Author's Notes:
More smut over these next two chapters, though we don't get anything too explicit in this chapter. Then plot for a while after that.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Waiting for the princess and the mage to leave for their evening walk was torture—what happened when they were gone didn't make it any better.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Kurogane rose from the couch, took a breath, and knocked on the kid's door. He waited a few heartbeats for an answer, then raised his hand to knock again just as the door swung open. The boy looked up at him, eyes unreadable. Awkwardly, Kurogane lowered his hand.
"Yes?" Syaoran asked.
"The mage and the princess just left. They'll be gone for an hour."
A weighted silence lingered between them, and Kurogane wondered if, for once, it would've been better to lie and feign love, just to make the kid smile. No, he decided. Whatever this is, it can't be based on a lie. He sighed, then rested one hand on the kid's shoulder. "Do we need to talk about last night?"
"No." The boy stepped forward and pressed his cheek against Kurogane's shirt. His arms coiled around Kurogane's chest, hands coming to rest in the middle of his back. "Just be with me. I can imagine the rest."
Kurogane was not much given to wincing, but he winced then, hearing the hurt in the kid's voice. He wondered if the boy even knew how bitter he sounded.
He pulled Syaoran closer, resting one hand on the back of his head while the other traced the kid's spine. The boy's hold tightened, fingernails digging into his back with a sort of feral desperation. Kurogane hadn't thought much about how his unresponsiveness to the mention of love could've affected the boy. He certainly hadn't expected this level of desperation and bitterness he felt now, as Syaoran pressed against his torso.
Kurogane sighed. "We have a fucked up relationship, don't we?"
Syaoran stiffened, pulling back. His features pinched with confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Forget it. It doesn't matter."
The boy frowned, but sank into his arms again. Kurogane lifted him up and shifted so the boy's tailbone was resting against the arm of the couch. Then, light as a moth's wing, he ran his fingertips across the side of Syaoran's neck, waiting for him to shudder and melt where he stood. Instead, he went still, hands clamping down on Kurogane's arms. He drew back, cupping the kid's cheek in his hand. It took him a moment to speak. "You don't want me, do you?"
"Of course I do," Syaoran said, too quickly.
"What I said last night . . . It hurt you."
The boy shook his head. "I'm fine."
Irritation flared in his chest. He pushed the kid back, so he was lying face-up on the couch, legs folded over the armrest. Kurogane followed him down, bracing his arms against the couch cushions as he positioned himself above Syaoran. With one hand, he tilted the boy's chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. "It hurt you. It doesn't do any good to pretend otherwise, so just spit it out."
"Does it really matter?"
Kurogane froze, processing the boy's tone. "What do you mean?"
"Does it matter if it hurt me? Your pity won't change anything, so what's the point in making me say it?"
"You think I pity you?"
"Am I wrong?" he asked, and it sounded almost like he was begging for a denial.
Kurogane opened his mouth, then closed it, reining in the fury that always seethed just beneath the surface. He rolled onto his back, nudging the kid into the crease of the couch so he'd have room to lie down. "I don't pity you. If I pitied you, it would be the same as looking down on you." That was what he'd always been taught. One could help someone in need without pitying them, but being pitied was like being coddled. It was pathetic. It fostered weakness. Kurogane didn't pity anyone.
The kid's voice softened in response to his gentler tone. "Then why go to all the trouble?"
He sighed. "I didn't need a reason to serve Princess Tomoyo. Even if she hadn't helped me back then, I would've served her. I don't need a reason to want to make things easier for you." He rolled over so they were face-to-face. "The only reason I do anything is because I want to."
"That sounds . . . freeing."
And you sound jealous as hell. "It can be. Sometimes, it's just a pain. What I want isn't the only consideration. If it was, I would already have you pinned on this couch, begging me to slow down."
Alarm and disbelief flickered across Syaoran's face.
"I also have to think about the consequences that go along with getting what I want. And sometimes, I do have reasons for doing something other than just wanting to do it. I have responsibilities. I have to maintain my honor, because that's something I want to have intact when I die. But what I want, right now, is you."
The air between them hummed with electricity, and Kurogane could feel the kid's shallow breaths puffing against his lips. More than anything else, he wanted to tilt his head forward and eliminate those few inches of space between them. Just a few weeks ago, he would've questioned his sanity over such an impulse. Now, it seemed as natural as breathing.
Syaoran closed the distance for him, his lips hesitant. Kurogane kissed him back, stroking his hand down the length of Syaoran's body. The boy moaned in response, shuddering, Kurogane skimmed his fingertips across the boy's abdomen, under his shirt, and drew his thumb across the sensitive nipple. Syaoran twitched, and he massaged the stub harder, pressing down and tugging gently. Then, he withdrew his hands and pulled the kid's shirt up, maneuvering it over his arms and head before tossing it to the floor.
Panic shot across the kid's face. He glanced at the front door. "We're doing this here?"
Kurogane positioned himself so he was crouching just over the boy's abdomen. "Do you really want to move somewhere else now?"
The kid's cheeks turned pink. He looked away. "No. Here is fine," he whispered.
"Good." Kurogane descended on him, pressing his lips to the base of Syaoran's throat, then laying a trail of kisses down his torso. The kid twitched and whimpered under his touch, fidgeting the same way he had the first time Kurogane had taken him to bed.
"Before, you said—" Syaoran began. Before he could finish, the ninja pressed a hand to his lips, muffling the words.
