Author's Notes:

Warning: smut in this chapter.

Chapter One-Hundred-Twenty

Several healers tended to his wounds while Hinata brewed a soothing tea for him. Syaoran laid still, tracing the back of Kurogane's hand with his thumb. His body ached more than he'd let on, but he knew that if he complained about it, they would make him stay longer. And he had too many things to take care of to remain in the infirmary.

When Hinata handed him a large cup of tea, he forced a smile to his lips. "Thank you."

"Drink," she told him. "Letting your body linger in pain will only slow your recovery."

His smile faltered. "Right." He raised the cup to his lips, glad the healers had finished bandaging his upper body. Drained by the back-to-back battles, he could barely find the energy to move. Briefly, he considered having Kurogane carry him everywhere for the next few days, despite his aversion to being a burden.

He finished the tea just as the healers bandaged the last of his wounds. They stepped out of the room, casting sympathetic glances his way before disappearing. Hinata left last, commanding him to rest. Once she was gone, Syaoran sank to the bedroll, groaning.

"You all right?" Kurogane asked.

"I'll be fine. We've got to meet up with the others in the dining hall soon. I have to be there."

The ninja nodded, stroking Syaoran's hair. Before he could say anything, the door slid open, and his mechanical hand tightened around Syaoran's fingers. Ow, he thought, pulling his hand free with some effort. Mind fuzzy from fatigue and pain, it took him a moment to recognize his visitor.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Kurogane snarled, crouching over him like a cobra poised to strike.

Seishirou grinned. "I wanted to see how the Little Wolf was faring after that last battle."

"He'd be better if you hadn't stabbed him in five places."

"Ah, yes. That was quite a rematch." His smile widened, but it lacked the predatory edge Syaoran had seen while they'd fought. Instead, it looked pleased, even proud. Syaoran felt a prickle in the back of his throat. "I confess, I didn't expect you to fight so ferociously," Seishirou went on, sitting cross-legged at the end of the bedroll. "With a few more years of practice, you might beat me."

Syaoran looked down. Somehow, hearing Seishirou's praise only made him feel awkward, as if he'd done something shameful. Beside him, Kurogane stiffened, as tense as a piano wire. "You stay away from him."

Annoyance flickered across Seishirou's face, and the smile that followed did little to dispel the anxiety building in Syaoran's chest. Not wanting to appear weak, he sat up. "Is there something you needed?"

"Nothing in particular. Although"—he tilted his head back, thoughtful—"you might have need of me."

What? Syaoran's eyebrows slanted. "I don't know what you mean."

"You showed a great deal of skill in our battle today. I'm particularly impressed with how you've adapted what I taught your clone to fit with what you've learned from him." He nodded once to Kurogane, then refocused on Syaoran. "But you haven't mastered my techniques yet, and I have learned much since I last saw your image in Edonis. I am confident you would make an excellent student, if you chose to be."

Syaoran tensed, then looked at Kurogane, gathering his resolve. Slowly, he turned back to Seishirou. "Thank you. But I already have a teacher."

"Ah. Well, nothing I can do about that." Seishirou stood. "If you ever change your mind, I'm sure we'll cross paths again. In any case, I really should be leaving. I've got a pair of vampires to catch up to." He swept out of the room, his cloak trailing behind him like a shadow.

"That creep," Kurogane muttered, shutting the door.

"He's not so bad," Syaoran said.

"He's a sociopath."

"He left me alive today."

Kurogane paused, drawing back. "Yeah. And?"

Syaoran shrugged, then winced as the movement pulled at his wounds. "You heard what Hinata-sensei said. If he'd wanted me dead, I'd be dead. Instead, he went out of his way to avoid hitting any major blood vessels during our fight."

"Right before you got pulled into the dream world and nearly died there."

"You were worried about me."

"Of fucking course I was worried about you!" Kurogane turned, taking Syaoran's face between his hands. The contrast between each hand—one warm and soft, the other cold and hard—made Syaoran's eyes widen, but before he could do more than perceive it, Kurogane's mouth pressed against his, hot, firm, demanding. Syaoran closed his eyes, surrendering to the sensation. Kurogane's tongue darted between his lips, moving over his teeth before plunging deeper. Heat rushed down to Syaoran's groin.

Sometimes, it embarrassed him how easily Kurogane could make him feel like this. How easily Kurogane could make him feel wanted. "Please," he murmured, a thread of saliva bridging the space between their lips.

"Please what?"

"I need you. Now. Please."

"You're hurt. I can't—"

Syaoran grabbed the front of the ninja's shirt, pulling down while using his other hand to push the side of the ninja's chest. It couldn't have been forceful enough to budge Kurogane, but he rolled anyway, allowing Syaoran to straddle him. "Painkillers must have kicked in, huh?" Kurogane muttered. Syaoran said nothing, pressing his mouth to the man's throat, shivering as he felt the man's pulse racing against his lips. He opened his mouth slightly, letting his teeth graze the ninja's skin.

