Author's Notes:

Sorry for the late update: On Friday, I had my high school graduation, a rehearsal, and a birthday-graduation party to attend, so I literally had no time to edit this chapter (no excuse for poor planning, but I do consider myself to be quite lazy). Then, on Saturday, I was having issues logging into FFN. So, this is the first chance I've had to edit and post this. Sorry for the delay!

Anyway, there will be explicit content in this chapter. Yeah. I figured some of you might have been getting bored (frankly, so was I. It's been a slow couple of weeks for writing). So I added some smut into the story.

And yes, the chapter title is a reference to My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. Don't judge me.

Chapter Ninety-Nine

Dusk.

Syaoran slipped on his new outfit, shivering as the black silk slid across his body. It fit perfectly, the tailored sleeves ending at his wrists. He tightened the laces holding the front of the outfit together, securing each section with an elaborate knot, as he'd watched Sora do all morning while he'd tried on different outfits. His work looked a lot clumsier than Sora's had, but considering the complexity of the knots, Syaoran hoped no one would judge him too harshly.

Unfortunately, each knot he tied reminded him of what Kurogane had said in the garden. Syaoran struggled to repress the flush of heat creeping across the back of his neck at the thought. By the time he laced up the last section, his breathing had grown heavy and anyone who touched him would have thought he had a fever. How am I going to make it through the night without embarrassing myself? he wondered. He could already imagine staggering through the imperial garden, covering himself with his hands in a futile attempt to preserve his dignity. How shameful would it be to lose control of his body on his first real date, in front of all those people, just because of a few whispered words?

Humiliated by his own train of thought, he did the only thing he could think to do: he went to Kurogane.

Thankfully, no one passed him in the hallway, not even the servants who usually occupied the castle at dusk. The festival had started hours ago, not long after he'd selected his outfit, and most of the people in attendance had left the castle to have fun. He made it to the ninja's quarters without incident. Kurogane waited inside, glancing up when he entered. "You're late."

The rosy tint on his cheeks deepened. His eyes dropped. "S-sorry. I . . . I had some trouble with the knots. On my outfit. I wasn't sure how to . . ." His voice trailed off, dying in his throat without his permission. He fell silent, mortified.

Kurogane approached until Syaoran felt the heat coming off his body. His hand swept down the length of Syaoran's arm, pressing the silk flush against his skin. Kurogane's hand felt like fire through the sheer material, and Syaoran started hyperventilating, his cheeks flushing with desire. Abruptly, the ninja's hand darted lower, moving between his legs. He squeaked in shock, body going still. "You," Kurogane said matter-of-factly, "are as hard as a rock."

He grit his teeth, unable to meet the man's eyes. "Sorry."

To his utter shock and mortification, Kurogane chuckled. Every muscle in his body went as tense as a tightrope. He's laughing at me. An unfamiliar surge of anger accompanied the thought. He's laughing at me!

He tried to pull away, but before he could, an arm wrapped around his waist, tugging him forward. He planted a hand on the ninja's chest in a futile attempt to distance himself from the low vibration of his laughter. But instead of pushing himself away, he pressed his face against the ninja's shirt in shame.

Kurogane must have sensed the discrepancy in their moods because he sobered almost instantly, loosening his grip. "What's wrong?"

"You laughed at me."

"When?"

"Just now! When you . . . when you said that I was . . . you know."

"That's what's bothering you?" he asked, shocked, as if Syaoran had just told him he wanted to take up ballroom dancing. Syaoran nodded into his shirt. "Well, that's a stupid reason to be upset."

He didn't know which was worse: not being taken seriously, or the fact that despite the tears gathering in his eyes, he couldn't ignore the desire coiled in his belly. His fingers curled around Kurogane's shirt, shaking as he stood in the crossfire of conflicting emotions. "It's not a stupid reason," he mumbled. "It's humiliating."

Kurogane's fingers tensed on the small of his back, then relaxed. "You're right. I'm sorry."

The apology startled him enough to derail his hurt. "You are?"

"Yeah." The man's fingers curled in his hair.

Syaoran leaned forward, resting his forehead on the ninja's collarbone. The humiliation he'd faced a moment ago faded, replaced with a weaker embarrassment at his overreaction. He wrapped his arms around Kurogane's neck and stood up on his tiptoes, tilting his head back for a kiss. Kurogane's mouth closed over his, and Syaoran tentatively let the tip of his tongue trace the ninja's lower lip. In response, Kurogane surged forward, the movement powerful, predatory. Their breath mingled until Syaoran felt dizzy. He sunk deeper into the kiss, moaning as Kurogane's tongue explored his mouth.

