A Question for Dusk

Tsuna stood in the doorway, one hand on the sill. He didn’t want to intrude.

"I need to ask you something."

The long, lean figure slouched in one of the scatter of leather chairs snorted and burning eyes flashed in the dimness as Xanxus looked up.

"Do you plan on staying with the Vongola family?"

The hot eyes narrowed on him. "The hell are you saying?"

Tsuna shrugged. "I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to break off and start your own or something."

Another snort and Xanxus leaned back. "You’re a fucking idiot. You have no clue how things really work."

A corner of Tsuna’s mouth twitched up, despite how tense he felt. "I know. I’m working on it. So you plan to stay?"

Xanxus ignored him with such obvious disgust that Tsuna decided it was a yes. He took a breath.

"Okay. There’s a condition for that."

He bit down a flinch as Xanxus erupted to his feet.

"The hell are you saying?!" It was a lot louder this time. Xanxus faced him, sneering, hands out from his sides in a way that made Tsuna keep half an eye on them. "You want me to grovel for you, for everyone to see?"

"No." Tsuna made himself keep his eyes on Xanxus’. "I don’t want you to grovel. You don’t even need to acknowledge me." He breathed out a tense half-laugh as Xanxus settled back onto his heels. "You don’t even need to do what I ask you to."

Thought was coming back into that burning glare, and suspicion. "Yeah? You’ll just sit there and let me tell you to fuck off, huh? Tenth." Contempt dripped from the title.

"If you want," Tsuna said quietly.

Xanxus threw back his head and laughed. "Sounds like a deal to me! So what the hell is this condition?"

Tsuna braced himself. "You don’t have to do what I tell you. But when I tell you not to do something, that’s different."

Xanxus stilled, glare slowly turning hot again. "You little shit…"

Tsuna told his knees sternly not to shake and spent a second wishing he could have done this with his Will burning. But that wouldn’t have gotten him what he needed, here. "That’s my only condition."

Xanxus looked at him for a long moment before swinging away to stare out one of the tall windows. Tsuna waited quietly, hand tense against the frame of the door as seconds ticked past and past.

"All right." Xanxus’ voice was flat and his back stiff.

Tsuna took another breath. One more step. "May I have your word?"

Xanxus half whirled, snarling over his shoulder, and Tsuna tensed another notch, poised to drive himself down into Dying Will if this was the last straw and Xanxus attacked him. But Xanxus froze as his eyes met Tsuna’s, hand opening and closing by his side as he stared at him. The hot glare wavered and finally he spun back around and punched the wall, leaving a crater of shattered plaster.

"You have my word." It was low and harsh.

Tsuna swallowed. "Thank you," he managed, a little husky himself, and stepped back from Xanxus’ door.

He didn’t turn his back until he was around the corner, though.

End

Breaking of the Day – Omake

Tsuna had thought he could relax, that all the Vongola leaders and allies that were coming had come, had been dealt with, that any potential embarrassment at being acclaimed The Tenth Boss was behind him for now.

And then Xanxus stalked through the door.

Gokudera and Yamamoto both tensed up, behind him, and Tsuna wasn’t entirely sure they were wrong to do so.

Xanxus stopped in the middle of the room, feet spread, and glared at him. "I hate your fucking guts," he declared.

Tsuna considered this blunt, frontal statement of the obvious for a moment and relaxed. "I know," he agreed, quietly.

"Good." Xanxus strode the rest of the way across the room, ignoring Gokudera’s chopped off shout, to seize Tsuna’s wrist. Tsuna waved frantic calming gestures, dangling half out of his seat as Xanxus pulled his arm up.

And kissed his hand.

Dead silence rippled out through the room, in which Tsuna’s small oof as Xanxus dropped him again sounded clearly.

Xanxus was still glaring down at him. "Just remember it."

"I will," Tsuna managed, catching his breath.

Xanxus snorted and spun around, stalking back out.

"Congratulations?" Yamamoto ventured, at last.

Tsuna laughed helplessly.

End

Breaking of the Day

"I can’t believe you told Kaa-san this was overseas study," Tsuna grumbled as he was frog-marched to his doom.

Well, all right, not really frog-marched, his dad had his hands in his pockets and Reborn wasn’t tall enough, but the effect was the same.

"It is overseas," his dad said, cheerily. "And it’s definitely higher education."

Tsuna glared at the double-doors they were approaching. He had never agreed to this. Well, not really. Not exactly.

"Cheer up," his dad advised. "It’s a job for life." While Tsuna was trying to find words for the magnitude of wrongness in that statement, his dad swept open the door with a perfectly ruthless smile and Tsuna was pinned in the doorway by the measuring stares of a lot of men in black suits.

"Tsuna." The Ninth smiled. "Welcome."

A rough snort cut through Tsuna’s fumbling thank-you, and he looked around to see Xanxus lounging in one of the chairs glaring death at him. His words ended on a strangled sound. The room was silent as the two of them stared at each other.

Finally Tsuna swallowed and took a breath. If he didn’t say something he would probably be here until he spontaneously combusted from the glare. "Xanxus-san," he managed. "It’s, um, good to see you again?"

Xanxus’ lip curled in a sneer but he finally turned the dark glower away, as if Tsuna was a bug he’d noticed only in passing, and Tsuna made it to the chair left empty without wobbling. Much.

It took him a while to register that a few of the stares around the table were now impressed, and he had to choke down hysterical laughter when he did.

What else was he supposed to say, after all? "Still going to kill everyone present to cover up murdering me, and by the way how’s the food around here?"

"So." The Ninth’s smile was a little too similar to Reborn’s for Tsuna’s comfort. "Shall we begin?"

"A war?!" Tsuna waved his arms to relieve his feelings, here in the safety of his own room. "Another? You brought me over here just in time for another?" He stopped, siezed by a horrible thought, and buried his fingers in his hair. "Or is it the same?"

"It isn’t the same," Reborn stated, far too calmly, as usual. "We’re pretty sure."

"Pretty sure?" Tsuna’s voice cracked.

Reborn shrugged. "We’re still tracing their headquarters."

"While they know exactly where we are. Great," Tsuna grumbled.

"That’s why the Varia were called here." Reborn sounded perfectly reasonable and Tsuna shuddered.

"Is he going to try to kill me again?" he asked with a certain morbid curiosity.

"Sooner or later, probably."

Tsuna threw himself onto his bed and pulled a pillow over his head. He didn’t know whether he was really glad or really regretting that he’d convinced Gokudera to stay in Japan while he spent six months "overseas study" in Italy.

Reborn hauled him out from under the pillow and dumped him on the floor. "Hurry up. You have another meeting to observe in five minutes."

The only reason Tsuna managed to keep shoot me now behind his teeth was because he knew Reborn would.

Tsuna cautiously eased out onto the terrace. Bullets had stopped zinging and the man in charge of interior security assured him the assault was over, but he’d heard a few of the stories about how many tunnels and hiding places this place had.

Besides, Xanxus was out here.

"You got them all?" he was asking Viper and Belphegor.

"All three," Viper confirmed while Belphegor cocked his head at Tsuna and smiled disturbingly. "If that really is all of their squad leaders this should put the crimp in their strategy we need…"

Tsuna stopped paying attention, because something in the trees caught his eye. It was something like a gleam, only dark instead of light, and his gaze followed it, puzzled at it, until it resolved into something that might be a very long gun.

Adrenaline kicked his heart hard and his teeth locked. He felt like he could see rings of air sliding down a long, straight path and he followed them with wide fixed eyes until they ended at…

Xanxus’ back.

No one else was looking, he could never push Xanxus hard enough to move him away, but he was already moving. He reached out but he’d seen the things Reborn could shoot, his hand wouldn’t even slow a bullet down. He needed something more. He was not going to let anyone be shot in front of him!

Need. Want. Will.

Flame.

The impact drove him back against Xanxus and the next few moments were a confusion of shouting and falling and someone’s boot in his ribs and the bullet safe in his hand. When it was done, Belphegor was gone from the terrace, the noise had moved over to the tree line, and Xanxus was staring down at him.

"What kind of a goddamn moron are you?"

Tsuna straightened up, coughing a little, and opened his hand to show the bullet resting in his glove.

"I know that! I’m going to kill you and you’re trying to protect me?" Xanxus spat on the flagstones. "The old bastard is senile, trying to make some limp little shit like you a boss!"

He stalked inside and Tsuna sighed. He knew it probably was a pretty stupid thing to do, but he couldn’t just watch even someone who wanted him dead shot. He couldn’t.

"A boss risks his life to protect the Family," Reborn said, appearing in the door. He looked Tsuna up and down and smiled faintly. "Not too bad."

Tsuna smiled back, shakily.

"We’ll work on new training, so you can call the Flame faster."

Tsuna slumped back against the wall, groaning. One of these days, he was going to learn.

Tsuna squirmed in his chair. He’d never been fond of watching meetings to start with, especially when they were in a language that, despite Reborn’s Dying Will Language Lessons, he only mostly understood, and lately they’d gotten a lot worse. The Vongola leaders were tense, people were dying, and Xanxus was watching him like a hawk and sneering every time Tsuna so much as twitched. It was as much as he could do not to stammer every time someone spoke to him.

"What has he got against me?" he wailed as Reborn and his dad saw him back to his room and checked it over. "Just that I’m alive?"

Reborn paused to whack him over the head. "Quit whining. And yes."

There were times Tsuna wished Dino-san had taught him how to swear, the way he’d joked about when he learned Tsuna was visiting Italy.

"Well, and his strength is the reason he had so much support for becoming boss," his dad added, looking carefully out the curtains. "The more people see of your strength, first hand, the less support he’ll have to keep holding off from serving you."

Tsuna stopped dead in the middle of the room and stared in abject horror.

"I told you a long time ago, didn’t I?" Reborn hopped up onto a chair and pulled open his gun case. "In a challenge for leadership, our tradition is that the loser serves under the winner."

Tsuna squeaked.

His dad waved a soothing hand. "Xanxus is the leader of the Varia and they’re directly under the Ninth. As long as the Ninth is alive, no one will bring any real pressure for him to swear to you." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Of course, he does owe you for his life, now, which probably isn’t helping."

"Life… huh? But…" Tsuna laughed uneasily. "People save each other all the time in the mafia, right?" Surely they must or no one would still be alive.

"Of course." Reborn polished a very large barrel. "And by doing so they incur a debt. It’s a special relationship. Between enemies, it’s a debt of honor that must be discharged. Within the Family it’s an extra bond of loyalty."

Tsuna took one second to consider the idea of Xanxus finding himself with a "special relationship" to Tsuna and started hyperventilating.

He’d never make it home alive.

Tsuna watched the fighting flow slowly over the slopes below and listened to the babble of voices in his earpiece and waited in the Flame’s stillness to see another opening to push the intruders back.

"They’re staying together, this is our best chance…"

"…shield, though, even Xanxus’ guns can’t get all the way through it."

"We need to get rid of it, then."

Tsuna watched the wavering opacity around the invaders flowing and reforming, and felt the weight of it in his mind and senses, and nodded. In the present stillness of his mind, he knew there would only be more deaths if he held his hand now. "I can do it," he said, the first he’d spoken during this battle.

There was silence on the earpiece for a moment until the Ninth said, "Reborn?"

"He’s my student, of course he can." A double crack of gunfire rang out off to the left and through the earpiece, and another of the invaders went down. "It’s line of sight, though, and he’ll need cover to prepare it. Twenty seconds."

Babble broke out again.

"…take the whole thing out he’ll be up pretty high."

"Wide field of fire…"

"…Varia can do it?"

Unthought calculation tumbled through the back of Tsuna’s mind. The Varia probably could protect him, if they chose to really do it. If they didn’t, could he protect himself? Their "failure" would have to be subtle, before so many witnesses, so, probably, yes.

Xanxus snarled an acknowledgment over the line and Tsuna nodded to himself. "Fifteen minutes for the squad on the east to be in position," he stated, the movement he had watched coming together into prediction. "I’ll be one hundred feet up from the first terrace."

There was another hitch of quiet and then a rattle of movement orders to the eastern defenders. Tsuna made his way up the terraces and found Squalo there ahead of him, bellowing for the other Varia to hurry up or he wouldn’t leave anything for them.

Tsuna would have prefered his own Guardians around him, for this, but it had been his own choice for them to stay behind. He would just have to keep his eyes open. He nodded to the Varia.

"Now."

A hundred feet up the stone wall, Tsuna had the angle he needed to strike the invaders’ shield and he was completely exposed. Knives, illusion, lighting flickered around him as he drew on the Flame and started to focus it. His eyes didn’t leave his target, and so he saw it coming for him, larger than any bullet he’d seen before and rippling the same way the shield was. It tracked him perfectly and the world slowed and sharpened as he decided it would probably follow him even if he moved; he hadn’t built enough power yet to deflect it; his senses reached out, searching for the best answer.

And then Xanxus was in front of him, firing into the oncoming danger, firing and not moving. Surprise flickered in Tsuna’s thoughts, but the calm of the Dying Will drew memory together into understanding, and Tsuna knew what Xanxus was doing.

Discharging his obligation. Declaring his enmity.

So be it. Tsuna concentrated again on raising his Flame, even as the bullet and whatever it carried struck Xanxus and he fell. As Xanxus fell, Tsuna raised his hand and released the Flame.

He breathed once, twice, watching as it struck the shield and spread, breathed deeper and focused the Flame more tightly, ignoring the rise of voices in his earpiece. He felt the break before he saw it, the sudden give under the force of his attack. The shield didn’t crack, but it gave. And then it disintegrated.

Everything paused for one moment, and then a roar swept over the field, triumph and terror mixed together.

Tsuna was more than happy to leave firing on people caught in the open with no cover to others, and instead he descended the wall to where Squalo had dragged Xanxus around a corner into a bit of shelter from stray bullets. The other Varia had already scattered, having, Tsuna knew well enough, none of his reluctance.

Xanxus bared his teeth, looking up at Tsuna from where he leaned against the wall with a certain satisfaction laid over the constant fury in his eyes. It didn’t waver as Squalo yanked bandages tight around his shoulder.

"There, damn idiot," Squalo declared and turned to bound toward the battle.

Xanxus ignored him, snarling that backhanded triumph at Tsuna, and Tsuna came closer and knelt beside him. He hadn’t seen Xanxus in a long time, and maybe Reborn was right about his intuition growing, because this time he understood something he hadn’t before. He lifted a burning hand and laid it against the center of Xanxus’ chest.

"There shouldn’t be ice here."

Now Xanxus was staring at him, blank and furious instead of pleased and furious, not even bothering to brush him away. "The hell?"

It wasn’t something seen. It wasn’t something felt. But Tsuna knew what was under his hand. "Your Will has frozen your heart." He frowned and flattened his palm. "It shouldn’t be like that."

It would be such a small thing to do, really. He reached with his own Will, and Xanxus jerked back against the wall behind him, eyes widening. "No…"

Tsuna looked up at him. "I know." He knew the first crack in that ice, and the fractured edges of it. He knew how they would cut when they came free. Love and betrayal both slid off the ice, right now, and Tsuna knew that they shouldn’t.

The fury and terror in Xanxus’ eyes only knew the agony waiting in those edges, though, and that he had been checkmated before he knew it. Tsuna’s hand had already closed around the rage the fueled his Will.

"No!" Xanxus’ voice was harsh and tight and almost inaudible, his whole body rigid under Tsuna’s hand, fingers closed helplessly hard on the chips of broken stone under them.

Tsuna listened to the sounds coming from below them, to the death following his actions, and finally sighed and reluctantly drew his hand back, releasing the unseen ice from his Will. He stood, head bowed, looking down at Xanxus staring up at him. He almost certainly was risking his life, to refrain, and he didn’t know if he was truly doing any good for Xanxus either. But Xanxus had chosen that ice and Tsuna couldn’t undo it by force.

He turned away into the building and left Xanxus staring after him, breathing hard.

Tsuna sat in his chair and tried not to fidget, because sometimes now it made someone jump when he did. He didn’t really think that was much of an improvement over the past few months, but Reborn smiled a lot.

The Ninth leaned back in his chair, smiling. "Well, that’s one conflict cleared up in Vongola favor. So let’s move on to other business. Does anyone still have any objections to my successor?"

Tsuna froze, wide-eyed, as the entire table looked at him. Murmurs and headshakes and a few smiles ran around the gathering, and Tsuna wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or even more alarmed that they were accepting him.

He hadn’t even accepted him, yet!

Well… not exactly.

And then everyone stilled, eyes turning to Xanxus, who was glaring wild and hard at Tsuna once again and hadn’t said a thing.

Tsuna bit his lip and looked back. He remembered tremors raking Xanxus’ chest under his palm. Would it help if he apologized?

And just as Tsuna was opening his mouth, hand raised toward Xanxus, groping for words, Xanxus flinched back and lowered his eyes.

The whole room breathed again.

"Good," the Ninth said quietly. "Then I think we’re done here."

End

The Beauty of Obligation

Kyouya turned over in bed with a huff and yanked the covers up. He was annoyed.

A good fight, one he could sink his teeth into properly, was always enjoyable, but he saw no call to interrupt it with chatter.

And just who did Cavallone think he was, to judge Kyouya’s skill? He wouldn’t even fight properly, all avoidance and evasion.

Still. The fact that he could evade and avoid spoke its own language, and a far more convincing one than the flowery nonsense about frogs and wells. As long as Cavallone showed up, Kyouya would fight him.

Now if he could just make the man fight seriously.

The ring made a useful lever, which was good; Kyouya couldn’t imagine any other reason for keeping it.

"All right, then, how about a trade?" Cavallone showed his teeth. "If I beat you in a serious fight, then you have to be part of Tsuna’s Family."

