Two Wings - An RK fanfic
by Peregrine Vision
4 - Two Steps Forward
"Hey, you're not eating."
"Oh..." Soujiro blinked down at his plate. "I'm...all right. Just not hungry." He gave Sagara-san a small smile. "I'm sorry. I'm wasting your fish..."
"Is this about last night?"
"E--Eh?" Trust Sagara-san not to skate around a topic.
Sagara-san put down chopsticks and bowl, reaching across the table to take Soujiro's chin in his hand. The unexpected touch, plus Soujiro's conditioning, stirred a heat in him. Blood rose to his cheeks. He made one last effort, averting his eyes and drawing away.
"You playing some kind of game?" There was quiet anger in Sagara-san's voice, and now he caught Soujiro's wrist. "You play shy maiden and try to run away, and then you kiss me, and now you're all shy again? Is this some kind of sick thing you made up now that you can't kill people anymore?"
"No!" Soujiro tugged halfheartedly; he could have pulled free if he wanted to, but he didn't. Protest as he might, he liked Sagara-san's rough palm against the sensitive skin of his wrist. Sagara-san's words hurt, cutting to the core of him that was not yet healed, that he feared would never heal. But that touch was worth the cutting words.
Sex was worse than the sword. One can never assume that just one little death will make no difference. One may not say, "just one limb more; if I cut off one little hand nothing bad should happen". But when you want someone's body instead of their life, it's so easy to steal another touch, another kiss, a tiny brush of skin on skin, and without warning both parties are tangled in the futon wondering what had happened.
"Did you mean it, then?" demanded Sagara-san.
"Mean what? Sagara-san--" Soujiro finally gathered his nerve and pulled his hand free "--I kissed you because I wanted to, but I don't know why, or how I feel about you. I'm not sure. Don't ask me now--last night was my mistake, and I'm sorry, but..."
Sagara-san pulled Soujiro into his lap, close enough so that a tender part of Soujiro brushed against a very hard part of Sagara-san. Soujiro gasped and struggled, which only brought more friction.
"Sagara-san, what are you--" The taller man stopped him with a rough kiss.
"It's a mistake we can both make," Sagara-san murmured harshly against his lips. "It's been so damn *long*--"
Breakfast abandoned, they scrambled away from the table, kissing frantically. Soujiro wrapped his arms round Sagara-san's neck. Then he squeaked as he felt his feet leave the ground. He panicked momentarily as he realized that Sagara-san had scooped him up, like a baby, or--his face got hot again--a bride.
Sagara-san carried him up the stairs. Soujiro didn't like this at all. He wasn't anywhere near the ground; he couldn't get a foothold anywhere. He was completely at Sagara-san's mercy, and it scared him.
"Hey, relax." Sagara-san nuzzled soothingly at Soujiro's neck. "I know what you're thinking. Kenshin used to freak out every time I did this."
Soujiro's mouth fell open. "You...you and Himura-san...?" Sagara-san stopped his mouth again. The man was a surprisingly expert kisser--or maybe not surprisingly, considering.
There was an ancient, traditional opium couch in the upstairs room, and this had been converted into a bed by the simple method of bundling a futon into it. Obviously Sagara-san had not bothered to tidy it up before he went down for breakfast. The rumpled, disordered sheets and few scattered pillows only added to the effect. The whole bed looked horribly decadent. Soujiro had an all-too-clear image of himself in that bed, naked, legs spread as Sagara-san--
Apparently Sagara-san had also had similar thoughts, because he growled and unloaded Soujiro on top of the whole pile of sheets and pillows without a care for order. He attacked Soujiro's Chinese jacket as he did, cursing the Chinese and their damn tight collars and their stupid knotty buttons. Finally he had both jacket and pants off. He pulled back a little, looking Soujiro over, and Soujiro heard him draw in a breath.
Shishio-san's conditioning had been more thorough than he knew--Soujiro suddenly became aware that he had relaxed into an unconscious pose, his limbs arranged to present the most pleasing composition. He had seen Yumi-san do this with her own body. It was rather like ikebana, only with a human instead of a few flowers.
It certainly seemed to be effective, at least where Sagara-san was concerned. He was staring at Soujiro as if he couldn't decide whether to pounce, or admire for a few more moments.
Sitting up, Soujiro reached for the other man's pants. The Chinese trousers required no fastening; they had a string in the waistband, which could be untied and pulled loose easily. Soujiro did this, getting up onto his knees in front of Sagara-san to do it better.
He couldn't help showing his own admiration as the clothes fell to the floor. Sagara-san's body was beautiful, the line of his belly, hips and powerful legs melding into each other without a spare bulge, the skin tanned and supple, with very few scars. Wonderingly Soujiro ran his hand along one hipbone, making Sagara-san shudder. He bent his head to kiss the skin, and his hair, fallen free of its tie, fell forward to brush against Sagara-san's thigh.
