Author's Notes:

More smut in this chapter. Same rules apply as last time—viewer discretion is advised.

Chapter Thirty-Five

"Me?" Kurogane's eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

"Yes," Syaoran said, jaw tight. "But only if you want to." Heat rose to his cheeks, then rushed lower at memories of the last time he'd allowed Kurogane into his bed.

"You aren't afraid?"

He shook his head, fighting the surge of desire he felt. The words had seemed almost tender, whispered so softly, and Syaoran felt his anger melting away. A callused hand skimmed over his cheek; he jumped, startled by the coldness of the ninja's skin. Kurogane withdrew at once. "What's wrong?"

"Your hands are freezing," Syaoran said.

"You locked me out of the apartment."

He tried not to smile—the statement hadn't sounded upset, or even annoyed. His lips pulled up at the corners anyway, and he buried his face in the man's shirt to hide his amusement. When the ninja didn't respond, he drew back, uncertain.

"You said my hands were cold. I figured that meant you didn't want me to touch you."

"Oh." He frowned, then leaned forward again, pressing his cheek against the ninja's shirt. "I don't mind if you do."

Kurogane's lips pressed against his forehead just as his hands came to rest on Syaoran's pelvis. He froze, startled by the intimacy of the touch, then lifted his head to return the kiss. His breathing accelerated, the blood rushing to his head, then doubling back, concentrating between his thighs. Awkwardly, he scooted back, not wanting the other man to see just how quickly his self-control was coming undone.

One of Kurogane's hands slid up the small of his back, then up to his shoulder blades, before finally coming to rest on the back of his neck. It occurred to Syaoran, in that moment, just how easily the ninja could snap his spine. Strong as he was, he wouldn't even need both hands.

His heart quickened at the risk. This time, he broke the kiss, tilting his head forward so it rested on Kurogane's collarbone. Another beat, steady but quick, sounded in his ears, and it took him a moment to realize he could actually hear the ninja's heartbeat. Kurogane dragged a hand through his hair, nails nipping lightly at the back of his scalp. Syaoran shuddered against him, still listening.

"What is it?" Kurogane finally asked, stroking the middle of his back.

"I can hear your heartbeat."

Silence passed between them. Finally, Kurogane asked, "What does it sound like?"

"Strong. Fast." He searched for a more descriptive word. "Vital."

"Hmm." Kurogane tilted his face down so their foreheads touched. Syaoran moved the last few inches so their lips could meet. Their kiss spread through his lips like liquid fire, blanketing his body in a warm haze. He moaned.

He'd once read that a person's true colors only came out in love and war. He had to figure that if Kurogane could kiss him so gently, there must've been an untapped reservoir of tenderness hidden deep inside him.

Kurogane's hands were warmer now than they'd been at the start. At the barest pressure, Syaoran shifted, body moving in a dance as old as life itself. Every kiss, every touch, slowed the fire in his veins so it lingered longer, burned hotter. By the time the ninja's hand moved over the curve of Syaoran's pelvis, his body was twitching with desire. "Should we . . . get undressed now?"

The ninja's hand moved lower, massaging him through his pants. "That would help."

Syaoran nodded, fingers trailing down the other man's ribs and tugging at his waistband. At the same time, Kurogane unwound the belt holding Syaoran's jeans in place, letting it hit the floor with a clatter. Instinctively, Syaoran wriggled free of his pants, but the waistband caught on the widest part of his hips, and he made a sound of discontent, reaching for the zipper.

Kurogane beat him to it, pulling the zipper down with his thumb and letting his hand slide over the front of Syaoran's underwear as his pants slid down his legs. Again, he twitched, body instinctively pressing closer to the warmth, aching with need.

"Or we could skip that step," Kurogane murmured. "You might not make it that long."

He wanted to deny it. Truly, he did. But Kurogane had a point. "Just—" He gasped as the ninja pressed harder. His hands coiled around the ninja's arms, nails digging into his skin. "That feels good."

Kurogane grunted in acknowledgement, his hand sliding back and forth, slowly. Surprise and desire pushed Syaoran forward, his grip on the man's arms tightening with each pass. He groaned, pressing his face into the ninja's chest to stifle the embarrassing noises building at the back of his throat. "I don't think I can hold back much longer," he said, breathless.

"Then don't," the ninja whispered in a voice like silk and honey. So tender. So smooth. It didn't sound like him, but that made the lie complete, made it seem as if there was something more than desire or companionship at play here. Syaoran felt the points of Kurogane's fingers pressing through the thin barrier of cloth, the fingers knotting in his hair. Sparks of pain shot across his scalp, a sharp accent to the pleasure thrumming through his lower body. Syaoran's heartbeat pounded in every fingertip.

