Author's Notes: This is the last of the smut for a while, peoples. I decided to actually get to the plot. So enjoy the last hurrah. ^_^;; Oh, and uh... a warning for Angsty!Keichii. ::giggles:: Also ExtraPrick!Subaru, Intuitive!Fuuma and Issues!Seishirou. And strip poker.
Chapter Ten: Control
Kamui shuffled nervously from foot to foot, wondering what the hell he was doing, then knocked loudly on the door. He hadn’t seen Keichii since their argument almost a week earlier, except for in classes. Though Keichii had tried quite hard to catch his eye a few times, Kamui had ignored him and avoided him like the plague. He didn’t know quite why he was doing this -- some bizarre sense of fear, perhaps. Not wanting to get close to Keichii, for fear of being hurt, for fear of hurting him.
Reality had slapped him rather hard in the face when he’d gotten his latest statistics test back with a fifty-three. Kamui had buckled under, swallowed his pride --
And asked the teacher for extra help.
The teacher had no trouble with him staying after to learn the material, and since he had caught up in all his other classes, statistics was really the only one giving him trouble anymore. So he had neatly solved his problem and was now wondering exactly why he was standing outside Keichii’s door on a sunny Sunday afternoon.
The door swung open and Keichii answered. His face split into his usual grin instantly. “Hi! You’ve been avoiding me.”
Kamui wondered how anyone could say that and still keep grinning. “Yeah, I have,” he admitted. “Because I felt bad. Do you . . . want to go out for lunch?”
Keichii looked startled. “You mean, just for the hell of it?”
“Yeah,” Kamui said, managing a smile. “Or am I doing this whole friend thing wrong, and I’m not supposed to ask you out for lunch?”
“No, no, you’ve got it right,” Keichii said, hurriedly grabbing his jacket. “I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. Have you been to the new little cafe on fifth street?” At Kamui’s head shake, he said, “Come on, we have to go there. Their food is great.”
Kamui smiled and allowed Keichii to take him by the wrist and pull him along. For just an afternoon, he figured he could allow himself to forget about his problems. For an afternoon, he would let Keichii prattle on and relish the fact that he did still have at least one friend.
“You want to go back to my room, maybe watch a movie or something?” Keichii asked, as Kamui snatched the check just in time to buy him lunch.
“Yeah, sure.” Kamui smiled at him.
The two of them trooped back to Keichii’s and settled in front of his television with the Star Wars trilogy. They had planned on only watching the first, but at the end of it, Kamui was all for putting the second one on and they watched it too, sprawled out over the couch in the common room of the dorm room/apartment.
“Should you call Sumeragi-san and let him know you’ll be late?” Keichii said, taking the second movie out and fishing around for the third.
“No, he doesn’t care,” Kamui replied. “I can come and go as I please.”
“But doesn’t he worry?” Keichii asked curiously.
Kamui looked away. “No. No, he doesn’t.”
“Oh.” Keichii paused. “Um well . . . do you want to order out for dinner? We could get Chinese or something.”
“Where are your roommates?” Kamui asked.
“Oh, they’ll probably be in soon, but if they wanted food, they should’ve left a note,” Keichii said with a smile.
Kamui managed to return the smile. “Chinese sounds great. Thanks.”
“Hey, I’ve got to pay you back for lunch, right? Let’s order it after the last movie.”
Kamui was agreeable to this, so Keichii put the last movie in and flopped back down on the couch. Kamui glanced at him. His natural reaction was to curl up next to Keichii, and he was only just barely managing to squelch that instinct. Keichii was just so . . . comfortable. That was really the best word for him. Kamui felt comfortable around him.
By the time the movie ended, Kamui was yawning. He hadn’t been sleeping very well; Subaru was apt to come in at any time of the night and wake him up. Keichii glanced over at him. “Hey, are you ready for that stats test on Tuesday? Do you need help?”
“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Kamui said with a slight smile. “I asked the teacher for help. He let me stay after a couple afternoons this weekend to help me learn the stuff.”