Sagara-san's hands slipped into Soujiro's hair. "Mmm, Souji..." murmured Sagara-san, crawling into the bed as well. They kissed again, hard, Sagara-san moving his kisses down Soujiro's neck, to slide a strong tongue against the pale flesh. Soujiro shuddered and moaned. Always before he had taken pleasure with pain, Shishio-san's caresses as damaging as they were arousing. To have so much pleasure, without the pain to dull it, was a delicious shock.
Sagara-san leaned against the railing at the head of the couch, pulling Soujiro up against his body. Soujiro rubbed himself along the sleek abdominals, his tender round bottom sliding back and forth along Sagara-san's shaft.
"Ah..." Sagara-san clutched him closer, almost devouring Soujiro's neck. "Oh, God, Souji..."
Methodically Soujiro worked his way down Sagara-san's gorgeous body until he came to the straining shaft. He ignored his own aching erection; it could wait a little. He slipped his tongue under the head, taking it into his mouth.
The skin jumped under his lips. Sagara-san's hands dug into Soujiro's hair, and he heard the older man give a heartfelt groan.
He began to make his way downwards along the formidable length, sucking slowly but thoroughly, working the flesh with his tongue, and, deeper, his throat. Sagara-san moaned and writhed, trying desperately not to thrust into Soujiro's mouth. Soujiro held him down firmly by the hips and sucked, and licked, and twisted his head a little, making Sagara-san give out a hoarse little scream of pleasure.
It was only a few seconds later that Sagara-san gasped, "Souji--stop--I'm going to come--I'm--"
Soujiro did not withdraw. He pulled back barely an inch, to loosen his hold, and took the warm thick fluid straight down his throat. It was delicious, not in the least like Shishio-san's bitter seed, which always burned on the way down.
Finally he released Sagara-san. Almost instantly he was pinned under the taller man, his wrists pinioned above his head in Sagara-san's iron fingers. He gasped and arched as Sagara-san nudged his thighs apart with one knee. "A-already?" he managed to say.
Sagara-san grinned. Soujiro glanced down the length of their bodies, and was amazed to see that the other man was quickly recovering his earlier erection. "D-don't you need to rest first?" he stammered.
"Didn't Kenshin ever tell you?" Sagara-san murmured, almost purring, into Soujiro's ear. He ran a tongue around the rim. "My best advantage in a fight...is my stamina." Gently his teeth closed on the ear, and he released Soujiro's wrists, sliding his hands down Soujiro's back to press the young man tightly against him.
"Sagara-san!" Soujiro wrapped his arms round the strong neck and buried his face in the dark mass of hair that fell over both of them. It smelled...wild; not *bad*, but very like an animal. It stirred something primal deep in Soujiro's gut, and he writhed in response.
The other man groaned at the movement of Soujiro's hips against his own. Already his cock was hard again. He slid his hands down further, briefly squeezing Soujiro's rear--the young man could not help making a high surprised noise--and moving smoothly down Soujiro's thighs to spread them.
To Soujiro's amazement, Sagara-san paused. Soujiro lifted dazed blue-gray eyes to the other's dismayed face.
"Souji--" Clearly frustrated, Sagara-san stroked the inside of Soujiro's thighs. "God, I want to--but I--I don't have any..." He rubbed his fingers together to demonstrate.
Soujiro could have laughed. "Is that all?" he said. He reached down with one hand and slid a hand along Sagara-san's length. The other man hissed.
Suddenly Soujiro squeezed his thighs together and twisted his body. With a sharp cry Sagara-san fell to the bed, as Soujiro rose up, their positions reversed. Sagara-san stared up at Soujiro's flushed face, his breath knocked from him.
"I'm used to taking it dry, Sagara-san," breathed Soujiro, leaning close to his lover's shocked face. "I've been doing it for *years*." He sat up, lifted himself up onto his knees, settled himself, and then sank downwards onto Sagara-san's cock.
The pain was expected, and only served to sting his desire to full life, as it had done before. With soft moans and slow rocking movements Soujiro impaled himself. Sagara-san could only clutch feebly at the younger man's hips.
Early on Soujiro had learned what pleased Shishio-san, what would please any man. He had learned this as quickly as he had learned the sword, and as thoroughly. Every part of the body had muscles with their own purpose, and he had learned to control every one of those that could be controlled, as well as some which most people thought could not. He flexed his spine and tightened his legs, and Sagara-san arched backward into the pillows and let out a long shuddering moan.
Soon the bleeding began. It always did, and with Sagara-san's size it was only to be expected. This time, though, as Soujiro bled, his pain began to ease. The blood, instead of drying with heat and caking and making him sticky and the entry harder, began to coat him inside. Sagara-san's phallus slid back and forth more easily inside him. Soon he was rocking in earnest, his head thrown back, gasping for breath as he rode Sagara-san's muscular body, rode and reveled in the freedom of pleasure without pain.
"More, Souji," moaned Sagara-san, his eyes shut, his head digging backwards into the old pillows. "Please, God, Souji, give me *more*--"
Closing his own eyes, Soujiro drove his body down and forward onto the rampant erection, his mouth open in a cry he could not voice, as Sagara-san groaned and growled and sobbed underneath him.