Kyouya had to snort a bit over Cavallone’s foolishness. He wasn’t one of the idiots from the sports clubs, who made bets and dares out of their wins and losses—cutting one’s hair or slave for a week or whatever. A win or a loss was what it was; that was all. And as for joining anything, least of all Sawada’s little herd, that was laughable.

The thought did tug at him, though. Family. That was something the baby had mentioned.

Well, that would save for later.

Right now there was only the sudden sharpening of Cavallone’s eyes, the speed and sureness of his feet against the roof, the singing of the whip cutting the air. Things that made the world bright and sharp and satisfying.

Losing was not satisfying at all, however.

"So, it’s a deal, right?" Cavallone prompted, shaking back sweat-soaked hair.

Kyouya spat blood on the man’s foot.

He didn’t know why that made Cavallone smile, and didn’t waste time trying to figure it out. The man couldn’t shut up to save his life and would undoubtedly tell him sooner or later.

"It’s not just a decoration, you know." Cavallone opened the range again. "That ring."

Kyouya stalked forward, tracking the motion of the whip. "If it’s a herd badge, I don’t need it."

Cavallone groaned. "You are the most perfect Cloud in the history of the world, I swear."

The whip hooked one tonfa and Cavallone slid back from the other and Kyouya stepped in, turning to strike again. "Cloud?" That was the symbol on the ring, if he recalled.

"The Cloud watches from above." Cavallone snaked the whip through the spin of one tonfa, tangling it, and jerked Kyouya to the side. "The Cloud follows its own way and can’t be bound." Kyouya spun on his center, found his stance again, struck for Cavallone’s stomach with the shaft. "You’re a natural."

A loop of the whip tightened on Kyouya’s neck as Cavallone sprang back, and he barely got a tonfa up in time to keep it from closing completely. Cavallone smiled and twitched it loose, releasing him, and Kyouya’s lip curled in a snarl. He hated it when Cavallone did that. "What’s your point?" he asked, shaking his tonfa free sharply.

Cavallone tipped his head to the side. "The ring. Doesn’t it match what you are?"

Kyouya considered for a moment. "Well enough."

Cavallone smiled. "That’s my point."

Kyouya eyed him narrowly. That seemed far too simple for someone who fought in such an indirect style.

"So, you really like this school, don’t you? You always choose here, to fight, without even thinking about it."

Kyouya raised his brows. "It’s mine." The rest was not some outsider’s to ask about.

Cavallone’s mouth quirked. "It fits you well. But don’t you think some variety would build your skills faster?"

Kyouya stood still for a moment, torn between insistence that Cavallone was not his personal trainer or any such nonsense and the knowledge that he was sharpening against Cavallone’s skill.

"It would be more interesting for you, too, wouldn’t it?" Cavallone added, easily.

Finally Kyouya shrugged. "If you like. It doesn’t matter to me where I bite you."

Cavallone’s hair fell over his eyes as he rocked forward, laughing. "I’ve noticed. Well, come on, then." His smile was bright. "Let’s try something interesting."

Kyouya looked over at Kusakabe, standing next to Cavallone’s man. "Keep things as they should be," he ordered.

The forest gave him an advantage. The shore was difficult for both of them, with its shifting footing. The edge of his inside strike was exactly here. If he set the ball of his foot at just this angle it increased his power. When Cavallone gave back to rob a blow of its strength, he couldn’t draw his whip back in for one and a half seconds. Kyouya stored away all these observations, evaluations, the things he usually didn’t bother with because no one could match him.

Cavallone could, though.

It seemed wrong. He’d seen the man trip over his own feet when that assistant of his wasn’t around; he was the epitome of a herd-beast. How he could be herd and carnivore as well, Kyouya didn’t understand. It seemed disingenuous, and not proper at all.

Of course, very few people understood true propriety, which was why he had to bite them.

It made him wonder, though, how many other carnivores might be found among the herd.

Every now and then, as they fought, he considered what these environments would do to Mukuro’s staff, and then he pushed Cavallone harder.

"The thing is," Cavallone panted, hands braced on his knees, "there are people coming after it."

Kyouya blinked sweat out of his eyes. "What?"

"The ring. I told you it wasn’t just decoration, didn’t I?" Cavallone’s smile was wry. "It’s a weapon. And some of the most deadly people in the mafia want them."

Kyouya considered this. He didn’t care particularly about the ring itself, but if it would bring a real fight to him… He smiled slowly.

Cavallone burst out laughing until he had to sit down. "God, Kyouya. What are we going to do with you?"

Kyouya worked tingling fingers around the handles of his tonfa and looked coolly down at his opponent. "You could fight me for real."

Cavallone leaned back on his hands, one corner of his mouth quirking as he looked up at Kyouya. "Maybe I am."

"Not yet," Kyouya shot back. Last week he wouldn’t have been sure of that, but now he could tell. It annoyed him; the only proper fight was a real one.

Cavallone had an odd look on his face, smiling still but his eyes had turned dark. "Maybe." And then it was gone. "In any case, it would be a good idea for you to see some of the other Guardians’ fights, to get an idea of the other side’s strength, so we should probably head back."

Kyouya cocked his head. So there were other people who had these rings too. More importantly, though… back? "They’re in Namimori?"

Suddenly Cavallone looked just a bit shifty. "Ah. Well, yes, about that. See…" he stood up and brushed himself off, "it seems the matches are actually taking place at the school."

Kyouya just looked at Cavallone for a long moment.

And then he turned away and strode for the treeline and the road beyond it.

"Kyouya, hang on! Wait, you don’t… are you going to walk back?! Kyouya…!"

Kyouya lay on the roof, glowering at the sky. Those masked things were breaking his school. He would have to do something about that.

It was hard to concentrate, even on such an outrage against propriety, though. He kept remembering the flash of steel and water, and the sharpness of eyes he could have sworn belonged to an herbivore.

"So, are you going to try to take my head off right this instant?" Cavallone sounded cautious, as well he should. Kyouya narrowed his eyes, not looking back to see the man coming up the stairwell.

"Why not? You lie to me."

"I didn’t lie." Now Cavallone sounded uncomfortable. "I just didn’t say everything all at once. You know you would have—"

"Not that." Kyouya rolled up on an elbow and glared at the man. "You act like an herbivore, but you fight like you have real teeth. You pretend you’re not what you are." And apparently this was a popular thing for people who should be honest and self-respecting carnivores to do.

Cavallone was staring at him. "It’s not pretending," he said, slowly. He settled on his heels beside Kyouya with a faint frown. "You’re talking about my Family, aren’t you?"

Well, obviously. Kyouya glared some more.

"Kyouya…" Cavallone ran a hand through his hair, and now he had a tiny, helpless smile. "It’s because of my Family that I have real teeth."

Kyouya leaned back, disgusted. "Herd beasts never have teeth. It’s their nature."

"Hmm." Cavallone looked at him sidelong. "Well, herd beasts, maybe not. But packs do, don’t they?"

Kyouya paused. He supposed there was some truth in that. "They don’t congregate with herbivores, though," he pointed out. "They prey on them, as it should be. They only congregate with others of their kind."

Cavallone was smiling. "They’re social enough, though, aren’t they? With their pack. That isn’t dishonest, is it?"

Kyouya pursed his lips. "Hm."

Cavallone laughed and reached over to ruffle his hair, and that was more liberty than anyone was allowed to take, even if they had proper teeth and maybe weren’t being dishonest about it. Kyouya’s tonfa connected, if not quite as satisfyingly as he would like. Clearly he needed to keep on sharpening himself. He drove after Cavallone as the man retreated.

He was still annoyed that Yamamoto didn’t show his teeth properly, and intended to bite him to death as soon as it was convenient, so he could see them again.

Kyouya sat at the edge of the school grounds, watching the masked creatures restore his school. He intended to take every incomplete repair out of their hides. And possibly out of Sawada’s, too, since he had done nearly as much damage as that mechanical suit.

"So?" Cavallone stood behind him on the little rise. "What do you think?" There was a smile in his voice. "Will Tsuna make a good pack leader?"

Kyouya snorted. "They’re certainly licking his hands already."

Cavallone was quiet for a moment. "And you?"

Kyouya looked over his shoulder, brows raised.

"Will you guard him?"

Kyouya looked back at the school. "If he needs someone else to fight for him, he’s an herbivore." Grudgingly he added, "Which he doesn’t seem to be. As much."

"I don’t know why I even asked," Cavallone sighed. After a moment he asked, "Why do you protect the school? It’s full of herbivores, isn’t it?"

"It’s a traditional school. It’s a proper thing."

"Hm." Cavallone sat down beside him, one leg curled under him. "Could a Family be proper?" He sounded curious. "We’re about as traditional as it gets."

That was an interesting question, actually, and Kyouya decided he would consider it. But he had a more urgent question this evening. "Why are you doing this?" Cavallone was putting in a ridiculous amount of effort to persuade Kyouya into someone else’s Family. If it had been his own, Kyouya might have understood better.

Cavallone didn’t pretend he didn’t understand, which saved Kyouya having to bite him. "Because the boss is given for his Family." His eyes were distant, fixed unseeing on the school. "It’s true; Tsuna isn’t suited to be a mafia boss. But he’ll be the one Vongola needs. I can’t help Tsuna escape that." His hands tightened on each other. "I love him like a little brother, but I can’t. My Family needs him, too." Cavallone bent his head, light hair falling forward to hide his expression. "But I’ll do everything I can to protect him."

Kyouya stood and Cavallone’s head came up, eyes startled. Kyouya looked down at him. "Guilt is boring. Come fight me when you’re over it." He walked down the rise to go inspect the work on the school.

Propriety tugged at him.

He stopped, back still to Cavallone, and added, "I’ll see what this Family looks like. Whether it’s suitable as was it is." The fight between Sawada and Xanxus tomorrow should offer him an opportunity.

He heard Cavallone start laughing, free and rueful, as he walked on.

Kyouya sat silently and suffered Kusakabe to clean and tape his cuts from that pitiful "prince’s" knives and wires.

"You should really let us give you a transfusion," Cavallone complained, leaning by the open window.

Kyouya snorted. "I’m not that weak." He’d consented to come to this hospital Cavallone had apparently taken over, and that was enough for one night. Or one dawn, as it nearly was.

Cavallone sighed. "All right. Here, though." He fished a small box out of his pocket and tossed it to Kyouya.

The Cloud ring was inside it.

He had to admit, Sawada did appear to have reasonable teeth, and, if he could be induced to show them, would be quite suitable. One or two of the others had potential. And there was Mukuro.

He turned the ring in his fingers and finally looked up at Cavallone. "I’ll see if this Family is a proper thing." It would balance his obligation for the things Cavallone had shown him.

And he supposed it was distantly possible that he would decide in favor.

He sniffed a little over Cavallone’s brilliant smile and tucked the ring away.

End

Seven Pleats

Kyouya sat, composed, at the side of a large, airy room, tea cradled between his hands, and watched the Rain.

Yamamoto’s forms shifted one into the next, beautiful and inevitable as flowing water. Afternoon light slid down his sword edge, soft and bright. The still focus in his eyes rested on perfect nothingness as he stepped, turned, cut. Kyouya’s gaze followed every move and line of him, drinking in the pureness of it along with the bitterness of the tea.

Finally, Yamamoto finished and collected himself in the center of the room, breath deep and slow.

And then he crossed the room in four strides and knelt swiftly over Kyouya, knees spread to either side of his thighs, hands closing around his face. Kyouya laughed low in his throat, balancing his tea deftly as their mouths met in a hard, hot kiss.

"It’s very hard to concentrate when you watch me like that," Yamamoto murmured.

"Perhaps I should join you, next time, instead."

Yamamoto laughed out loud. "Now that would really distract me." He stroked his thumbs over Kyouya’s cheekbones.

Kyouya set his tea precisely aside and slid his fingers into Yamamoto’s hair, pulling him back down to another kiss, deep and intent; he’d been patient for long enough. He nipped sharply at Yamamoto’s lower lip and his eyes narrowed with satisfaction at the way Yamamoto’s breath caught.

He slid his hands down to pull Yamamoto’s top open and off his shoulders, purring into Yamamoto’s mouth; the lean, balanced hardness of Yamamoto’s body was always a pleasure to taste.

"Kyouya…" Yamamoto’s hands spread against his back, pressing him closer, and Kyouya ground his hips up against Yamamoto’s. A slow, sharp smile curled his lips; Yamamoto was hard against him. Yamamoto growled softly, and long, strong hands curved around Kyouya’s ass, kneading hard.

He liked it that Takeshi wasn’t any more patient than he was.

He twisted to push Yamamoto down against the tatami and snorted at the bright laugh that answered. Sometimes he thought Yamamoto saw the whole world as a joke. He pulled free the ties of Takeshi’s hakama, unraveling the folds and pushing the loose cloth down long legs.

Takeshi reached for his belt, smiling, eyes hot and sharp as Kyouya’s kimono fell open around him. "I hope you came prepared," he murmured.

Kyouya sniffed. "Since when am I not?" He fished a small foil tube out of his kimono sleeve.

Yamamoto’s smile brightened. "That’s my Kyouya."

Kyouya arched a brow. "Indeed?" He leaned over Takeshi and closed firm teeth on his throat, pressing slick fingers into him.

"Ah!" Takeshi arched under him, hands closing hard on Kyouya’s hips, pulling him in tight. Kyouya savored the sounds he made, breath coming faster as Takeshi rocked against him, moving with the thrust of his fingers, head tossed back.

"Kyouya, now." The husky growl was back in Takeshi’s voice, and Kyouya mouth quirked as he settled between Takeshi’s legs and pushed into him, and yes, this was what he wanted—Takeshi’s fierce response, open and true, the heat in his eyes, the hard strength of his hands on Kyouya’s hips, demanding he move and thrust.

They moved against each other, sharp and swift, low moans twining around each other like heat around pleasure. The sensation of driving into Takeshi’s body coiled up Kyouya’s spine, exquisite as the thrill of fighting, perfect as the beauty of Takeshi’s sword. They fucked each other hard and intent, hands stroking and gripping.

When Takeshi moaned, a shudder raking through him, Kyouya couldn’t take his eyes away; the taut line of Takeshi’s body drew him down and down into heat until he fell after, muffling a groan against Takeshi’s throat.

They lay tangled together, panting, and Kyouya slowly noticed Takeshi’s fingers stroking through his hair and snorted. Takeshi’s chest shook with laughter, under him.

"One of these days I’ll convince you to take it slow."

"Not when I’ve been watching your sword," Kyouya pointed out.

"Well, no, probably not."

He could feel Takeshi’s lips quirked where they pressed against his temple and smiled faintly against Takeshi’s shoulder. He doubted he’d be willing to give up Takeshi’s pure ferocity any time soon.

He doubted Takeshi would, either.

End

Nine Years, Eleven Months, Twenty-seven Days

Yamamoto was the first one who came, tapping brisk but quiet on the door and slipping inside, shadows falling across his face. He said nothing, only came to Tsuna and wrapped around him, a shield of muscle and bone and breath. Tsuna rested his forehead against Yamamoto’s chest with a low sigh. He didn’t know whether he wanted them here or not, but he knew he couldn’t send them away. Not tonight.

Gokudera came next, head lowered, every movement pulled tight. He didn’t look at either of them, only sank down to sit at Tsuna’s feet, one arm locked around a raised knee. A slender, red stick turned unceasingly through his fingers.

Hibari ignored them when he stalked through the door and came to stand beside the window, eyes gleaming and sharp on the night beyond.

The city lights gleamed on Lambo’s horns as he settled on the balcony outside.

Ryouhei planted himself at the door, arms crossed, with a fierce expression but sad eyes. He nodded to Chrome as she entered and stood silently in the corner across from Hibari, staff upright between her hands.

They waited and watched.

Pre-dawn was drowning the streetlights when Tsuna stirred. "It’s all right, now," he told them softly.

There was a husky sound from Gokudera and Yamamoto’s arms tightened for one quick moment.

They left as quietly as they’d come, and Tsuna only hoped they’d sleep now. One by one, with a nod or a swift touch, they unwound themselves from around him until only Hibari was left still watching as Tsuna finally made his way to bed. The line of his back, poised and uncompromising, followed Tsuna down into dreams.

End

Rain on the Mountain

Feet move softly over the mats of his private rooms, and he listens to them come, leaning in the open screens and looking out onto his small, private garden. Moonlight filters down through illusion and glimmers on leaves. The chill of the evening curls around the warmth of the sake cup in his fingers, a pleasing contrast.

Long hands slide over his shoulders and down his arms, and the heat of another body settles against his back. Lips brush his throat, just above the collar of his kimono where a drop of water from his wet hair is making its way down his neck, and a husky voice murmurs, "That was a good fight."

He smiles out into the stark lines of the night and leans back against Yamamoto, relaxed in the aftermath of shared intensity. "It was." It probably wasn’t entirely suitable to interrupt kata, but he hadn’t been able to resist and Yamamoto didn’t seem to mind.

He lets Yamamoto’s arms rest around his waist, the same intimacy as a razor edge screaming against his steel, both pure and clean. It’s only Yamamoto whose ferocity is this clean, and he savors it the way he does the sake.

Perhaps, he thinks as Yamamoto kisses his throat again, coaxing and inviting, perhaps tonight he will see if that ferocity tastes as good elsewhere as it does when they fight.

End

I Will be the One

1.

They were halfway to school when Gokudera noticed it.

"Hm? You’re going to keep wearing the ring, then?"

Tsuna looked down at the ring on his hand without a great deal of enthusiasm. "For now. I… I think I’d better."

