Battle felt natural.

It didn't matter how sweaty or dishevelled he was by the end, Kiyomitsu had never felt ugly once a battle was over. The high of the fight took over everything else.

This battle was no different. They had both been called out to the front lines and that by itself had been exhilarating. Neither of them were called upon to act as captain and so they were free to fight together, side by side, as they had so long ago.

Kiyomitsu loved watching Yasusada fight. Usually so mild mannered and soft spoken, on the battlefield, he was wild. There was a fierce, manic glee in his eyes when he took to the field, a dangerous curve to his smile, and he moved with the grace and the ferocity of a beast, a predator who lived for the hunt. The first time Kiyomitsu had seen him fight with his human body, he had been left breathless. This was the real Yasusada, the one he could read as easily as his own emotions, the blade who was beautiful and deadly. Revered but feared. Like a monster. Like Okita had been.

Watching him was fascinating but fighting alongside him was a different experience yet again. He found it intoxicating, the way they moved with one another, exchanging smirks and triumphant shouts. Fighting alone would leave him gasping for breath, smiling and deafened by his heart pounding in his ears. Fighting together made him feel as if he was losing all reason, all semblance of self. He could see sweat shining on the curve of Yasusada's neck and felt a thrill right down to his core which he could now recognise as longing.

Fighting together was intimate like nothing else he had known. He had thought it was the ultimate shared experience until the night they had come to know one another's bodies perhaps better than even their own.

Lunging forwards alongside Yasusada, he tried to push these thoughts from his mind. They had no place in battle. Nothing mattered except the absolute destruction of the enemy before him.

Still, he wondered. Did humans react to fighting this way? The stories they told never seemed to reflect these feelings. But they were swords, weren't they? They had been made to fight, to kill. Why shouldn't it feel good?

The final enemy fell to his sword in an explosion of gore and he turned his back on the carnage with a satisfied smile. Before he could take a step away, Yasusada was by his side, keeping him in place by tangling his fingers in his hair and crashing their lips together, a kiss all tongue and teeth. He tasted of blood and sweat. Kiyomitsu could feel the sensation rush straight through him once again; his body knew what it wanted. As covered in dirt and blood as he was, his body was reacting as if he was safely in the citadel. It was embarrassing but even here his skin was aching to be touched.

Human bodies were simple enough, he thought. Feelings were more difficult. He pushed Yasusada away with a frown.

"They're all watching, you know," he hissed.

Yasusada's eyes were bright with mischief and his smile didn't fade as he looked around at their companions as if just remembering they were there.

"So they are," he said taking hold of Kiyomitsu's chin with one hand.

Kiyomitsu cursed his impulsive human body. It was impossible to not get caught up in the sensation, heart still hammering after the fight and his whole body hot and alert. He met Yasusada's hungry kisses with equal vigour, grabbing fistfuls of the others haori until he was pushed away for air. Forcing himself to step away, he lowered his eyes to the ground, anything other than check to see if anyone was staring.

"We shouldn't," he insisted. "Not when people are watching."

"Why?"

Yasusada seemed genuinely confused, perhaps even a little hurt. If he hadn't known it was sincere, Kiyomitsu may have struck him. Trust Yasusada to not be embarrassed by something like this. He was so simple, sometimes.

"It's supposed to be private," he tried to explain to the best of his ability. "So we should wait until we're back home."

"I don't see why," Yasusada said thoughtfully. "Kissing feels good but so does stretching when your muscles are stiff. You don't have to do that in private."

"It's not the same!"

"I don't get it," Yasusada admitted, disappointment evident in his tone. "But if that's what you want, I can wait."

"Good!"

Kiyomitsu refused to meet the eyes of any of their team on the way back to the citadel although he could hear Yasusada chatting normally with them all. Was this normal? Had he been wrong? Even just kissing felt like it should mean more than something you let other people see.

Feeling humiliated, he tried to put it down to the state his clothes were in. That was a sentiment he understood, at least.

Back in their shared room in the citadel, Yasusada wasted no time.

Kiyomitsu found himself being pressed against one of the walls and kissed until his head was spinning. If he thought about it, it was pretty gross kissing like this when they were still so dirty from the field. His body had no time for thoughts like that. It felt good to be so sweaty and dishevelled, made it easier for him to get his hands under Yasusada's clothing and to trace the muscles of his chest with chipped painted fingernails.

"Is this better?"

Yasusada sounded genuinely concerned. He pressed his lips briefly to Kiyomitsu's cheek and leaving him powerless to resist. His chest ached, with desire or with emotion he wasn't sure. It was easier to concentrate on disentangling Yasusada from the myriad layers he insisted on wearing to battle. He had already lost his own coat somewhere near the door and worried that he couldn't remember having taken it off.