He was suddenly hauled close, and clutched to Sagara-san's broad chest, as once more their positions were flipped. Sagara-san rolled on top of him, panting, his dark eyes wild as he stared down at Soujiro, one large rough hand gently pushing a pale thigh backward, while the other grasped the small of Soujiro's back and pressed the younger man up against the older.
"Rurouni--"panted Sagara-san, thrusting till tears of ecstasy came to Soujiro's eyes. Soujiro cried in frantic desire as Sagara-san pinned him against the bed with thrust after sliding thrust, his mouth demanding against Soujiro's jaw, his hands now vagrant across Soujiro's eager skin. "My sweet--little--rurouni...! Give it--my little warrior! Give it to me!"
"Sa...Sa...Sano-san!" gasped Soujiro. He could not say anything more, not even Sagara-san. He could find nothing else to say, even curses, and he cried that name over and over until the cries became screams. "Sano-san--Sano-san--*Sano-san*--SANO-SAAAAAAAANNNNN...!!!"
With a final terrible shudder, Sagara-san let out a roar like a tortured lion, and as the hot, sweet fluid pulsed into his body Soujiro let himself go, shrieking as if he were being killed instead of pleasured beyond imagining.
His screams soon died down to sobs, and the sobs to long weak breaths. The breaths came all the harder for Sagara-san's weight on top of his chest. Sagara-san was also breathing hard and deep, his head securely tucked into Soujiro's neck, his arms coming round the young man as he withdrew his spent cock from inside of Soujiro. With a sigh of utter contentment he snuggled into Soujiro's hesitant embrace.
"You okay?" he murmured, already drowsy.
This was a surprise. Soujiro was not used to conversation in bed. Usually everyone just fell asleep, or got up immediately to clean up and get on with the business of the day.
"Um...I believe so," he hazarded, not really sure what Sagara-san was asking.
In actuality, he was beginning to feel the acute consequences of their love-play. It was funny how, even as Soujiro's muscles grew hard and resistant to pain over time, this particular part of him never really reconciled itself to its constant abuse.
Or maybe it was that he hadn't done this in over six years.
Sleepily, Sagara-san nuzzled his collarbone. "You never give a straight answer, do you, Kensh--" He stopped, and recovered himself, but in that moment Soujiro understood.
He wondered at his sudden romanticism. Had he expected any different? Why was he so disappointed? Perhaps because the pleasure had been so unexpected, that the rejection had also been unexpected. That was what happened to those who tried pleasure without pain. The truth was, there was no such thing. There were many forms of pain. One paid for the pleasure eventually. It was the way of the world.
Soujiro gave a low laugh. How quickly his old pessimism returned, when faced with a bad moment. Clearly he was not as healed as he had thought.
"Better than a whore", huh? said an acid voice in his head. Soujiro just managed not to give a start. Shishio-san laughed his dry, sensual, cruel laugh. You're no better than you used to be, Sou. You're no better than you ever were.
"Soujiro?" Sagara-san asked, tentatively.
It was a moment before Soujiro could collect his thoughts. "Do--do you miss him very much?" asked Soujiro, evasively, cuddling the shaggy head close to him like a favorite dog. Sagara-san responded with another artless snuggle.
"Yeah, I guess. Sometimes I get lonely..." He buried his face in Soujiro's neck, unwilling to talk further.
"We all do, Sagara-san," Soujiro replied softly, staring up at the ceiling framed by the dark red wood of the bed. It was wrinkling in spots, from damp. He gazed at it for a while more.
Shishio-san laughed in his head, long and loudly, echoed by Yumi-san's ladylike titter. Soujiro shut his eyes and strove to ignore them.
"Are we still having breakfast?" He was surprised that he had actually managed to keep his voice neutral. He felt as if he should be shouting to drown out the other two. But the voices were dying away, falling silent again, until the next time they decided to taunt him.
"Yeah, I'm hungry. Kinda forgot that." Sagara-san stretched, extremely slothfully, and rolled onto his back beside Soujiro. "Feels good in bed though." He nuzzled the crook of Soujiro's arm, causing a lovely tingle.
"I'm sorry I stained your sheets..."
"Ah, no problem. Spunk washes off pretty easily, and it doesn't stain like blood or ink."
"But blood stains--they are hard to remove, aren't they? And I bled rather freely--"
With a choking curse, Sagara-san was out of the bed. A surprised Soujiro crawled out after him, wincing a little.
"What is it, Sagara-san? Should we take the sheets--?"
"I thought you said you were okay!" Sagara-san said angrily.
"Sagara-san--"
"Don't *call* me that, dammit!"
Soujiro inhaled sharply. His chest was seized with a sudden burning tightness that was almost like pain. It had been a long time since he was angry. And it made him very angry to think, even for a moment, that Shishio-san had been right about something so personal.
"What do you want me to call you, then?" he flashed back. "Perhaps I should call you 'Sano'! But why stop there? I ought to grow my hair a little longer, dye it red, slash my cheek! Isn't that what you want?"
