Chapter Sixty-Seven

Syaoran waited for Fai to leave, trying to distract himself with the collection of books he'd been reading and re-reading since his first trip to the hospital. I really ought to buy these instead of collecting late fees from the library, he thought, frowning to himself. It would probably be cheaper.

A knock on his bedroom door pulled him from his reverie, and his heart jumped with renewed hope. He reined it in, knowing that Fai wasn't yet out of the apartment. Regardless of the conversation he'd eavesdropped on last night, he wasn't about to act on any intimate impulses while the others were nearby. "Who is it?" he called, voice hoarse, as if someone had rubbed sandpaper along the inside of his throat.

"Sakura-chan and I are heading to the market to stock up," Fai said, his voice a mix of forced cheer and unease. Trying to accept what's going on between Kurogane and me, Syaoran thought, guilt replacing the flare of hope as the magician went on. "Is there anything you want us to pick up?"

"No, I'm fine. I'll see you soon." Or not.

The conversation ended there, though he could still sense Fai's presence beyond the door. Fai could've walked right in if he'd wanted to, since Kurogane hadn't installed a lock on this door. Could've walked in as if the closed door held no significance at all. But instead, Fai wandered away. A moment later, the front door opened and closed, the others' footsteps vanishing like an orchestra fading into silence.

Syaoran waited a few minutes, then grabbed his crutches from where they leaned against the wall and limped over to the door. There he paused, wondering what would happen when he walked out into the living room. He'd had little opportunity to speak to Kurogane since Fai had seen them kissing, and even before that, they'd been distant. Truthfully, he had no idea how the ninja would react to his presence. Better to find out now than to go on without knowing, he told himself.

Syaoran opened the door and stepped into the living room.

Kurogane seethed, mistrustful of the mage's apparent acceptance of his relationship with the boy and the unsubtle cue for them to get to it. And when the kid hobbled into the living room, a fresh sprinkling of guilt settled over the frustration. "What is it?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice level.

The boy hesitated, cheeks flushing pink. "I overheard what you and Fai-san talked about last night."

What a surprise. "What of it?"

Syaoran flinched, biting his lip. "I . . . Does it change anything?" His voice quavered with uncertainty.

Kurogane's eyes narrowed. He walked over to the kid, took his chin between his fingers, and tilted it up so their gazes met. "That's not entirely up to me."

Something sparked in the boy's eyes, and the flush in his cheeks deepened. "Do we need to talk about this?"

"No." Let's make this simple. His fingers knotted in the boy's hair, knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. The boy's eyes flew open. "Yes or no?" Kurogane demanded, his free hand clamping around the kid's arm. The air between them hummed with intensity as he pressed Syaoran against the wall. The boy's crutches scraped the sheetrock.

The kid stared at him for half a second, arms rigid. "Fai-san said—"

"I don't give a shit what he said." He tilted the kid's chin up with his finger. "I'm asking you: yes or no?"

Syaoran's eyes widened. Tentatively, he placed a hand on each of Kurogane's sides, just below the ribs. Kurogane stifled the instinctive urge to block the movement—always stifled his instincts when it came to this. A pair of brown eyes panned up to his face. The corner of the kid's mouth twitched, his hands tracing the subtle curve of his hips, every touch just as hesitant as the first time they'd gone this far. "I'm not sure," he whispered, bowing his head.

Kurogane stepped back, reining in the pent-up frustration, struggling to put it away. Still, it remained, pacing in its cage, itching to slip past the rusted bars of his self-control. He turned away, stalking over to the couch and glaring at the cushions.

Damn it, he thought, breathing deep to dispel his anger. He'd spent weeks keeping his emotions separate from his actions, trying to ignore the sizzling frustration he'd felt when the mage had ordered him to keep his distance from the kid. And maybe if that had been all, he could've kept that emotion in check better now. But that wasn't it. What bothered him, what really bothered him, was the fact that the wizard had manipulated the boy with some stupid, irrelevant ultimatum in which the kid had no choice but to obey.