“Oh.” Keichii looked startled. “Okay. Should we order dinner? You look sleepy, maybe you should just go home.”
“No, I’m okay,” Kamui said, sitting up straighter. “Dinner sounds good.”
Keichii picked up the phone and ordered their food.
Kamui looked at him rather anxiously as he hung up. “So how’m I doing with this whole friend thing?”
Keichii blinked at him a few times, then smiled. “Great. You’re doing really well.” He tilted his head to one side, looking at Kamui curiously. “You really never have had friends before, have you.”
“Not . . . really.” Kamui stared at his hands. “Well, Kotori was my friend. She really, truly cared for me. Not that I ever repaid her very well.”
Keichii paused. “What happened?” he asked.
“She died.” Kamui was suddenly having a very hard time speaking around the lump in his throat. “Her brother . . . my best friend . . . killed her.”
Keichii gaped at him. “Kamui . . .”
“He killed her right in front of me.” Kamui pressed his hands against his face. “I couldn’t do anything to stop him.” Keichii opened his mouth to say something, but Kamui kept going. “And then I think Subaru might have honestly cared for me, at least for a couple months, but then Seishirou died and that just . . . broke him. There was nothing left of the Subaru I knew and loved after that. He was just gone, pieces, like broken glass . . .”
Keichii, not seeing much else he could do, put his arms around Kamui and pulled him into a hug as Kamui started to cry.
“Everyone I’ve ever loved just gets hurt,” Kamui managed between sobs, into Keichii’s shoulder. “That’s why . . . I didn’t want to get to know you . . . because you were too innocent for that . . .”
“Shhh.” Keichii hugged him tighter. “Kamui, you’re not making an awful lot of sense, you know . . .”
“I know, it’s just . . .” Kamui trailed off, crying harder.
Keichii simply held him, waiting for his tears to stop, which they eventually did. They sat in silence for a minute, both of them searching for words. Before Keichii could come up with anything, the doorbell rang. He swore softly under his breath and detached himself from Kamui, going to answer it.
He paid for the food and set it on the table. “You want to eat?” he asked.
“Mm,” Kamui agreed. His eyes were red and he didn’t seem to feel like talking. Keichii got a plate of food for him and handed it to him with a pair of chopsticks and a mug of tea. They ate in almost total silence.
“You want to talk?” Keichii finally asked.
Kamui nodded slowly.
“Let’s go into my room.” Keichii helped Kamui up and guided him into the bedroom, sitting him down on the bed and plopping down next to him after shutting the door. “You can tell me anything, you know,” he said. “I swear I won’t tell anyone else.”
Kamui took a few deep breaths, then he opened his mouth and began to talk. Within ten minutes Keichii knew more about him than almost anyone, a half hour after that, he had outstripped everyone except perhaps Subaru, who didn’t seem to care. He told him about being the Kamui and having to fight for humanity, about Fuuma and Kotori, Subaru and Seishirou. He started at the very beginning and talked until the very end, and he left nothing out.
Keichii listened quietly, interrupting seldom and only when something was unclear, and he believed everything that Kamui said. When Kamui finally trailed off into silence, he sat for a long time, turning it all over in his mind. “Wow,” he finally said.
Kamui let out a noise that seemed half-laugh, half-sob.
“I’m sorry I got mad at you for never telling me anything,” Keichii said. “I guess I understand a little bit better now.”
Kamui rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.” He stood up and began pacing around the room. “I was so afraid of that earlier, that Fuuma would find out we were friends and he would . . .” He thudded into Keichii’s desk chair, holding his head in his hands.
“Hey,” Keichii said softly, walking over and pulling another chair up. “It’s over now.”
“Fuuma’s still alive,” Kamui said in a muffled voice.
“But he can’t hurt you anymore,” Keichii said. “The battle is over.”
“Just because he doesn’t need to doesn’t mean he won’t,” Kamui said. “And . . . it’s hard to let him go. I made that decision on the Promised Day, but knowing that he’s alive . . . it’s strange. Even after everything he did . . . I still miss my friend. Except I don’t think he ever truly existed.”
