Right. In this chapter, I attempt to see how much sex can possibly be crammed into eleven pages. Quite a bit, apparently.
Chapter Seven: Possession
“Well, Sakurazuka-san, you’re free to go,” the doctor said. “Make sure that you don’t wear yourself out, all right? Take it easy for a few days. I’ll see you for your appointment on Saturday.”
Seishirou nodded. “Yes. Thanks for everything.”
The nurses wished him well and ushered him out front, where he pondered his next move. It was late afternoon, but he didn’t really feel like going back to his apartment -- not when it was such a beautiful day and he’d been in a coma for eight months. Still, the doctors had told him to take it easy, so he decided to sit outside for a while rather than walk.
After sitting out in the sunshine for about an hour, however, it lost its charm. It also started to get dark. He decided to go to Ueno Park and check up on the Sakura. It was in full bloom, as usual, and was obviously quite healthy and well-fed. Given that this was the case, Seishirou didn’t linger. The last thing he wanted was the new Sakurazukamori discovering him here, particularly if it wasn’t Subaru.
He decided to get dinner; he doubted there would be anything to eat in his apartment. Then he cursed as he realized that, having sent his key to Subaru, he was going to have to go back to his family home to get the spare. He hated living there; the house was too large for one person, there were flowers everywhere, and it reminded him forcibly of his mother. That was why he’d gotten the apartment in the first place, though he technically didn’t need it. Still, he’d kept a spare key for his house there, and vice versa, for emergencies.
He wondered briefly if Subaru had ever found the key to the house, and if so, what he must have thought of it.
He sighed and stopped in a small diner to have dinner. He was used to eating alone. The house was about an hour out of town; after dinner he could catch a taxi, get the spare key, and be back in town around ten o’clock at night. That made it a little late to drop in at Fuuma’s afterwards, but he doubted that the younger man would care.
The house looked pretty much untouched; not quite as much dust as he would have expected, but perhaps Subaru had been by after all. He found the key to his apartment exactly where he’d left it and got back in the taxi. Fortunately, there was enough money in his wallet to pay the rather exorbitant fare that he needed to get him that far out of town. He had a car, naturally, but it was parked in the garage of the apartment building, and he couldn’t get into that without the apartment building key.
It was almost ten thirty by the time he got back to his apartment. He muttered something uncomplimentary about slow drivers and went inside.
The first thing he noticed was that the plants he kept on his doorstep were still alive. This, naturally, alerted him that someone had been there recently. That wasn’t too much of a surprise; he’d given Subaru those keys for a reason. Still, he took care to cast an illusion before entering. Subaru had once asked about those illusions; they weren’t part of being the Sakurazukamori, but were innate to Seishirou. He was simply very good at them, from the grand mabaroshi that changed the entire world, to altering small details.
In this case, altering the detail of his presence. It was a simple trick, really, just altering people’s perceptions. And if, by chance, someone was home and saw him, he would just erase their memories. Not complicated in the slightest. After casting the illusion, he unlocked the door and went inside.
The apartment was dark and almost completely silent, but it was definitely lived in. There was a pot of tea on the counter, still warm. Dishes in the sink. Seishirou glanced over to the door and saw a white trenchcoat hanging on a peg. Not the same one as Subaru had once had -- he imagined the bloodstains had probably never come out of that, and probably made it conspicuous -- but definitely the kind of thing that Subaru would wear.
In his haste to get to the bedroom, presuming that Subaru was in bed, he never noticed the second jacket hanging next to it.
He paused outside the door. There was a thin stripe of light underneath it. Whoever was inside was still awake. And now that Seishirou was listening, he could hear faint noises from within. He frowned, and concentrated, presenting the illusion that the door was still shut, and pulled it open and walked through. Then he closed it behind him, and realized he really needn’t have bothered with the illusion; the two people in the bed were occupied enough that they probably wouldn’t have noticed the door opening.
He stopped dead in his tracks, eyebrows slowly climbing up his forehead.