Was this going mad? Whimpering nonsense words and grasping at anything within reach, pulling Yasusada's hair free from its tie and tugging on the strands with no semblance of gentleness, hearing himself moan softly at the taste of fingers in his mouth, the soft give of flesh as he bit down against them.

Too much. It was all too much to understand. This wasn't the same as the night before. As he lay back against the covers, naked and trembling, he realised he was afraid almost as much as he was aroused. Not of Yasusada, never that. It was this side of himself that frightened him. He didn't care what happened to his body, not if it felt good; the way his spine arched without his instruction as burning lips left marks on his hips told him that clearly. His heart was different.

"Wait..."

It took a concentrated, agonising effort to open his eyes and pull Yasusada back up to eye level. The other was flushed, his pupils wide and impossibly dark in the dim light. It was a beautiful look, as animalistic as the one he wore on the battlefield. God, how Kiyomitsu wanted to see more of it. It took all of his strength to evade the next kiss and shake his head.

"I'm tired, Yasusada. Do we have to-"

"Are you sure?" A hand pressed against him along with the question and he held a hand to his own mouth to smother any humiliating noises that dared slip from his lips against his will.

"Not my body," he insisted weakly.

"Then why?"

Yasusada shifted away. The air that rushed in to fill the space he had left was bitterly cold. Kiyomitsu glanced at his face to see him frowning in confusion. He pressed a hand to jumping pulse in his chest and shook his head.

"I'm tired," he repeated. "Not my body. My brain."

"You're holding your heart, though."

Yasusada sounded hurt. He pushed himself away completely and sat cross-legged beside the futon, pulling at the tangles in his own hair in irritation. Kiyomitsu wondered if he would have been angry, had he been the one being rejected. Probably. It was insulting, wasn't it? Humiliating, even.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, rolling onto his side and drawing a sheet over himself.

"It's okay. Me too, I guess."

Yasusada gave a light laugh and reached out to squeeze Kiyomitsu's shoulder, sweet and forgiving as always. How quickly his demeanour could change. That, too, was something Kiyomitsu was beginning to worry about.

"I don't really know how this all works yet," Yasusada was continuing. "So thank you for telling me to stop if you didn't want it. Maybe I didn't read the signs right? Did you... not want to do it again?"

Despite himself, Kiyomitsu snorted and shook his head.

"Iidot. You're not that stupid. Of course I want to. It's... complicated. I think."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No. Don't worry about it."

Kiyomitsu lay still and silent for a time, listening to Yasusada tidying their discarded clothes away and preparing to sleep. A rustle of blankets from just behind him sounded as if Yasusada had settled down in his own futon. Only a foot away at most, the distance seemed to gape in Kiyomitsu's imagination, a cold chasm that he wasn't sure how to cross.

After a time, he raised his voice.

"Hey, Yasusada?"

"Yeah?"

The reply was instant. It seemed as if neither of them were ready to sleep just yet.

"Do you... think it's ugly? Me, I mean. Acting like that."

"Of course not."

"But it's so noisy and sweaty and-"

"That's why I like it." Yasusada laughed gently. "It's different, isn't it? To how we usually act. And you're cute when you're a mess, too."

"How?"

"Eh, you really want me to do into details?"

"Yes."

Kiyomitsu knew he was being petulant and pulled the sheet a little further over his face, hiding from no-one.

"I like your eyes the most," Yasusada said after a moment of thought. "They go all dark. Your chest is cute too because you blush there. I didn't know that could happen until last night. Your lips look really nice when they're red, as well. And then there's your-"

"That's enough!"

Thoroughly embarrassed, Kiyomitsu didn't hear Yasusada moving and so jumped in surprise when a warm body joined him under the sheet.

"So don't worry about it, okay?" Yasusada asked softly. "I don't think I could ever see you as ugly. And you feel nice, all the time. Like this, too."

It was impossible to not relax into the gentle embrace, even if he still felt unsure. After a few minuted of comfortable silence, Yasusada spoke again.

"I won't do anything like it in front of people again, if it embarrasses you."

"Yeah. But... do you think the others look good too? When they're all gross, I mean."

"Not like you."

"So you wouldn't do things like this with them?"

"Why would I? I have you."

He felt a little better. His chest seemed less tight, at least. It was comforting to think that this was something special between them, even if he didn't understand it at all. A bond that only they shared, one that was both physical and emotional too.

Almost like how it had been with Okita. In a way. He felt strange for making the comparison but once he had thought of it he couldn't stop.

He had loved Okita. Both of them had. So did that mean that this was love, too?

Behind him, Yasusada was snoring gently. Maybe he would ask in the morning