Sagara-san stared at him. The angry expression disappeared, to be replaced by one of remorse. But it was far too late for penitence.
"You're the same as Shishio-san," accused Soujiro. "Why should you care if I bleed? You got what you wanted. It isn't me that you want in any case." He snatched up his borrowed clothes and put on the long jacket, which came down to his knees. "I don't know what happened between you and Himura-san, and I'm not meant to know. It isn't my business. But if you want him so much, then go back to him and don't use me anymore. I'm tired of being used. I've been used all my life."
He fled downstairs and hid behind his little screen, burying himself in the blankets. He wished he could cry. Now he didn't know *what* to believe.
For so long he had devoted himself to Shishio-san's Darwinian ideals. After Himura-san had given him the gift, and the burden, of atonement, he had begun to believe that the world might be a better place than he had thought. His wanderings, and the happy, peaceful Japan that he had seen, helped reinforce that belief. But now...
//What if it *isn't* really the world?// he wondered. //What if these things...only happen to me?//
It was a sickening thought. To be abused for the rest of his life...while the rest of the world went on in happy, ignorant contentment...Soujiro gave a long, deep shudder.
He had wanted it so much. Had *wanted* Sagara-san's hands on him. Those strong fighter's hands, relaxed from their clenched tautness into lover's caresses on his skin...how wonderful they had been. And what a pleasant surprise to find Sagara-san a more able and experienced lover than he had thought!
Soujiro quite choked with bitterness. Of course there was no question of love on either side; it was absurd. It was pure carnal need that had pushed them into each other's arms. Yet even so, one would think Sagara-san would at least have the courtesy to keep his fantasies to himself, and not shove them in Soujiro's face like that. He might be a libertine, but he didn't want to be a whore again.
He heard Sagara-san's light step on the stairs, and shuffling sounds as the other man apparently settled in front of the screen. "Souji--"
"Don't call me that," Soujiro echoed him, acidly. His cheerful, innocent mask had chipped and fallen away, but he no longer cared. Sagara-san had seen what lay beneath it already.
"You'll need to wash out the damage I did, you know." The voice from behind the screen was light, but with a forced lightness.
"I'm all right," Soujiro replied coolly, ignoring the burning pain in his rear. "You needn't worry."
There was a strained pause. "Look, I'm sorry, all right?" Sagara-san exploded suddenly, sounding thoroughly frustrated. "It's just that I've been lonely, and you've been lonely, and I guess I'm not quite over Kenshin, even after five years."
"Why don't you..."
"Because he's married that Jou-chan by now!" There was a bang, as of knuckles on wood. "Because he doesn't love me! Because he never *did* love me, not like...her...!" Then the rough voice, sounding unusually soft and miserable, "Because I couldn't stand seeing him again, now that he's so happy and doesn't need me anymore..."
Sitting up, Soujiro pulled back one fold of the panel to reveal Sagara-san with his long body folded in on itself in an an attitude of complete despair. His long uneven mane, freed of the bandanna, hung down round his shoulders and over his face. The broad shoulders quivered a little with a suppressed sob and then were still.
"Sagara-san--" Hesitantly, Soujiro reached out, unsure of the other's reaction.
The street fighter lifted his head to reveal reddened but dry eyes. Quite childishly he held out his arms for Soujiro, who crawled shyly into his lap and curled up there. Sagara-san hugged him so tightly his bones creaked. The sensation was oddly pleasant...perhaps because it was so unusual. Sex was something Soujiro was accustomed to, but hugs were quite new to him.
"I'm sorry," muttered Sagara-san. "I guess I screwed up. I was trying to be nice, and everything, but I guess I just don't have that much self-control." He nuzzled into Soujiro's soft hair. "I've been wanting to do that since yesterday, when I saw you in my big yukata...it just reminded me so much of when Kenshin went around the dojo in Jou-chan's dad's house clothes. You kinda look like him, see. The big eyes, and the cute little smile, and your build and the way you walk...it was kinda like having him back for a little while. I was just being selfish."
Soujiro put his arms round Sagara-san's neck. He thought he was beginning to understand his new friend.
//Sagara-san says what he thinks. He does things not because he has a plan, but just because he wants to. He doesn't have to have a reason for what he does. Not everyone has to know exactly what they're doing all the time.// The memory of last night's kiss was proof of that.
"I'm sorry, Souji. I didn't mean to hurt you like that."
Soujiro blushed a little at the nickname. "It's quite all right, Sagara-san," he murmured back.
The other man gave a little shake of his head, much like an annoyed horse. "Would you mind not calling me Sagara-san?" he said. "I feel like a respectable citizen when you do, and I don't like it at all." He grinned at Soujiro's startled look, and the young rurouni had to laugh.
"Would...'Sano-san' be all right?"
"That's fine." Sano-san gave Soujiro a final squeeze. "C'mon, I'll get a washtub set up. Don't fall into it before you're ready, though," he teased.
Soujiro was alone in the tiny washroom before he remembered he still had not asked Sano-san about Liu Chen. He smiled a little. Learning to be emotional was certainly rattling his focus.