Keichii said nothing.
“And Seishirou . . . if Subaru knew he was still alive . . . any time he wanted, Seishirou could just take Subaru away from me. It’s hard to live like that . . . knowing that Subaru cares so little for me, when he’s my entire world.”
“I know how you feel,” Keichii murmured.
Kamui glanced up, looking stricken. “Keichii, I’m sorry -- I didn’t mean -- I know that you . . . um, that you . . .” He trailed off, looking away.
“Like you,” Keichii prompted.
“Yeah.” Kamui turned very pink. “And I . . . I’m sorry that I don’t like you back, it’s just . . . you have to admit that I’m pretty fucked up . . . what would you ever want with me, anyway?”
“Don’t talk like that,” Keichii said. “You’re a good person, that’s all that really matters. And I guess you got my protective instincts going, that’s all.”
Kamui shook his head, frustrated. “It’s so hard at times, because I want to be . . . to be normal, I guess. And I know how you feel about me and I would really, really like to be able to feel that way in return, and have a nice normal relationship with you and not be hurt all the time . . . but you don’t understand . . . because I like the pain.” He looked away, knowing that he was crimson. “I think Subaru is the only person who truly understands that.”
“I think you’re underestimating yourself,” Keichii said. “Because if you didn’t leave anything out in your story, I think I know why you’re a masochist.”
Kamui blinked at him. “How?”
“It’s just common sense,” Keichii said. It was his turn to blush a little as he said, “Assuming that we’re talking about sex, right?”
Kamui nodded slightly.
“Well, I think we can both agree that sex is great.” Keichii paused. “Not that I would know from firsthand experience, but that’s besides the point. The point is that sex is great and the first few times you had sex were with Fuuma and he wasn’t gentle. So you came to associate sex, which is good, with pain, which is bad. But since the two are associated together, you assume that you like pain. When I’m willing to bet you’ve just never had sex without pain, so you don’t know whether you like it or not.”
Kamui blinked at him again.
“It’s basic psychology,” Keichii said innocently.
Kamui laughed a little. “I never did think you were stupid, honestly, but if I had, you just proved me wrong.”
“Well, am I right?” Keichii asked. “About you never having had sex without pain.”
Kamui thought about it. “I guess so,” he finally admitted.
“Well, you should try it sometime,” Keichii advised.
Kamui had a mental image of trying to request that of Subaru. “I don’t really think that would go over very well,” he finally said.
Keichii shrugged. “I didn’t necessarily mean tonight.” He glanced at the clock. “Wow, it’s getting really late. You should probably -- ”
“Show me?” Kamui whispered.
Keichii blinked at him, then turned crimson. “Tell me you don’t mean what I think you mean.”
“No, no, not sex,” Kamui said, also blushing. “Just . . . what it’s like to be with someone who’s gentle.”
Keichii gave him a long, steady look. “Kamui, you’re one messed up guy,” he finally said.
Kamui looked away. “I-I know. And if you don’t want to, that’s fine, of course, I just thought maybe you would . . .”
“Shh.” Keichii rested his hand along the side of Kamui’s face and drew him close, kissing him lightly. Their lips brushed against each other a few times, then Keichii tilted his head to one side, gently parting Kamui’s lips with his own. They stayed that way for several long seconds, before Keichii broke the kiss off and pulled away a few inches.
There was a brief silence.
“So that’s what it’s like . . . to be kissed by someone who loves you,” Kamui whispered, his eyes still closed.
Keichii didn’t deny it. “Did you like it?” he asked softly.
“It’s like . . .” Kamui frowned a tiny bit. “It’s like nothing else in the world,” he finally said, and Keichii kissed him again. He just didn’t know how Keichii did it; the kiss deepened in intensity and passion but without any of the bruising force he’d become accustomed to. Everything stayed very slow and very gentle, and there was no pain, only a light-headed dizziness that seemed to infuse his entire body. Keichii reached out and put an arm around his waist, pulling Kamui into his lap. Kamui reached up and ran his fingers through Keichii’s hair; not twisting like he usually did, but just enjoying the feel of it.