The room was very dimly lit; only a small lamp near the bed was turned on. This, in its own way, was a blessing -- Seishirou didn’t notice the ‘wallpaper’ Subaru had put up. Not that he would have paid attention if it had been there, being far too occupied with staring at what was happening in front of him.
Subaru didn’t look much different, really. His face was a little hollower, he was a little thinner. But on the whole, he was very much the same. And pinned beneath him, both of them less than half-dressed, was Kamui.
Seishirou stared down at both of them. If it had been anyone other than Kamui, it really wouldn’t have bothered him. He didn’t care if Subaru had sex with other people. He’d never cared about that. But that Subaru was sleeping with -- and from the looks of the room, living with -- Kamui . . . that implied a sense of love, of caring.
A sense that Subaru might care for Kamui more than he did for Seishirou.
Which was simply unacceptable.
Still, though Subaru looked the same, he certainly wasn’t acting the same. For one thing, and this was simple but compelling, he was on top. Not that they’d gotten to the actual act yet, but it was fairly clear just from the few seconds he’d seen that Subaru was totally in charge. Kamui was pretty much just lying there. Seishirou watched as he reached up one hand to run it down Subaru’s chest, and his hand was slapped away.
Interesting, that.
Seishirou, not seeing much else to do, sat down in the chair beside the bed, watching the little scene play out. Thus far, both of them were still in boxer shorts, but Seishirou didn’t think that was going to last long. Subaru had Kamui pinned to the bed with his arms above his head, a position that didn’t really look comfortable from the angle of Kamui’s shoulders. Still, he didn’t seem to mind.
Kamui arched his back, allowing Subaru to pull off his boxers. Then, rather than letting Kamui return the favor, Subaru stood up long enough to shed his own. In addition to making Kamui give him a rather hurt look, it gave Seishirou a spectacular view, one that he admired for a few long seconds, wondering when Subaru had gotten quite so thin.
Subaru got back on the bed, but Kamui, apparently feeling rather put out, didn’t want to lie still. He squirmed, making Subaru push him so hard into the pillows that Seishirou was sure they were going to have a permanent dent.
“Power tripping a bit, aren’t you?” Kamui said, sounding pissy.
Subaru’s hand twisted painfully in Kamui’s hair, making him wince as Subaru lifted his head up off the pillow, then dropped it.
“Fine, be that way,” he muttered. He squirmed hard enough to free himself, then flipped Subaru over. Seishirou blinked, taken aback at this sudden display of dominance from Kamui. Subaru was apparently just as surprised, because he made no effort to stop Kamui as the younger boy practically crawled up him. “You never let me do what I want,” Kamui said. “Because you think I don’t know what I’m doing. So let me show you.”
Seishirou began to wonder if Kamui had been taking lessons in sluttiness from Fuuma. From the angle he was at, he couldn’t quite see exactly what Kamui was doing, but it was fairly plain that it involved Kamui’s mouth below Subaru’s waist.
For the first time since Seishirou had entered the room, Subaru broke his perfect silence. He let out a tiny gasp, his hands clenching down in Kamui’s hair. Seishirou wondered if he should try to get a better view of exactly what Kamui was doing, but he was too busy staring at the look on Subaru’s face. He’d never really paid attention to that while Subaru had been having sex with him. Subaru’s head was tilted back, his eyes closed and mouth slightly open in an expression of ecstasy. Seishirou simply stared at them, the picture engraving itself onto his brain.
Kamui was far too good at this, he realized dimly. He must have had practice at some point. Seishirou reflected it was a slight shame he’d probably never know whether or not Fuuma had ever managed to get Kamui into bed or not. It would most likely be an amusing story. Still, from Subaru’s breathing and the slight moans that kept escaping him, Seishirou could tell that Kamui kept bringing him to the edge, then slowing down.
Seishirou felt a wave of something rather unpleasant wash over him. It took him a long minute to identify it: all he could really put to it was that he had the sudden urge to push Kamui off the bed and take his place. Jealousy. He was jealous of that little whiny brat, because that brat was touching his Subaru-kun. And not just that, but Subaru was obviously enjoying it quite a bit. No one was allowed to make his Subaru-kun moan like that except for him.