-end 4-
"Hey, you're not eating."
"Oh..." Soujiro blinked down at his plate. "I'm...all right. Just not hungry." He gave Sagara-san a small smile. "I'm sorry. I'm wasting your fish..."
"Is this about last night?"
"E--Eh?" Trust Sagara-san not to skate around a topic.
Sagara-san put down chopsticks and bowl, reaching across the table to take Soujiro's chin in his hand. The unexpected touch, plus Soujiro's conditioning, stirred a heat in him. Blood rose to his cheeks. He made one last effort, averting his eyes and drawing away.
"You playing some kind of game?" There was quiet anger in Sagara-san's voice, and now he caught Soujiro's wrist. "You play shy maiden and try to run away, and then you kiss me, and now you're all shy again? Is this some kind of sick thing you made up now that you can't kill people anymore?"
"No!" Soujiro tugged halfheartedly; he could have pulled free if he wanted to, but he didn't. Protest as he might, he liked Sagara-san's rough palm against the sensitive skin of his wrist. Sagara-san's words hurt, cutting to the core of him that was not yet healed, that he feared would never heal. But that touch was worth the cutting words.
Sex was worse than the sword. One can never assume that just one little death will make no difference. One may not say, "just one limb more; if I cut off one little hand nothing bad should happen". But when you want someone's body instead of their life, it's so easy to steal another touch, another kiss, a tiny brush of skin on skin, and without warning both parties are tangled in the futon wondering what had happened.
"Did you mean it, then?" demanded Sagara-san.
"Mean what? Sagara-san--" Soujiro finally gathered his nerve and pulled his hand free "--I kissed you because I wanted to, but I don't know why, or how I feel about you. I'm not sure. Don't ask me now--last night was my mistake, and I'm sorry, but..."
Sagara-san pulled Soujiro into his lap, close enough so that a tender part of Soujiro brushed against a very hard part of Sagara-san. Soujiro gasped and struggled, which only brought more friction.
"Sagara-san, what are you--" The taller man stopped him with a rough kiss.
"It's a mistake we can both make," Sagara-san murmured harshly against his lips. "It's been so damn *long*--"
Breakfast abandoned, they scrambled away from the table, kissing frantically. Soujiro wrapped his arms round Sagara-san's neck. Then he squeaked as he felt his feet leave the ground. He panicked momentarily as he realized that Sagara-san had scooped him up, like a baby, or--his face got hot again--a bride.
Sagara-san carried him up the stairs. Soujiro didn't like this at all. He wasn't anywhere near the ground; he couldn't get a foothold anywhere. He was completely at Sagara-san's mercy, and it scared him.
"Hey, relax." Sagara-san nuzzled soothingly at Soujiro's neck. "I know what you're thinking. Kenshin used to freak out every time I did this."
Soujiro's mouth fell open. "You...you and Himura-san...?" Sagara-san stopped his mouth again. The man was a surprisingly expert kisser--or maybe not surprisingly, considering.
There was an ancient, traditional opium couch in the upstairs room, and this had been converted into a bed by the simple method of bundling a futon into it. Obviously Sagara-san had not bothered to tidy it up before he went down for breakfast. The rumpled, disordered sheets and few scattered pillows only added to the effect. The whole bed looked horribly decadent. Soujiro had an all-too-clear image of himself in that bed, naked, legs spread as Sagara-san--
Apparently Sagara-san had also had similar thoughts, because he growled and unloaded Soujiro on top of the whole pile of sheets and pillows without a care for order. He attacked Soujiro's Chinese jacket as he did, cursing the Chinese and their damn tight collars and their stupid knotty buttons. Finally he had both jacket and pants off. He pulled back a little, looking Soujiro over, and Soujiro heard him draw in a breath.
Shishio-san's conditioning had been more thorough than he knew--Soujiro suddenly became aware that he had relaxed into an unconscious pose, his limbs arranged to present the most pleasing composition. He had seen Yumi-san do this with her own body. It was rather like ikebana, only with a human instead of a few flowers.
It certainly seemed to be effective, at least where Sagara-san was concerned. He was staring at Soujiro as if he couldn't decide whether to pounce, or admire for a few more moments.
Sitting up, Soujiro reached for the other man's pants. The Chinese trousers required no fastening; they had a string in the waistband, which could be untied and pulled loose easily. Soujiro did this, getting up onto his knees in front of Sagara-san to do it better.
He couldn't help showing his own admiration as the clothes fell to the floor. Sagara-san's body was beautiful, the line of his belly, hips and powerful legs melding into each other without a spare bulge, the skin tanned and supple, with very few scars. Wonderingly Soujiro ran his hand along one hipbone, making Sagara-san shudder. He bent his head to kiss the skin, and his hair, fallen free of its tie, fell forward to brush against Sagara-san's thigh.