This lasted for quite a few minutes before Kamui suddenly came to his senses. He knew damn well that Subaru wouldn’t care what he did with Keichii, but it wasn’t fair to either of them. He couldn’t give Keichii what he needed, and it would be best to stop this now, before it went further. The next time Keichii came up for air, Kamui turned his face away. “No . . . w-we can’t . . .”
He was expecting Keichii to try to kiss him again, and was rather surprised when Keichii immediately turned red and pulled away, moving Kamui back onto his own chair. “I’m sorry, I guess I got sort of carried away, didn’t I . . .”
Kamui managed to smile at him. “No, don’t apologize. It was my fault for asking. I know how you feel, I knew you would get carried away. I guess maybe part of me wanted you to. But I . . . I won’t do that to you, because I can’t give you what you deserve.”
“Well,” Keichii said, cupping Kamui’s face in his hands. “Maybe someday?”
Kamui nodded, feeling his eyes sting with tears. “Maybe.”
~~~~
Subaru was sitting at the kitchen table when Kamui let himself in, quietly closing the door behind him. Neither of them said anything for a long few moments, as Kamui busied himself getting tea. It had been so late that Keichii had been nervous about him walking home, and neither of them had had enough money for him to get a cab. So he had slept on Keichii’s couch and gone straight to school in the morning.
“Thought you weren’t coming back,” Subaru said quietly, not looking up from his own mug of tea and the papers he was looking through.
“Don’t be silly, Subaru,” Kamui said, keeping his voice light and casual. “I left all my stuff here. Trust me, if I decide to leave, you’ll know.”
“Where were you?”
“Keichii’s.”
“Hm.” Subaru swirled his tea around in his cup, staring into it. “Why didn’t you call?”
Kamui slammed the cupboard closed. “Because to be quite honest, I didn’t think you gave a flying fuck if I was alive or dead, let alone whether or not I was going to be home.”
“Oh.” Subaru didn’t dispute it. In fact, he didn’t say anything further at all, but continued to stare at the tea.
“Besides,” Kamui said, reaching into the fridge and fishing out some leftovers to eat, “you said when I moved in that my comings and goings were none of your business and you didn’t care. So I decided it didn’t matter.”
“I suppose so,” Subaru said, watching Kamui as he sat down and began to eat. “But I’m changing the rule. I want to know if you’re not going to be home.”
“Fine.” Kamui didn’t look up.
Silence.
“Were you worried?” Kamui asked.
“No,” Subaru said immediately. “Just frustrated.”
Kamui stood up and dumped the plate he’d used in the sink. “Fuck you, Subaru. And I mean that in a totally non-literal sense.”
He picked up his shoes and left the apartment without stopping to put them on.
~~~~
“Seishirou, has anyone ever told you that you take the word ‘obsessive’ to entirely new heights?”
“Shut up and deal the cards.”
Fuuma laughed and flipped five cards across the table. “Okay. But you’re having a rough time, Seishirou . . . don’t forget what happens if you lose.”
Seishirou gave him a baleful glare, then picked up the hand that Fuuma had dealt him. He had a perfect poker face, despite the fact that his hand consisted of a pair of twos, a six, an eight, and a jack. He fought the urge to thud his head against the table.
“What’s wild again?” he asked.
“If you can’t remember, you don’t get to know,” Fuuma said.
Seishirou growled wordlessly at him, then slid three cards across the table to him.
“You’re a sore loser, too,” Fuuma continued. “You’re chock full of bad qualities. Don’t know why I bother with you.”
“Because I’m absolutely amazing in bed.” By some miracle of luck, Seishirou was dealt another two, giving him three-of-a-kind, even if it was a pathetic three-of-a-kind.
“Got that right.” Fuuma looked at his cards. “All right, let’s see what you’ve got.”
