"I make my own choices about my life," Kamui snorted defiantly.

"Oh...?" Seishirou regarded him curiously. "You're certain about that?"

Kamui did not answer, he sharpened his glare a bit and attempted to shake Seishirou off with it. He did not really expect it to work. Seishirou was neither threatened nor intimidated by either "Kamui". But he had thought it was an attack that had less of a chance of backfiring than verbal responses.

"Care to prove it?"

Kamui stared, completely dumbfounded by such a simple challenge. He considered snidely informing the Sakurazukamori that he had nothing to prove to anyone, least of all him, but curiosity won out. He frowned, "how do you mean?"

Seishirou's fingers graced his cheek, a touch so light it could hardly be defined as such. So light it made Kamui shiver. The urge to slap the hand away was suppressed with the fear that Seishirou might leave without telling him how to claim his fate as his own.

He did not believe in destiny, but he was no stranger to the control other's belief of the concept had over his life. His mother, his Aunt, Kotori, Fuuma ... people he had lost, some forever, because of their faith. And people who he would lose to a sacrifice encouraged by such a concept as "fate"; Sorata certainly and probably the other Seals as well. He thought that maybe, if he proved it to the Sakurazukamori it might give him some fraction of control over uncontrollable factors. If he showed them all that he's future was something he controlled and not some staged play, perhaps he could save them.

And that was everything to him, he didn't want to lose anyone else.

"The one you call 'Fuuma', I believe, seems to think he owns you. That you are his to torment or pleasure, his to kill, his to..." the Sakurazukamori's deep voice purred up against Kamui lips as he leaned just a little too close than what was required to speak. A hand cupping the back of his head kept Kamui from jerking back as was the impulse to do.

The kiss was strange. Pleasant but strange nonetheless. Kamui was at a loss for what to do, and the overwhelming tenderness with which the kiss was delivered confused the hell out of him. This was not something he was prepared to deal with from a man he hated with every fiber of his being.

When it broke and Seishirou pulled away with a smirk both cocky and incredibly amused, Kamui had the mind to blast the man's face clean off. And he would have too, had the Sakurazukamori not grabbed his wrist before he could deliver the searing blow and whispered softly in his ear, "well? What do you think?"

Kamui jerked his hand away coldly. "Pervert," he accused. "Haven't you got anything better to do than molest young boys?"

Seishirou laughed cheerfully, "but it's such a rewarding hobby."

Kamui frowned and scrunched up his nose, but much to Seishirou amusement made no attempt to force him out of his room nor call for the help of his Seals. He simply sat on his bed as if waiting for Seishirou to do something he could respond to.

Seishirou smiled, "so Kamui ... tell me, is it true?"

"Is what true?"

Seishirou's hand slipped across his shoulder and rubbed at his neck, working the muscles until Kamui tilted his head a little. "Has destiny promised you to Fuuma? Does fate decide who will take you?"

Kamui's eyes opened and regarded Seishirou suspiciously. "No," he insisted. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to sleep with you."

"Of course not," Seishirou agreed as the hand encourage Kamui to lie down on his bed. The boy barely blinked when the Sakurazukamori joined him, unbuttoning he shirt with steady smooth hands and soft quick kisses. A small sound got caught in Kamui's throat which might have been words of protest, or might have been a moan.

"No one could say that you and I were destined to share such intimacies, wouldn't you agree Kamui?"

Kamui nodded dumbly, trying desperately to keep his thoughts organized in his head. Some telling him to do this. Some telling at him to resist. Still some telling him be more active about whichever decision he was going to make.

"And those that do believe so much in destiny would have much difficulty fitting this into the divine plan no? Especially when both of us have more obvious partners."

Kamui shook his head affirmatively again. The idea of throwing something like this in the faces of those stupid Dreamgazers who thought they knew everything and yet still looked at him with hopeless looks was a powerful aphrodisiac. It was not the prospect of the sexual encounter that excited him, but the promise of a little freedom. The look on the "Dark Kamui" 's face when he realized someone else had stolen what he had reserved for his own amusement. That Kamui couldn't be controlled, and that something as illogical and unreasonable as sex with the Sakurazukamori could happen if he chose so.

"Why you doing this?" Kamui asked with shallow breath, his eyes half lidded with a lucid dreamy like glaze fogging over the deep purple color.