"Huh." There was kind of a funny smile on Gokudera’s face when Tsuna looked up. "Seems about right to me, then. Hang on for a minute." He set his bag against a handy wall and took Tsuna’s shoulder, turning to face him.

Tsuna made a choked noise as Gokudera knelt down in front of him, right there in the street. His frantic look up and down, hoping no one was watching, was interrupted, though, by the intensity of Gokudera’s voice.

"Tenth." Gokudera took Tsuna’s hand, bowed his head over it and kissed the Sky ring. "I’m your man. Always."

Tsuna bit his lip; he never quite knew what to do when Gokudera sounded like this.

And then Gokudera looked up with a crooked smile and winked. "What? I’m your first follower, right? Just making it official."

Tsuna relaxed and managed to smile back. "Okay."

Gokudera swaggered all the rest of the way to school.

2.

"So, did you understand number seven?"

"Not really." Yamamoto rubbed the back of his head, brows quirked. "I think the third example in the book is kind of the same, though."

They were digging through the math text when Reborn jumped down from his hammock onto the table and Tsuna nearly jumped out of his skin. He wished Reborn would make noise when he woke up, like a normal person.

"Yamamoto, good, you’re here. You need to kiss Tsuna’s ring."

"What?!" Tsuna scrambled back from the table a bit. He also wished Reborn would stop saying weird things out of the blue; some lead-up would at least give him more time to duck.

Yamamoto just blinked. "Um. Why?"

"It’s a sign of loyalty among us."

Yamamoto smiled tolerantly. "Ah, your game again."

Tsuna was really starting to wonder whether Yamamoto meant the same thing everyone else did when he used the word game.

"Well, okay then." Yamamoto reached over and caught one of the hands Tsuna was waving.

"Um, but, you don’t—"

"Hey, it’s okay Tsuna," Yamamoto laughed. He leaned down and brushed his lips over the ring and Tsuna stilled. For one moment, with his head bent and eyes focused on Tsuna’s hand, Yamamoto looked completely serious.

And then he was smiling his wry smile, the one that was amused by the whole world, and Tsuna breathed again.

"Also, you got number four completely wrong," Reborn added.

Tsuna groaned.

3.

Tsuna looked up, startled, at the soft scratch at his door. No one he knew announced themselves that quietly.

No one except, maybe, the person standing in the door, who he had just never, ever expected to see in his room.

"Boss." Chrome stood in the doorway, clasping her staff close to her chest. "Mukuro-sama said it would be all right," she murmured.

Tsuna opened and closed his mouth a few times before he managed. "What would?"

She came in with swift, silent steps and sank down to the floor beside him, laying her staff down carefully. And then she picked up his ring hand in both her own.

"If you want me to," she said softly, eyes lowered or maybe just fixed on the Sky ring.

Tsuna had to work on getting his voice going again. "But… I mean, are you sure?" He couldn’t make out anything of her expression. "Is this what you want, Chrome-san?"

She nodded silently.

"Then… well, yes. I mean, if you’re sure." Tsuna felt a little helpless in face of her quiet.

She lifted his hand and kissed the ring, light as a moth’s wing brushing his hand. "I will always be your Mist Guardian."

"I… thank you." Tsuna groped for something to say, something right. "I’ll be glad to… welcome you to… to the Family," he finally got out. And he still wasn’t sure about the whole concept, but nothing else seemed like it would match what she was doing.

Chrome looked up with a small smile. "Thank you. Boss."

She picked up her staff and left as silently as she’d come.

4.

Ryouhei just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Of course! I already said I was the Sun Guardian, didn’t I?"

Gokudera grumbled a bit about lousy lawn-heads with no respect, but Reborn just nodded.

Tsuna was grateful for the reprieve and tried not to think too hard about the weight and meaning of Ryouhei’s bare word.

5.

Bianchi stalked back down the hall and the seventeen year old Lambo crawled out from under Tsuna’s bed and collapsed on the floor. "Saved. Thanks, young Vongola." And then he lifted his head again for another look at Tsuna, flopped over beside him. "Ah. You’ve started wearing the Sky ring all the time."

Tsuna winced. "Um. Yeah."

The smile Lambo gave him was sympathetic. "You’ve been through a lot with and for that ring."

Tsuna stared down at it. "Yeah," he said softly, and closed his hand into a fist.

It was his fist that Lambo closed a long-fingered hand around and lifted, so that he could kiss the ring. His eyes were serious when he looked up. "Welcome to the Families, Vongola."

And then seven year old Lambo reappeared with a poff, hands holding Tsuna’s fist, and squealed. "Are we gonna play fighting?"

Fending him off took until dinner and it was some time before Tsuna remembered the older Lambo’s words.

He thought about them the first time he looked at a neat, black suit hanging in his closet, though.

6.

For a while, Tsuna had consoled himself with the thought that Hibari would never give a moment’s thought to any Family ritual, especially not this one. And then he forgot about it in the rush of other events. When they needed Hibari he seemed to show up and that was plenty enough for Tsuna.

It was a little more than enough when Hibari started showing up to spar with him, but Reborn insisted, and it did make a distressing kind of sense, so Tsuna did his best and laid in a lot of ice packs.

So he really wasn’t expecting it, the day he succeeded in blasting Hibari into the practice room floor, and Hibari didn’t get up at once. Instead he held up a hand and flicked his fingers, beckoning to Tsuna.

A little warily, because Hibari was still smiling, Tsuna approached. "Um. Yes?"

Hibari caught his wrist and pulled Tsuna down beside him. "For the Family." He lifted Tsuna’s ring hand and kissed the Sky ring.

Tsuna squeaked a little in shock.

"You still act far too much like an herbivore," Hibari observed, "but as long as you show me your fangs properly."

And he rolled fluidly to his feet and punched Tsuna across the room.

Tsuna staggered upright and threw himself back at Hibari. If this was for the Family, their family, if Hibari agreed to guard them… then Tsuna had to do what he could, too.

Hibari’s smile widened a bit as they met again.

End

A/N: Inspired by the scene between Iemitsu and the !Ninth.

Fire and Gravel

Shinji listened to the murmurs that followed his team, braiding together into one curious and surprised and speculative strand.

"…first years, come on."

"They made it Nationals that year, didn’t they?"

"Next one too…"

"Only because they didn’t come up against any strong teams. It was a fluke. Only the captain is really good."

Shinji’s head turned, eyes tracking the one who’d made that last, disparaging, comment. He could feel the old, quick rage boil up, the fury that wanted to claw that smug dismissal to ribbons, that raged against the wall of disbelief.

The heat of his teammates closed more tightly around him, and he knew they had heard it too, were also angry with slow-burning memory. He leaned into that; it was the thing that had bound them together from the first, that had made him welcome. All of them were looking in the same direction, now, and from the corner of his eye Shinji saw Tachibana-san’s glare, not smoldering but bright and fierce.

The one who had spoken swallowed and stepped back quickly.

"No need to listen to the howling of stray dogs." Tachibana-san’s statement gathered them back up, moved them forward again.

Shinji’s anger didn’t fade, though; it just banked, waiting for fuel to make it flare again. He wasn’t really surprised when Tachibana-san fell in next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Let it go, Shinji," his captain murmured. "You know you’re better than that."

Shinji hesitated and bent his head. "Yes, Tachibana-san." He supposed he did know. It just didn’t make him any less angry.

The hand on his shoulder shook him gently. "Come on. We have a match to play. Remind yourself how good you are, until you really know it."

Looking up, Shinji saw Tachibana-san was smiling at him, intent and wry with a glint of starting fire. This time, he smiled too. "Yes, Tachibana-san." He straightened.

There were other bonds, and better welcomes, than anger, now. He would try to remember.

End

Wind is on the Face of the Water

Fai sat quietly by Kurogane and watched the faint glow of Tomoyo-hime’s hands on Kurogane’s mangled shoulder with blank eyes. Now and then he touched the hand locked around his arm. Even barely conscious, Kurogane had grabbed hold again as soon as they were settled in the palanquin. The confusion of those last moments in Celes spun through his mind’s eye over and over.

"Since when…" he whispered, not expecting an answer even if Kurogane had been awake.

And so he started when Tomoyo-hime murmured, "Probably since the very beginning."

The beginning? Fai shook his head. "But…"

Tomoyo-hime looked up, hands still busy casting healing, and smiled at him, sweet and kind and merciless. "Well, what did you think, the first time you saw him?"

It was a little hard to remember that now, after all the worlds, all the events, all the words. Her smile reminded him, though, and he answered slowly. "He was so stern and determined." As memory sped up so did his words. "So urgent, but only looking at one single goal. I wanted to—" he broke off sharply.

"To make him look at you?" Her eyes twinkled before she looked down at Kurogane again. "Do you think," she added, softly, "he saw you any less clearly?"

Fai chewed on his lip. He’d been surprised, more than once, by Kurogane’s perception, and he had to admit Kurogane didn’t say what he saw very often. "I… suppose not."

"He is a very kind man."

Fai bent his head. "I know."

"You’ve helped him." One small hand reached out and touched his cheek, asking him to look up. Tomoyo was smiling again. "Thank you."

For once glib words completely deserted him and Fai shook his head helplessly. Tomoyo-hime patted his cheek, serene and unyielding.

"Come along. As soon as this is bandaged it’s your turn."

Fai was rather afraid of that.

Fai washed slowly, being careful not to get his dressings wet. He didn’t want to give Tomoyo-hime another chance to tell him alarming things.

Had Kurogane really… cared about him… from the very start? Fai had thought that, kind as he was, Kurogane was still wrapped up in his own determination, his insistence on returning to his home. He’d taken "it doesn’t concern me" at face value, thought it was safe, right up until Tokyo.

In retrospect, that had obviously been foolish of him.

Even after, when Fai tried to make it safe again, to draw back—as well as possible while drinking Kurogane’s blood which, admittedly, wasn’t very—the stubborn man had refused to go.

Refused to let Fai go.

Looking back, Fai couldn’t lay his finger on any single moment, or even progression of moments, that might have told him Kurogane would do such a thing, make such sacrifices to save him. And that… that probably told him something in itself.

He stared down into the steaming water, wondering what he was supposed to do now.

"No, like this. Over that finger, and brace the inner with your thumb. Don’t hold them too hard or…"

The clump of rice Fai was trying to eat disintegrated and he sighed while Tomoyo-hime kindly didn’t laugh at him—at least not out loud. Perhaps it was just as well Shaoran and Mokona had fallen asleep before dinner and weren’t here to watch this. One more try. Ah, that was better.

"He’s very much like Sakura-chan."

Fai paused with his chopsticks in his mouth and raised his brows, trying to wordlessly convey the comparison between a small, laughing, bright-eyed princess and a large, growling, glaring ninja. Tomoyo-hime just smiled and sipped from her cup.

"They love the same way."

Fai swallowed and concentrated on capturing another of his unidentifiable vegetables and tried to keep breathing. The princess’ open-hearted love had been a benediction, making no demands of him, so freely poured out he could only do his best to aid her wish in return. To compare that to the quiet waiting that hid behind Kurogane’s growling and snapping made his heart skip in something like panic.

Tomoyo-hime gave him a long look and made a little hm sound. "Well." She smiled brightly, in a way that made Fai instantly wary, and picked up a carafe. "Shall we drink, then?"

"Ah. I wondered if you would be here." Tomoyo-hime stepped softly into the room and slid the door shut behind her.

Fai stirred in the dimness, where he sat watching Kurogane sleep. "I didn’t want to bring my misfortune on him, as well, you know" he said softly.

Tomoyo-hime stood for a long breath, looking at him steadily before she finally crossed the room with delicate steps and rapped him briskly over the head, making Fai start and duck.

Maybe it was some kind of national habit.

"Don’t be foolish," she directed. "Have you forgotten that I am a miko? I would know if you truly brought misfortune, and I say that you do not."

"But…"

Tomoyo-hime shook her head, ornaments chiming. "You do not." Her firm tone brooked no hint of doubt and Fai subsided, flustered. He had never questioned that one thing; no one he really knew had. "Didn’t Yuuko-san tell you?" Tomoyo-hime asked, settling down beside him and smoothing the covers over Kurogane’s chest. "Everyone makes their own choices. It’s from those choices that inevitability flows, not the other way around."

Fai felt as though those small hands were turning his world end for end, and shook his head mutely. Tomoyo-hime sighed and reached up to lay her hand gently on his head.

"Yuui, royal prince," she said soft and clear, "Fai D Fluorite, Mage of Celes, it was not your fault."

The words rang through him like a bell and he lifted a hand, wanting to catch and hold them. She took his hand in both her own.

"Kurogane does not believe it was your fault either. You trust his eyes, don’t you?"

"Yes," Fai whispered. She had an answer for every fear, fit each one together as neatly as someone piecing back together a broken mirror, and the reflection she showed him was ragged but clear.

"You should sleep a little," she told him. "I’ll call you when he wakes." Her smile turned mischievous. "If you don’t know on your own, that is."

Fai’s mouth quirked wryly. Clearly he wasn’t going to win any argument with her tonight. "Thank you." Besides, he did want to speak with Yuuko; if Kurogane was this determined to protect Fai he couldn’t complain about Fai doing the same in return. He touched Kurogane’s chest one last time, feeling his heartbeat, and took that reassurance with him when he stood.

"Fai?"

He paused at the door. "Yes?"

"Remember this. This time I will say ‘Welcome’. Next time, it will be ‘Welcome home’."

It took him a moment to clear his throat enough to speak. "Next time, then," he said, husky, "I’ll say ‘I’m back’."

The moonlight lit up her smile.

End

A/N: Personally, I felt that the transition from absolute despair in Celes to everything being hunky dory in Nihon was way too abrupt. This is one attempt to explain how Fai could have gotten from the former to the latter.

Hearthfire

Renji lay stretched out on his stomach, on his futon and gasped as long fingers traced slowly over his tattoos.

"Byakuya-san…"

Cool lips brushed over the nape of his neck. "Shhhh."

Renji buried his face in the crook of his arm, pretty sure he was blushing like a girl at the reassurance or command, whichever it was. He knew Byakuya wasn’t actually much older than him—a few decades was very little, by the standards of nobles and shinigami—but that icy control always made him feel older. Not that "ice" was something a person would normally think of in a moment like this, but it wasn’t that kind of cold… He lost the thought as fingertips slid down his spine and there was a little pleading in his voice this time. "Byakuya-san!"

He sighed as body heat covered him, Byakuya’s weight settling against his back, steadying him. A palm stroked up his neck, moving his loose hair aside, and a hot tongue slid over the marks on his shoulders and he moaned softly. They’d been here for over an hour and every inch of his skin was touch-sensitive by now. "Byakuya-san, please…"

"So impatient, Renji," Byakuya murmured.

In bed, at least, he could be pretty sure that was teasing and not reprimand. And, yes, Byakuya’s mouth was curving against his skin and he heard a faint chiming. Turning his head he saw Byakuya dipping his fingers in the small cup of oil set beside them in the sun to warm. His breath came deeper and he couldn’t help squirming a little as Byakuya’s fingers brushed his ass, stroking that oil over himself. Anticipation caught in his throat as Byakuya edged his legs apart with his knees and long, slim hands closed on his hips, holding him still.

And then Byakuya was pushing against him, into him, fraction by fraction, so very slowly, and Renji’s hands closed tight on the quilt under him. He moaned openly as Byakuya’s cock slowly, slowly stretched him open, slid into him, and he had no clue how the man managed to go so slow. His hips would have been bucking up helplessly if Byakuya hadn’t held them down. "Byakuya-san!"

Byakuya paused, he actually stopped, and asked, only breathless, "Yes, Renji?"

His ass tingled with the fierce, slow stretch and his whole body throbbed with want. "Don’t stop!"

"Very well, then," Byakuya murmured, husky, and he was moving again, until he was all the way inside and Renji was panting for breath past the flood of sheer sensation.

Renji didn’t know how long Byakuya fucked him like that, slow and controlled, sliding and thrusting in and out until Renji’s whole body was hot and undone with it and he was moaning wordlessly into the quilt. When he spilled over the edge into orgasm, he almost didn’t notice; it was just a change in the texture of pleasure that was already drowning him.

He did notice when Byakuya shuddered, buried deep inside him, and moaned, and dazed as he was that sound still made his breath catch. He smiled as Byakuya settled against his back again, arms sliding around him.

"You’re warm," Byakuya murmured against his shoulder.

"Yeah," Renji whispered.

He knew it wasn’t body heat Byakuya was talking about.

 

End

Man of Mouth and Hands

Gin stood at the broad window, looking out on Hueca Mundo. "Such a strange place," he mused.

"Strange enough to regret coming?" his captain murmured from the couch behind him, and Gin turned, lifting a brow.

"You brought us here," he pointed out in a tone of innocent surprise.

"Answer me, Gin." Aizen’s tone was cool, but his mouth was quirked faintly.

"I just did." Gin leaned against the sill, head cocked teasingly. They played this game of perfect respect and sly defiance, and he always looked forward to seeing how Aizen would end it.

After a moment, Aizen chuckled and held out a hand, beckoning and commanding, and Gin came to it. He let himself be pulled down to the couch and laid back on the thin, soft cushion, smiling.

"So you’ll follow me anywhere," Aizen stated, hands sliding under Gin’s coat to find the ties of his white hakama.

"Everywhere," Gin agreed, and smirked as Aizen lifted his bare leg over the back of the couch. He wiggled his toes cheerfully and listened for the stiff, stifled silence of the two arrancar girls who attended the door, who were just as infatuated with Aizen as little Hinamori had been. Likely to the same end. The high couch back would block most of their view, but that was all right. For most people, imagination was stronger than reality.

Not that he really needed extra reason to moan as his captain’s cock pushed into him, but it added a little something.