“I have three twos.” Seishirou put his hand down on the table.
Fuuma smirked. “Damn it, I lost again.” He laid down his cards, sporting two pair, and raised his eyebrow at Seishirou. “Okay, what’s your pleasure?”
“Lose the shirt,” Seishirou said, motioning to it with his cigarette.
Fuuma pulled the T-shirt over his head, leaving himself bare chested. He didn’t really mind, seeing as Seishirou was down to his boxers and his socks. “Whose idea was it that we get to choose what the other person takes off?” he asked.
“Yours,” Seishirou said. “But I say that I get to take off my socks next, because if I have to sit here completely naked except for them, you won’t be able to stop laughing long enough to play.”
“All right, but don’t forget our deal.”
Seishirou grit his teeth. “How could I?”
Fuuma stuck out his tongue. “It’s all your fault for never letting me be on top.”
Seishirou just glared at him.
“What?” Fuuma raised an eyebrow at him. “Afraid to lose control, Seishirou?”
“Shut the hell up.”
“Okay.” Fuuma dealt another hand. “The one eyed jacks are wild, by the way,” he added.
“Hm.” Seishirou picked up his cards and fought the urge to sweatdrop. Then he fought the equally strong urge to ask Fuuma if he was cheating. He’d never gotten so many bad hands in a row in his life.
“You know,” Fuuma said casually, examining his cards, “I’ve tried to bring up Subaru, in varying ways, seventeen times tonight, and you’ve immediately changed the subject after each time.”
“You say that as if it’s some stunning revelation from God,” Seishirou said, putting down two cards and sliding them across the table.
“Well, I can see how you wouldn’t be anxious to talk about it,” Fuuma said, flipping two cards back. “But seventeen times, now that’s an impressive case of denial.”
Seishirou looked at his cards and groaned.
“I have a straight,” Fuuma said innocently, putting his cards down.
“In the interest of keeping my dignity, I’m not even telling you what I have.” Seishirou put the cards back in the deck and stripped one of his socks off. “Why won’t you let me deal?”
“Because you can’t deal and smoke at the same time,” Fuuma replied. “We discussed this already.” He started to shuffle the deck. “So why are you avoiding talking about Subaru?”
“Because it’s not exactly a pleasant subject,” Seishirou said, lighting up another cigarette. He’d been chain smoking all day.
“Yeah, but come on, Seishirou, you’re better at poker than this. You’re only losing so badly because you’re distracted. And you’re distracted because I keep bringing up Subaru.”
Seishirou had to admit that he had a point. “Then shut up about him and deal me another hand.”
Fuuma dealt, then gave him a speculative look. “I still don’t understand why you won’t go back to him.”
“For fear of breaking your little heart.” Seishirou picked up his cards.
Fuuma rolled his eyes. “Give me a break, Seishirou. Don’t get me wrong, I like you a lot and the sex is fantastic, but I sure as hell wouldn’t cry if you left. It’s nice to be on my own, you know? And you’re practically wallowing in self-pity.”
“I never wallow.” Seishirou handed two cards back to Fuuma.
“Oh, sure,” Fuuma replied sarcastically. “That’s why you’ve only got two cigarettes left, right? I know for a fact you don’t smoke this much in a normal day.” He slid two cards back over to Seishirou, then drew some for himself.
“Look,” Seishirou said. “It’s none of your business.”
“Uh huh.” Fuuma put down his hand. “Three of a kind.”
Seishirou put down his own. “Read ‘em and weep.”
“I won’t weep,” Fuuma said. “I’ll just . . . lose my pants, won’t I.”
Seishirou smirked.
“Oh, all right.” Fuuma stood up and made quite a show of squirming out of his pants, which Seishirou watched in interest.
“Oh, today you wear underwear,” Seishirou said.
“Hey, I knew what I was in for.” Fuuma picked up the deck again. “Anyway, how is it none of my business if I have to live with your incessant moping?”
“You asked me to stay here,” Seishirou reminded him. “I’ll leave, if you want.”
