Chapter One-Hundred Thirty-Three

"I want to make love to you."

The words sent a frisson of desire through Syaoran's body. "Oh." His eyes widened, a blush blooming across his cheeks. Fingertips swept down the side of his neck, lingering at his collarbone. Kurogane's palm pressed against the front of his shirt, over his heart. His pulse sped.

"Is that okay?" Kurogane asked, his lips still at Syaoran's ear.

"Yes." His hands moved to the folds of the ninja's shirt, tugging it open to expose his chest. "Can I?"

Kurogane made a noise of assent, his nose skimming Syaoran's scalp. Slowly, carefully, Syaoran slipped the ninja's shirt off his shoulders, unfastening the laces binding the front together. The man's breathing grew heavy. He wants to marry me, Syaoran thought, resting his head against Kurogane's collarbone as his hands moved to untie his belt. When Kurogane's shirt hung loose, he sloughed it off, and it fell to the floor in a pile. Syaoran's eyes traced the man's plated abdomen, memorizing the hard planes of his stomach, the thickness of his chest.

His gaze traveled upward, following the curve of his shoulders, one flesh and bone, the other mechanical. After a moment, he lifted his hand to touch the prosthetic. Dozens of wires wove together beneath the synthetic muscle, becoming gradually wispier as they neared the surface. Metal joints at the shoulder, elbow, and wrist gave Kurogane the same freedom of movement he had in his other arm, and though Syaoran had first regarded the prosthetic as something cold and artificial, its intricacy now made it seem more like a piece of art than a mere replacement. Mindful of the wires, he brushed his fingertips down the inner curve of the arm. "Does it ever . . . hurt?" he asked.

The ninja hesitated, then closed his eyes. "It's sensitive. Why?"

He withdrew his hand. "I don't want to do anything to cause you pain."

"Don't hold back on my account. It's only sensitive in certain spots."

"Oh." He tilted his head back. "Where?"

Kurogane's lips parted. He took Syaoran's hand, guiding it upward to the juncture between flesh and steel. The tubes that had anchored themselves in what was left of his real shoulder had mostly disappeared under the muscle, though if he looked closely, he could still see shallow bumps where they'd burrowed under Kurogane's flesh. "Here," Kurogane said, moving Syaoran's hands over the bumps. "This part gets tender if I move my arm too much." He paused, seeming to consider his next words carefully. "As long as you're careful, it shouldn't be a problem."

Nodding, Syaoran ran his fingertips over the man's skin, feeling the firmness of metal beneath the surface. After a moment, he withdrew his hand, looking up. Kurogane stared down at him, his expression uncertain. "What's wrong?" Syaoran asked.

"Nothing's wrong." Kurogane's eyes slid to the bed. "Here, lie down."

Puzzled but willing, Syaoran pulled himself onto the middle of the bed, lying on his stomach and craning his neck to watch the ninja. Kurogane sat on the edge of the bed, his hand resting between Syaoran's shoulder blades. After a moment, he started moving his palm in lazy circles over Syaoran's back, wrinkling the fabric of his shirt. Hastily, Syaoran disrobed, wriggling out of the garment without sitting up. When he was done, Kurogane resumed his previous motion, stroking the middle of Syaoran's back, massaging the knots that had formed there. "You've let yourself get too wound up these past few weeks," Kurogane said, kneeling over him as he continued to tease the tension from his body.

"I worry a lot," he said apologetically. The man gave a grunt of agreement, kneading the cords off muscle on either side of Syaoran's spine. Pleasure clouded his mind as Kurogane's fingers dug into a particularly sensitive spot. "There. Right there."

"Good?"

"Very good." His whole body stretched, fingers and toes splaying as Kurogane worked months of tension out of his back. He'd never realized how stressed he'd allowed himself to become, or how much time he'd spent worrying. The sheer physical relief brought on by the massage made him glad he had someone who would do this for him.

A gentle pressure on the back of his neck made him look up. Arms folded around his body, twisting him so he was lying on his back, his face inches from Kurogane's. "Lie like this," the ninja murmured. "I've got lotion in my bag."

Always prepared, Syaoran thought as Kurogane got up to retrieve the bottle. His movements were slow, deliberate. He laid the bottle of lotion carefully on the edge of the bed, then let his fingertips sweep Syaoran's side.

He remembered feeling vulnerable and exposed the first time they'd been together like this. He remembered the embarrassment and uncertainty that had inevitably stemmed from those first tentative touches. Now, as Kurogane's fingers fluttered against his ribs, he felt . . . ticklish.

Humor, rare as snow in summer, sparked in Kurogane's eyes. Abruptly, he lurched forward, his hands darting up to Syaoran's neck and wriggling over the sensitive skin there. Syaoran squirmed, a laugh bursting from his throat. "What are you—" He broke off as another involuntary giggle escaped his lips. Squirming, he curled into a ball. "You—Ha!" His laughter carried through the room, made sharper by his shock. He'd spent a lot of time imagining the things they could do together. He'd never dreamed Kurogane would try tickling him.