Sagara-san's hands slipped into Soujiro's hair. "Mmm, Souji..." murmured Sagara-san, crawling into the bed as well. They kissed again, hard, Sagara-san moving his kisses down Soujiro's neck, to slide a strong tongue against the pale flesh. Soujiro shuddered and moaned. Always before he had taken pleasure with pain, Shishio-san's caresses as damaging as they were arousing. To have so much pleasure, without the pain to dull it, was a delicious shock.
Sagara-san leaned against the railing at the head of the couch, pulling Soujiro up against his body. Soujiro rubbed himself along the sleek abdominals, his tender round bottom sliding back and forth along Sagara-san's shaft.
"Ah..." Sagara-san clutched him closer, almost devouring Soujiro's neck. "Oh, God, Souji..."
Methodically Soujiro worked his way down Sagara-san's gorgeous body until he came to the straining shaft. He ignored his own aching erection; it could wait a little. He slipped his tongue under the head, taking it into his mouth.
The skin jumped under his lips. Sagara-san's hands dug into Soujiro's hair, and he heard the older man give a heartfelt groan.
He began to make his way downwards along the formidable length, sucking slowly but thoroughly, working the flesh with his tongue, and, deeper, his throat. Sagara-san moaned and writhed, trying desperately not to thrust into Soujiro's mouth. Soujiro held him down firmly by the hips and sucked, and licked, and twisted his head a little, making Sagara-san give out a hoarse little scream of pleasure.
It was only a few seconds later that Sagara-san gasped, "Souji--stop--I'm going to come--I'm--"
Soujiro did not withdraw. He pulled back barely an inch, to loosen his hold, and took the warm thick fluid straight down his throat. It was delicious, not in the least like Shishio-san's bitter seed, which always burned on the way down.
Finally he released Sagara-san. Almost instantly he was pinned under the taller man, his wrists pinioned above his head in Sagara-san's iron fingers. He gasped and arched as Sagara-san nudged his thighs apart with one knee. "A-already?" he managed to say.
Sagara-san grinned. Soujiro glanced down the length of their bodies, and was amazed to see that the other man was quickly recovering his earlier erection. "D-don't you need to rest first?" he stammered.
"Didn't Kenshin ever tell you?" Sagara-san murmured, almost purring, into Soujiro's ear. He ran a tongue around the rim. "My best advantage in a fight...is my stamina." Gently his teeth closed on the ear, and he released Soujiro's wrists, sliding his hands down Soujiro's back to press the young man tightly against him.
"Sagara-san!" Soujiro wrapped his arms round the strong neck and buried his face in the dark mass of hair that fell over both of them. It smelled...wild; not *bad*, but very like an animal. It stirred something primal deep in Soujiro's gut, and he writhed in response.
The other man groaned at the movement of Soujiro's hips against his own. Already his cock was hard again. He slid his hands down further, briefly squeezing Soujiro's rear--the young man could not help making a high surprised noise--and moving smoothly down Soujiro's thighs to spread them.
To Soujiro's amazement, Sagara-san paused. Soujiro lifted dazed blue-gray eyes to the other's dismayed face.
"Souji--" Clearly frustrated, Sagara-san stroked the inside of Soujiro's thighs. "God, I want to--but I--I don't have any..." He rubbed his fingers together to demonstrate.
Soujiro could have laughed. "Is that all?" he said. He reached down with one hand and slid a hand along Sagara-san's length. The other man hissed.
Suddenly Soujiro squeezed his thighs together and twisted his body. With a sharp cry Sagara-san fell to the bed, as Soujiro rose up, their positions reversed. Sagara-san stared up at Soujiro's flushed face, his breath knocked from him.
"I'm used to taking it dry, Sagara-san," breathed Soujiro, leaning close to his lover's shocked face. "I've been doing it for *years*." He sat up, lifted himself up onto his knees, settled himself, and then sank downwards onto Sagara-san's cock.
The pain was expected, and only served to sting his desire to full life, as it had done before. With soft moans and slow rocking movements Soujiro impaled himself. Sagara-san could only clutch feebly at the younger man's hips.
Early on Soujiro had learned what pleased Shishio-san, what would please any man. He had learned this as quickly as he had learned the sword, and as thoroughly. Every part of the body had muscles with their own purpose, and he had learned to control every one of those that could be controlled, as well as some which most people thought could not. He flexed his spine and tightened his legs, and Sagara-san arched backward into the pillows and let out a long shuddering moan.
Soon the bleeding began. It always did, and with Sagara-san's size it was only to be expected. This time, though, as Soujiro bled, his pain began to ease. The blood, instead of drying with heat and caking and making him sticky and the entry harder, began to coat him inside. Sagara-san's phallus slid back and forth more easily inside him. Soon he was rocking in earnest, his head thrown back, gasping for breath as he rode Sagara-san's muscular body, rode and reveled in the freedom of pleasure without pain.
"More, Souji," moaned Sagara-san, his eyes shut, his head digging backwards into the old pillows. "Please, God, Souji, give me *more*--"
Closing his own eyes, Soujiro drove his body down and forward onto the rampant erection, his mouth open in a cry he could not voice, as Sagara-san groaned and growled and sobbed underneath him.