"Well ... you're very pretty Kamui..." The real answer was much simpler than that: Seishirou was bored. Destiny was a very restrictive master; bringing down kekkai's and battling Seals was something that Seishirou found rather absurdly routine at times. Much to his disappointment, Subaru had not provided much entertainment as of late. He was curious himself just as Kamui was as to whether destiny was something people controlled or were controlled by.

Besides there was something deliciously amusing about pondering the ways fate might conspire to interrupt their liaison.

And yes ... Kamui was not too hard on the eyes either. Particularly, Seishirou discovered, when he was nervous. He held this delectable look of a lost puppy in his eyes. A very hesitant quiver between fighting off the touch and begging for it. Mixed into a definite male body and definitely male personality that would allow no trace of weakness, watching the boy quiver slightly as Seishirou nipped at his neck was extremely amusing.

Half way down his shirt Kamui had apparently decided to just go through with it and reached up to loosen Seishirou's tie. He faltered a bit, as if not wanting to admit any sort of want with his active participation in the crime. To admit was to be vulnerable, to feel pain, to feel worthless and dejected. He did not consciously fear a rejection from Seishirou, he did not especially care if the man wanted him or not. But if a rejection did come it would hurt and it would scar.

Seishirou was more than happy to assuage that insecurity by purring as his teeth skimmed over Kamui's throat as if he might bite. This earned him a little pleasant gasp and more confident, demanding, movements from the boy beneath him.

As if trying to still him, Seishirou's hands firmly moved up Kamui's sides, bringing them to an inevitable closeness that Kamui seemed to appreciate. The boy moved softly up against him, testing the sensations the contact gave him. Apparently approving of this pleasure and making the most irresistible and subtle mewing sounds.

Lips followed the curve of young muscle with tedious dedication, until they came upon an erect nipple and playful captured it.

This time Kamui did moan, loud enough for his entire body to go stiff with a horrifying revelation. "They're going to hear," he hissed.

"They won't hear," Seishirou smiled, the tips of his fingers skating over the boy's bottom lip.

"But ... what if they do?"

"They won't," he assured with a raise of his hand. Sakura pelts fluttered through the room as if falling from a living ceiling that only looked like plaster. The first thought Kamui had, in all it's inanity, as a soft falling petal brushed his cheek was about having to sweep the petals up later.

It took only seconds to recognize what this was.

"Maroboshi," he breathed, almost in awe although he had seen it himself before.

Seishirou looked amused and sat up, his leg straddling Kamui's hips, to set about removing his own clothing. "I told you they won't hear. You can scream you're lungs out and we won't even cause them to stir."

"And if they do they wouldn't be able to see."

"Correct." his look was condescendingly pleased. "Does that make you feel better?"

Kamui did not bother answering. He was too busy watching Seishirou undress in rapt fascination. The Sakurazukamori was strikingly attractive by anyone's standards, but that was not what captured his attention. Every button undone was one closer to the act. An act that he anticipated with an uncanny sexual excitement and pride. The wrongness, the rebellion, the indulgence, all intoxicating Kamui like opium scent filling his lungs. One step closer. One step closer to freedom. Perhaps even one step closer to himself, as if confidence and identity could be achieved through sex.

He was not just telling destiny to fuck off, he was fucking destiny. Violently raping it as if he could pay it back for all the pain it had caused in his name.

Seishirou drank in Kamui attention, exploiting the entertainment value in it by slowing his undressing to an almost maddening degree. Pitching the buttons lightly, twisting them ever so slightly, keeping those odd animalistic eyes locked on Kamui with a slight predatory smirk. He shifted his weight, rubbing not too softly up against the boy. He was smug as a hot moan of pleasure rolled out of Kamui's throat, knowing that the boy was aroused and taking great pleasure in reminding Kamui of that.

The shirt finally slide off his shoulders and into the icky blackness beyond the bed they shared. He bent down and kissed Kamui's lips again, keeping the subtle motion of his hips constant but developing no real rhythm for it. The boy's lips parted eagerly for him, with neither hesitation or shame and Kamui kissed back with a forcefulness that surprised even Seishirou. A chuckled moved between them and Seishirou pulled back a little, admiring his catch.