“Yeah, that’s a great idea,” Fuuma said, rolling his eyes and dealing the cards. “You’d spend all day spying on Subaru.” He laughed at Seishirou’s startled look. “Oh, don’t tell me you thought I didn’t know where you were going?”
Seishirou forced himself to relax, picking up his cards. “I wasn’t aware, no.”
“For the past week, you’ve disappeared right around dusk and come back late. I know you’re watching him.” Fuuma paused. “Does he?”
“Of course not,” Seishirou answered sharply, handing Fuuma one card. “He thinks I’m dead.”
“Only one? Quite ballsy of you, Seishirou.” Fuuma smirked. “Hope it doesn’t backfire, or -- ”
“If you even dare make a reference to me being ballsy in any way other than by only asking for one card, I will shove my cigarette up your nose.”
Fuuma laughed. “Sure, have it your way.” He handed another card to Seishirou. “And so he thinks you’re dead. So what? Just show up on his doorstep and that’ll be cleared up pretty quickly.”
Seishirou gave him a withering look.
“I have two pair. You?”
Seishirou’s withering look remained withering, as he pulled off his other sock and threw it in Fuuma’s face.
“I can’t just show up on his doorstep,” Seishirou said, as Fuuma shuffled again. “I can just see his remaining scraps of sanity getting on a plane for the Bahamas if I did that.”
Fuuma dealt the cards. “So, get Kamui to explain things to him. Easier way of breaking the news, then you can show up and explain why you did what you did and -- ”
“Will you cut it out? I don’t need you tempting me.” Seishirou gave up on his poker face and scowled at his cards. “It’s hard enough.”
“Gee, I wonder why.” Fuuma rolled his eyes.
“I want Subaru to be happy,” Seishirou said stubbornly, putting three cards down on the table. “And he’s never going to be if he’s with me. I know that. So if I’m man enough to let him go, you can be man enough to accept it.”
Fuuma returned Seishirou’s three cards and dealt his own, then grinned wickedly. “Seishirou, I think I’m about to see firsthand exactly how manly you are. Full house.”
Seishirou tossed his cards across the room. “Fuck.”
“Yes, let’s,” Fuuma said pleasantly.
Seishirou folded his arms across his chest and glared at Fuuma. “I’ll just have you know that I’ve never been on the receiving end in my entire life.”
“That’s okay,” Fuuma said. “You’re a quick learner.”
Seishirou sighed, stood, and slid his boxers off.
“Besides,” Fuuma purred, taking him by the wrist and tugging him towards the bedroom. “You could get some good out of giving up control for a while.”
“Whatever.” Seishirou let Fuuma pull him along and then shove him down onto the bed. Then he raised an eyebrow as Fuuma fished into the drawer and pulled something out. “No. No, no, and did I mention, no.”
“Oh, come on,” Fuuma whined. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that bondage spices up your sex life?”
“Not when I’m the one in handcuffs,” Seishirou snapped.
“And here I thought you’d honor our little agreement,” Fuuma said with a dramatic sigh. “The exact wording was not ‘whoever loses will be on the receiving end.’ The wording was ‘whoever loses will be the other person’s sex slave for the night.’”
Seishirou glared daggers at him. “No. Handcuffs.”
Fuuma smirked. “You really do have control issues of the first degree, don’t you. What do you think I’m going to do? Gee, maybe . . . have sex with you? You didn’t have any problems with that before I got the handcuffs out. So now what do you think’s going to happen, just because you won’t be able to get away? Because you won’t be able to be in control of your situation for the first time in your life?”
Seishirou fought against the eight thousand things that he really wanted to say, and lay down again. “Fine. Put on the fucking handcuffs.”
“I still think you have control issues, you know,” Fuuma said. “Just agreeing to shut me up doesn’t change my mind.” He snapped one of the cuffs around Seishirou’s wrist, then threaded it through one of the slats of the headboard before putting it around Seishirou’s other wrist.
Seishirou tugged at it experimentally, and found it to be quite secure. He found, oddly enough, that a slight wave of panic washed over him at this.