Other thoughts faded away, though, as Aizen spread him out and fucked him, held him all the while with intense, inhuman eyes, sharp enough, heavy enough, to plane the surface of space and time flat. Gin gasped under them. Every thrust rocked him, curled his spine, and Aizen’s strong, square hands held his thighs stretched as wide open as they’d go.

Aizen never held back in any way, and Gin loved that.

"Making sure of me?" he asked, husky.

"I’m quite sure of you," Aizen murmured back.

Gin finally shuddered and gasped with the rush of heat through him and Aizen smiled, intent and unruffled. He fucked Gin firmly for another few moments, keeping him opened up, before drawing back. Gin could never tell when, whether, Aizen had come, and he loved that control, too.

Aizen leaned over him, one hand curving around the back of Gin’s head, carelessly gentle, and kissed him, and the sound Gin made, low in his throat, had nothing of teasing in it—only surrender.

Picking up the conversation as if they hadn’t paused, Aizen murmured, "So, will you be the first before my throne?"

Gin savored the ambiguity of the question and looked up into his leader’s brilliant, distant, immediate gaze for one bare moment, stripped and exultant.

"Yes."

 

End

As Red as Any Blood

Fai stalked through his set of rooms to Kurogane’s, growling under his breath. He tried not to do that but he couldn’t actually help it right this moment.

He knew that Kurogane had oaths he needed to keep, that Tomoyo-hime was his liege and would be until one of them died; they’d talked about that before agreeing to settle in Nihon. Most of the time Fai didn’t mind at all. Tomoyo was a charming woman with a delightful sense of humor and he had her to thank for significant parts of his sanity. They had wonderful chats about their favorite grumpy ninja.

It was just that he’d already been hungry, today, and one of the courtiers had made a remark about there being nothing Kurogane wouldn’t do or give his master, and it had grated on Fai’s soul.

Kurogane was his.

Kurogane was also leaning against the wall beside his open balcony screen, a simple robe tied loosely about him, reading quietly. He looked up when Fai more or less slammed the hall screen closed behind him and demanded, a bit irately, "What’s wrong with you?"

"I’m hungry." That was the least of it, but it was somewhere to start, and something they both understood by now.

Kurogane snorted and laid his book aside. "Eat, then, before you start throwing tantrums." He held out a hand, only to blink as Fai stalked across the room and slid down to straddle his lap, winding his arms around Kurogane’s shoulders and nuzzling his throat. "Fai?" His hands settled slowly on Fai’s back.

"Really hungry." He licked slowly up the line of Kurogane’s neck, distracted and husky with the scent of his prey. "Mmm." His arms tightened around Kurogane and he pressed closer.

Kurogane was breathing quickly and Fai could feel his pulse against his lips. "Go ahead." He tipped his head back.

Fai purred with pleasure and bit down, twining tight around Kurogane. Richness filled his mouth, warm and satisfying, and he let his hands wander over Kurogane’s shoulders, down his chest, stroking under the robe, and back up to comb through his hair. "Mine," he murmured indistinctly against his prey’s throat and sucked firmly.

The way Kurogane shuddered under him, the sounds he made as his hands kneaded slowly against Fai’s back, were as satisfying as his taste.

Gradually the heat of shared life smoothed away the corners of Fai’s temper and he settled comfortably against Kurogane, nuzzling his throat and lapping softly until the blood stopped. He felt calm and content, and a tiny corner of his mind thought that was strange. Most of him, though, was just pleased to lie against Kurogane’s chest and feel large hands stroking up and down his back.

"Better?" Kurogane asked, quietly.

Fai smiled. "Much." He felt Kurogane’s lips curve, in turn, against his temple.

He drifted off like that, warm and happy, and when he woke up the next morning and tried to be apologetic Kurogane just snorted at him and pulled him close, one hand cupping the back of Fai’s head, to murmur one word in his ear.

"Yours."

 

End

Remember and Forget

It was ridiculous. It was absurd. Six months on the same team, no matter what kind of hell they’d gone through together, should not be able to wash away over two years of bullying. But there it was.

He’d gotten used to protecting Sena.

He stepped out on the field, for his own pride and anger and future, and he put his body and bones on the line to guard, well, the quarterback, yeah, but mostly Sena. Because Hiruma could take being downed and Sena…

Okay, Sena could take it too. Sena’s back was still slim, under his hands, but it was hard these days, solid with the muscle that let him be tackled by Banba and Yamato and Shin fucking Seijuurou and still stand back up and run again.

But it was his job to protect Sena.

So, yeah, maybe it was ridiculous that he was so careful, drawing Sena against him, that he tried to be gentle when he kissed Sena. But he couldn’t help it!

Sena was good at getting him to forget that, though.

"Mmmm, Kazuki… Kazuki, more…"

Sena’s eyes were hazy and dark, and the arch of him under Kazuki was abandoned. When Sena lost himself, when he forgot politeness and titles and diffidence, he was the most amazing thing Kazuki had ever seen, and he lifted Sena up, thrusting into him deeper. The tight heat of Sena’s body around him made him moan.

"Fuck, Sena…"

Sena smiled up at him, innocent and sweet and wanton. "Yes."

Kazuki gasped and his hips drove forward, fucking Sena hard, and Sena’s open moan as his body wrung tight sent a shudder down Kazuki’s spine and it didn’t stop there. Pleasure rushed out, tingling in his fingers and toes, pulsing with every beat of his heart, and his heart was pounding. Sena sighed, head laid back, and Kazuki’s hands tightened fiercely on his ass.

He really, really couldn’t help it, though, when they settled back down against the bed and he wrapped his arms around Sena carefully, protectively, even if it did make Sena laugh a little.

He didn’t mind as much that it made Sena cuddle into his chest, and he buried his face in Sena’s hair with a gruff sound. It was absolutely ridiculous.

He wasn’t going to let go.

 

End

Once There Was a Man

Zechs sighed against Treize’s shoulder. "If all the world were like you, maybe it would work."

Treize’s chuckle vibrated through his chest. "There’s a weight to put on me."

Zechs snorted. "Most of your soldiers would think it true and possible." He leaned up one one elbow, looking down seriously. "You took me in too, you know. I thought you could control everything. That you could shape all of OZ because you shone so bright."

Treize’s lifted a hand, running his fingers through Zechs’ hair. "I hoped I could," he murmured.

Zechs slipped back down with an exasperated sigh. "Your own fault, then, if I blamed you personally."

"Perhaps." Treize drew him closer. "But you know that war will never leave us. That being so, should we not seek to make it a bright, just thing?"

"I don’t think we can," Zechs whispered, hand spread against Treize’s chest. His mouth quirked, a shade bitterly. "That being so, should we not seek to see that people remember how hideous it is for as long as possible before we have to learn again?"

"But you know that brightness, that nobility. You’ve felt it." Treize’s voice was low and intense with the perfect surety that captured everyone around him, including, Zechs had to admit, himself.

"I’ve felt it," he agreed slowly, careful not to meet Treize’s eyes while he was feeling his way toward a truth. "But… not in war. Only in… in duels of honor." He turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling, and repeated quietly, "If all the world were like you, then yes."

It was Treize’s turn to lean over him, smiling ruefully. "Perhaps you’re right." While Zechs stared at him, taken quite by surprise, he wound his fingers into Zechs’ hair and kissed him, slow and deep. "Not even our honor and strength could stop the dishonorable from ruling," he murmured into Zechs’ mouth. "So. Perhaps, instead, we must serve those who do stop them."

Zechs relaxed all at once, light-headed with relief that he would not be called on to fight that battle again, that his oldest friend would hear reason. "I will serve that ideal willingly," he whispered back, hands sliding up the powerful line of Treize’s back.

"Mmmm." Treize’s smile turned soft and pleased as he leaned down to draw a slow tongue up Zechs’ neck. "Good."

Zechs took in a quick breath, pulling Treize tighter against him. This was sure; this was present and now, the weight of Treize’s body over his, the heat of his hands, the slide of his tongue against Zechs’, urgent and intense in ways Treize hid when it was just words, and Zechs answered with passion.

He cried out when Treize’s cock slid into him, thick and hard and certain, whole body drawing taut with heat, relaxing into the sure simplicity of it.

"We will serve only the world’s light, then," Treize murmured against his ear, nipping gently. "Tend the fire of honor and determination and commitment. The purity that I always loved in you…"

Zechs’ arms tightened and he moaned, husky, as the velvet of Treize’s words and the hard edge of his conviction stroked him to orgasm and wild heat shuddered through him. Treize arched over him, thrusting harder, head tossed back as he groaned. "Yes!"

Zechs gathered him close again, as he relaxed, and laughed soft and helpless against his shoulder. "And after it all, here I am again, in your hands," he whispered.

"Perhaps we are in each other’s hands," Treize murmured back.

Zechs smiled, letting himself hope.

 

End

Not My Fault

He really didn’t know how this kept happening.

"By," he said, proud of how even his voice was, "we’re not on an assignment, right?"

"Right," By agreed with a lazy smile full of predatory inquiry.

"And we’re not under any kind of surveillance, right?" They had damn well better not be, or he’d… well, he’d think of something.

By made an affirmative sound to this, too, leaning closer.

"So why exactly," Ivan persevered, "am I sitting on your couch with my pants undone?" The sternness of the question was a bit undercut by his gasp as By’s fingers stroked down his length.

"Because it’s fun," By declared with a downright wicked smile. Before Ivan could ask who for, By leaned in all the way and nibbled on his neck and Ivan couldn’t quite stifle the moan as a shiver of heat ran down his spine to jolt between his legs. "See?" By had the evilness to say.

"Dammit, By…" Ivan took a breath, hand clenching in By’s tunic, and it would be nice if he could convince himself that was a prelude to throwing the other man off the couch. "I like women," he managed, a bit plaintively.

"Of course you do." By fingered his cock, smiling agreeably all the while. "But tastes do change as we mature. I mean," he waved his free hand airily, "just look at Lady Alys."

Ivan’s brain short circuited as he attempted frantically not to imagine his mother in relation to any kind of sex whatsoever, a job made harder these days by Illyan, and just thinking that made his eyes cross all over again. By took ungentlemanly advantage of this to straddle Ivan’s lap and wrap a hand firmly around him. And Ivan was a guy, after all, was it his fault if that made his hips rock up and grind against By’s? No, it was not. Not at all.

He would think of a justification later, for his hands to be spread against By’s back, pulling By tight against him, and for the sound he made into By’s mouth.

He would have a harder time explaining the way his hands slid down to cup By’s ass and knead it while By was getting both their clothing out of the way and stroking their cocks together. If he bothered explaining. Maybe he wouldn’t. It felt good, hot and slick, and By was laughing low in his throat, wicked and knowing, the way none of the girls Ivan had ever been with had, well, barring Lady Donna, so maybe it was just a Vorrutyer thing. And, anyway, look how that had ended up…

The rush of pleasure unraveled Ivan’s thoughts.

When he could put words together sensibly again By was handing him a towel and a smirk. Ivan growled at the latter and took the former, cleaning himself up with as much dignity as possible.

By didn’t even bother fastening his pants, and still managed to look collected, which Ivan thought was cosmically unfair. "One of these days I’ll get you to stay the night."

Ivan gave him a dire look. "Don’t even think it."

As By threw back his head and laughed, a tiny voice in the back of Ivan’s head reminded him that By liked challenges quite a lot. Ivan ignored it firmly. It wasn’t his fault that he kept winding up in these situations.

He really didn’t know how it happened.

 

End

Kiss for a Lifetime

It took her a while to come to grips with it. After all, Yuugi was the sweetest boy she knew and his other self was, well, he was exciting. But the fact was, she didn’t understand them, any of them, and she wasn’t at all sure that Duelists understood normal people, either.

And the thought of kissing someone she didn’t understand made her twitch.

And Honda was a goof, and Otogi-kun was too close to a Duelist in his own ways, and Mokuba was a cute kid but he was way too young!

Shizuka, though… Shizuka was sweet and brave and amazingly strong, after all just look at all she’d been through without ever even flinching. And Shizuka smiled at her and leaned against Anzu’s shoulder when she laughed, and took her hand so trustingly it made her want to hold the girl close and protect her from the whole world and listen while Shizuka told her what courage looked like.

Not the courage of dragons and swords, but the courage of reaching for an earthly dream and standing firm under earthly sadness.

And that, she supposed, was how she’d come to be holding Shizuka, marveling at how slight she felt in her arms, feeling warm arms slipping around her neck, and kissing Shizuka as gentle and slow as she knew how.

Which wasn’t very much yet, the knowing that was, but it was their first time, after all. They’d get better.

Although, looking at Shizuka’s shy smile, feeling the softness of Shizuka’s hair under her fingers, she wasn’t actually sure that was possible.

 

End

Knowledge of Good and Evil

Bakura had decided months ago that Malik was prettier when he was sane. He was prettier still spread out on white sheets, glowing and golden in the sunlight, quite the equal of anything Bakura ever set out to steal. He’d be an ornament to any tomb, except that Malik never went underground any more if he could possibly help it. This room was on the third floor and the narrow windows, made to let in breeze but not sun, had been knocked out into two wide ones that showed pale-baked roofs falling away into the town’s outskirts.

His host’s father’s dig was just over the hills, and when Bakura thought about the man’s likely reaction, if he’d known just why Ryou had asked to come along on this trip, it amused him mightily.

Malik amused him more, though.

"So?" he murmured, dragging his tongue up the inside of Malik’s thigh, watching Malik shudder through lowered lashes. "You’ve found a true seer?"

"Think so," Malik gasped, fingers tangling in Bakura’s hair, tugging him up between Malik’s legs. "She told me my own past; the parts only we were there for. She says she can see the path of souls."

Bakura took his time, despite the tugging, nibbling his way up Malik’s thigh, nipping the soft skin and leaving faint marks. He liked the way Malik drew taut and spread his legs wider. "Good," he finally purred, lips brushing Malik’s cock teasingly. "Because I’m not going anywhere until I find out the fate of my people’s souls, and why the one who enchained them wasn’t devoured by Ammut." He lapped slowly at Malik’s head, savoring his open moan, and the flex of fingers in his hair. "And whether, after his further sins against you, he was somehow released again. And if the gods don’t like it," he smiled up the length of Malik’s body, pleased with the heat in Malik’s eyes as they met his, "they can bite me." He suited action to idiom and closed his teeth delicately around Malik’s cock, chuckling low in his throat as Malik arched off the bed, driving deeper into his mouth.

"Yes," Malik moaned, eyes sliding shut as Bakura sucked slow and hard on him. "Yes, you know…"

"I know." Bakura flicked his tongue back and forth over Malik’s head, pleased with the way Malik bucked under him, the sounds he made. "I know the need to be sure," he purred to his lover, stroking him with the words, too. "To watch the knife go in and the very last breath leave and know that it’s done."

Malik cried out, thrusting hard into Bakura’s mouth as he came completely undone, and Bakura rode it out, watched him, sating his own hunger on Malik’s abandon in his hands. He slid up Malik’s body, as he fell back panting, and coiled around him. "We’ll go tomorrow and find out," he murmured in Malik’s ear.

Malik smiled, slow and lazy and sharp, and wound his fingers back into Bakura’s hair, drawing him down to a wet, open kiss.

"Yes."

 

End

A/N: Author’s pet theory is that Ishtar tou-san is a reincarnation of Akunadin. This is supported by nothing but the fact they look quite alike, but it’s no stranger than anything else.

Things to Wear

Seiichi liked how Genichirou looked in traditional clothing. The falling lines of a kimono or even yukata displayed Genichirou’s broad shoulders and straight height, reminded everyone who watched of the power waiting in that still, composed figure.

The crisply wrapped fabric hid the long muscles that a shirt and shorts showed, but that very thing invited anyone who had watched Genichirou play, who had seen that much of him uncovered, to imagine the sleek, hard flex of his body from shoulder right to ankle, all of one, bare piece under the cloth.

And wrapped cloth was so easy to draw aside.

He swallowed Genichirou’s husky sound, pressing him back against the smooth wood of the wall, one hand slipping inside Genichirou’s clothes to tug loose his equally traditional underthings and close firmly around his cock.

"Seiichi," Genichirou gasped, hips pushing into Seiichi’s hand, "I should be inside."

"You should be right here," Seiichi murmured against Genichirou’s throat, drawing his tongue up the taut line of tendon. He stroked his thumb back and forth over Genichirou’s head and smiled as Genichirou’s hands worked on his shoulders. "Your grandfather can hold this reception without you for a bit."

He caught Genichirou’s mouth again, stroking Genichirou’s tongue slowly with his own, deliberate contrast to his demanding grip on Genichirou’s cock. He savored the openness of Genichirou’s moan, and the texture of his cock in Seiichi’s hand, hard and thick, and the way Genichirou leaned against the wall and let his hips buck into Seiichi’s hand as he came.

Seiichi took in the sight of Genichirou flushed and breathless, kimono pulled open over strong, bare thighs, and stored it away to see him through the next couple hours of a rather boring reception. Genichirou’s mouth quirked and he shook his head as he re-ordered his clothes before pulling Seiichi close for another kiss.

"I should stop having you invited to occasions when I have to dress like this," he murmured into Seiichi’s mouth.

Seiichi laughed. "Don’t you like the effect it has?"

Genichirou’s stern expression was spoiled by the gleam in his eyes. "Afterwards."

"I suppose I can save up, then." The outside lamps flashed on teeth as they smiled at each other and turned to go back inside.

 

End

Elemental

When Seiichi-san made love to him it was pure and intense and wiped Akaya’s mind clean of everything but the body over him, inside him, the hands spread against his back, the dip of Seiichi-san’s dark head over him.

And the heat.

