeats and she can see that his eyes are dark with lust, "I'm not sure—"
Ayano only rolls her eyes at him, "I am. Of age, remember?"
Kazuma tries to smirk at her, but instead has to draw his mouth into tight line as she bucks her hips again. "Please." She is surprised at the depth of her own voice. He's made a seductress out of me.
He brings his lips back against hers and Ayano thinks that maybe he's pulling back, his kiss is so chaste, but instead feels his hands running against her breasts. The feeling of his skin is so intense she understands why people use words like 'electric' and 'burn' and she tries to think of something else because if she doesn't distract herself she just might vibrate out of her own skin. She brings her shaking fingers to his belt, instead, and fumbles with the strap. Kazuma's breath is haggard in her ear and she can feel how hard he is just between the fabric and her hand. She reaches around him. Kazuma's breath stops.
"I—Is that okay?"
He is nodding his head furiously and Ayano feels strangely proud, "Yes…please…"
She grips him tighter and moves her hand, watching his changing expressions with interest. Soon, however, he stops her by moving more fully over her body and putting one of her breasts in his mouth. So…unfair. Ayano can do little and, really, she doesn't want to, because it feels so good and it looks so good, to see the Contractor's messy head between her breasts, and she feels like they need to get a move on because she just can't wait anymore.
"Kazuma," again, her voice is not her own, but he looks at her and she just mouths "now". His eyes darken and he kisses her. Ayano sits up and brings him with her, hands moving back to his belt. They break away and he is pulling his slacks and boxers over his hips at as fast a pace as his position will allow, but it's not fast enough and Ayano stands up from the bed to help pull them off further, only to have Kazuma fall off the bed with her, legs still caught in his clothes, as they tumble together to the carpet.
"Damn it," he curses.
But Ayano is laughing at the sight of him on the floor. He gives her a mischievous look that quickly sobers when he looks at her naked body, crouched beside him. She is suddenly self-conscious, trying to cover her breasts, but he touches her arm and faster than she thinks possible, brings his face to hers and is kissing her again. Her heart soars and he is wrapping his arms around her and she finds herself straddling him there, on the floor, mouth never leaving his, breathing hitched in her throat.
Ayano has never known such power as now, with her partner looking into her eyes, waiting for her to decide what to do next. For an instant, she can see Kazuma's eyes flicker with doubt, but she doesn't let it take, bringing her hand to his erection and looking into eyes as she positions herself. For her, she is his, and there's never been a doubt in her mind that she would do anything for this man. Loving him, well, that was just a given.
The moment feels endless but it is a matter of seconds and with a single exhalation, Ayano sinks down.
There is wind around them and Kazuma has his hands on the hips of a woman who has been the best, if sometimes most annoying, thing in his life. The heat is unimaginable and as she brings herself up and down again he can't dear anything but rushing wind and the fire of the sun between them and it is so tremendous he scoots her closer while she rocks above him. He can't think of anything except her skin, and her wild hair, and the way she closes her eyes and bites her lip, just slightly, as she moves over him and—
He can't take it anymore. He grabs her ass and Ayano lets out a yelp as he picks her up and, still connected, lifts her to the bed. The motions are faster. Ayano thinks that she hasn't felt anything pull her nerves this tightly around and she clings to his back whispering, "faster" and hearing a groan that drives all the way to her toes. In all her (few) and slight experiences with sex, she never felt as unhinged as she does now, nails in his arms, name on her lips coming out it letters and wisps of sound.
Kazuma brings a hand between them and touches her with his fingers, bringing even more unintelligible sounds from her mouth. The increased volume brings everything into sharp focus for him and the urgency that has driven them here makes it difficult to do anything other than sigh and cling until his mouth is on her ear and he is whispering only to her. With shallow breaths he reaches his peak, his hand continuing to work inside her until she does as well, some tenuous moments later.
If she thought that she was unprepared for what had just transpired between them, the aftermath was far worse. She can't believe they're still in the same room, much less the same planet they started out on.
Her skin is damp with sweat. Great, I'll have to take another shower…
Ayano looks over at Kazuma and finds that he's already staring at her, his gaze unfathomable. She turns on her side, not bothering to cover herself, and just...waits. It feels natural to her now to wait, and though it upset her less than an hour ago, she suddenly feels comfortable in letting him come to her. No pun intended, and the thought makes her smirk a little, at how brazen she feels.
Kazuma reaches an arm to her and pushes her hair away from her face. "You have great hair, you know that?"
The words are completely out of character for him, but they make her heart beat quicken, "Did I break you?"
"What?"
She gives a smile, "I've never heard the great Kazuma say something like that, is all."
He scoffs, "What? I can't give out compliments?"
"You never have before."
His face sobers, "Well, that's because I'm an idiot."
There is a silence and she doesn't know what makes her say it, "I love you."
Great, she thinks, now the world can swallow me up. She keeps her face neutral, not letting on how much she regrets the words.
His expression doesn't change, "You've never said that before."
She lifts her chin. If she was going for it, might as well be completely honest, "But you've known."
Ayano almost expects him to deny it, but he doesn't, "I have."
She wonders why she loves him. How she could love someone who tortured her like this, someone as closed off as him, and can't find an answer that doesn't come back to a petulant, stubborn, 'because'. She hates herself sometimes.
"But I wasn't sure…"
She narrows her eyes, "About what?"
Suddenly, he's sitting upright and hovering above her, seemingly ignoring her question. "You do have great hair—it's as red as your face, sometimes, and it smells good: like flowers, and summer, and…you," he says it methodically, like he's thought about it before and Ayano wonders, again, if maybe she did break him. Because this was…
"And your fingers—"
"My fingers?" she whispers.
"Yeah," he says and Ayano swears that her jaw is open so wide you could fit copious amounts of melons in there, "They're so long and elegant...constantly brushing your hair away or clenched at your sides, or maneuvering fire…" he reaches for the fingers in question and entwines them with his own. Ayano's heart skips a beat and she can't seem to hide the astonishment on her face.
Kazuma gives a rough sigh and sits straighter, "And I think…I think about these things. I have, before…but I wasn't sure if it meant enough."
Suddenly Ayano knows what he's talking about and she sits up next to him, feeling that he might need the closeness, wondering how she knows, and telling her brain to shut up, all in the same instant. She presses against his back and hears him sigh and waits for him to continue.
"But it doesn't matter," he says, his voice deep as he turns back towards her, head bent and Ayano wants to kissing him again, "Because it's not just the little things that I love about you."
Ayano's breath hitches and she hardly dares lift her gaze, but as soon as she does she's not sure what she was afraid of. His eyes are tender and his mouth, usually pulled in a smirk, is relaxed. "Everything..." he murmurs against her lips.
And just like that she is in his arms again, knocking the wind out of him in her embrace, and Kazuma doesn't care that her body is probably sore and that his body is definitely sore-from the battle and from the sex-he clutches her, sinking back down onto the bed, feeling like nothing, nothing had ever been this close to being gone and coming back. And she was his, and he wasn't going anywhere.
Between their breaths the gap closes, and Kazuma finally lets everything overtake him as their bodies move together for an encore: in and out into the coming day.
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