Somehow it was totally unfair.
Subaru apparently got sick of letting Kamui play with him, because he pulled away. “You’re being a tease,” he said, in a low, sensual voice. A tone of voice that Seishirou thought no one but him would ever hear.
“You asked for it,” Kamui murmured, his eyes half-lidded. He looked altogether too pleased with himself. Seishirou wanted to throttle him. He had to keep tight control on himself, though, or his illusion might falter and they would realize he was there. But it was difficult, and got even more difficult as Subaru pushed Kamui down on his stomach. He considered leaving, but he’d already seen this much; he might as well stay until the end.
But the minute Subaru let out his first cry, Seishirou got up and walked out of the room. He didn’t bother with the illusion on the door. They would never notice as long as he was quiet.
He went down to the garage, got in his car, and sat there for a few long minutes. He realized, with some concern, that his hands were shaking. He was furious. No, it was more than furious, but he couldn’t quite put a name on it.
He was . . . upset.
He was terribly upset, and he didn’t know why. Kamui just wasn’t allowed to do that. Subaru wasn’t his. Subaru belonged to Seishirou. Kamui shouldn’t be allowed to touch him like that.
He breathed deeply, calming himself down. The anger faded, as anger usually did for him, and was replaced with two things. The burning jealousy remained. So did the fact that he was now more frustrated than ever. He turned the car on and left the garage, headed for Fuuma’s house.
As he drove, he came to a few interesting conclusions.
To begin with, Subaru had obviously, if not gotten over Seishirou, moved on. He was doing his job, was obviously enjoying himself with Kamui, and really didn’t need Seishirou back in his life messing things up.
Secondly, Seishirou’s newly returned conscience was shrieking in the back of his head that he was to leave Subaru alone and never go near him again. If the Sumeragi was capable of being happy with Kamui, that was none of Seishirou’s business. After all, he had decided that Subaru’s happiness was more important than his own. That dictated that he would leave Kamui and Subaru alone.
He didn’t like either of these conclusions in the slightest.
The third, and last conclusion, was almost as bad. He obviously no longer had a job. He also no longer had an apartment. He had enough money stockpiled to live quite comfortably, probably for the rest of his life, as being the Sakurazukamori was quite a high-paying job. He could live in the house from now on -- he’d be less likely to accidentally run into Subaru that way, anyway. Really, avoiding Subaru would be quite simple.
Far more simple than he would have liked.
He took another few deep breaths. Really, he wanted Subaru to be happy. Subaru seemed to be at least moderately happy with Kamui. Seishirou would leave them alone, and when he closed his eyes he could still see them in bed together and he hated it, hated it with a passion that he couldn’t even begin to understand. Hated it in a way that made him want to turn the car around and murder Kamui while he still had the chance, hated it so deeply that he couldn’t concentrate on anything else.
He stopped at a red light and made a deliberate effort to calm himself. Part of the problem, he reasoned, was that Subaru was getting some and he wasn’t. Really, if he just went to see Fuuma, he would feel much better.
The drive to Fuuma’s was mercifully brief. Seishirou parked the car and knocked on the front door. Fuuma answered, dressed in the same loose jeans and T-shirt he’d been wearing the last time he’d come to visit. Seishirou had to admit that he looked extremely good in the outfit, and could feel every hormone in his body snap to attention.
“Hey.” Fuuma grinned, which didn’t really help Seishirou’s state. “Come on in.”
Seishirou followed him inside and took his coat and shoes off. Then he gave Fuuma a long, slow, speculative look.
Fuuma just smirked. “You hungry?” he asked, nodding towards the kitchen.
“Yes,” Seishirou said, moving towards Fuuma deliberately. “But not for food.” In two brisk steps he had Fuuma pinned up against the wall. Fuuma laughed, apparently amused by Seishirou’s impatience.
“What, right out here?” he asked.
Seishirou gave the hard floor a speculative glance and had to admit that it probably wouldn’t be very comfortable. After nearly nine months now with no sex, he was damned if it was going to be on the floor. “No,” he decided, and took a handful of Fuuma’s shirt, pulling him down the hallway. He peered into the rooms and saw one with a bed. This being enough of a recommendation as far as he was concerned, he yanked Fuuma inside.
