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Author's Note: Rated R à NC-17 chapter for Fuuma/Seishirou lemony goodness. You have been forewarned, because this fanfic is in the PG-13 section. You have been forewarned. You have been forewarned.
That should be enough. Oh, did I mention that you were forewarned about the R rating?
Special thanks to author Jacqueline Carey for her novels, which gave me insight into how to write a yaoi lemon seeing as how I'm a straight guy, these things don't come easily to me Enjoi, my dearest readers.
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"Is it really true, Seishirou-san, that your wish has changed?" Fuuma walked out of the shadows, his hand still raised, but a glint in his eye. "I warned you of such an alliance, but your wish has still changed."
Seishirou said nothing.
"Is it truly your wish to feel, as others do?" Fuuma knelt down near him and took his hand.
"Then I will grant your wish, Seishirou-san." Fuuma kissed the hand, and leaned in for more. Seishirou shuddered at the touch and tried to turn away, but a soft hand cupped his chin as one might cup a dove, and he couldn't move anymore.
"It all started with the girl in the ice cream store, who touched you. Such an impulse, her friendship, but perhaps not as misguided as you had hoped." Fuuma's hand slid down Seishirou's neck, loosening the collar. He almost gasped; the touch raised his nerves to a point, reflecting similar motions below. The very motion of raising his head to face /Kamui/ was agony; the blast had shaken him to his core.
"Then came the confrontation with the other /Kamui/ and the young Sumeragi." You could put ice on that voice and it wouldn't melt. Fuuma leaned in, the breath a titillation on his neck. "Ah yes, the boy." Seishirou could feel his smile, and he fought with his own mind as much as he did his body, trying not to let his mind betray his thoughts as much as his body has betrayed his mind "You never thought that you could feel jealousy. Often the negative emotions are more powerful, more potent than the positive but you did feel it for that boy."
I think I'm jealous, Subaru-kun.
"He was yours once, and now he isn't, in more ways than one. You've never felt loss before, and it hurt you." Fuuma's hand casually undid the overcoat and jacket, the fabric almost yearned to open to that touch and then traced a pattern across front of Seishirou's shirt. Seishirou tried to shove away, but one of his arms was too injured to move, and the other was pinned down. Fuuma's free arm toyed with his hair, and he felt a tongue slip across his chin and invade his lips. He couldn't even cry out, and hated himself for feeling some of his resistance slip. Seishirou attempted to pull his head away, but some invisible thread kept him hanging
His thoughts washed away in a moment. Soon, though, he had to come up for air.
"You see," the voice whispered in his ear. "The final stroke was the flamecaster. Beautiful, smart, aloof, and yes, somewhat erotic. She appealed to your mind and body, perhaps even to your humanity. A touch of it, no more, but a touch of humanity is perhaps all you needed." And with that, /Kamui forced himself upon the Sakurazukamori, and somehow the last vestiges fell away as if blasted by the power of God, and Seishirou felt himself give in.
*
Author's Fun:
Satsuki: Check on /kamui/, will you BEAST?
BEAST: 0100110110101011000111100101101010
Satsuki: Eh? *looks at pictures*
Satsuki: O.O *twitch*
*
Seishirou felt himself tremble with anticipation and horror. Sweat clung to his brow and every motion was agony and pleasure and ecstasy all at once. Fuuma bit his lower lip and arced his tongue inside, tasting the blood, and a haze fell over his vision. The taste was sweet, faintly metallic, and he glorified in it.
Fuuma smiled, and grabbed the injured arm. Seishirou winced, then groaned as the boy wrenched it upwards, and he felt the arm slide back into place. The boy's pale skin seemed to glow in the dim light as he worked on Seishirou's jacket, a careful lust entering his eyes. Seishirou grinned inwardly, realized his lover's yes, his lover, if only temporarily, relative inexperience. Bracing himself, Seishirou took Fuuma by the neck and pulled him closer. If he was to face eternal damnation at the hands of he who hunts with God's will, then he might as well enjoy it. What else could he do? He embraced this particular destiny with both hands, and with both hands Seishirou worked to undo the buttons to Fuuma's uniform. Fuuma shrugged his shoulders as the fabric slid off, leaving just the pale skin.
The skin burned impossibly hot. Perhaps the energies of his God and of his lust had combined, permeating the body with an intense fury that matched the passion of his mouth. Hands gripped the bottom of Seishirou's undershirt, and slid it upwards. A slick, pleasant sensation followed the shirt, trickling up Seishirou's navel, and he arced at the touch. When his sight had cleared, all he could feel was the yearning of Fuuma pressing against his body, straining against the restrictions of the cloth, and the skittering pleasure across his skin as Fuuma clutched at his back. He leaned back, falling to the floor, forgetting for a moment that he was lying against a wall, and felt the cool concrete against his skin. Sweat and blood mixed in his mouth, a bittersweet taste that matched the fire coursing in his veins, pleasure and pain both.
The pressure against his lips reminded him of other pleasures, and Seishirou allowed himself to be seduced and rocked, played the uke for the moment, feeling the sensation of a tongue roiling his mouth, the harsh grasp of the powerful fingers. They were soft, the calluses of his basketball days worn away in weeks of misuse. Without warning, the power pulsed again, and once more Seishirou was torn almost to unconsciousness, blood and sweat mixing on the floor in the brew of love, the creation of his own juices, stirred by the temptation of Fuuma.
It was impossible not to enjoy, the bitter betrayal of his body. His every hidden wish, every lustful desire was instantly gratified or at least teased to his own frustration. The quirks of having /Kamui/ as a lover, he thought remorsefully, though admittedly in guilty pleasure.
His arms were leaden, tied to the ground by unseen bonds, and he felt his pants being eased off. Unable to lift his head, he felt a steady heat and a tongue caress his member, and he arched into the act, preparing to climax, but /Kamui/ denied him even that much freedom.
"Do you feel it, Seishirou, that which stirs inside of you?" The low voice came from his stomach, still teasing him, coaxing him away from the edge. "What do you wish for?" Seishirou simply groaned and tried to move away, his dignity returning in the brief cessation of passion.
"Seishirou-san?" A small voice greeted him again, edged with desire and apprehension, familiar in an instant. The pale emerald luminescence of Subaru stared back, and Seishirou shook his head No
And then he was pierced in body, mind, and soul, and he shuddered with the climax and screamed.
*****
A heavy knock sounded on the door to the Clamp Campus residential quarters. No one answered. After a minute or two, the knock was repeated, albeit somewhat weaker. A dull thud soon followed.
Sumeragi Subaru, the lone occupant of the house, stirred from his room and moved downstairs. The others were out, hoping to enjoy one night of peace to relieve the tension. Yuzuriha had even managed to convince Kamui to come out and play with her, to act his age. It was often easy to forget that the boy was, after all, only fifteen years old.
His hand slipped around the knob, and he turned it. With a jolt it was pushed open as if something heavy was lying on it, and a body collapsed into the surprised Sumeragi's arms. The matted hair was sweaty and thick with blood. The suit, which had been well-cut, was fairly destroyed and torn, and rivulets of crimson could be seen slowly drying in the night air. A musky, slightly salty sent also hung about, but Subaru couldn't quite identify it
"Oh, I'm glad it was you who answered, Subaru-kun," a tired, woefully amused voice answered him. Seishirou-san?!?! The Sakurazukamori looked up, smiled ironically, and collaped, unconscious, into the stunned silence.
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