“Relax, Seishirou,” Fuuma said, leaning down and carefully draping himself over Seishirou. “You know what happens now. Oh, wait . . . you said you’d never been on the bottom. Well, that’s all right . . . I still have a feeling that you’ll enjoy yourself.”
He leaned down and went right to business, his lips closing over Seishirou’s nipple. Seishirou let out a strangled noise and yanked at the handcuffs. His wrists began to ache as Fuuma left a trail of kisses down his chest and onto his stomach. He wanted to be free, and he didn’t know why. It certainly wasn’t as if what Fuuma was doing was unpleasant; quite the opposite, in fact. But he couldn’t stand being bound, being contained, being . . . controlled.
“You’re going to hurt your wrists if you keep that up, you know,” Fuuma murmured, moving up now and kissing along the line of Seishirou’s arm, all the way up to the aforementioned wrist. “Don’t you like what I’m doing?”
Seishirou gritted his teeth and remained silent, yanking yet again at the handcuffs.
“I know you like it,” Fuuma continued. “You liked it last time I did it. But now you couldn’t stop me if you suddenly decided to, so you don’t like it anymore. Seishirou, for fuck’s sake, relax. And I mean that literally. This is going to be lousy sex if you’re wound up this tight.”
“I assure you that it isn’t intentional,” Seishirou ground out between clenched teeth. That, he realized, was the other thing that bothered him -- not only had Fuuma taken away his control of the situation, but he was unable to even control his reaction to the situation. He simply couldn’t make himself relax.
“Close your eyes,” Fuuma instructed.
Seishirou regarded him suspiciously, then obeyed.
“Now stop thinking so God damned much,” Fuuma murmured, very close to Seishirou’s ear. “And just feel.” He traced his hands up and down Seishirou’s body as he spoke, caressing him gently. “That’s your problem, Seishirou, you never stop to just feel.” His fingers trailed teasingly over Seishirou’s erection, and Seishirou did something he’d never done before -- he involuntarily let out a loud moan.
“There, now you’ve got it,” Fuuma said, chuckling.
Seishirou felt ridiculous just for having done it. He was trained in how many different ways? And now this eighteen year old infuriating little sadist came along and somehow managed to worm his way right past every defense, and Seishirou moaned again as Fuuma’s hand wrapped around him. He didn’t care as much the second time. Stupid things like that didn’t seem to matter as much anymore.
Besides, he reflected somewhat dizzily, it wasn’t entirely Fuuma that had done it. He’d never have been able to if he hadn’t already been distracted from the whole mess with Subaru.
Everything seemed to blur after that, and he took Fuuma’s advice and just felt. Fuuma was surprisingly careful with him, given the sex they normally had, and by the end of it Seishirou was thoroughly enjoying himself.
“See?” Fuuma asked, after several long moments of silence. “You should take my advice more often.”
Seishirou was still breathing rather quickly.
Fuuma laughed and took the handcuffs off. “Enjoy yourself?”
Seishirou lifted his arms and stretched, then rubbed his wrists. “I suppose you could say that,” he replied, voice neutral.
Fuuma rolled his eyes. “It’s good for you, you know. No one can be as perfectly controlled as you are. Makes people wonder what you’re hiding with your sunglasses and your cigarettes, and how long they’ve got until you lose your perfect cool.”
“Quit your lecture.” Seishirou yawned. “I got your point.”
Fuuma laughed sleepily. “All right, all right. But we should clean up.”
Seishirou turned his face into the pillow. “You’re the one in charge. You do it.”
Fuuma snorted. “Sure, now you admit it.” He hauled himself off the bed and got a wet washcloth from the bathroom. He came back and used it to clean Seishirou off, then gave the sheets a speculative glance and decided he didn’t care enough. By the time he crawled back into bed, Seishirou was asleep.
~~~~
Um... right. I have no excuse for that scene. Except for the control issues. Because they're important, in a twisted sort of way.
Chapter Eleven
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