Fuuma laughed. “This is my sister’s room.”
Seishirou pushed him down onto the bed. “Do I look like I give a fuck? It could be your front porch for all I care.” He did have to admit, however, that all the pinkness and lace gave a distinctly . . . unusual mood. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had sex on a pink bedspread before. Let alone one that had lace edging and stuffed animals scattered all over it. “Besides, she’s dead. She doesn’t care.” He thought back to the little he knew about Kotori and had to stifle the urge to laugh. Somehow he didn’t think she would approve of this.
“Good point,” Fuuma said. “But there’s something sticking into my back.”
“Ask me if I care,” Seishirou said, and leaned down for a kiss. He and Fuuma had never kissed much during sex, usually being too busy with other things to bother. Still, Seishirou wasn’t about to skip it this time. Fuuma squirmed up against him, and Seishirou was fairly sure it wasn’t entirely because he had a stuffed animal underneath him. Still, it was driving him even crazier than he already was, so he reached underneath Fuuma, yanked out the offending -- he glanced at it -- pink stuffed bunny -- and tossed it across the room.
Fuuma’s eyes followed it. “Was I really related to these people?” he asked, sounding amused and tilting his head back to allow Seishirou further access to his neck.
“Hell if I know,” Seishirou replied, obliging him immediately. “You certainly don’t act like it.” He slid his hands underneath Fuuma’s T-shirt and shoved it over his head. Surely if he just concentrated on this, he wouldn’t have to think about Subaru and Kamui. Right?
He devoted serious attention to the art of making Fuuma moan, which really wasn’t proving very difficult. Seishirou was pleased to note that he hadn’t lost his touch through his months of enforced celibacy, and his memory was as good as ever -- he remembered exactly where and how Fuuma liked to be touched, and how to get the best reaction out of him.
Besides, he reflected, he had to pay Fuuma back for what he’d done while he’d still been in the hospital.
Fuuma was not docile in the slightest, however, and only let Seishirou have his way for about thirty seconds before reaching up to start undoing the buttons of Seishirou’s shirt. Seishirou had no objection to this, and held still long enough to allow Fuuma to pull it off. He was finally starting to feel a bit better, what with Fuuma’s hands trailing all over his skin, and . . .
and when he closed his eyes, Kamui was still sucking Subaru off.
He let out a growl of anger that he hoped to hell Fuuma would take for a growl of something else. There had to be some way to get that image out of his brain, and the quickest, most logical way to go about it seemed to be to fuck Fuuma until he simply couldn’t think anymore.
He tugged at Fuuma’s pants, practically popping the button off in his haste to get them off of Fuuma. Fuuma arched his back to allow Seishirou to pull them off in one smooth gesture.
“You’re the only guy I know who actually doesn’t wear underwear,” Seishirou told him, leaning close and nipping at his earlobe as he spoke.
“I like to be easy-access,” Fuuma told him, sounding rather breathless.
“So I see,” Seishirou said, his hands moving busily, always just barely missing the places where Fuuma wanted them most.
“Tease,” Fuuma said.
“Said the pot to the kettle.” Seishirou took pity on him and wrapped his hand loosely around Fuuma’s erection. Fuuma moaned, his hips jerking into the touch and his fingernails scraping across Seishirou’s back hard enough to leave marks. Seishirou bit his lip at the sharp pain, but otherwise ignored it, and tightened his grip for an instant before loosening it again. Teasing Fuuma was fun; he made some of the most interesting noises Seishirou had ever heard.
His fingers moved lightly and quickly, never giving Fuuma much time to adjust to the sensation before they were gone. Fuuma retaliated with more fingernail marks on Seishirou’s back, then by running his own hands over the front of Seishirou’s pants. This caused Seishirou to wonder why he was still wearing the damned pants anyway, a sentiment obviously echoed by Fuuma, as he startled fumbling with the button and zipper.