He was suddenly hauled close, and clutched to Sagara-san's broad chest, as once more their positions were flipped. Sagara-san rolled on top of him, panting, his dark eyes wild as he stared down at Soujiro, one large rough hand gently pushing a pale thigh backward, while the other grasped the small of Soujiro's back and pressed the younger man up against the older.
"Rurouni--"panted Sagara-san, thrusting till tears of ecstasy came to Soujiro's eyes. Soujiro cried in frantic desire as Sagara-san pinned him against the bed with thrust after sliding thrust, his mouth demanding against Soujiro's jaw, his hands now vagrant across Soujiro's eager skin. "My sweet--little--rurouni...! Give it--my little warrior! Give it to me!"
"Sa...Sa...Sano-san!" gasped Soujiro. He could not say anything more, not even Sagara-san. He could find nothing else to say, even curses, and he cried that name over and over until the cries became screams. "Sano-san--Sano-san--*Sano-san*--SANO-SAAAAAAAANNNNN...!!!"
With a final terrible shudder, Sagara-san let out a roar like a tortured lion, and as the hot, sweet fluid pulsed into his body Soujiro let himself go, shrieking as if he were being killed instead of pleasured beyond imagining.
His screams soon died down to sobs, and the sobs to long weak breaths. The breaths came all the harder for Sagara-san's weight on top of his chest. Sagara-san was also breathing hard and deep, his head securely tucked into Soujiro's neck, his arms coming round the young man as he withdrew his spent cock from inside of Soujiro. With a sigh of utter contentment he snuggled into Soujiro's hesitant embrace.
"You okay?" he murmured, already drowsy.
This was a surprise. Soujiro was not used to conversation in bed. Usually everyone just fell asleep, or got up immediately to clean up and get on with the business of the day.
"Um...I believe so," he hazarded, not really sure what Sagara-san was asking.
In actuality, he was beginning to feel the acute consequences of their love-play. It was funny how, even as Soujiro's muscles grew hard and resistant to pain over time, this particular part of him never really reconciled itself to its constant abuse.
Or maybe it was that he hadn't done this in over six years.
Sleepily, Sagara-san nuzzled his collarbone. "You never give a straight answer, do you, Kensh--" He stopped, and recovered himself, but in that moment Soujiro understood.
He wondered at his sudden romanticism. Had he expected any different? Why was he so disappointed? Perhaps because the pleasure had been so unexpected, that the rejection had also been unexpected. That was what happened to those who tried pleasure without pain. The truth was, there was no such thing. There were many forms of pain. One paid for the pleasure eventually. It was the way of the world.
Soujiro gave a low laugh. How quickly his old pessimism returned, when faced with a bad moment. Clearly he was not as healed as he had thought.
"Better than a whore", huh? said an acid voice in his head. Soujiro just managed not to give a start. Shishio-san laughed his dry, sensual, cruel laugh. You're no better than you used to be, Sou. You're no better than you ever were.
"Soujiro?" Sagara-san asked, tentatively.
It was a moment before Soujiro could collect his thoughts. "Do--do you miss him very much?" asked Soujiro, evasively, cuddling the shaggy head close to him like a favorite dog. Sagara-san responded with another artless snuggle.
"Yeah, I guess. Sometimes I get lonely..." He buried his face in Soujiro's neck, unwilling to talk further.
"We all do, Sagara-san," Soujiro replied softly, staring up at the ceiling framed by the dark red wood of the bed. It was wrinkling in spots, from damp. He gazed at it for a while more.
Shishio-san laughed in his head, long and loudly, echoed by Yumi-san's ladylike titter. Soujiro shut his eyes and strove to ignore them.
"Are we still having breakfast?" He was surprised that he had actually managed to keep his voice neutral. He felt as if he should be shouting to drown out the other two. But the voices were dying away, falling silent again, until the next time they decided to taunt him.
"Yeah, I'm hungry. Kinda forgot that." Sagara-san stretched, extremely slothfully, and rolled onto his back beside Soujiro. "Feels good in bed though." He nuzzled the crook of Soujiro's arm, causing a lovely tingle.
"I'm sorry I stained your sheets..."
"Ah, no problem. Spunk washes off pretty easily, and it doesn't stain like blood or ink."
"But blood stains--they are hard to remove, aren't they? And I bled rather freely--"
With a choking curse, Sagara-san was out of the bed. A surprised Soujiro crawled out after him, wincing a little.
"What is it, Sagara-san? Should we take the sheets--?"
"I thought you said you were okay!" Sagara-san said angrily.
"Sagara-san--"
"Don't *call* me that, dammit!"
Soujiro inhaled sharply. His chest was seized with a sudden burning tightness that was almost like pain. It had been a long time since he was angry. And it made him very angry to think, even for a moment, that Shishio-san had been right about something so personal.
"What do you want me to call you, then?" he flashed back. "Perhaps I should call you 'Sano'! But why stop there? I ought to grow my hair a little longer, dye it red, slash my cheek! Isn't that what you want?"
Sagara-san stared at him. The angry expression disappeared, to be replaced by one of remorse. But it was far too late for penitence.