It almost wasn’t even pleasure. It was sensation, the trembling of nerves screaming a pure signal of yes, the tingle in muscles stretched and flexed, the throb of his cock rubbing against Seiichi-san’s stomach with bright flashes of heat that burst up his spine until they were light behind his eyes.

It was Yukimura Seiichi.

And Akaya gave himself to it completely, gladly, opening his hands to let the rest of existence flutter away and closing them instead on the firm, long muscles of Seiichi-san’s arms, letting his body flex and buck, wild and abandoned, as Seiichi-san’s cock drove into him again and again, letting himself scream as the heat finally condensed and exploded through his whole body.

It was incredible, hot and brilliant and overwhelming. There was nothing else quite like it, and it wrung Akaya out like a rag every time, left him breathless and lax and a little dazed. But it was the next part he thought he might love the most.

Because Seiichi-san gathered him up, held him tight and shuddered against him, whispering Akaya’s name. And Seiichi-san didn’t let go, just slid back and close again, cradling Akaya against him and kissing him softly until Akaya was pliant and trembling in his arms, more undone by the tenderness than by all the wild sensation. This was what he clung to.

It was Seiichi-san.

 

End

Feline

It was Kunimitsu’s personal discovery. If Keigo was petted for long enough he unwound, forgot to be driven and arrogant, and relaxed into a languid sprawl of limbs, lounging against Kunimitsu’s chest for hours at a time without protest.

"Mmmmm." Keigo pressed closer as Kunimitsu rubbed the back of his neck slowly. "Keep doing that."

Well, perhaps he didn’t entirely forget about being imperious and demanding.

Keigo opened one eye, looking up at Kunimitsu with lazy suspicion. "What’s so amusing?"

"Nothing." Kunimitsu leaned down and kissed him gently.

"Mmm. Well good," Keigo murmured against his mouth, twining slow arms around his shoulders. "Now make love to me some more."

Kunimitsu laughed quietly. No, Keigo never really forgot to be imperious. "Very well." He stroked his hands down Keigo’s body, slowly, savoring the sleekness of his skin and the solid warmth of him. Keigo arched wantonly into his hands, nearly purring. He was irresistible, like this, openly reveling in sensuality, and the sound he made as Kunimitsu spread his thighs apart went straight to Kunimitsu’s groin.

He kissed down Keigo’s throat, open mouthed, tasting his skin, and Keigo tipped his head back, stretching out against the sheets and making little murmurs of pleasure as Kunimitsu’s fingers gently opened him again.

When Kunimitsu slid into him, slow and slick, they both moaned.

The hot grip of Keigo’s body closed around him and Kunimitsu’s hips found their own rhythm, steady and hard. Pleasure shivered through him and he gasped as Keigo smiled, eyes dark and drowsy, and rocked up into his thrusts. He closed a hand on Keigo’s cock, stroking firmly, wanting the entire pleasure, and watched Keigo draw taut, abandoned to sensation, and moan as his body clenched around Kunimitsu’s cock.

He caught Keigo up, lifting him, driving into him faster, deeper, and Keigo’s lazy purr was the last thing it took to send pleasure burning through him, wild and sweet.

They settled back against the pillows, twined around each other, and Kunimitsu rubbed a slow hand up and down Keigo’s back, soothing him back into perfect relaxation.

If he was careful, they could be here all afternoon. And Kunimitsu tried never to be careless in anything.

 

End

Without Fear

D looked around, fascinated. The doors of the shop went to many strange places, but they rarely took him into dream realms. The strange proportions of the granite walls, in this place, the odd plants and creatures, all spoke to him of dreams, though, and he wondered why he was here.

The shop doors never opened at random.

"Who are you?"

The man who stepped out of the air was… not exactly a man. D tilted his head. "I am called Count D. And you?"

After a moment’s hesitation the man said, slowly, "I am Jareth, the Goblin King." His thin lips twisted. "Without much of a kingdom anymore, I admit."

So. D looked around, curiously. "This world seems robust," he murmured, asking without asking as was only polite.

The goblin waved a dismissive hand. "The world, yes. Creatures live here. But my magic was broken." His eyes were distant and dispassionate as he added, "I suspect I will fade soon."

"Much that is magic can be mended," D suggested delicately.

Jareth laughed, bleak and sharp and wild. "I haven’t the strength any longer to find anyone who can sustain me."

"What is required?" D asked, quiet and even.

Pale, feral eyes focused on him. There was long hunger in them and D spread his hands, serenely, offering.

Given the setting, he was not entirely surprised when Jareth stepped closer, sliding one hand into his hair, tipped his head back and kissed him. He spread his hands against Jareth’s chest, acquiescent. The shop would not have shown him this place if he were not needed.

"Normally," Jareth murmured in his ear, tone ironic, "I would sweep you off to my castle at this point. I’m afraid that’s not possible, right now."

"Quite all right," D murmured, suppressing a smile. "I’m sure we can find something suitable." He took a small step back, hands stroking over Jareth’s shoulders, down his arms.

Jareth looked at him for a long moment, unreadable, before he snorted softly. This time the twist to his mouth was wry as he followed D, step by step back through the door. Across the hall another door fell open and D backed toward it, short, quick steps that turned Jareth’s gaze predatory.

When Jareth swept him up and laid him down on the huge, low bed, D had to stifle an outright chuckle. He didn’t know whether his newest acquisition understood what was really happening, yet, but he was starting to think that the Goblin King might not care. "You’ve caught me," he said, softly, fishing for what it was, exactly, that Jareth needed.

"Yes," Jareth kissed down the line of D’s throat. His hands stroked over D’s body, tracing the lines of him faultlessly through the fabric of his robes. "Give yourself to me," he whispered.

"Yes," D answered, opening his mouth under Jareth’s kisses, pressing against him, answering his hands. It was no more than he did for any animal in the shop, in the end.

Jareth kissed him fiercely, caught him close, lay over him as if to shelter, or perhaps separate, him from the rest of the world, and D was pliant and willing in his arms. And finally, Jareth unwound, over him, breathing out, and slumped against D’s shoulder.

D smiled, soft and sad, and stroked his wild hair back, kissing his brow gently. "We’ll find you proper sustenance, here," he murmured.

"You are of my kind." Jareth didn’t lift his head, voice low and undone.

It was D’s turn to smile a bit wryly. "Somewhat. My line is made of darker stuff than dreams, even yours."

Now Jareth lifted himself and looked down at D, eyes gleaming. "I am servant to your dreams, for now."

"My dream is your life." D met those sharp eyes steadily and they gentled. Jareth lay down again, beside him, acquiescent in his turn, slowly relaxing into sleep.

D lay awake and turned over in his mind plans for finding his newest guest a suitable human.

 

End

Machinations

It was amazing how hard someone as small as Mokkun could stomp.

"Can’t believe… total idiot… pet…"

Masahiro sighed. "Come on, Mokkun," he interrupted the grumbling. "He didn’t realize you were a mononoke, so I had to tell him something."

Mokkun’s silky tail lashed. "I am not a mononoke!" He glared up at Masahiro as they walked—and stomped—down the breezeway to Masahiro’s rooms.

"Yes, but you look like one," Masahiro pointed out, sliding his door closed behind them. "And we’re just lucky you also look a bit like a fox otherwise we’d just have wasted time trying to calm the man down."

There was a flash of red and Guren stalked back and forth across his room. "I am not a pet," he growled.

Masahiro grinned. Finally. "Nope, you’re not." He stepped into Guren’s path and wound his arms around him.

Guren blinked down at him. "What?" His hands came to rest easily on Masahiro’s back.

Masahiro laughed. "You’re not a pet. You just spend a lot of time as Mokkun." His eyes danced as he leaned against Guren. "You’re harder to kiss, that way."

After a long moment, Guren stated, half disbelieving, "You did that on purpose."

"Just a little," Masahiro admitted. "Besides, you’re cute when you’re Mokkun and annoyed."

"You are definitely Seimei’s grandson," Guren told him, dryly. Masahiro sniffed at that, and Guren chuckled and drew him closer, leaning down to kiss him. Since that was exactly what Masahiro wanted, he made a contented sound and didn’t bother to protest further.

Guren’s hands were still large on his body as he carefully undid Masahiro’s robes and slid them away, though not as large as they had seemed years ago. The years had also taught Masahiro where the fastenings of Guren’s armor were and he sighed with pleasure when they were finally skin to skin.

"It’s much easier to hug you without all that," he murmured into Guren’s shoulder.

"I could go back to being Mokkun, if you want to hug me," Guren teased, voice low, and chuckled at Masahiro’s glare.

"Don’t you dare." Masahiro twined his arms around Guren’s neck and pulled him down to another kiss, for emphasis. Guren answered him quite satisfyingly this time, and eased him down onto his bed.

"So?" Guren leaned over him, brushing his hair back, smiling the way he only did for Masahiro. "What do you want, tonight?"

It still made Masahiro blush just a little to say out loud, but he’d decided that, if it made Guren happy to give him exactly what he wanted, the least he could do was say what that was. "I want…" he wet his lips, "I want to feel you. Inside me."

"Anything," Guren murmured, gathering him closer. He kissed and stroked him until Masahiro was pressed tight up against him, making soft, wanting sounds, and finally turned him gently, rolling the quilt up under his hips.

Masahiro sighed, and then laughed as Guren traced delicate, teasing patterns over his rear with his claws. "Guren!"

"Hm?" Guren inquired innocently, and, before Masahiro could answer, spread his cheeks open and dragged a slow tongue between them.

Masahiro moaned, a slow shudder of heat rolling through him and leaving him lax as Guren worked his entrance with wet laps and thrusts. He loved the way Guren prepared him.

He loved it more, though, when Guren’s body covered his, hot and solid against his back, sheltering him. Strong arms wound around him and he snuggled back into Guren’s chest with a soft gasp as Guren’s cock rubbed between his cheeks. "Mmm, Guren…"

"Yes," Guren murmured in his ear, husky, and Masahiro moaned again as Guren’s cock pushed into him, thick and hard, stretching and filling him.

It felt so good, feeling Guren in him, with him, cradling him in his arms as they moved together and heat braided through his nerves, and there was nothing at all to keep him from letting go because Guren had him safe.

The way Guren gasped his name might be the best part of all.

They lay together for some time, catching their breaths, before Guren said, "You know, if you want me to change forms, all you have to do is say."

Masahiro grinned. "But teasing you is more fun. Besides," he added, when Guren growled against his shoulder, "I know how much you like being Mokkun."

Guren was quiet at that, for a bit, and finally kissed Masahiro’s neck. "I like being what you need," he said, softly.

Masahiro turned in his arms and held him tight.

"You are."

 

End

Deeper than Love

Friendship

The evening was lovely, out in the pavilions by the water. Clear and warm, a perfect evening for drinking.

Ensei felt very in need of the drink.

"Of course she loves you." He leaned back on the pavilion bench and passed the sake bottle back over to his Emperor. "Thing is… you’re asking her to not love all of you."

"Huh?" Ryuuki blinked eyes that were a little redder than the alcohol could account for at him and Ensei sighed. He wished Seiran would hurry up and get back from Kou province. This was a big brother’s job, wasn’t it?

"Look," he said, lacing his hands around one knee, "you want her to see you as just Ryuuki, right? Not as the Emperor at all?"

Ryuuki nodded vigorously and Ensei snagged the bottle back for another swig.

"But the fact is, you are the Emperor. So ‘just Ryuuki’… well, that isn’t all of you, is it? Do you really want her to just love part of you?"

"Well, no, but…" Ryuuki chewed his lip.

"Besides, this is Shuurei we’re talking about," Ensei pressed on. "Would you want her to forget everything outside the Inner Courts? Would you want her to never talk to you about policy and which bureaus are doing what, and what she thinks you should do about the great families?"

Ryuuki shook his head even more vigorously than he’d nodded, hair swishing wildly. "No, no! That’s what makes her so wonderful! The things she sees and thinks about and how determined she is and all the good things she dreams to do and—"

"And," Ensei cut in firmly, "those are all the things that remind her you’re the Emperor." And the things that made her Shuurei, and it would be a crime to take those away, in his informed opinion.

Ryuuki looked stricken, and Ensei winced. Okay, maybe it was a good thing Seiran wasn’t back yet, to throw him into the lake for making Ryuuki look like that, no matter how good the cause. More gently, he added, "If those are all the things that make you love her, then you don’t really want her to stop being and doing all of them, right?"

"Oh." Ryuuki’s voice was a whisper, and his hair hid his face when he lowered his head.

Ensei sighed. He really hated to do this, but better him than Shuurei, who, he would bet all his fancy certifications, wouldn’t be able to lay it out plainly enough, and then the two silly children would just go dancing around the whole mess again. "Come on." He tucked the bottle away, pretty sure he’d want it again later, and pulled his Emperor’s arm over his shoulders, steering him back toward his bedroom. "Time to sleep. Sleep will make you feel better."

He hoped he wasn’t lying.

Ryuuki stumbled along beside him, and Ensei barely caught the whisper, "Not her. Then who?"

He pressed his lips together tight. He really, really hoped Seiran got back soon.

Blood

Seiran didn’t like leaving the court, these days. Things always seemed to get cluttered and messy in his absence, and then he had to spend days on end cleaning them up.

This time, though, he didn’t think he’d be able to fix things just by throwing Ensei in the lake or looming over Shuurei’s newest suitor until he was suitably intimidated. Not that he didn’t dunk Ensei anyway on general principles, once he heard the story.

After the third time Ryuuki insisted, with a painful smile, that everything was fine, Seiran decided it was time for drastic measures and went to find that old goat Shou.

The old goat gave him a surprised look. "And what business could a guardsman have with me?"

"Don’t give me that nonsense," Seiran rapped out, staring straight ahead as they paced down the breezeway. "Tell me. Is Ryuuki secure enough on the throne for my identity to be known?"

Shou’s eyes sharpened. "Hm." After several long moments he said, "You would make yourself the target of intrigue. But for those who suspect, you are that already. I think it would have no worse effect than your observed behavior toward the Emperor has already led to."

Seiran stifled a snarl at that not very veiled accusation of carelessness. "You already have your assurance, then, that I have only my brother’s good in mind," he returned, instead, coolly.

Shou had the nerve to smirk. "Indeed."

One of these days, Seiran swore, he was going to strangle the manipulative old goat. "Prepare for it then," he ordered and turned abruptly aside, making for Ryuuki’s office.

Seiran stood outside the doors of the audience hall and listened to the faint murmurs from within as the nobles and officials whispered to each other. It was a typical Court, so far, decrees and trifles of acclaim for this or that service, and only those most involved paid attention.

That was about to change.

Ryuuki’s voice rose again. "Last, We summon Seiran of the Guard to come before Us."

Seiran allowed himself a grim smile at the inquiring hitch to the murmurs, before smoothing his expression and stepping inside. Silence spread out behind him as he made his way to the foot of the Imperial dais, where Ryuuki stood, with measured steps. Today he did not wear the armor of the Guard. His armor today was chased and enameled.

The colors were purple.

Passing the last rank of courtiers, he allowed himself a tiny encouraging smile up at Ryuuki before kneeling, just enough to get them both through this, and was relieved. The gold threads of the Imperial finery winked faintly, as if Ryuuki trembled, but his eyes were steady.

"We would have it known," Ryuuki announced into the silence, voice clear and ringing, "that the one known as Shi Seiran, of the Guard, is also Shi Seien, Our brother. We are pleased to welcome him home, to stand at Our side."

As Seiran raised his head, Ryuuki held out his hands, offering, summoning, and Seiran had to swallow back a catch in his throat as he rose and climbed the stairs. He knelt again, smiling up at Ryuuki, and took his hands.

"It is my honor to stand at your side, my Emperor," he declared in just the same carrying voice they had both been taught for official occasions. "It is my honor to serve you."

Ryuuki nodded and stepped back to resume his throne, and Seiran stood and turned, taking his place beside and behind the throne, planned and smooth. They stood, looking out over the Court as whispers rose again, a united icon.

All this, Seiran reflected to himself, only to prepare for his real goal.

He stood calm and stoic through the end of court, joined the little cavalcade of Emperor and advisors as Ryuuki left, and let the courtiers look their fill. When the gossip about the brilliant second prince revived, he wanted it to run straight into this image, of him armed and armored and not in any formal robes, guarding his younger brother’s back.

Let them remember that.

He wasn’t really accustomed to this game anymore, though, and sighed with relief as he pulled the door of Ryuuki’s office shut behind them all. Ryuuki looked around at that, and Seiran’s heart squeezed at the fragile hope in Ryuuki’s face, the hesitant, silent way his lips formed the word, "Aniue."

"Ryuuki." Seiran smiled and held out his arms, bracing himself to catch his brother as Ryuuki positively dove into them. "Ryuuki," he repeated, softly, cradling his brother close and protective, savoring the fierce rightness of it.

"Aniue." It was out loud, this time, shaking like Ryuuki’s whole body was.

"I’m here," Seiran soothed, petting his brother’s hair. He lifted his eyes for a moment to check on Ryuuki’s advisors; if they couldn’t accept this, there would be trouble. Shuuei looked amused, which Seiran supposed he might have expected, and Kouyuu looked a little uncomfortable and a little envious, but his smile was soft. That would do. Seiran gave Shuuei a cold, warning look, and Shuuei stopped looking amused and looked rueful instead, possibly remembering the expression from his visits to Shuurei. That would do also. Seiran turned his attention back to his brother and murmured against his bright hair, "I’m proud of you."

Ryuuki looked up, flushed and happy, eyes bright. "Aniue." Seiran smiled and kissed his forehead gently, and wiped Ryuuki’s face with the end of his sash, the way he used to do, which made Ryuuki laugh.