Most irritating of all was the fact that Fai seemed to have no idea how fucking controlling that was.

Faint footsteps sounded against his eardrums. He half-turned to see the kid standing behind him, his expression caught between worry and discomfort. Kurogane noted how he leaned to the left, resting his weight on his undamaged leg. It's never going to get better if he doesn't start using both legs again. He opened his mouth to say as much, then clamped it shut when he saw the kid stiffen in expectation of a reprimand. When none came, the boy's body relaxed. "Would it be a one-time thing, then?" Syaoran asked. "If we did this now?"

Kurogane bristled. "Do you want it to be?"

"I don't want Sakura-hime to find out." His eyes flickered to Kurogane's face, then away.

"Fine." He stepped forward, grabbed the kid by the arms, and leaned forward, tracing Syaoran's lower lip with his tongue. Those lips parted under his touch, and he deepened the kiss, one hand curling in the kid's hair as the other found Syaoran's waist.

Briefly, he wondered what the mage would do if he walked back into the apartment and saw them tangled together like this. Whatever the wizard had said, it would be a fucking miracle if he'd follow through with it. Kurogane shoved the thought aside and pressed Syaoran against the back of the couch, jeans sliding against the metal rods in the boy's leg brace. His knee would be nearly healed by now, though it would take more physical therapy to get him back to his previous agility. Still, the joint had healed enough that Kurogane didn't worry much about damaging it. He moved his hand lower, fingers massaging Syaoran's thigh around the brace. The boy groaned, leg tensing.

Kurogane slid his hand upward, drawing back to gauge Syaoran's reaction. His eyes flew open, then fluttered closed again. His pelvis jerked as a moan broke through his control. He needs this, too, Kurogane thought, their lips crashing together again. This kiss was more aggressive than the last, the shyness absent from the boy's motions. Kurogane parted his lips, letting Syaoran move in. A cool wet pressure danced across his lower lip, then went deeper, becoming desperate. The boy's body tensed, relaxed, tensed again.

Kurogane broke the kiss, breathing hard. "Bed. Yours. Now."

Syaoran nodded, sliding away. They were halfway to the door when Syaoran paused. "There's lotion in the medicine cabinet." Crimson crept across his cheeks. "If you think we might . . . need it?"

Kurogane took the hint, changed direction, stepped into the bathroom. He flung open the doors to the medicine cabinet and grabbed the off-white bottle of lotion sitting in the back of the cabinet, making careful note of where it was so he could put it back when they were done. Desperate or not, it paid to be discreet.

When he made it back to the bedroom, he found Syaoran waiting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. Kurogane paused, worry twisting through him when the kid didn't look at him. But as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the issue became clear. Syaoran had folded his hands over his lap, hiding the bulge straining against his shorts.

Kurogane resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. Like he hadn't figured out how to make the kid respond by now. The kid's shyness had always puzzled him a little—not the shyness regarding the act itself, or even the affection, but about his physical reactions. By this point, Kurogane figured, the next step should be obvious, not something to hide or be ashamed of. But then, the kid had always seemed a little ashamed of this, despite his assurances that he was fine. Kurogane walked over to the side of the bed, grabbed the kid's wrists, and pulled them out of the way, revealing the bulge in his pants. Syaoran turned his face to the wall.

"Don't be ashamed of it. It's part of the process."

"I know."

Kurogane set the bottle of lotion aside and pushed down on the boy's shoulders until he sunk into the sheets. He adjusted their positions until they were both lying lengthwise across the mattress. Arms splayed, Syaoran looked up at him. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, breathless.

He sidled forward, pinning the boy under his weight. He stripped off his own shirt, tossed it onto the floor, and then did the same for the boy, leaving them both half-exposed. Cool air ran its fingers down his back, a sharp contrast to the warm body underneath him. He leaned forward so his lips were at Syaoran's ear. And because he meant it, he said, "I want all of it. I want you."