"If this is about last night, I'm going to punch your lights out." He peeled his hand away from the kid's lips and waited, listening.
"It's not that," Syaoran mumbled, cheeks burning bright red. "Before, you said that if you always got what you wanted, I'd be . . ." He looked away, eyelids squeezing shut. "I'd already be . . ."
"Just spit it out."
Syaoran took a shaky breath, not meeting his eyes. "Do you . . . Do you want to try something new tonight?"
Kurogane froze, suddenly remembering his earlier words. He can't be serious. There's no way. "What exactly are you asking for?" he demanded.
"Well . . . I was wondering if you wanted to . . . um . . . I'm not sure how to phrase this. Do you want to . . ." He looked up, as if searching for the right word.
"Fuck?" Kurogane suggested. Shock flitted across Syaoran's face, and when Kurogane slipped his hands over his ribs again, his whole body stiffened. "Do you want to?"
"Yes, but . . ."
He drew back, releasing the boy and waiting for an objection. As soon as they separated, the boy wrapped his arms around his torso, his gaze drifting to the floor.
"I . . . Is it okay, if we do? I don't want to trouble you."
Kurogane sat down beside him, closing his eyes. "If it bothered me, I would've already said something. You don't have to be so afraid."
"Okay." He looked up, the lines of his face set with determination. The fire in his eyes barely masked the desperation. He tried to sit up, fingers wrapping around Kurogane's shoulders.
"In that case, let's go back to your room. This could get . . . messy."
"R-right!" Syaoran wriggled out from under him, picking up his shirt on the way to his bedroom. Once inside, Kurogane closed the door and locked it. His elbow brushed against Syaoran's ribs as he turned, and the boy stood up on his tiptoes to crush their lips together. At once, Kurogane leaned forward and pushed him onto the bed, pinning him where he lay. The kid clawed at his arms, blunt fingernails trailing harmlessly over his skin. Annoyed, Kurogane pinned his arms above his head, holding them between the columns of the headboard.
Fear flashed across Syaoran's face, his body going still as Kurogane held his arms awkwardly above his head. This wasn't the careful touch of a first encounter, not anymore. It seemed the boy was just realizing that.
The fear lasted for only a moment before the kid closed his eyes.
Kurogane shifted his grip, freeing one hand to trail his fingers down Syaoran's chest. Under his fingertips, the boy's ribs felt as delicate as a bird's wing. The planes of his chest were awkward, not yet filled out. What must it be like to be trapped in a body younger than your mind? Kurogane wondered, hooking his fingers around the kid's waistband and sliding his sweatpants off his hips. The sudden exposure caused Syaoran's body to wriggle with discomfort.
"Stay still," he ordered, meeting Syaoran's gaze. The fear had returned, sharper than before. A spasm jolted through Syaoran's arms, nearly wrenching them free of Kurogane's grip, then traveled down the rest of his body. His eyelids squeezed shut, a whimper breaking through his lips.
Kurogane stared at him, still holding him down. Syaoran's body twisted under him, curling up as if to protect himself from an assault.
He released the kid's hands. He wasn't sure what, exactly, had set him off, but it was obvious he'd crossed a line somewhere. "Sorry."
"No, that's not . . ." The boy looked away, his eyes glistening even in darkness. "I have . . . issues with being restrained."
"Because of what he did to you." He didn't have to say the name for the kid to know who he was referring to.
"It's not anything specific to that. It's just . . . the sense of being trapped. I can't . . ."
"I get it." The bedsprings creaked as Kurogane withdrew. "We can try this some other time."
The kid's fingers clung to his shirt, keeping him from pulling away. "No."
Kurogane looked down. The kid's lips were set in a flat line, but his eyes blazed with some emotion he couldn't quite place.
"I'm not afraid," Syaoran said, pressing his face against Kurogane's chest. "I agreed to this."
"If you don't want to do it, just say so."
"I want it. I want you." He lowered his voice. "I trust you."
Syaoran's lips found the hollow of his throat. For a moment, Kurogane gave himself over to the sensation, allowing some of the responsibility of this act to slip off his shoulders even as he peeled his own shirt off. This wasn't about him, it was about them, about trust. And it felt right.
Syaoran's lips trailed down his neck, to his collarbone. "Is this okay?" he asked, the skin of their chests sliding together.
Kurogane angled his face down, burying his cheek in the boy's hair. "Yes."
Syaoran tilted his head back so their lips touched. One of them shuddered, but their bodies were so close, Kurogane wasn't sure who. "The others will be gone for at least an hour," Syaoran said. "We have time."
Kurogane captured the boy's face in his hands, regarding him. His eyes were calm, steady. "What we're doing . . . It'll hurt," Kurogane warned, nudging him back so his shoulders rested against the mattress.
"That's fine."
His fingertips traced a pattern on Syaoran's torso, swirling from collarbone to stomach to waistline. Slowly, the boy relaxed under his touch, going limp in surrender. Something unspoken passed between them in that moment. Kurogane understood how terrifying it was for the boy to cede control like this, to allow himself to be vulnerable. And he knows I won't use it against him, he thought, planting one final kiss on his lips before tugging down on the boy's sweatpants. Syaoran's body gave a startled jerk, then went limp as his eyes glazed over with desire.
"Close your eyes," Kurogane murmured.
Syaoran obeyed. The ninja leaned forward, and together, they sunk into the mattress.