"I’ll always be here," Seiran told his brother. "Now. There’s work to do, yes?"

"Mm." Ryuuki nodded, smiling, and turned willingly enough to his desk.

Seiran settled by the door, watching as the day’s work picked up, waiting to see how he should fit himself into it. Ensei was right, he reflected, he had made his choice and, in the end, it was not for Shuurei.

Seeing his brother smile properly again, he didn’t regret it.

End

Hanging Upside Down

Ban had always known his memory was kind of weird. Or maybe it was his imagination. He blamed the jagan. To make visions, he had to know at least the key points clearly, had to envision them himself.

He remembered things he’d never experienced.

Things he had experienced, he couldn’t forget.

There were days he thought that was the curse.

Which was why he was outside, in a nice dark, empty alley, instead of upstairs in the room he and Ginji were renting. Well, promising rent on anyway. Any day now.

Tonight, though, even money couldn’t distract him from his fucking memory. He truly hoped Himiko was doing better than he was—was having a nice memorial ceremony, maybe, while Ban did his damnedest to forget.

There was a rustle at the mouth of the alley and Ban pried an eye open to see the damn monkey trainer. Hell. "What are you doing here?"

A soft snort answered. "Came by to make sure your bad money sense didn’t have Ginji sleeping on the sidewalk. Again."

"Eh." Ban fished for a good retort about freeloaders and gigolos but it wouldn’t quite come so he just waved a hand at the tiny landing above. "Feel free, mother hen." He took a slow drag on his cigarette, hoping this time the damn nicotine would cut in like it was freaking supposed to.

"Midou?"

Ban opened his eyes all the way to find Fuyuki way too close. He dropped the cigarette, but he figured it was probably too late. To night vision like Fuyuki’s, the glow would have shown his face clearly.

"What happened?"

"Long fucking day, all right?" Ban sighed. "Go talk to Ginji. He’s fine," he added as an afterthought, because all the ex-Volts could get kind of crazy about Ginji, not that he didn’t understand how that went.

"When you aren’t?" Fuyuki sounded skeptical and Ban silently turned over a few of his favorite Italian curses, because where did the monkey trainer get off being so damn perceptive? And he couldn’t walk away from the stairs because that would make Ginji come after him and see him like this. A hand closed on his shoulder and Ban jerked; Fuyuki was definitely too close, and Ban planted a hand on his chest to shove him back.

A large, warm hand on his shoulder, ready to shake him or pull him close; a broad, solid chest under his palms.

Ban fiercely stifled the sound that tried to get out of his throat and forced his eyes open, looking up at Fuyuki, fixing the goddamn present in his mind.

Always taller than he was.

Ban’s breath caught behind his teeth, and he didn’t know what was in his face but it made Fuyuki frown. "Go see Ginji," Ban said, roughly. "Fuck, why do you care? Acting like everyone’s big brother just because you’re—" he bit back the word older. Fuck. He wasn’t even talking to Fuyuki, was he? A tired laugh escaped him, breaking in the middle.

The hand on his shoulder tightened, warm and sure, and Fuyuki said, slowly, "Ban." His voice was deep and firm, like he had a right to call Ban’s name like that.

But while his mind spat, Ban’s body leaned into Fuyuki’s without his permission. He wanted it so much, to have someone alive to call and chivy and scold him. Too much. Just when he most needed a smart mouth, to piss Fuyuki off and make this into just a fight like any other day, he was too damn tired to find the right words. And Fuyuki saw too damn clearly. And…

And Fuyuki was kissing him.

More than just kissing him. Fuyuki’s hand was sliding up into his hair, cradling his head, tipping it back so Fuyuki’s mouth closed comfortably over his. Fuyuki’s arm was around him, drawing him away from the wall and into the solidity of Fuyuki’s body.

Ban’s senses all betrayed him. It felt so much like what might have been, and he wanted that too much tonight. Couldn’t push it away, even when it was just another damn illusion.

"You’re an idiot," Fuyuki murmured against his mouth, and Ban could feel the other man’s lips curve. "And a brat."

This time, Ban couldn’t stop the harsh, wanting sound in his throat, or the moan when Fuyuki pulled him in tighter. He slid a leg around Fuyuki’s, pushing against his hip, asking with his body since his mouth was busy with Fuyuki’s tongue in it. He wanted to feel what it could have been like, what there hadn’t been time to feel before.

Fuyuki made a thoughtful sound against his mouth and slid a hand down Ban’s body to close between his legs. Ban rocked into it, gasping.

"Easy," Fuyuki murmured, fingers stroking Ban’s cock through his jeans, gentle like he was with his damn animals. "Easy, Ban."

Easy for him to say. Ban whined a little with relief when Fuyuki got his zipper open, pushing into the warm hand as is closed around him. Fuyuki pressed him back against the wall again, and the feel of a taller, broader, older, body against his made Ban moan. It was so close to what had been, and the firmness of Shido’s hand on his cock pulled all of a kid’s fantasies out of the past and set them on fire. Ban rested his head back against the brick, gasping. "Never got a chance…"

Shido was quiet for a moment before he nodded. "All right," he said against Ban’s ear. One last, slow stroke and his fingers left Ban’s cock, slid down the back of his jeans instead, pushing between his cheeks.

"Ahhh!" Ban was shaking against Shido’s chest and he didn’t care. His whole body was tingling with the slow rub of strong fingers against his entrance. "Fuck, yes…"

"Shh, easy Ban." The light from the street outlined the wild hair of the head bent over his and Ban closed his eyes to keep that image as wet fingers worked into him, slow and rough. He didn’t try to keep back his moans anymore, just hung on to the shoulders that more years than he’d lived had filled out and let himself drown in sensation, the feeling of sure, gentle fingers just like the ones he’d known finally touching him the way he’d wanted years ago, of being held tight and fucked firmly and a warm mouth on his swallowing the sounds he made. When he came those fingers pushed into his tightening body hard, rubbing him slowly inside, and the name he groaned was caught under a kiss.

The night came back slowly, the prickle of brick against his back and the tug of Shido’s hands pulling up and fastening his jeans. Ban made a faintly grumpy sound and Shido snorted.

"Really an idiot." His lips pressed against Ban’s forehead and he said quietly. "Go on up to Ginji." He stepped back and Ban could see his crooked smile in the dim light. "He’ll chase the ghosts away, won’t he?"

"Damn monkey trainer," Ban muttered, half-heartedly. It wasn’t until Shido’s figure was a shadow in mouth of the alley that he added, "Thanks."

The streetlights caught Shido’s face as he turned his head briefly, and then he was gone. Not like a ghost, though; Ban’s ghosts never left that quietly.

Ban’s ghosts were never that kind to him.

He stomped up the stairs as firmly as he could, grumbling under his breath just for the familiarity of it. Their little room was bright after the heavy night outside, and golden with Ginji’s smile as he looked up.

"Ban-chan."

Ban smiled. He was well and truly trapped by this, however much he growled and snapped. He supposed it wasn’t that surprising that fellow inmates were kind; Ginji tended to rub off on you.

"Got the flyers done?" he asked, and pulled the door shut on memories for another year.

End

Information Wants to Be Free

"Nnn… Fuck, right there… Harder!"

Ginji moaned, head tipped back, hair darkened with sweat, and tightened his hands on Ban’s hips. His cock, dark and slick in the afternoon light, pushed hard and slow into Ban’s raised ass and they both groaned.

"God, Ginji, fuck me, will you!" Ban’s back was drawn in a taut curve as he pushed up into his partner’s hands, panting against the harsh, white sheets.

"Mmm, but I like going slow, Ban-chan." Ginji’s smile was sweet and bright as he rocked his hips back and thrust again, pulling Ban into it so he groaned low and husky, hands fisting on the pillows. "You feel good."

Ban moaned and cursed in a senseless mix of languages, legs spread achingly wide as Ginji knelt behind him and fucked him slowly. On every stroke Ginji slid into Ban’s ass so deep that the tight curve of it was cradled up against Ginji’s hips. Ginji’s voice threaded through Ban’s, soft and husky, so good, love you, always, please, so good Ban-chan.

The flex of Ban’s body, his parted lips and half-closed eyes, said that he liked the slow fucking, lazy and drawn out like the summer afternoon itself, liked the easy slide of Ginji’s cock in and out of his ass until he was panting, beyond any words. That was when Ginji reached down and wrapped long fingers around Ban’s cock.

Kazuki smiled and folded his arms on the splintery windowsill and rested his chin on them. He liked watching them; even from across the street, the two of them glowed, dark and golden in the sunlight.

He rather thought he would describe this to Juubei and Toshiki, in bed tonight.

End

Brittle Edge

The room was noisy and hot.

Ryouma sat a bit back from his group, far enough that no one could easily
refill his sake cup, though that didn’t really seem to stop Horio.
He watched. Warriors of the garrison laughed loudly, some staggering
between the low tables, drunk feet catching on worn places in the floor.
Merchants of the town smiled at each other with congratulation or gloating,
hands waving over steaming cups. Matrons and servants with market baskets
for dinner rested on the benches by the door.

It was just the kind of scene he’d watched before, in another town…

"Echizen! You’re not drinking!" Horio leaned precariously far over to
elbow Ryouma in the ribs and fill his cup to the brim again.

…though never in quite these circumstances. Ryouma sighed to himself
and sipped. It seemed he didn’t have a choice, these days. Whether
it was Horio dragging him along to drink or Momoshiro to the bathhouse
or Kikumaru-taii to the theater with Ooishi-bushou, he seemed to be
firmly stuck taking part in the life of the garrison.

It was really a little strange. An improvement over watching his father
chase girls in and out of the public houses, but strange.

The door curtains flapped, catching Ryouma’s eye, and a samurai he’d
never seen before stepped through them. Ryouma tipped his head; a new
warrior?

The man prodded one of the drunk samurai by the door with his toe. "Hey.
There’s supposed to be some strong warriors around here. Who’s the
strongest?" His flat tone made the back of Ryouma’s neck prickle.

The nudged samurai, on the other hand, looked too far gone to notice,
and smiled cheerily. "Oh, that would be Tezuka Kunimitsu-sama, our
Taishou."

The sudden light in the man’s eyes pulled Ryouma forward onto his knees, tense.
"Where is he?" the visitor asked.

Arai pushed up from the next table. "Wait a minute. Why do you want to
know?" He squinted at the man in the doorway. "You a ronin or something?
Taishou doesn’t take challenges from the likes of you."

Steel flashed and blood sprayed across the table of suddenly shouting
samurai. Arai was on the ground without even a scream. The man’s expression
didn’t change at all. "The likes of you don’t tell me what to
do."
He raised his head and looked around at the samurai with swords out
and the commoners scrambling back. The man’s eye fell at last on Kachiro,
fresh sake bottles held loose in his
hands as he stared down at Arai bleeding out nearly at his feet.
"You. Where’s this Taishou of yours?"

Kachiro paled and Ryouma’s eyes narrowed. "He isn’t here," he
said, clearly, standing.
"Other people are, though."

The intruder looked down at him and smiled, thin and crooked. "Oh?" His
arm lashed forward again.

Ryouma turned the first cut on his sheath and the man swayed back out
of range as Ryouma’s own sword licked out. "Yeah."

The man laughed and swung down heavily. Ryouma darted in under it
only to take a kick to the stomach from an impossible angle. The intruder’s
hilt cracked into the side of his face so hard Ryouma saw fireworks
behind his eyes as he stumbled back into a table. He wrenched himself
back up, bracing for the next blow, knowing it would get through.

Only it never came.

Kawamura-taii stood frozen in the door, hangings half pushed aside as
he and the intruder stared at each other. "Akutsu…" he said at last,
hesitantly.

The intruder snorted and sheathed his sword with a violent snick.
"I’ll come back later for your answer." He brushed past Kawamura-taii,
striding out into the late summer dusk. The captain looked after
him with a troubled frown for a long moment before shaking himself
and calling sharply for people to carry Arai up to the castle doctor.

Ryouma pushed himself onto his feet, holding back a wince. A strong hand
caught his shoulder, steadying him.

"Are you all right, Echizen?" Kawamura-taii asked quietly.

Ryouma’s eyes followed Arai’s bloody body out the door. He wasn’t at
all sure the doctor would be able to do anything. "I’m fine," he bit
out.

Or, at least, he would be.

He looked up to meet Kawamura-taii’s concerned eyes. "I need to talk
to Taishou."

"… so you knew him."

"For years, yes. My mother still talked to his, after she married
a… well. But listen, Ooishi, Akutsu is dangerous."

"Well, obviously, if he took Ochibi down like that," Kikumaru-taii
chipped in. "But why is he here? You’d think a ronin making trouble
would know better."

"Well, there was a rumor that Ise-no-kami, took him on." Kawamura-taii’s
hands twisted the cloth of his sleeve. "And he has a reputation
for sending his warriors on training journeys whether they want to
go or not."

"Hmmm."

Ryouma knelt on the mats, ignoring the conversation of the officers as
it swirled around him, staring intently at the General, who was staring
at one of the lanterns with a distant expression.

"Well, somebody’s going to have to meet him, one way or another."

Ryouma caught the firming of the General’s mouth and the faint, sharp
nod of decision, and leaned forward. "Taishou." He wasn’t
sure himself whether it was a plea or a demand, in his voice.

Tezuka-dono met his eyes evenly. "Echizen will meet him."

Ryouma settled back, breathing out a sigh of relief. He didn’t know what
he would have done if he’d had to sit on his anger.

It was so much worse when it wasn’t just for himself.

They met in the training yard.

"The kid again, hm?" Akutsu looked down at Ryouma with cold eyes.

Ryouma shrugged. "We didn’t finish, last time."

This time he was watching properly, and this time he was ready for the
attack that came out of nowhere. Three exchanges—five, and he thought
he might have Akutsu’s rhythm—and then he was knocked back, a slice
burning across his shoulder from a stroke with no rhythm or reason.
The harsh crack of Akutsu’s laughter taunted him as he straightened,
eyes narrowed.

There was something strange about this, about the way Akutsu was always
looking through him and not at him. Something that let the man attack
without reason.

The thought echoed back to him in the General’s voice. Without reason…

Ryouma shook his head. He didn’t have time to think about it now. He
focused and drove himself to move faster, seeing nothing but the wild
flex and bend of Akutsu’s form. This time it was Akutsu who fell back
with blood welling up to trickle down his side. Akutsu pressed his
hand to the slash and glanced down at blood streaking his fingers.

Abruptly those flat, cold eyes focused on Ryouma and turned bright. Ryouma’s
breath caught and the sudden fierceness of Akutsu’s grin drew him
back in like he was pulled on a string, faster still, muscles burning
with the new pace.

One flashing, brutal strike followed another, staggering both of them
back with bared teeth only to dive in again. Around and around each
other, looking for a way to cut and thinking nothing else. The watching
warriors were shouting and Ryouma couldn’t hear them over the driving
beat of his own heart, faster and faster.

In the end Ryouma’s speed
finished it, as he’d been almost sure
it would, and Akutsu’s sword crashed to the dirt behind him. Both of
them stood frozen for a long moment before Ryouma nodded and stepped
back.

"You lose."

A few chokes around the edges of the yard answered Ryouma’s bluntness.
Akutsu’s hand flashed out to fist in the fabric at Ryouma’s neck and
drag him close with a snarl.

Ryouma ignored the shouts behind him, and balanced on his toes in Akutsu’s
grasp, waiting. His opponent’s eyes were still bright and intent on
him.

Just as abruptly as he’d done everything else, Akutsu let him go and
threw back his head, laughing. Ryouma watched him with raised brows
as he collected his sword and walked away, still chuckling. Momoshiro
appeared at his side, glaring after Akutsu.

"That guy’s crazy."

"Mmm." Ryouma frowned a little. He didn’t really think Akutsu
was crazy… He didn’t have much time to reflect, though,
before he was buried in congratulations from the rest of the garrison.
Ryouma bore with it as patiently as he could, but when he caught sight
of Kawamura-taii moving off quietly in the same direction Akutsu had
gone, he muttered something about getting cleaned up and escaped.

It wasn’t that he was worrying, he decided as he cut behind houses to
catch up. Kawamura-taii was an officer, he could look after himself
just fine. Ryouma was just… just curious.

Which was why he leaned against the wall around the corner and out of
sight, when he finally caught up with the two men.

"Akutsu…" Kawamura-taii said, hesitantly.

"Captain for Uesugi, hm?" The well-bucket rattled and splashed
downward. "Place
suits you."

"I heard Taira Banda-dono took you on."

A snort. "Old bastard." More splashes and a sound Ryouma readily identified
as the stifled hiss of pain from washing a wound. "Don’t know if
I’ll be going back."

"But," Kawamura-taii protested. "Ronin… Akutsu, that isn’t…"

"Kawamura," Akutsu interrupted. "I’m satisfied."

There was a long pause Ryouma had no idea how to interpret and then a
soft "Oh," from Kawamura-taii. It sounded like he might be smiling,
though, when he added. "Good luck."

Another snort. "Whatever. Don’t get killed."

"I won’t." Definitely smiling.

A new voice, bizarrely bright and cheery called out, "Akutsu-sama! Are
you done already?"

Ryouma blinked and risked a quick look around the corner. A boy who looked
even younger than him was standing next to Akutsu, arms full of gear,
beaming up at him.

Akutsu glared and growled. "Yeah, I’m done. Thought I told you to stay
with the damn horses."

The fierce tone didn’t even make a dent in the boy’s smile. He didn’t
answer the growl either, just bowed to Kawamura-taii. "I’m Dan Taichi,
sir." Then he ignored Kawamura-taii, too, to fuss over the slash in
Akutsu’s side.

Akutsu snorted and smacked his hands away. "I’m fine, Taichi."

