Author's Note:
Smut in this chapter. This will be the last smutty bit for a while, though. The plot picks up after this.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
It felt as if his whole body was afire.
It was a good kind of fire. Cleansing. Comforting. Syaoran basked in the warmth, letting the ninja slide his hands up and down his chest. His touch was so gentle, so at odds with the way he handled everything else, that when Syaoran closed his eyes, he could almost forget who he was with, what he was doing.
It felt good to forget.
As he drifted, he became less aware of where he was being touched, and more cognizant of the fact that he was being touched. So many hours passed where he ached for human contact. The sudden overload of sensory input left him almost numb with pleasure.
The fire traveled down his belly, then nipped at his thighs before doubling back. He responded to the touch, every hair on his body standing up beneath Kurogane's deft hands. The ninja ran his thumb between Syaoran's legs with just enough suggestive pressure to make his back arch.
"Easy," Kurogane warned, pressing down. Syaoran forced himself to relax, wondering if the painful part was about to arrive. He could feel his pulse all over his body: in his neck, in his fingertips, in his belly . . . and lower, growing more intense as he drew closer to the edge.
His release was abrupt. A cry tore from his throat, his fingernails digging into the ninja's bicep as he struggled to regain control of his writhing body. He gasped, heat shooting through his body, leaving every nerve tingling and oversensitive.
Kurogane kissed him. Through the storm of pleasure, Syaoran almost missed the way the man's lips trailed down his jaw and neck. Almost.
"Are you ready?" Kurogane asked as he sank into the mattress.
Syaoran's eyelids fluttered. "Hmm? For what?"
"For the next part."
Next part? he thought, still trembling from the sudden release. "Sure."
The ninja knelt above him so their faces were only inches from each other. The red-eyed man ran his fingertips over the sticky splotch on his thighs, then moved down the crease where Syaoran's legs met his pelvis. As he reached the circular ridge at the base of his tailbone, Syaoran understood. Oh. This is probably what he meant when he said it might hurt. He tilted his head back, repositioning his legs so his knees were braced against the ninja's hips. "I'm ready."
Kurogane's finger pushed upward, slick with semen. Syaoran's eyes flew open. His body rioted, torn between pain and pleasure. The conflicting feelings froze him for half a second, and then a whimper escaped his throat.
At the sound, Kurogane withdrew his finger and leaned back. The relief was dizzying. "Syaoran?"
"I'm fine," he whispered. "It wasn't so bad."
"We can stop—"
"No! No, I'm fine." He refocused his attention on the ninja's face, and caught the rare look of uncertainty in the slant of his eyebrows. It was the same look the child in Recourt's memory book had worn before collapsing in front of Princess Tomoyo. Shock. Horror. Desolation.
Vulnerability.
No one can give so much without betraying some of what they're feeling, Syaoran thought, running his palm across the ninja's scarred hand. Not even him.
"I want to be with you," Syaoran said. "Even if it hurts sometimes, I want to be at your side."
The ninja's face softened, but the childlike vulnerability disappeared. Focused now, Kurogane ran his finger through the milky fluid and moved it along the curve of Syaoran's body until he found the puckered opening once more. Syaoran forced himself to relax, but couldn't keep from gasping as the ninja's finger penetrated him.
"Relax. Breathe."
Syaoran inhaled slowly, commanding his muscles to go limp. It was more difficult than he'd expected; his body tried to reject the foreign presence, his muscles contracting without his permission. Only when Kurogane withdrew and pushed deeper did he manage to hold back his body's reactions. His eyelids squeezed shut, sparks of pleasure streaking across his field of vision like falling stars even as instinct commanded him to resist the discomfort.
Time lost meaning. After a while, his body numbed to the pain. Kurogane kept up a steady rhythm, his finger moving in and out, pressing against clusters of nerves Syaoran hadn't known he'd had. Every so often, Kurogane would withdraw and drag his hand over the translucent liquid sticking to his thighs, then resume his previous rhythm. All the while, Syaoran fought to control the resistance in his own body, tame it so he could enjoy the tiny sparks of pleasure he felt at each touch.
When Kurogane added a second finger, the pain returned. Slow, predictable movements eventually eased his discomfort, allowing the ache to fade to the back of his mind. Eventually, he recovered from his initial climax, and the simple pleasure of being touched intensified, coiling tight in his gut as it had before. "I think . . . I think it's time." He opened his eyes to make sure the ninja understood.
Kurogane nodded and withdrew his fingers, wiping them on the sheets before grabbing Syaoran's shoulder. His spine arched, his hips rolling back as the ninja stripped off his jeans. Up until this moment, the ninja's size had never been intimidating. The act itself, yes—that first encounter had been excruciating in its newness. But now, thinking about the logistics of what they were about to do . . . Syaoran's heart started beating faster.