"You're the same as Shishio-san," accused Soujiro. "Why should you care if I bleed? You got what you wanted. It isn't me that you want in any case." He snatched up his borrowed clothes and put on the long jacket, which came down to his knees. "I don't know what happened between you and Himura-san, and I'm not meant to know. It isn't my business. But if you want him so much, then go back to him and don't use me anymore. I'm tired of being used. I've been used all my life."
He fled downstairs and hid behind his little screen, burying himself in the blankets. He wished he could cry. Now he didn't know *what* to believe.
For so long he had devoted himself to Shishio-san's Darwinian ideals. After Himura-san had given him the gift, and the burden, of atonement, he had begun to believe that the world might be a better place than he had thought. His wanderings, and the happy, peaceful Japan that he had seen, helped reinforce that belief. But now...
//What if it *isn't* really the world?// he wondered. //What if these things...only happen to me?//
It was a sickening thought. To be abused for the rest of his life...while the rest of the world went on in happy, ignorant contentment...Soujiro gave a long, deep shudder.
He had wanted it so much. Had *wanted* Sagara-san's hands on him. Those strong fighter's hands, relaxed from their clenched tautness into lover's caresses on his skin...how wonderful they had been. And what a pleasant surprise to find Sagara-san a more able and experienced lover than he had thought!
Soujiro quite choked with bitterness. Of course there was no question of love on either side; it was absurd. It was pure carnal need that had pushed them into each other's arms. Yet even so, one would think Sagara-san would at least have the courtesy to keep his fantasies to himself, and not shove them in Soujiro's face like that. He might be a libertine, but he didn't want to be a whore again.
He heard Sagara-san's light step on the stairs, and shuffling sounds as the other man apparently settled in front of the screen. "Souji--"
"Don't call me that," Soujiro echoed him, acidly. His cheerful, innocent mask had chipped and fallen away, but he no longer cared. Sagara-san had seen what lay beneath it already.
"You'll need to wash out the damage I did, you know." The voice from behind the screen was light, but with a forced lightness.
"I'm all right," Soujiro replied coolly, ignoring the burning pain in his rear. "You needn't worry."
There was a strained pause. "Look, I'm sorry, all right?" Sagara-san exploded suddenly, sounding thoroughly frustrated. "It's just that I've been lonely, and you've been lonely, and I guess I'm not quite over Kenshin, even after five years."
"Why don't you..."
"Because he's married that Jou-chan by now!" There was a bang, as of knuckles on wood. "Because he doesn't love me! Because he never *did* love me, not like...her...!" Then the rough voice, sounding unusually soft and miserable, "Because I couldn't stand seeing him again, now that he's so happy and doesn't need me anymore..."
Sitting up, Soujiro pulled back one fold of the panel to reveal Sagara-san with his long body folded in on itself in an an attitude of complete despair. His long uneven mane, freed of the bandanna, hung down round his shoulders and over his face. The broad shoulders quivered a little with a suppressed sob and then were still.
"Sagara-san--" Hesitantly, Soujiro reached out, unsure of the other's reaction.
The street fighter lifted his head to reveal reddened but dry eyes. Quite childishly he held out his arms for Soujiro, who crawled shyly into his lap and curled up there. Sagara-san hugged him so tightly his bones creaked. The sensation was oddly pleasant...perhaps because it was so unusual. Sex was something Soujiro was accustomed to, but hugs were quite new to him.
"I'm sorry," muttered Sagara-san. "I guess I screwed up. I was trying to be nice, and everything, but I guess I just don't have that much self-control." He nuzzled into Soujiro's soft hair. "I've been wanting to do that since yesterday, when I saw you in my big yukata...it just reminded me so much of when Kenshin went around the dojo in Jou-chan's dad's house clothes. You kinda look like him, see. The big eyes, and the cute little smile, and your build and the way you walk...it was kinda like having him back for a little while. I was just being selfish."
Soujiro put his arms round Sagara-san's neck. He thought he was beginning to understand his new friend.
//Sagara-san says what he thinks. He does things not because he has a plan, but just because he wants to. He doesn't have to have a reason for what he does. Not everyone has to know exactly what they're doing all the time.// The memory of last night's kiss was proof of that.
"I'm sorry, Souji. I didn't mean to hurt you like that."
Soujiro blushed a little at the nickname. "It's quite all right, Sagara-san," he murmured back.
The other man gave a little shake of his head, much like an annoyed horse. "Would you mind not calling me Sagara-san?" he said. "I feel like a respectable citizen when you do, and I don't like it at all." He grinned at Soujiro's startled look, and the young rurouni had to laugh.
"Would...'Sano-san' be all right?"
"That's fine." Sano-san gave Soujiro a final squeeze. "C'mon, I'll get a washtub set up. Don't fall into it before you're ready, though," he teased.
Soujiro was alone in the tiny washroom before he remembered he still had not asked Sano-san about Liu Chen. He smiled a little. Learning to be emotional was certainly rattling his focus.
-end 4-