He had to stand up briefly to kick the pants and underwear off. While he was up, he glanced at Fuuma, who caught his eyes and smirked, stretching to show off his rather impressive body. “It’s in my room,” he said, obviously reading what Seishirou was thinking. “Bedside nightstand, top drawer.”
Seishirou left the room without a word, returning a minute later with the small tube that had been in the drawer. “You’re prepared for everything,” he remarked; not because of the lube, but some of the more interesting things that had been in the drawer. “We’ll have to try some of that later.”
Fuuma smirked again. “Well, that is why it’s there, you know.”
Thinking about that was, if possible, making Seishirou even more impatient than he already was. He didn’t bother with further conversation, simply got back onto the bed, settling between Fuuma’s legs. Fuuma obligingly spread them further apart.
“You really do like to be easy access, don’t you,” Seishirou muttered, one of his hands slowly running up the inside of Fuuma’s thigh.
Fuuma didn’t answer, unless one counted a low purr as an answer. Seishirou applied some of the lube and wasted no more time, thrusting into Fuuma without the least bit of warning or preparation. Fuuma let out a sharp cry, his nails digging into Seishirou’s skin. Seishirou gave him a minute to adjust, then began a maddeningly slow rhythm against him. Fuuma rocked back against him in a vain attempt to get him to speed up.
“You’re . . . a . . . total bastard . . . Seishirou . . .” he gasped out, one of his fists clenching in the bedspread.
Seishirou didn’t reply, nor did he speed up, his mind’s eye still seeing Kamui and Subaru in this exact same position. He opened his eyes, focusing on Fuuma below him, trying not to see what his mind kept trying to make him see. He sped up suddenly, thrusting sharply against him.
Fuuma didn’t cry out this time. He just moaned, turning his head to one side. “More,” he ordered hoarsely.
Seishirou was happy to oblige, as the picture of Kamui and Subaru finally started to dissolve and slide out of his mind. He couldn’t think about anything except the sheer feeling; everything else became dim and unimportant. Nothing was real except the blood burning in his veins and the sound of Fuuma’s cries and the rhythm growing faster and harder in counterpoint to his heartbeat.
Fuuma came first, both his hands scraping down Seishirou’s back and leaving more welts. Seishirou closed his eyes as Fuuma’s muscles tightened on him, and for a few seconds nothing was real, for a few seconds time stopped and he was trapped in that moment with nothing. The world went red before his eyes and both his hands clenched down hard on Fuuma’s hips, hard enough to leave bruises.
He didn’t usually fall after orgasming, and he figured it was probably a mark of his reduced strength that he all but collapsed onto Fuuma when it was over. The two of them simply lay there for a long minute, catching their breath.
Seishirou wanted a cigarette, but he’d left his jacket in the front hall and was far too lazy at the moment to go and get it. So he rested, half on top of Fuuma, turning his face to one side to look around the disgustingly pink room. Most of the stuffed animals had fallen to the floor, for which he was rather grateful.
“You’re upset about something,” Fuuma said, his fingers trailing softly up and down Seishirou’s back.
“Mm,” Seishirou agreed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, retracing some of the welts he’d made. It was an odd sensation, pleasure mixed with pain.
“Long story.” Seishirou relaxed into Fuuma’s touch. “Went by my apartment before coming here . . . found out my . . . boyfriend, I guess you’d call him . . . is living there now. With someone else.”
Fuuma apparently wasn’t bothered by the fact that Seishirou had a boyfriend of sorts, especially since he didn’t seem to be an immediate threat. “Thought you lived alone.”
“I did,” Seishirou said. “But he did have a key. And he thinks I’m dead.”
Fuuma shrugged, his fingers pressing down for a minute before continuing with their wanderings. “So why didn’t you say something?” he asked.
Seishirou considered this for a long minute, wondering why the hell he was telling Fuuma all this anyway. “Because . . . I want him to be happy. And I think he could be. I . . . I wasn’t . . . very good to him.”
Fuuma didn’t reply.
“I suppose it’s just an odd feeling,” Seishirou continued. “Having to give him up. And knowing that in eight months, he just . . . moved on. But I want him to be happy. So I’m not going to say anything.”