"We got interrupted before," Syaoran said, breathing hard.

"Yeah. We did." Kurogane's hands moved from his hips to his shoulders, pushing his tattered shirt out of the way. "Take it off," he said. "There's not much left of it, anyway."

Syaoran yanked his tunic off and let it fall to the floor beside the bedroll. His hands went to Kurogane's shirt, unlacing the front. His fingers fumbled with the knots, and after a few seconds, Kurogane pulled the garment over his head and discarded it. "You got any lotion?"

Syaoran jumped, the implications of that question making his brain short-circuit for a minute. "I . . . uh. No. I don't think so." He grimaced. What am I thinking? I'm not in any shape to be doing this.

Kurogane studied him for a minute. "Fuck it. Take your pants off."

Confused, Syaoran untied the bindings of his pants and slid them down his thighs. Beneath him, Kurogane did the same, though that took a bit of maneuvering, given how their bodies twisted around each other. Once they were naked, Syaoran frowned. "How are we going to—"

"Give me your hand."

He obeyed, then blinked and Kurogane pulled his hand to his lips and stuck Syaoran's fingers in his mouth. Well, this is . . . interesting, Syaoran thought, bemused. Kurogane sucked on his fingers, coating them with saliva, and Syaoran blinked, the pieces falling into place. Kurogane pulled his fingers out of his mouth with a pop. "You wanted to be on top. We've got at least half an hour before anyone expects us in the dining hall."

Syaoran gaped. "You want me to—"

"Yes."

His lips parted slightly, and panic nearly took over. He didn't know how to do this, didn't know what it would feel like or whether it would hurt. He hadn't realized how much responsibility would come with taking charge, how much pressure he would feel. He couldn't breathe. "I—"

Kurogane's fingers coiled in his hair. "I want you to."

Syaoran gulped, then nodded, sliding his slick fingers between the other man's legs. He felt for the puckered opening at the base of his tailbone, then inhaled sharply when he found it. "How?" he asked.

"Just ease it in. One at a time."

Stomach twisting, he pressed his index finger upward, pushing through the tight circle of flesh and letting the heat envelop him. Kurogane grunted, contracting around his finger. "Good. Like that. Do the next one."

Uncertainly, Syaoran added a second digit and pushed upward. This time, Kurogane hissed through his teeth. "Should I stop?"

"No." The ninja breathed in, then out again, flexing around Syaoran's fingers as he did so. "Now move in and out, slowly."

Syaoran obeyed, feeling a little thrill as Kurogane let his head fall back. He wasn't sure, but he thought the man felt warmer inside than out. I'm the first one who's ever done this to him, Syaoran thought. The only one. He curled his fingers slightly, then moved them like the blades of a pair of scissors, as Kurogane had sometimes done with him. The man's body tensed and relaxed under his. Desire pulsed through Syaoran's veins, and he slipped a third finger inside, his heart quickening when Kurogane gasped. "Good. Faster."

Syaoran quickened his pace, sliding his fingers in and out, stretching muscles, teasing nerves that had never been touched before. He felt the ninja's erection pressing against his stomach and remembered his own aching need. Heat rushed under the surface of his skin, blistering and cleansing all at once. Kurogane grabbed his shoulders. "Now. Do it now."

Syaoran nodded, withdrawing his fingers and allowing the ninja to turn over. He positioned himself, bracing his hands on the man's back and pressing his lips to his spine. "You'll tell me if I'm doing it wrong, won't you?"

"Yes. Now fucking do it."

The desperation—the desire—in Kurogane's voice nearly undid him before it even started. Syaoran inhaled sharply, pressing the tip of his length against the puckered opening and penetrating deep. He felt Kurogane envelop him, his body squeezing around his length as it strained to expel the foreign presence. Syaoran gasped. Oh. Oh, wow. The heat burning under his skin rose to an inferno, and he pushed deeper, gasping as Kurogane went rigid around him. "Fuck!" the ninja swore.

"Are you all right?"

"Fucking . . . Holy shit. You didn't tell me it was like this."

Distress bubbled up in his chest. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No!"

Uncertainly, Syaoran pulled back, then pushed forward again. Kurogane tightened around him, his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists. I can't be doing this right, Syaoran thought. "I think you need to relax. You're starting to tighten up," he said. The ninja's body had gone so rigid that Syaoran couldn't move inside him.

After a few seconds, Kurogane relaxed his body. Judging by the sheen of sweat on the back of his neck, it had taken quite an effort. Syaoran eased out a few inches, then back in, finding a rhythm. It hurt a little, which made him think that one of them should have taken the time to retrieve some lotion, but Kurogane didn't protest, and the slight sting that Syaoran felt wasn't enough to outweigh the pleasure coiling in his gut. He sped his pace, breathing hard.

Without warning, pleasure exploded through his body, whipping through him like a cable snapping under tension. He cried out, as much from shock as from relief. The fire in his veins blazed hotter, and all other sensation vanished from his body as he let himself burn.