Kamui squirmed in protest, wanting to persuade him to continue without actually asking for it. Instead he nipped at the Sakurazukamori's shoulder and pushed his hips up softly, appealing to the man's own desires

Seishirou sat up, then slid completely off the boy as if his hunger had been sated already. Kamui followed, not allowing them to break contact for long and growing more aggressive in a desperate attempt to prevent him from stopping. Logic might have told him this was enough, he had proved his point. But logic was no longer ruling this decision. He didn't need to continue to defeat fate. He needed to continue because he wanted too. Because the sheer wrongness and rush of freedom excited him. He felt like he was in control for once, he had never been in control before. It made him hard and confident. It filled him with a warm dark pleasure that circulated through him in fast energizing currents, like his blood had been replaced with dark smooth red wine.

He ended up in Seishirou's lap, his hand fast at the man's pants, lips attacking the exposed skin in such a way that seemed like worship.

"That's it," Seishirou purred. "Show me what you can do."

Kamui shivered with delight and let The Sakurazukamori guide him down lower and lower until he had to slide off momentarily to go any further. When it became clear what was being suggested Kamui glanced up with weary, uncertain eyes. He was not especially nervous, only at a loss of how proceed. The eyes that met his were cold and unfeeling, flashing with tiny glints of a smirk deep within the man.

A hand found its way into Kamui's hair, running through the soft, fine smoke colored strands and curving around his head as one would pet an animal. Kamui leaned up into the touch ... because if he chose to play up to the condescending nature of this game he could.

He nuzzled the Sakurazukamori's hand, just because he could and it was a choice that no glorious spawn of fate could have any right to possess.

Not a spawn, he thought in a mind drugged with soft glow of psychosomatic pleasure, a sire.

Seishirou laughed, skimming finger tips down Kamui's chin directing his attentions. Kamui followed through, engulfing the man's cock briefly as if merely pondering the idea. He continued his subtle meditation with long drawn out licks, lips finally playing over the tip and sucking briefly. He was more teasing himself than the Sakurazukamori, taunting the part of his consciousness that was obedient and gawked at the display. The small part of him that felt it was his responsibility to be "The Kamui" instead of "Kamui". He relished in torturing it, letting it hope that maybe he might stop this increasing madness.

Finally he squashing it completely, taking the older man-- a man he by all rights hated more than he had hated anyone in his life-- into his mouth as much as he felt he could. Sucking lightly, playing some more before pushing himself a little further, taking him deeper and sucking hard, sliding his lips up and down with a dark amusement of his own.

This did not last long at all. The hand petting him so encouraging gripped a fist full of hair in a way that was forceful but not especially painful. Two fingers scooped under his chin and lifted his head away from the subject of his attentions. Kamui made a little sound in protest, slightly disappointed that he was being stopped before looking up questioningly at the Sakurazukamori.

Seishirou had never intended Kamui to finish, although the boy certainly had some impressive talents to exploit, he merely wanted to see if Kamui would do it. An active partner was so much more interesting then one that surrendered to you.

But he wanted fun time to span far beyond a blow job. As amusing as it was to have the Kamui of the Dragons of Heaven sucking his cock, it would have been an anticlimactic end to their test. After all, why waste such an opportunity?

He pushed Kamui onto his back roughly, kneeling between the boy's supple legs, fingers trailing under the soft thigh. His hand wandered down with a painfully slow pace, only granting Kamui's need small strokes muted by the fabric of the boy's pants.

Kamui moaned nothing impractical. No words, no names, nothing really comprehensible, nothing that could communicate anything complex-- only the obvious, yes that feels good, yes give me more, yes I want this-- just the soft rumble of sounds raising from his throat and cracking higher with demanding need. His hips pressed up into those light touches gently. He felt oddly powerful here, knowing he was doing something strictly forbidden, but that no one could stop him from it either.

The rest of the clothing was removed quickly and with an almost routineness to the act. Seishirou petted and teased, touched and rubbed, but never stroked. He made sure Kamui's pleasure was an erratic thing, that he would not adjust to any rhythm and the pleasure would build only as high as Seishirou would allow it. Circling around the hard erection and playing down the skin under it. Kamui let out a tiny shudder and a corresponding gasp and spread his legs perhaps just a bit further, inviting trouble.