Fuuma considered all this. “You need a place to stay?” he finally asked.
“No . . . I can live in my family’s home . . .”
Fuuma wrinkled his nose. “Yech. You mean with your parents?”
“No. They’re dead. The family home is empty except for when I’m staying there.”
“Sounds morbid,” Fuuma said. “Look, I’m not too fond of staying here by myself, and you don’t sound like living there is much fun, so why don’t you crash here for a week or two, see if you like it? Besides, I’d hate to have to bother calling you when I want to get laid. Easier if you just stay here.”
Seishirou laughed slightly. “Do you ever think about anything else?”
“On a very rare occasion,” Fuuma said. “You want to?”
Seishirou considered it for a very long moment. He really didn’t want to live in the family home; it was creepy and morbid and very large and empty. There was really no reason not to accept Fuuma’s offer. “Sure,” he finally said. “Thanks.” He sighed. “Christ, I need a cigarette.”
He hauled himself off Fuuma and retrieved his pack of cigarettes and lighter from the front hall. “Are you going to fall asleep in your sister’s bedroom, still a mess?” Seishirou asked, lighting one up and standing in the doorway.
“I suppose not.” Fuuma stood up and sauntered out of the room, plucking the cigarette from Seishirou’s lips as he passed and wandering into the bathroom. Seishirou just sighed and lit another. After he and Fuuma had both cleaned up, they crawled into Fuuma’s bed. They didn’t exactly curl up together, but the bed was small enough that they ended up fairly close anyway.
Fuuma fell asleep quickly, but Seishirou was awake a long time, his mind still hearing the sound of Subaru’s moans under Kamui’s touch.
~~~~
// “I’ve finally found you,” Subaru spat out. “Sakurazukamori.”
Seishirou rolled his eyes and chuckled. “You’ve been rehearsing saying that, haven’t you, Subaru-kun. You probably thought it sounded very dramatic. Trust me, it does -- melodramatic. Couldn’t you just say hello?”
Subaru blinked, totally taken aback by this, but he recovered quickly, pulling out a few ofuda.
Seishirou sighed. He really wasn’t in the mood for a knock-down-drag-out fight with Subaru. It had taken over a year for the Sumeragi to find him, and in that year he’d grown up quite a bit. Different haircut, thinner face, youthful grace transformed into adult elegance. Seishirou was rather startled to find that he was considering Subaru beautiful.
Well, nothing too terribly wrong with that . . . it wasn’t as if he hadn’t been trying his hardest to get into Subaru’s pants earlier. Now that he’d gotten a bit older, it only made sense that the desire would be sharper.
Seishirou considered his options for a minute, skillfully dodging the ofuda. He couldn’t just drag Subaru to bed here -- they were in the middle of an alley. So he decided to try a little experiment. He wove among the ofuda carefully and came up right in front of Subaru when he was least expecting it, then put a hand over Subaru’s eyes.
Subaru wasn’t prepared for the sudden magic, still thinking that Seishirou was a good ten feet away, and he collapsed immediately. Seishirou caught him around the waist as he fell, then picked up his prize and left the alley.
Through the careful use of a few illusions, no one noticed as he walked home with Subaru slung over his shoulder. He carried the Sumeragi up to his apartment and dumped him on his bed, then sat back to ponder. He was operating, at the moment, on a simple want-take-have strategy. He wanted Subaru, therefore Subaru would be his.
It wasn’t as if, after all, the Sumeragi would protest. Seishirou knew him better than that.
So he smoked a cigarette and waited for Subaru to wake up, pulling off the younger boy’s shoes and putting them by the door. Subaru began to stir not long after; fighting off the magic with his innate skill. Finally, his huge green eyes flickered open and he glanced around. He caught sight of Seishirou, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching him contemplatively, and sat bolt upright. “Where am I?” he blurted out.
“My apartment. What does it look like?” Seishirou waved a hand around the room.
Subaru glared fiercely at him. “Why did you bring me here?”