"Roll over," Kurogane murmured into his ear.
Oh, god, this is really happening. Syaoran repositioned himself, pressing his forehead into his pillow as he braced himself for what was coming. He bit his lip, hard, holding back a plea. Surely, there was no way for the ninja to be gentle doing this. It would do him no good to ask.
Kurogane's hands trailed down his back, then swept over his hips and thighs, guiding him into position.
Why did I bring this up? Syaoran wondered. What's wrong with me?
"Relax."
Syaoran jumped. Somehow, without making the mattress squeak or disrupting the smooth motion of his hands, Kurogane had leaned forward so their cheeks were almost touching. He pressed his face into his pillow, mortified by the way he flinched at every touch. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"I . . . I'm not sure."
"Then don't apologize." Kurogane kissed his neck. "If you want to stop, that's okay. I know this is terrifying for you."
The casual reminder of his fear had Syaoran going limp with relief. He understands. He understands, and he's willing to allow for it. "No. I'm fine."
Kurogane's lips traveled from his neck down to the middle of his spine, while his hands wrapped around Syaoran's hips. He closed his eyes, bracing himself, and with one powerful thrust, Kurogane pushed inside him.
The world exploded in black and white, his fingers splaying as far as they would go, then coiling around fistfuls of sheets. The balanced dance of pleasure and pain shattered, agony shooting up his spine and doubling back as he cried out.
Kurogane placed his hands on Syaoran's upper back, holding him down. "Easy. Easy!"
Tears pooled in the corners of Syaoran's eyes; he buried his face in the mattress, having batted aside the pillow at some point in the last few seconds. He wouldn't let Kurogane see him cry. Not here. Not because of this.
"Kid?"
Syaoran vowed not to let the ninja see how much that stung. It was fine to be called "kid" or "boy" in front of the others, but when they were alone like this . . . When it wasn't just comfort being offered, but intimacy, the reminder of his inexperience was like a physical blow. "Keep going," he said through gritted teeth. "Please."
Kurogane hesitated for a moment, then rocked forward, penetrating deeper. Syaoran pressed his face into the sheets, smothering the cries building at the back of his throat. He'd endure this in silence, no matter how much it hurt. Just so long as it was over soon.
In and out. Syaoran reminded himself to breathe, fighting the dizzying pain that came with every thrust. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck as the ninja lifted one hand to grasp his erection. He moaned, tiny sparks of pleasure clearing away the worst of the pain. The combination sizzled his nerves so that, when he finally climaxed, all he could do was close his eyes and ride it out, almost numb to the pleasure. An instant later, hot fluid filled his body, burning him up from the inside, as if he'd been pumped full of boiling water.
Kurogane withdrew. Syaoran's body went rigid again at the sudden void, and he slumped onto the mattress, breathing hard, not daring to raise his head in case the tears started flowing. Several seconds passed as he lay there, limp.
"You're hurt." The words were soft, apologetic.
"I'm fine."
"Syaoran."
He froze, heart fluttering. "Yeah?"
"You're hurt," Kurogane said again.
Syaoran looked away. "You said it would hurt. I'm fine."
The ninja wrapped his arms around his body and rolled, so Syaoran's back was pressed against the man's chest. They laid like that for several minutes, both of them breathing hard. Somehow, being held made it better. Kurogane's arms were warm, comforting. And if he pretended, in that moment, that the ninja loved him, that was at least easier than the alternative.
Finally, Syaoran spoke. "Why did you start calling me by name?"
"Because that's what you do when you're with someone this way."
"But . . . if you don't love me . . . if this is just physical . . ."
"It's not just physical." Kurogane pressed his face into the back of Syaoran's head, his breath raising hairs on his neck. The words repeated in his mind, echoing the imagined love he'd daydreamed of a moment ago. "It's about intimacy. When we're alone, I'll call you by name."
Syaoran closed his eyes, still too sore to move. He'd wanted to believe that, on some level, someone loved him, yet the assurance of intimacy seemed so inadequate, as if it could be taken away at any moment, just like everything else had been, after he'd turned back time. But he couldn't very well say that now, so instead, he said, "I appreciate that."
Kurogane released him and sat up, gathering his clothes from the floor. His voice softened, growing regretful. "I wanted this to be good for you. I'm sorry it hurt."
"Don't be sorry," Syaoran murmured, knowing the ninja would say the exact same thing to him, had their positions been reversed. "Sorry doesn't change anything."