The Sakurazukamori was in bed as he was in all other things. He took his time, showing no particular rush to get anywhere anytime soon. It was maddening and filled with it's own beautiful sense of cruelty, taking Kamui close to the release a few times before drawing back to tease less sensitive spots. Each interrupted passion was better than the last, until Kamui was biting the back of his hand, eyes closed with an insane amount of focus, body stiff as if stillness could help him feel every sensation more so.

The feeling of Seishirou's fingers finally preparing him was welcomed with an uncanny anticipation. Kamui would have thought before that one could only feel such emotional pleasure from sex with one you loved. But Kamui did not love the Sakurazukamori, not in the slightest. Yet sex filled him with a sense of strength, and it was so right. For a moment flaws and insecurities were overshadowed by the growing victory.

There ain't nothing that could decide for him, but him.

Seishirou lifted his legs to a more favorable position, the tip of his erection pressing up against Kamui with a haunting finality to it. And for a moment the Sakurazukamori simple stared at him, as if examining a wounded creator on his veterinarian table. A look that Kamui returned flatly, pressing ever so slightly into the older man with a firm determination unaffected by his position.

Seishirou chuckled, a sound so low and soft it could barely be heard, and shrugged as if to exclaim "kids today!" His hands rounded about either side of Kamui's hips, holding them firmly so that he could push in.

Kamui made a low grunt that stretched out into a soft groan as he felt The Sakurazukamori enter him. It felt better than he expected it to. He let out a soft purr even as Seishirou held him still, body suddenly as demanding as his mind.

Thrust were hard and deep, not a thought spared for pain or discomfort. Kamui moaned, the feeling of loss and relief from strained muscles bleeding into the feeling of being filled and stretched. Friction purring warmly against his back with each movement and loudly moaning inside his body as the older man shifted in and out, in and out.

Not about to make things too easy for Kamui now, Seishirou changed strategy. Opting to roll his hips for a bit and grind slowly into the boy sated.

The subject of his attentions made a small startled choking sound as the sudden change sent unexpected sensations into the building, bubbling mix of pleasures. He made a few short, climbing moans and pushes his hips up, trying to pull the older man deeper.

Casually Seishirou slipped back into the more tradition and intense rhythm, applying a bit more force than before ... going a bit faster. Kamui panted loudly beneath him, small brief moans punctuating the occasional breath as body squirmed and delight. The boy's body was nice, tight enough to make sex with him rewarding without the game. His hands left Kamui's hips to explode all edges of the soft delicate skin, making the boy gasp with the shift of sensations. He increased his pace, his own desire now overriding the will to extend the game further.

Kamui moved in time with him, hands gripping the sheets while body was at the mercy of intense every shifting, so he could need really quite get used to it, pleasure. When he came he cried out no one's name, just the unidentifiable loud moan of pleasure unique to him. Perhaps through that it was his own name he was crying out in the heat of passion. -------------

Kamui lied like he was dead. Limbs limp and unmoving, eyes unfocused and staring blankly at the ceiling as reality melted through the shield of illusion that had protected them during intercourse. His mind was numb, and any thought he had have mauled over normally at this time of night were stale and lifeless in his head. It was as if his life was nothing more than a movie he had seen months ago and couldn't quite recall all of details of.

He wanted to move, to roll over into the warm embrace of the covers and sleep, but he could not. Not for physical pain, although he was a little sore in some places, but he felt as if he had melted partially into the bed.

The Sakurazukamori was dressing, slow and unhurried, on occasion glancing in Kamui's mirror to check to see if his tie was straight and all his buttons lined up correctly. Kamui wanted to say something, but he wasn't quite sure what. And he realized with a brief flash of self-consciousness that he was naked and didn't really want the man's attention on him in the first place. Although to be embarrassed about being naked around someone you just had sex with seemed entirely too ridiculous.

He was not left to consider too long before Seishirou wandered over the bed again and looked down at him almost fondly.

But Kamui knew better than that. The affection was not geared towards him anymore than one would look affectionately upon the TV through which one is entertained. He met The Sakurazukamori's looked, his own eyes dull and unconcerned ... merely waiting for Seishirou to speak.

"That was fun," he finally did, cheerfully. "We should do that again sometime."

"I win," Kamui murmured softly, neither asking nor telling ... simply wishing it to be true.

Seishirou shrugged, "maybe, that's the funny thing about destiny ... one never does know does one?"