Dan sighed, looking ever so slightly exasperated. "Yes, Akutsu-sama."
He cocked his head and looked up—way up—at Akutsu. "So, if you’re
satisfied, are we going home?" he asked, matter-of-factly.

Ryouma was fascinated—it was
like watching a rabbit boss around a wolf.

When a fresh glare didn’t work Akutsu turned
to shrug his coat back over his shoulders. "Yes," he bit
out. Then he glared at Kawamura-taii instead, who quickly stifled the
smile twitching at his lips and looked back without saying anything.
Akutsu snorted, with a bit less emphasis this time, and waved a casual
hand as he turned and walked away. Dan took a more formal leave and
trotted to catch up.

Ryouma took a look at Kawamura-taii standing, smiling after them, and
quietly took himself off.

As he made for the baths, and hot water to keep him from stiffening up
too badly, Ryouma tried to get his mind settled. He felt oddly divided,
which was not how he usually felt after a hard fight. This time, though,
the passing calm of accomplishment was already ragged.

Unsatisfied.

His sword had satisfied someone. But that someone… wasn’t him. He turned
the thought over, poking and prodding at it. It had been a good fight.
And that seemed to be enough for Akutsu, enough to rest against. Obviously,
Ryouma needed more than just a good fight.

A reason… the General’s voice murmured in his head.

Ryouma walked on, frowning.

 

End

Ice Is Also Great and Would Suffice

The gardens of Kuchiki House were beautiful and manicured, and Rukia had had to search through them for nearly an hour to find a stand of dark-leaved shrubs tall and bushy enough to hide her. She didn’t want any of the servants asking if there was anything they could do for her, Rukia-sama, making it clear that a lady of Kuchiki was not supposed to be kneeling in the cold grass, arms clutched around herself, shaking hard enough to rattle her teeth.

She knew that. She just couldn’t help it.

It had been coming for days; she’d felt it like a presence standing behind her shoulder, stepping closer and closer again until it merged with her backbone and unstrung her. She didn’t know why it was now, why this hadn’t happened when she was locked away or about to die or at some other time that made sense. She just knew she couldn’t hold it back any more, and a few hot tears spilled over as her breath rasped harshly in her lungs.

The rustle of leaves and cloth told her her last bid for privacy and dignity had failed and she hunched closer in on herself, stubbornly not looking around.

Not, at least, until two sandals under a familiar hem stepped into her view and she looked up, half despairing, at the very last person she had wanted to see. Her brother stood, looking down at her, still and silent, and she bit her lip until it bled, trying to silence the choked whimpers in her throat. When he stirred, at last, she was sure it would be to turn his back on her lack of control.

He knelt beside her, sleeves sweeping out around her as he gathered her in and held her, silently, against his shoulder.

It was warm.

Rukia pressed her face into the fabric of his kimono, shoulders shaking with her muffled sobs. If he had said any word, long habit might have caught her back, but he only held her, hand spread against her back, over her heart, shielded for this moment from the rest of the world. So she cried for the cold pain in her bones and the fear that it would never leave—cried until she could barely breathe, could only lie against his chest, every muscle trembling and wrung out, as light fingers stroked her hair.

The sleep that had escaped her for a week crept up and wrapped around her like her brother’s sleeves.

When Rukia’s breathing finally eased, Byakuya sighed faintly. He had known she was distraught, but he had thought it was only the nerves anyone could expect after the battles she had fought. Such things eased in a little time. This appeared more to be work for a healer then a friend’s comfort or family’s presence.

Well, that was easily enough seen to, now he knew.

He lifted his sister in his arms and carried her carefully back through the house, a look forbidding the servants to question or follow. When he tried to lay her down on her futon, though, he met a check.

She wouldn’t let go.

After a few gentle tugs failed, he snorted softly. As stubborn as his sister was, he supposed he might have expected this, and since no one was here to see he let himself smile.

She was well matched to Kuchiki, though she might not know it even now.

He sat down against the wall and settled her securely against him, leaning back to wait out her sleep.

The late sunlight slanted outside the opened screens, burnishing smooth wood boards and dancing lightly over the grass. He had given her this room because the view from it was open and airy, suited, he’d thought, to her spirit. He still thought it suited her, but now for different reasons. Now he noticed the trunk of the tree growing over the pool, slender but strong; the cool shadows and bright, rippling glints of the water; the birds that winged fearlessly down to peck at a scatter of crumbs from, he identified after a moment, the dumplings that had been served for lunch.

The place did suit her, he thought, fingers moving slowly through her hair.

The peace of the afternoon was more than he had found in weeks, perhaps in far longer, and he stirred, frowning sharply as the inner door slid open. Who dared disturb them?

Unohana-taichou stood in the opening for a moment, delicate brows lifted, before nodding to someone in the hall and closing the door softly behind her.

"I see I didn’t need to worry after all," she murmured.

Byakuya stifled a moment of annoyance at the gentle amusement in her eyes and kept his voice down. "On the contrary. I intended to send for one of your people as soon as Rukia woke." And then he really heard what she had said and frowned more darkly. "You knew something was wrong?"

Unohana-taichou knelt down beside them with a soft sigh. "Of course I knew. She was locked in a tower made of stone that suppresses spirit strength, for weeks." She frowned a bit, herself. "It’s intended to make criminals of such weight as to merit that punishment more… biddable, at the end. The lingering effects are not normally an issue." She reached out a hand, and Byakuya stiffened, but she didn’t touch Rukia. Only held her fingers close as if testing for heat.

"As I feared." Unohana-taichou leaned back again.

"What?" Byakuya asked, tensely.

Unohana-taichou’s lips curved in a sad smile. "We who live here are pure spirit, Kuchiki-kun. That tower smothers our souls, like fire starved of air."

Byakuya’s arms tightened around his sister as his mouth tightened on furious accusations. Unohana was not the one he should direct those to.

Her smile turned softer. "Don’t worry too much. She is healing. And you have helped her, already, almost as much as I could myself."

Byakuya had to blink at that, nonplussed. He had no talent for healing.

Unohana-taichou stood and looked down at them, hands folded. "You are a powerful captain, and you hold her within your soul." Her lips quirked. "And she has the wisdom not to let go." She slipped silently back out the door while Byakuya was still fighting down the quick flush he hadn’t felt in many years.

He sniffed and settled himself back again, holding his sister close as evening settled over the garden outside.

Rukia woke slowly, feeling warm and happy. For a time she thought it might be a dream, as she hadn’t felt either for quite some time now, and clung to sleep, wanting the warmth to stay. It didn’t go away as she woke, though, and slowly she became aware that she was leaning on something. Something that moved gently under her cheek.

As if it were breathing.

"Renji…?" she mumbled, confused, and rubbed her eyes. She hadn’t seen Renji today, had she? She pushed herself upright and looked up and froze.

Her brother looked back, calmly.

"Nii-sama? I…" And then she remembered hiding in the garden, and her brother finding her, and flushed hotly, raw cheeks tingling with the rush of blood. "Excuse me, I…" She fumbled for some suitable words of explanation or pardon and found none.

"You are well, now?"

"Of course," she murmured quickly. Rukia wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment; she’d have thought she’d have found out before now, if so, but maybe not. She glanced hastily around, looking for some way to extract herself from the situation.

Her brother’s fingers caught her chin, stilling her. "Rukia. Are you well?"

She looked back at him, eyes wide. He sounded serious. She was suddenly aware of the dim, sunset light, and that hours must have passed while she slept.

While she slept and he held her. The warmth of that hadn’t gone away; it was still with her, easing the long ache away.

Tears threatened to spill over again, for different reasons this time, and Rukia took a deep breath. Her voice only trembled a little when she said, "I’m better, Nii-sama."

He nodded. "Good." He lifted her and set her down on her spread futon, touching her shoulder lightly as he stood and looked out her outer doors. "Perhaps," he said, "I will come watch your garden with you again tomorrow."

"I… I would welcome that, Nii-sama," Rukia managed, husky.

A faint smile crossed his lips as he looked down at her and repeated, "Good." His fingers brushed her hair as he turned and left.

Rukia scrubbed the back of her hand over her eyes again and laughed softly, shakily.

She was warm again.

End

A/N: Title is from the poem Fire and Ice by Robert Frost.

Moving Down the Streams of My Lifetime

"You really don’t have to worry about Hisoka," Tsuzuki assured Sohryu, tagging anxiously after the dragon back to his rooms.

"He’s ill omened," Sohryu snapped, glaring straight ahead. When was Tsuzuki going to start learning how to be careful?

"I’m sure it wasn’t him," Tsuzuki persisted, following through the fountain room.

Never was clearly the answer to Sohryu’s question, and he sighed. Neither of his children had given him a quarter as much trouble as his master. He rounded on Tsuzuki, hems flaring out with the speed of his movement, and caught the man’s shoulders. "Have better care for yourself," he scolded. "This world is not as well protected as it once was."

Tsuzuki stood still and trusting between his hands, smiling. "But you’re still here."

Sohryu fought not to slump in defeat. Had he done his job too well? Was that why his master wandered around in this mooncalf innocence?

But he could hardly do less. Not for Tsuzuki.

A hand touched his chest and he looked up to find Tsuzuki smiling more softly. "It will be all right. Believe me."

Sohryu looked aside. "All right," he muttered, finally.

Tsuzuki made a happy sound and promptly hugged him.

Sohryu snorted and crooked his fingers at the door to bid the lock turn. He should never have let Tsuzuki get the idea that it was all right to be so familiar with him, even in private. And, to be honest, he knew that one bark of reprimand would make his master back away, conciliatory.

But then Tsuzuki would look at him with sad eyes.

He was a fool, Sohryu decided as he swept Tsuzuki up, folding his master in strong arms and soft layers of cloth, safe the way he always should be. He settled Tsuzuki against the cushions of his bed and wrapped himself around him, hair slipping down to shield Tsuzuki from everything outside.

"You’ve been sleeping poorly," he stated, fingers tracing the faint shadows under Tsuzuki’s eyes.

"I can’t stop thinking about some of our recent cases," Tsuzuki admitted, mouth tightening.

"Hm." There were several ways to deal with that, but it would take some time to produce enough sweets to do it. In the meantime, Sohryu supposed he could use the other way all the shikigami shared. He set his fingers under Tsuzuki’s chin and lifted it, kissing Tsuzuki firmly. Tsuzuki gasped, hands tightening on Sohryu’s sleeves for a moment before relaxing. His lips parted and he made a soft sound as Sohryu’s tongue swept into his mouth.

Sohryu undressed Tsuzuki swiftly and undid his own sashes, shedding the layers of his robes with a shrug the better to wind around Tsuzuki. Tsuzuki was pliant for him, skin flushed and eyes hazy, and Sohryu thought that Tsuzuki wanted the peace of exhaustion as much as Sohryu wanted to secure him that peace.

He slid into Tsuzuki on long, slow thrusts and Tsuzuki made breathless little moans each time, legs straining wider until Sohryu’s hands kneaded down them gently. "Relax," he told his master. "You say I’ll take care of things. So let me."

Tsuzuki’s smile was sweet and fragile and Sohryu gathered him up, kissing him with passion and concentration until he cried out.

When Tsuzuki finally stilled in his arms Sohryu stroked back his damp hair and brushed a kiss over his forehead. "Sleep," he whispered, weaving his power into the command, and felt Tsuzuki catch hold of the magic, climbing down it into rest. He sighed with a shade of relief; that only ever worked when Tsuzuki let it, and he could be so foolishly stubborn sometimes.

He watched Tsuzuki sleep, stroking his forehead to smooth the lines away, tender here as he could not afford to be outside the doors. Whatever it took to protect Tsuzuki, he would do it. He’d known that from the first.

Whatever it took.

End

Softer than Velvet

Watari moaned as shadows pulled his legs wider apart, coiling around them to hold them there. "Tatsumi…"

"Yes?" Long fingers ran up his inner thighs, gentle and cool and unspeakably teasing, stroking just behind his balls.

Watari squirmed against the shadows, which of course did no good whatsoever. His hands stayed stretched over his head and his legs stayed lifted and spread while Tatsumi ran a slow fingertip over his ass and between his cheeks. Husky, Watari murmured, "Will you please just fuck me already?"

The low light glinted off Tatsumi’s glasses as he raised his head and smiled at Watari, slow and pleased. "No."

Watari whined faintly and shivered as Tatsumi fondled his entrance. "Why not?" His tone turned wheedling. "It was just one little potion, and it wore off in three hours!"

"Oh, it’s not that." Tatsumi leaned down and closed his teeth on the inside of Watari’s thigh, making him buck with the rush of heat. "I just enjoy watching you like this."

Watari’s breath came shorter and his eyes widened. "Oh."

The assurance that there was no simple way out made the whole thing hotter and Watari moaned openly, pulling helplessly against his bonds as Tatsumi caressed his skin, taking his time. The shadows slipped aside, making way for their master’s hands but never loosening, and Watari was panting harshly for breath by the time Tatsumi leaned down and kissed him.

"Mm. Now."

Watari cried out as Tatsumi’s cock pushed into him, slick and hard, stretching him fiercely. After the slow handling, that ferocity was a wild relief and he couldn’t stop the cries vibrating in his throat as Tatsumi fucked him, shadows lifting him higher, spreading him wider. He came without Tatsumi ever touching his cock, nearly screaming with the intensity of sensation as it rushed through him and wrung out every nerve. It seemed to go on for a long time, and, even after, the clasp of the shadows holding him open and Tatsumi’s long, rough thrusts as he finished sent tiny aftershocks of heat up his spine.

When Tatsumi finally let him go, easing him gently back down to the bed, Watari grinned up at him.

"Can we do that again some time?"

Tatsumi’s smile this time was smug. "Indeed."

End

Full to Overflowing

Akaya moaned, rubbing against the pile of towels he was currently bent over, and again as large hands tightened on his hips.

"Hold still, Akaya."

The deep, velvety purr from behind him brushed a shiver down Akaya’s spine. "Yes, Sanada-san," he murmured, husky, and gasped as Sanada-san’s cock thrust into him deeper. "Ohh…"

The day couldn’t get much better than this. It was a new year; he was a Regular on the high school team; everyone else had gone home and Sanada-san was fucking him, hard and big, stretching Akaya open perfectly. "Mmmm. Oh, harder…"

Sanada-san laughed. "Demanding, aren’t you?" Strong hands lifted Akaya’s hips higher and Sanada-san drove into him hard.

Akaya gasped, breath hitching. It felt so good to have Sanada-san’s cock filling his ass over and over, stretching him mercilessly wide on every thrust. The heat set Akaya panting, approval and entreaty tripping over themselves on his tongue. "Nn, yes… so big… mmm, please, more…"

"Haven’t found your limits yet, hm?" Sanada-san asked with a teasing edge. "Good." He pushed Akaya down firmly against the towels, holding him still as he shifted over Akaya and rode him, fucking him fast and rough.

Akaya’s words dissolved into breathless moans as Sanada-san gave him exactly what he wanted and hot pleasure tightened low in Akaya’s stomach. The thickness of Sanada-san’s cock worked his ass ruthlessly, making his whole body tingle in response, making him feel intensely, incredibly full until, at last, the fullness was more than he could take and fire rushed down his nerves. He bucked helplessly, groaning as the bigness of Sanada-san’s cock inside him kept his body from wringing tight, drawing it all out until he was totally limp from pleasure. It didn’t take long before Sanada-san stilled, over him, and slow hands ran down Akaya’s back.

"Mm. Welcome back, Akaya."

Akaya grinned, hearing the smile in Sanada-san’s voice, and wriggled a bit, pleased with the hint of soreness in his ass. "Glad to be back."

Very.

End

Reach and Grasp

"Ooof!"

Sena huffed the heavy scent of the grass out of his nose and smiled wryly. Shin-san was more careful when they were just playing around with no padding, but getting tackled was still getting tackled.

"If you cut inside my line, you need to make it tighter," Shin-san said in his ear. "Otherwise you’re at just the right distance to catch."

And Shin-san was never really just playing.

Sena nodded, still a shade breathless. "Yes, I see." And then Shin-san’s hand started to slide away from his chest and he got a lot more breathless. There really was a difference, without their full uniforms, and he couldn’t help squirming just a little, under the weight of Shin-san’s body.

Shin-san paused. "Sena?" His hand stopped and spread out against Sena’s stomach. "Do you want me to?"

Sena blushed hotly. Shin-san just out and said things like that! Sena cleared his throat and murmured, "Um. Yes?"

Shin-san also didn’t waste time and Sena gasped as warm fingers undid his pants and slid them down. The short grass tickled his bare skin, but only until Shin-san’s hand moved in. Sena pushed back into Shin-san’s body and spread his knees wider, hot with the feeling of that large, powerful hand between his legs. "Mmm. Shin-san."

Shin-san nibbled on his ear and Sena laughed. Any way Shin-san touched him felt good, but it was the little things like that, the ones that were actually playful, that made him happiest. And when Shin-san’s whole body covered him and strong fingers wrapped around his cock, it made heat shiver down Sena’s spine. Feeling Shin-san’s hips grind against his rear, and Shin-san’s cock sliding between his cheeks, Sena finally moaned out loud. "Shin-san… the bags. Are they close enough…?"

Shin-san stretched out an arm and Sena was, right at this moment, really glad that Shin-san had such a long reach. "Yes." Shin-san’s tongue ran up his neck one more time. "Hang on a minute."

Sena thought, a little light-headedly, that Shin-san was the one hanging on to him, even as he rummaged through the bags, but he wasn’t quite far gone enough to say that out loud. When Shin-san’s fingers worked into his ass, slow and slick, the words unraveled anyway, and Sena just panted for breath, hips flexing a little between those fingers and the strong hand between his legs. When Shin-san’s fingers curved and pleasure spiked through him, Sena’s reserve finally gave way.