Seishirou blinked, having thought that this was obvious. Back alley sex really wasn’t his idea of a good time. There was the problem of dirt, not to mention the possibility of being seen. Or mugged. Nothing like a mugging to ruin otherwise perfectly good sex. Still, it would be fun to play with Subaru’s head a bit. “Why do you think?”
Subaru gave him a suspicious look. “I don’t know,” he finally said.
Seishirou leaned over, very slowly, reaching up with one hand to trace down Subaru’s face. Subaru flinched away, but Seishirou followed, gently pressing his lips against Subaru’s.
Subaru was on the other side of the bed in an instant. “What -- you can’t -- I wouldn’t -- how can you -- ” he sputtered.
Seishirou gave him a rather fond look. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered, Subaru-kun.”
“I hate you!” Subaru yelled, getting off the bed. “How dare you think you can just take advantage of me like that? You killed my sister! You’re not getting within ten feet of me!”
Seishirou shrugged. “So leave.”
“I will,” Subaru snarled. “When you’re dead.”
Seishirou stood up as Subaru dove at him, and sidestepped, catching the Sumeragi’s arm in one hand, casually knocking him off his feet, and tossing him back down onto the bed. He had him pinned down instantly, the whole action taking less than a few seconds. Subaru let out an incoherent cry of rage that was muffled as Seishirou took advantage of their position to kiss him again.
Subaru struggled briefly, but Seishirou had him pinned too firmly for him to seriously attempt escape, and after a few seconds he melted into the kiss.
When Seishirou came up for air, Subaru’s eyes were wide open and focused inward, horror and self-hatred tainting their beautiful green.
“You don’t need to be ashamed of it,” Seishirou said, moving his lips over Subaru’s face, kissing every inch of available skin. “Love is never something to be ashamed of.”
“But . . . you’re . . .” Subaru tried desperately to free himself. “We’re enemies and I hate you, I hate you . . .”
“I know.” Seishirou kissed him again.
“You don’t know!” Subaru pushed him away. “You’re emotionless! People mean nothing to you! How can you possibly know what it’s like to love someone and hate them at the same time? You don’t even know what love is!”
“I suppose that’s true,” Seishirou said, and Subaru turned his face away with a small sob. “But if it makes you feel any better, out of all the things I possess, you’re the most beautiful, and definitely my favorite.”
“It doesn’t make me feel better at all,” Subaru whispered. He closed his eyes as Seishirou’s lips caressed his throat. “It makes me feel worse.”
“Why?” Seishirou asked, sliding his hands underneath Subaru’s thin shirt.
Subaru shuddered. “I . . . don’t want . . . to belong to you.”
Seishirou regarded him steadily. “But you love me. Isn’t that the same thing?”
“No!” Tears leaked out of Subaru’s eyes, falling steadily now. “You don’t understand anything . . . love is a beautiful thing . . . and this is horrible . . .”
Seishirou pulled Subaru upright slightly and pulled the shirt over his head, then let Subaru fall back onto the bed. He leaned down and kissed his way down Subaru’s collarbone and chest. Subaru closed his eyes and muffled a whimper. “But you’re obviously enjoying yourself,” Seishirou observed. “How can something be horrible if it feels so good?”
“It’s horrible if you hate yourself for enjoying it,” Subaru whispered, turning his head to one side.
Seishirou considered this, one hand gently stroking the soft skin of Subaru’s stomach. “You hate a lot of things, don’t you, Subaru-kun.”
Subaru let out a laugh that was half-sob.
Seishirou stopped, leaning up to kiss Subaru gently on the lips. “I won’t do anything if you really don’t want me to,” he said. “If you want, you can get up and walk away.”
Subaru turned to look at him, his eyes filled with hatred. “Don’t you know that makes it worse?” he snapped.
Seishirou paused. “I was trying to help.”
“But now you’ve made it my responsibility.” Subaru wiped the tears off his cheeks. “Which means that if I don’t leave, I’ll know that it was my fault. Couldn’t you just rape me like a normal villain?”