The pleasant assault stopped abruptly as Kurogane leaned back. "Huh. Didn't figure you'd actually be ticklish," he remarked, a speculative expression on his face. Relieved, Syaoran rolled onto his side, clutching his ribs and tucking his chin to reduce Kurogane's chances of finding something to tickle.

"What was that?" he asked, once he'd gained back some of his breath.

The ninja's expression sobered. "I wanted to hear you laugh."

His eyes widened at the seriousness of Kurogane's voice. He sat up, grabbing the ninja's arm for support. He didn't quite know what to say. "Oh."

"Yeah. Uh . . . so . . ."

"You almost never laugh."

"Well, I don't really . . . Kid . . ."

Emboldened by the suspicion in his voice, Syaoran leaned forward, schooling his face into an innocent expression. "Don't I get a turn?"

The ninja's cheeks darkened. "Uh . . ."

"Please?" He infused the word with a gentle lilt, letting his eyelids droop slightly. Kurogane sputtered, having apparently lost all ability to speak, and Syaoran went on. "It would make me really happy to hear you laugh."

The corner of his eyebrow twitched. "Fine."

Grinning, Syaoran rocked forward, his fingertips skating across the side of the ninja's neck. The man went rigid in response, body jerking as Syaoran's hands skimmed down the sides of his chest. A strained sound escaped his throat. Almost, Syaoran thought, digging his fingers into the V-shaped creases at the base of the ninja's abdomen. Another noise broke through his careful control, louder than the first.

The dam burst. Rich, deep laughter poured out of the ninja's mouth as his face broke into an involuntary smile, and his hands snatched Syaoran's upper arms, locking them in place. "Oh, you're going to pay for that," Kurogane muttered, pulling him close.

"But you have such a nice laugh!"

"Ah, shut up." Their lips collided, fierce, wanting. Kurogane's nails scraped Syaoran's back as he pushed him backward onto the bed. "You," he said, tapping Syaoran's chest with his index finger, "are mine."

"Yes." He tilted his head back, toes curling in pleasure. Hastily, Kurogane untied the bindings holding Syaoran's pants in place and pulled them down. Moments later, the ninja's index finger pressed against the opening at the base of his tailbone.

"Ready?"

Syaoran made a noise of assent, then groaned as Kurogane's finger, slick with lotion, slid inside him. It ached, as always. Syaoran shifted, closing his eyes as he acclimated to the sensation, then relaxing his muscles until the pain subsided. Gradually, Kurogane pushed deeper, coaxing a response out of him. "More?" he asked after a minute. Syaoran nodded, tensing up as Kurogane added a second digit. Desire sparked in his belly, spreading downward. His arms locked around the ninja's neck, pulling him closer. In response, Kurogane ghosted his free hand across Syaoran's abdomen. "Do you have any idea," Kurogane growled, "what you make me want to do to you?"

Alarmed by the dangerous undercurrent in the ninja's voice, Syaoran tensed, wincing as the sudden stiffness sent sparks of pain through his lower body. He forced himself to relax before he spoke. "What do you want to do to me?"

The ninja's fingers slid deeper inside him, intensifying the sensations rolling through the rest of his body. "I want to make you beg."

"Oh," he said quietly, unsure whether to be terrified or excited. Teeth nipped at his throat, and a moment later, Kurogane's breath tickled his ear.

"I want you to need me."

"I'll always need you," he whispered.

"Good." He withdrew his fingers suddenly, making Syaoran gasp. "Lift your legs."

Confused, he obeyed. Kurogane's hands closed around Syaoran's thighs, and their bodies locked together. Slowly, Kurogane pushed inside him, his grip tightening. Their positions shifted slightly and the ninja leaned forward to plant a kiss on his sternum. "Syaoran." His voice cradled the name, treasured it.

"Yes?"

"Look at me."

He opened his eyes, hardly aware that he'd closed them. Kurogane looked back at him, his dark red eyes reflecting everything Syaoran felt for him. The maelstrom of worry inside his chest calmed. "I love you," Kurogane told him, shifting forward. "Always."

"I love you, too. Always." His lips parted as the ninja withdrew, and when he penetrated deeper, Syaoran moaned. "Please . . ."

"Louder."

"Please." He gasped at the next thrust, pleasure and pain shooting through his body. The pain eased as they found their rhythm, and he wrapped his legs more tightly around Kurogane's hips. "Please. Please . . ." He let his head loll back, dazed by the onslaught of pleasure. Kurogane knew his body so well—better, Syaoran thought, than he knew himself. Their pace picked up, driving him closer and closer to that sweet release.

When he finally let go, he cried out, nails digging into the ninja's ribs. Kurogane followed him a moment later, pressing his face against the bedsheets. Those will have to be washed, Syaoran thought irrelevantly, his body going limp. Kurogane withdrew, rolling over to lie by his side. "Good?" he asked.

"Very." It took a monumental effort, but he managed to roll onto his side and sling an arm over Kurogane's chest. "Better than good, actually. Perfect."

With his metal hand, Kurogane tousled his hair. "Yeah, same for me." He sighed, closing his eyes. "Want to go again?"

Syaoran laughed. "Maybe in a few minutes," he said lightly.

"I'm going to hold you to that."

He grinned, feeling more relaxed than he had in months. "I'm looking forward to it."