Chapter Twenty-Five

"What?"

Syaoran flinched. "I . . . everything that's happened is my fault, so if you want to hurt me, please, just get it over with."

He thinks I want revenge for Suwa. The realization teased the edges of his anger so it flared up again. His hands clenched into fists. Am I that much of a monster to him? He thought about how Tomoyo had sent him away. Was I a monster to her, too? Did she send me away because she thought I was a danger to her people?

That rankled even worse than the boy's quiet query had. Frustrated, he took the kid by the shoulders and knelt so they were eye-level. "I don't want to hurt you. Even if I did, there would be no point, so calm down."

The tension in the boy's shoulders relaxed, but his face remained pale, pupils dilated. "I'm sorry."

Kurogane sighed. "Why did you follow me up here if you thought I was going to hurt you?"

"Because I deserve it. And you deserve retribution."

"What the hell makes you think I would take revenge on a kid half my size?"

Syaoran hesitated.

Annoyance sharpened his words, made them harsh. "Am I that much of a monster to you?"

"No. I . . ." The kid trailed off as Kurogane let his hands slide down his arms. "I'm not a good person."

"And you think I am?" he growled.

Syaoran met his gaze. "You're . . . kind. That's why . . . that's why you'd be better off without me."

"Kind," he repeated. No. I could never be kind. He sighed, leaning back against the elevator doors and glaring at the night sky. Syaoran hovered over him for a moment before sitting down beside him.

"You are kind," the boy said. "Maybe not outwardly, but to the people closest to you . . ."

"If you're looking to me for comfort, you must be desperate."

The kid flinched; Kurogane realized he'd hit the mark. That's it. He's desperate for human contact, and you were the only one who offered it. Of course he'd interpret that as kindness. The notion threw him for a moment; that first real kiss had always felt like a breach of self-control for him. He'd thought he'd been taking advantage of a kid who didn't know what he was asking for.

But he'd been wrong. Syaoran had known exactly what he'd been asking for. He'd been the one who'd misinterpreted.

"Why look to me for comfort?" he demanded. "Why not the princess? Why not the mage?"

"Fai-san was hurt worst in Tokyo. And to ask that of Sakura . . ." Syaoran faltered. "I couldn't. It wouldn't be right."

"So you came to me."

"Yes."

"After I threw you into a wall the first time you tried to kiss me."

Syaoran looked away. "You never would've kissed me of your own free will. I was selfish. I manipulated you into it, knowing you'd be compelled to keep your word. I'm sorry." His shoulders curled inward. "You must have hated it."

Kurogane leaned back. Specks of snow stabbed at his cheek, numbing it. It took him a long time to speak, but when he did, it was the truth. "I didn't hate it."

The boy looked up, startled. "You—"

"I didn't hate it," he repeated. "You surprised me. I thought I was taking advantage of you. I thought it was wrong to go on like that. But I didn't hate kissing you."

Syaoran's breath caught.

Kurogane went on. Every word tasted like vinegar on his tongue. "I made a mistake when I defined it as a deal. There shouldn't be obligations when it comes to this, so I'll just ask: do you want things to be that way between us?"

Hope rushed into Syaoran's eyes, banishing the uncertainty. "Yes."

"Okay." Kurogane half-turned, still sitting down, and ran his fingertips across the kid's cheek. "Then we'll do this the right way."

Syaoran leaned into the touch, closing his eyes in surrender. "That feels good," he murmured. Kurogane nodded; he wanted this to feel good. The kid needed the affection, needed a chance to receive it without reservation or judgment. What startled Kurogane was how much he wanted the boy to need him.

He pivoted on his knee so both hands could trace the boy's skin. This was different from any relationship he'd ever cultivated, but he'd been with plenty of women in his life. This couldn't be that different. He moved one hand to Syaoran's back, tracing his spine and moving past the collar of his jacket. Uncertainly, the boy shrugged off his coat. With one hand, Kurogane freed the boy's arms and pushed the jacket aside.

Syaoran leaned forward, tilting his head back in a way Kurogane had learned to recognize. He pushed gently on Syaoran's collarbone, holding him back. "Listen," he said firmly. "Nothing about this is straightforward. Nothing about this is easy. I need you to think, and I need you to do it with a clear head."

Syaoran drew back, disappointment flashing through his eyes. "Okay."

Kurogane rested a hand on each shoulder, looking straight into the boy's eyes. "I need to know how far you want to take this, and how fast."

Syaoran nodded, considering that. It took him a few moments to gather a reply. His cheeks were red, but whether from the cold or from embarrassment, Kurogane couldn't say. "I want to go as far as you're willing. I . . ." His blush deepened, so perhaps it was from embarrassment after all. "I don't have much experience, but . . . I want to learn."

Kurogane arched an eyebrow. "So if I told you we were going to go back to the apartment, to your room—"

"Yes." A pair of dark brown eyes met his gaze, radiating intensity, desire. "Please. I want this. I need it."

Kurogane hesitated, but only for a moment. Then he stood. "Put your coat back on."

Like before, the boy obeyed without hesitation. The difference now was the urgency in his response. He jammed his arms through the padded sleeves and, rather than zipping up, folded the front flaps of his coat over each other to stave off the bitter wind. Kurogane waited, heart hammering against his ribs. There would be no going back after this, he knew. Kisses could be ignored, and affections left to wither, but there was no way to push aside what they were about to do.

"Is it . . . going to hurt?" Syaoran asked as they stepped inside the elevator.

Kurogane deliberated for a moment, then shook his head. "No. Not what we're doing tonight." There wasn't enough time to explore all the possibilities. The mage and the princess walked a little over an hour each day, and they'd already been gone awhile. Kurogane doubted like hell that the kid would have the stamina to last five minutes, let alone an hour. Still, with the time they'd already used up plus the time it would take to clean up afterward, there wasn't much room to mess around. It would have to be simple, quick.

Briefly, Kurogane wondered if this was a mistake. There would be no living this down if the others came back and saw them in a . . . compromising position. Yet he could feel the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. The idea that they might be caught added a certain degree of excitement to the prospect. The risk was thrilling, like going into battle.

The elevator doors opened. Kurogane shoved the thoughts away, praying they didn't show on his face. He set the pace as they walked through the lobby, forcing himself to move slower than usual, to act like they weren't in a rush. The boy followed close behind him, saying nothing. As soon as their apartment door closed behind them, Kurogane turned. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, holding the boy's face between his hands.

Syaoran nodded. "I'm sure."

"Okay." Kurogane leaned forward, so his tongue danced over the boy's lower lip, teasing. Syaoran made a surprised sound and opened his mouth, letting Kurogane's tongue probe deeper. It was more invasive than their previous kisses, but what did it matter anymore?

"Bed," Kurogane whispered, releasing the boy. "Now."

Syaoran said nothing, merely kicking his shoes into a corner and stripping off his coat. He threw it over the coat rack on his way to the bedroom. Kurogane followed, closing the kid's door behind him. This is it, he thought. No going back.

The boy perched himself on the edge of the bed, looking up at him as if searching for approval. Kurogane paused. Fear sparked in those eyes, the fear of rejection.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "I won't hurt you." Ever.

The kid swallowed thickly, then nodded, some of the fear fading from his face. "Okay."