“I would never do that to you,” Seishirou said, still confused by Subaru’s somewhat erratic behavior, running his fingers through the Sumeragi’s dark hair. “You’re far too beautiful to use like that. It’s not as much fun if you’re not willing.”
“God, I hate you.” Subaru pulled Seishirou down to him for another kiss. “I hate you so much it kills me inside,” he murmured, into Seishirou’s ear.
Seishirou ignored him, since he wasn’t making much sense anyway as far as he was concerned, running his hands up and down Subaru’s body. He could feel the tension in every muscle. But as he moved his hand over the front of Subaru’s pants, he was rather surprised to find undeniable evidence of Subaru’s willingness to continue.
He pulled away a little. “You want me,” he stated.
Subaru looked away, a blush tingeing his cheeks. “Yes,” he admitted softly.
Seishirou considered this further. “But you don’t want to want me.”
Subaru nodded. “That’s about as close as I can come to explaining it.” He looked at Seishirou curiously. “Do you want me to want you?”
Seishirou shrugged. “As I said, it’s not as much fun if you’re not willing.”
“That’s all you care about, isn’t it,” Subaru said. “Being amused.”
“Is there something else I should care about?” Seishirou asked.
Subaru looked disgusted. “No,” he said. “I suppose there isn’t, if you don’t acknowledge other people as important.”
Seishirou just shrugged again. “That’s just the way I am, Subaru-kun. Besides . . .” he ran his hands over Subaru again, causing the younger man to shudder, “you can ask me to stop if you want. I will.”
“Oh, shut up,” Subaru snapped.
Seishirou gave him a long look. “You belong to me, Subaru-kun. It’s unavoidable. You have ever since we first met.” He lifted Subaru’s hand and brushed his lips over the back of it, causing the symbol there to flare into life, then leaned down and kissed him hungrily. “You’re mine. You’ll never escape it. Even after I die, you’ll still be mine.”
“And I’ll hate every minute of it,” Subaru managed to say.
“Go ahead,” Seishirou said. “It won’t help.”
They didn’t talk any more after that. It wasn’t until afterwards that either of them spoke again, and then it was Seishirou, as Subaru cried helplessly into the pillows. He ran his fingers lightly through Subaru’s hair and whispered words he thought might be reassuring, but knew in his heart were not. Because the only thing he could reassure Subaru of was that, now that he belonged to Seishirou, Seishirou would take care of him. That didn’t comfort Subaru in the slightest.
Subaru finally managed to cry himself to sleep, curled up in Seishirou’s bed. Seishirou wrapped his arms around Subaru and smiled a little. “Mine,” he declared to the room, as if someone might dispute it. “He’ll always be mine.” He yawned, feeling sleep start to creep up on him. “I’ll never let anyone else have him.”
They slept. //
~~~~
Seishirou sat up in bed, breathing hard. Of all the things to dream about, why had he dreamed about that now?
He was never going to get back to sleep; he knew that. He dreamed seldom, and afterwards only ever found one cure. So he climbed out of bed and padded out silently to Fuuma’s kitchen. After looking for a few minutes, he found a large bottle of whiskey stored in the back of the pantry.
Hell, if he minds, I’ll just buy him a new bottle, Seishirou thought. He took the lid off and took a few large swigs. He felt his muscles start to relax as soon as it hit his system. A few more swallows and the dream started to fade.
Somewhere along the line, he realized, disgusted with himself, he had become totally addicted to Subaru. Unable to get through a month without seeing him, at least from a distance. Waking up wanting him at any hour of the day. Tracking him all over town when he had better things to do. He’d damn near panicked when Subaru had started showing signs of affection for Kamui, and apparently with good reason.
Now, Subaru finally had a chance to be happy, and Seishirou didn’t want to ruin that for him. But the thought of living the rest of his life without Subaru made his heart shrivel into a tiny little ball and die. He needed him, and he didn’t know why.
He’s the only one . . . who can make me feel, Seishirou’s alcohol-marinated brain decided. The only one that can make me feel anything at all. And I need that.
I need him.
He let his head thud against the table.
This was just not turning out to be his day.
~~~~
Chapter Eight
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