Somehow, they ended up on the bed in a tangle of blankets and limbs. Syaoran propped himself up to burrow into the ninja's warmth. Their breathing increased in tempo, and moments later, a shock of cold air brushed against Syaoran's legs as his pants were pulled free. His fingers knotted in Kurogane's shirt. "Wait," he gasped as he felt a hand moving up his thigh.

"What?"

"I can't get these clothes dirty. They're good silk."

Kurogane stared at him, the moment seeming to stretch on for eons as Syaoran's heart raced. "Hold still." Kurogane pushed the rumpled fabric of Syaoran's shirt upward and tugged his pants in the opposite direction. Syaoran kicked them off, leaving them in a heap next to the bed.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, toes curling in anticipation.

"You'll see." Kurogane pressed his lips to Syaoran's knee, then started moving his mouth up his thigh. Syaoran went lightheaded as all the blood in his body surged downward. His nearly forgotten desire came back in force.

As Kurogane's lips found the curve of his hip, a wordless plea escaped his throat. When he felt the man's tongue trace a line down his shaft, that plea dissolved into a moan. He threw his head back, trying to remember how to breathe as all rational thoughts fled his mind. Moments later, Kurogane's mouth closed around him, hot and moist, constricting with an almost gentle suction. The sensation obliterated every shred of coherent thought, leaving his mind blank as his moans rose in pitch and volume.

Pleasure ripped through him like a knife, a white-hot sensation almost indistinguishable from pain. His body arched as it crackled through him, and the sound he made was somewhere between a cry and a whimper.

He recovered several minutes later to find Kurogane lying next to him, cradling his body with his remaining arm and nuzzling the top of his head. Syaoran turned toward him, returning the embrace with languid arms. His pants lay abandoned somewhere on the floor, leaving his legs exposed to the open air. The air cooled the wetness between his thighs, slowly evaporating the evidence of tonight's tryst.

"So," Kurogane said after a moment, "how was it?"

"Amazing."

A hint of pride touched the man's eyes. "Good."

"Was it . . . all right for you?" Syaoran asked. "I mean, it can be a little . . . uncomfortable, the first time."

"It was good. Maybe too good."

Syaoran tilted his head back, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

The ninja's cheeks darkened with a blush. "We might have to put off going to the festival for a few more minutes."

It took a moment for his confusion to break. When it did, he looked down. "Oh. I can . . . fix that for you, if you want."

"That would be good."

Syaoran hastily pulled up his pants, smoothing the front of his top in the hopes that it wouldn't be too obviously ruffled by the time they actually made it to the festival. He ran his fingertips along the ninja's side, listening for the catch in his breath as he tensed. Syaoran paused, then lifted the ninja's shirt to press his lips against his abdomen. His fingers skimmed along the top of the ninja's pants.

Since he had rather recent experience with being forced to wait to have his desires fulfilled, he decided to be merciful. He pulled Kurogane's pants down to his knees and let his lips close around his length. At once, Kurogane groaned, the fingers of his remaining hand tangling in Syaoran's hair. "Fuck, you're good at that."

I've had practice, Syaoran would have said, had his mouth not been otherwise occupied. Evidently, all his practice had been worth it, because it took only minutes to achieve the desired effect. Near the end, Kurogane's grip on his hair tightened, ripping a few strands free. Seconds later, he climaxed, panting as if he'd spent the past half hour doing sword practice.

When it was done, Syaoran retied all the knots and rearranged both their clothes so they didn't look like they'd just spent half an hour doing . . . things with each other.

"So," Syaoran said after a few minutes. "Should we go?"

"Go?"

"To the festival."

Kurogane's eyes snapped open. He shot up as if someone had dumped cold water on him. "Shit."

Alarmed, Syaoran sat up. "What?"

"Tomoyo knows we planned to be there at dusk. She'll know why we're late."

"How did she . . . Never mind." He stood, smoothing out his clothes one last time. "How do I look?"

"Your hair's a mess. Here." Kurogane grabbed a bristly hairbrush from the edge of the room and tossed it to him. Syaoran raked it through his hair, wincing as the wires dug into his scalp. Thankfully, he'd kept his hair short—it took only a few strokes to dislodge the tangles.

"Am I presentable?" he asked, handing the brush back. Kurogane studied him for a moment, then, without a word, grabbed a small towel from a stack on the floor and dabbed the corner of it on Syaoran's lips. He blushed a deep scarlet.

"There. Let's go." Kurogane pulled the door open. "People will be wondering where we've been."

"Well . . . we could tell them that we were busy with sword practice," Syaoran said, smiling. Kurogane's head whipped around, as if he believed he'd misheard. Blushing, Syaoran looked down. As the remark sunk in, Kurogane started snickering, a rare smile lighting up his face. Syaoran joined in, pleased with the man's reaction.

Tonight, they would laugh with each other.