The sensation reached a peak, and for a moment, the world exploded with brilliant white light. His mind raced for comparisons as the pleasure flooded through him, burning hotter and brighter than anything before it. It was like a supernova trapped inside his body, pressing outward with a force unmatched by anything else in the universe. His knees buckled, and his grip on Kurogane's arms went slack without a conscious command from his mind. He was only dimly aware of the ninja holding him up as each spasm of release rocked his body.

In the end, he collapsed to his knees, cradled against the ninja's chest as the man knelt with him. "I think . . ." he began, his voice trembling with the rest of his body, "that was even better than the first time."

Kurogane pulled him closer and pressed his lips to Syaoran's throat. "Good."

They sat like that for a while before Syaoran realized he hadn't repaid the favor. He shifted, resting his head in the crook of the other man's neck. "What should we do now?"

Kurogane snorted. "You can't tell me you're ready to try anything else after that."

"No, I mean . . ." Blood rushed to his cheeks. "What do you want me to do for you?"

The ninja's eyes widened; almost a minute passed before he answered. "You don't have to do anything."

"I want to. And it's only fair."

Tanned fingers swept through his hair. Syaoran leaned back, closing his eyes and just reveling in the closeness. Lips brushed against his cheek, his jaw, his ear. So much like love, he could almost believe it. There, the ninja paused to speak. "Don't ask, then. Do whatever you want. I'll tell you if I don't like it."

"Okay." He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Then we'll need the bed."

Kurogane rose while he pulled his pants up. He'd have to change his underwear after this, but he wouldn't have to wash the sheets again. At least, he didn't think he'd have to.

He approached the bed. Kurogane sat on the edge of the mattress while he stood, and for once they were actually at eye-level with each other. Syaoran wrapped his arms around the ninja's neck, their lips meeting again. His hands slid down the ninja's back, then curved around his hips until they came to rest at the zipper. He pulled it down as slowly as possible, stalling, then unclasped the button above that. It snapped open with a pop.

Syaoran hesitated, then knelt between the other man's legs. Kurogane's fingertip found his chin and tilted his head up so their eyes met. "You don't have to."

He licked his lips. "I want to. If it's okay with you."

Something smoldered in Kurogane's eyes. He brushed his thumb across Syaoran's cheek. "Yes."

There were no words after that. Syaoran adjusted his position slightly and freed the ninja's growing erection from his jeans. Kurogane let out a relieved sigh, then inhaled sharply as Syaoran wrapped his lips around the tip. His leg twitched, and the hand that had touched Syaoran's cheek a moment ago fisted in his hair. After a brief hesitation, Syaoran closed his eyes and ran his tongue just under the tip.

Kurogane gave a wordless moan, clutching his hair even tighter.

It wasn't as bad as he'd anticipated. Syaoran was careful, and the substance that flowed across his tongue in the beginning was salty and bitter, but not horrible. Every few seconds, the ninja would draw in a sharp breath, or his grip would tighten, ripping strands of hair from Syaoran's scalp. He stayed focused, accepting the tiny pain as a sign he was doing well.

It also didn't take as long as he'd expected. Within minutes, the ninja was hunched over, one hand in Syaoran's hair, the other clamped tight around his shoulder. So it shouldn't have come as such a shock when the hot, creamy liquid flooded his mouth. He recoiled, clamping his palm over his lips. His stomach pitched and rolled as if he was on a boat, his throat heaving with the need to gag. Drawing on every ounce of willpower, he tilted his head back and swallowed.

Kurogane hadn't let go of his hair. "Where did you learn that?"

Syaoran swallowed again, then cleared his throat. "Read it in a book," he choked out.

"What kind of books are you reading?"

Apparently unrealistic ones. He coughed, wincing. "I thought . . . Are you okay?"

Seeming bewildered by the implication that he could be anything but okay, Kurogane spoke. "I'm fine. You're the one who's . . . Are you okay?"

He had to think about that for a moment. The taste was mostly gone, and he wasn't choking anymore. His stomach grumbled, resenting what he'd just done to it, but physically, he felt fine. "You just startled me. I didn't think . . ." His face warmed, and he sat down on the edge of the bed as an excuse to avoid meeting Kurogane's eyes.

"Didn't think what?"

The flush spread to the back of his neck. "I didn't think that would be so . . . effective."

"I lasted longer than you."

There was a pause as Syaoran tried to reel in his embarrassment. His mind spun in lazy circles, overwhelmed. It was Kurogane who broke the silence. "It's been weeks since we were together like this."

"Is that a long time?"

Irritation flickered across the red-eyed man's face. "Of course it is. Don't you—" He broke off, as if something had occurred to him. The annoyance vanished from his face. "I guess you don't have much to compare it to."

Syaoran nodded. "Does that mean you want to do this . . . more often?"

"Do you?"

If Syaoran's face could've turned redder, it would have. He gulped. "I . . . wouldn't mind that."

Kurogane wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. Syaoran pressed his face into the ninja's shirt, breathing in his unique scent, luxuriating in the warmth of his arms.

Yes, Syaoran decided. He definitely wanted to do this more often.