"Nn, Shin-san, fuck me!" Later he would blush over that, but right now all he felt was Shin-san’s hands and Shin-san’s mouth against his neck, lips curving slightly.

"Okay."

The hand between his legs tightened, lifting his hips higher, and then Shin-san’s cock was pushing into him and Sena just sprawled in the grass, moaning as it stretched and filled him. He gasped, breathless, as Shin-san slid out and back in, fucking him slowly; he loved the feeling of this, the hardness of Shin-san’s body braced over his, the brush of Shin-san’s chest against his back, the heavy heat of Shin-san’s cock in his ass. Words tumbled out of his mouth, more and yes and good, and Shin-san drove into him deep and hard until hot pleasure wrung Sena out and left him panting.

Shin-san’s slow, hard thrusts never hitched, and he fucked the tightness of Sena’s body until Sena was limp and moaning under him. When Shin-san came, Sena only knew because of the way he gasped, the way his arms curled tight around Sena. Sena smiled and closed his arms over Shin-san’s so he wouldn’t pull away, and they lay in the warm grass like that for a while.

Sena couldn’t imagine getting a whole lot more content than he was right now.

He did kind of hope that he didn’t play Shin-san on turf, this year, because he had a bad feeling that going down nose-first into the smell of cut grass would cause some embarrassing reactions after today.

When Shin-san’s mouth brushed the nape of his neck, though, he decided it would be worth it.

End

Overdetermined

The young man who was very careful to think of himself as Kid leaned against the wall and nodded at Hiruma’s arm. "How did you manage that, anyway?"

Hiruma grinned, all teeth. "It’s all in how much you want it." He wriggled his fingers at Kid, a bit taunting.

Kid snorted. Amazing how fast something turned into an old argument. "For some, I guess that works."

Hiruma pushed away from the wall and glared. "It works if you fucking stay with it. Are you going to spend your whole life half-assed?"

Kid looked away.

Hiruma’s growl didn’t surprise him, but the hand in his hair did, pulling him around and down to meet Hiruma’s mouth on his.

"You’re a fucking idiot and it drives me fucking crazy to watch." The words were muffled but fierce, fierce as the heat of Hiruma’s body against his.

Fierce but not careless. Hiruma was angled carefully away from Kid’s right side. It felt strange. Almost unbalanced. Not that he got much time to think about it.

"You need to want something, or how the hell do you tell you’re alive?" Hiruma’s fingers flicked open Kid’s pants and dove inside. His hand closed on Kid’s cock, long and competent, just like they closed on a ball. On a dart.

On a gun.

Kid couldn’t stifle the sound he made, and Hiruma’s mouth swallowed it, tasted it. Curved.

"I know you love it," Hiruma breathed against his ear. "Love knowing you’re this good. You wouldn’t be out here if you didn’t."

Kid’s good hand worked against Hiruma’s shoulder. "Just want to be with friends," he protested, husky.

"Then fight, damn it!" Hiruma’s fingers coaxed him and Hiruma’s voice shook him. "With us, for us, against us, it doesn’t fucking matter! That’s what we’re all out here for!" His mouth pressed against Kid’s throat, hot and wet. "All you have to do is want it hard enough and never fucking stop."

"It hurts," Kid whispered, head tilted back against the wall, eyes shut hard.

Hiruma’s hand tightened, stroked firmly, making heat climb Kid’s nerves. His voice was low. "That’s the only way to make it as good as it can be."

Kid groaned and hauled his arm out of the sling, pulling Hiruma tight against him. He could feel him laughing as he caught Hiruma’s mouth and kissed him back and pleasure wrung him out until the world wavered in front of his eyes.

The first thing he said, when he recovered enough breath, was, "Ow."

Hiruma was still laughing against his neck. "Yeah, well." He pushed away and rapped Kid lightly on the chest. "You ever want someone to play with, remember I’m here."

A helpless laugh shook Kid, and he pulled Hiruma back for another kiss, never mind the twinges.

Maybe he’d see how good it could get.

End

Coals and Ink

Rukia sighed happily as the soft brush stroked through her hair. One of the things she liked best about being assigned here, or at least about staying with Orihime, was having someone to brush her hair in the evenings. It reminded her of growing up, when the girls had saved broken combs to wash in the canal and do each other’s hair with.

It wasn’t at all the same when the Kuchiki servants did it.

She was nearly purring with contentment when Orihime stopped and patted her shoulder. "There."

"Okay." Rukia scrambled up off the pillow and turned to take the brush. "Your turn."

It still made Orihime blush a little and Rukia shook her head, rueful. "You have beautiful hair," she reminded Orihime.

"But people say it’s so loud colored," Orihime murmured.

"Ichigo’s hair is loud," Rukia corrected firmly. "Yours is beautiful." She stroked the brush carefully down the silky length. "Arisawa likes it, doesn’t she?" Rukia smiled. "And your brother?" At Orihime’s faint murmur admitting that, she nodded. "And so do I."

"Thank you." Orihime’s voice as soft.

Rukia gently brushed the hair back over Orihime’s shoulder and leaned in to kiss the curve of her neck. "You don’t need to thank your friends for something like that." She wrapped her arms around Orihime, pleased when she leaned back into Rukia’s hold.

"Thank you anyway." Orihime smiled over her shoulder, the real smile this time.

"Well. You’re welcome, then." Rukia ran her fingers through the warm, shining fall of Orihime’s hair and over her throat, and turned her chin gently to kiss her again. "Very welcome."

The way Orihime turned to cuddle into her, arms sliding around her waist, was all the thanks Rukia needed. "It’s been a long day for everyone," she murmured into Orihime’s hair. "Come to bed?"

Orihime blushed for real this time and nodded shyly, and Rukia lifted one of her hand to kiss the fingers before tugging her to her feet. "Come on then." Glancing aside, a little shy, herself, she added, "I’ll make sure you sleep well."

The hair brushing wasn’t the only thing she liked about staying with Orihime.

End

Through the Sleepless Nights

The first time Hisagi Shuuhei met Muguruma Kensei it had been in the aftermath of a fight. Maybe it was fate that their second meeting was also the end of a battle. To Shuuhei, it felt a little like a chance to start again.

"Muguruma-taichou… I mean…" And to put his foot in his mouth again, apparently. Shuuhei cleared his throat and settled on, "Muguruma-san."

Muguruma’s mouth quirked fleetingly, and he glanced down at his very civilian clothes. "Yeah, not a captain any more. Heard you were, though." He clapped a hand on Shuuhei’s shoulder. "Good work."

Shuuhei made a throw-away gesture. "Only acting."

Muguruma’s hand turned over, knuckles rapping Shuuhei’s shoulder. "Hey. None of that. Have some pride in yourself." His smile flashed again. "Not that I’m in a position to chew you out any more, I guess."

"That’s not true!" Shuuhei flushed as Muguruma’s brows rose, and he glanced down. "I remembered you," he said, quietly. "I’m here because I wanted to live up to what I remembered."

Muguruma’s gaze traveled over Shuuhei’s cropped sleeves, the leather bands around his right am and throat. Finally his fingers rose to brush over the 69 on Shuuhei’s cheekbone. "Yeah?" His voice was husky. "I’m glad. We didn’t think anyone in Soul Society remembered us well."

Shuuhei turned his head just a little into Muguruma’s hand, aware his ears were probably bright red. "Some of us did."

Muguruma glanced over to where Nanao was talking to Yadomaru, book clasped tight to her chest, eyes bright, and his smile lasted a little longer this time. "So I see." His hand cupped Shuuhei’s cheek for a breath, thumb stroking Shuuhei’s cheekbone. "Well, come on then. Tell me about it while we get this mess cleaned up."

Shuuhei noticed the stares of his division, as he walked next to the man he’d once thought would be his captain, and knew he was smiling too.

End

Else the Bottles Break and the Wine is Spilled

Imonoyama Nokoru, darling of the Clamp Academy, Chairman of the High School Division, and all-around gentleman, sat and stared glumly at the top of his desk. For once there was no paperwork on it, waiting to be done; he’d finished everything.

Suoh had taken his temperature and, when that was normal, checked the weather forecast, which wasn’t quite the response Nokoru had been hoping for.

The problem with seducing one’s best friend, he decided, was that none of the usual methods worked. If he handed Suoh flowers, Suoh figured they were for the office and went looking for a vase and put them on Nokoru’s desk. He couldn’t very well open doors for Suoh, because Suoh felt that was his job, as Nokoru’s bodyguard.

Best not to think about the attempted candle-lit dinner. At least Akira and Utako had gotten some use from it in the end.

So Nokoru had tried adapting his methods instead. The way to a lady’s heart was to do sweet things for her. He could expand on that, surely. Unfortunately, doing anything for Suoh was difficult. Suoh never seemed to need help with the little chores around the office. He flatly refused to let Nokoru do any of the security work, on the grounds that he would wind up finding damsels in distress on the surveillance cameras and get distracted. And as for being obliging by finishing the paperwork on time…

Thump.

"Since you’re in such good form today, Kaichou, here’s the paperwork for the festival next week." Suoh gave Nokoru a brisk nod and went back to his own desk.

Nokoru wondered if banging his head against the new stack of papers would help any.

He looked over at Suoh, calmly absorbed in calculations and future planning and all the things Nokoru wasn’t really very good at. Everything Nokoru wanted. How did Suoh do it? How did he capture Nokoru’s complete attention, so easily? He was nothing like the ladies Nokoru had always delighted in helping.

Nokoru sat up straight, eyes gleaming as he replayed that thought. Nothing like the ladies. So maybe, just maybe, the approach Nokoru needed was something nothing like he used with ladies!

Right.

Nokoru stood up and marched over to Suoh’s desk. "Suoh."

Suoh looked up with a faint smile. "Yes, Kaichou?" Nokoru’s heart did turny-trippy things at that smile and he sternly quashed the urge to be courtly and indirect in response. Instead he took Suoh’s face in his hands and kissed him.

He barely heard Akira say something strangled about tea cakes and scramble out the door, because he was paying too much attention to the way Suoh’s eyes widened, the way his hand lifted and hesitated and finally settled softly against Nokoru’s shoulder. When Nokoru drew back Suoh stared up at him for a long moment before finally murmuring, "Nokoru."

The sound of Suoh saying his name gave Nokoru a sweet, breathless moment of thrill. "I should have figured this out much sooner," he declared, and promptly sat himself down, straddling Suoh’s legs. Suoh flushed and Nokoru laughed softly, delighted. "Much sooner." He leaned in again to kiss Suoh, and was pleased to feel Suoh’s hands slide slowly up his back.

"Nokoru," Suoh repeated, husky this time, "not here."

"All right, then," Nokoru agreed, sunny, and stood, grabbing Suoh’s hand to haul him up, too. "How about my room?"

Suoh looked amused and resigned as Nokoru towed him down the hall, waving cheerily to Akira as they passed him, coming back with a tea tray.

"We’ll be back for tea later," Nokoru assured him. "Probably."

Akira turned bright red and Suoh groaned. "Nokoru…"

Nokoru just laughed. In fact, he had a hard time keeping himself from laughing all the way across campus, just because he was so brilliantly happy. He positively pounced Suoh into bed, once he had the bedroom door closed behind them.

Suoh went with good grace, mouth quirking as he settled Nokoru more comfortably over him. "Never have been able to resist you, I suppose."

Nokoru was laughing softly, again. "You probably shouldn’t tell me that right now."

Suoh looked up at him, eyes serious, and lifted a hand to run through Nokoru’s hair. "You can have anything you want from me," he stated quietly. "You know that."

That struck Nokoru silent and breathless. "Suoh," he whispered, and leaned down to kiss him again, more passionate than ever but slow this time. Suoh gave it all back to him and smiled.

Nokoru felt like he couldn’t speak above a whisper any more, and it was Suoh’s name he said, over and over, as he undid Suoh’s clothes, kisses following the parting cloth over Suoh’s skin. Suoh arched under him, gasping as Nokoru’s hands curved around the sharp line of his hips and Nokoru’s mouth closed on his cock. Nokoru thought, distantly, that Suoh always knew him, knew what to do for him, but most of him was taken up with the texture of Suoh’s skin under his fingers and the weight of Suoh between his lips and the gift of Suoh’s body, stretched out and taut, under the scarf of sunlight from the window.

When Suoh moaned, husky, shuddering under Nokoru, it was enough to make him dizzy.

Nokoru twined himself tightly around Suoh, burying his head in Suoh’s shoulder, and Suoh’s fingers combed slowly through his hair.

"I hope you don’t try to seduce ladies like this," Suoh said, at last, so solemnly that Nokoru knew he was teasing.

"No," he answered, softly. "Only you."

Suoh’s arms folded around him. "Good."

End

The Wave that Turns the Tide

Kimihiro glared at Shizuka fiercely. "You are NOT coming with me this time! Absolutely, positively, most certainly NO—"

His lecture cut off with a startled sound as Shizuka’s mouth covered his, hushing him gently. Shizuka didn’t let him go until he was breathless and leaning against Shizuka for support.

"Then I’ll follow after you."

"Shizuka…!"

Shizuka’s mouth quirked faintly. "What? I’m not quiet enough for you already?"

Kimihiro glared some more, but his lips twitched reluctantly at the old joke.

Shizuka gathered Kimihiro closer. "I’ll be with you, one way or another," he murmured against Kimihiro’s hair. "I’m here to protect you."

Perfectly familiar with Shizuka’s world-bending stubbornness, Kimihiro pressed his forehead against Shizuka’s shoulder. "Promise you won’t let yourself get hurt," he demanded.

"I promise." Shizuka tipped Kimihiro’s chin up and kissed him again, softly.

"Liar," Kimihiro whispered into his mouth.

"Never to you."

Kimihiro knew that was true and subsided a bit. He let Shizuka lay him back against the smooth, sun-warmed boards of the engawa and fold his yukata open, and reached up to pull Shizuka down against him. Shizuka’s hands on him were strong and slow, stroking over Kimihiro’s body until he arched up against Shizuka, panting and flushed.

"Shizuka!"

"Yes," Shizuka whispered to him, "I’ll be peace for you."

Kimihiro caught his breath slowly in Shizuka’s arms, making soft, contented sounds as one strong hand rubbed his back. As the shadows lengthened, though, he sighed and sat up. Shizuka helped him straighten his clothing and cupped a hand around Kimihiro’s cheek.

"Ready?"

"Of course." Kimihiro smiled up at him, rueful. "You’ll be with me."

End

A/N: Shizuka means "quiet" or "peace".

Dance on the Grave

Alexiel stared. "But why…?"

"Revenge is supposed to be served cold, isn’t it?"

She gave Lucifer the look she’d perfected as a teenage boy. "It’s a metaphor."

Lucifer’s lips curled for just a moment. "Many humans say that about our entire existence, don’t they? Just because something is a metaphor is no reason for it not to exist." He settled back in his chair, looking very smug for someone without any expression.

Alexiel drove a hand into her hair. "That isn’t the point. The point is… is…" she trailed off, distracted by the thing on the table in front of them. "The point is… How did you get the expression so close?"

"I did see him a few times, myself," Lucifer pointed out, and picked up a knife. "So?"

Alexiel planted her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands, laughing helplessly. "Okay, okay. I can’t believe you actually did this. Um." Her eyes were starting to sparkle. "I’ll have some of the mouth."

Lucifer cut into the ice-cream cake in the shape of the Creator’s head, slicing her out a large section of beard and mouth and laying it rather ceremoniously on her plate. This time, his smile had a bit of Kira’s glint to it. "Happy birthday."

"You are so weird," Alexiel muttered, taking a bite anyway.

She had to admit, it did taste good.

End

Population Adjustments

"Ivan," By murmured in his ear, intimately. "If you don’t do this, it’s quite possible we’ll both die. There’s motivation for you, yes?"

"Have you considered I might prefer dying?" Ivan gritted through a toothy smile, trying to find room to back up.

"Why Ivan, you wound me!" By cooed.

Ivan took a deep breath and reminded himself, again, that he wasn’t supposed to haul off and punch his assigned partner. "I’m in Ops," he hissed, plaintively. "How did I get assigned with you, again?"

"Ah, you’re not yourself this evening," By told him with a soulful look, loud enough for the bathhouse patrons lingering in the foyer to hear. And then, very softly, "And if you don’t give me a handjob right now and prove it, we’ll be dead and have failed the assignment. So put your hand between my legs; it’s not hard. At least," he added with a wicked grin, "not yet."

Ivan tried not to hyperventilate. Orders, he reminded himself. Duty. Not that he had the fetish for that that his shortest cousin did, but still.

Right.

He put his hand rather gingerly on the crotch of By’s tightly cut trousers and nearly jumped out of his skin when By tossed his head back and moaned, hips pushing into his hand.

"Don’t flinch," By ordered though still lips. "And try to look less appalled."

Ivan rubbed gingerly, trying not to show his squeamishness.

"Better." By twined himself artistically close to Ivan and breathed in his ear. "Now undo my pants. I can manage most of this myself, but you have to do some work." Ivan took in a quick breath as teeth nipped at his ear. "Just pretend I’m a woman, yes?"

"That’s a little difficult right now," Ivan growled back, shoving his hand inside By’s pants.

"Mmm, much better. On second thought, keep thinking whatever you’re thinking."

Ivan was positive he was turning red at that purr, but maybe that would just be in character. He stroked By roughly, trying very hard not to think about what he was doing, and especially not to notice the way By moaned and rubbed against him, a lean, languid flex of wantonness.

And he really wasn’t noticing By’s tongue in his ear, wet and hot and soft. Not at all. End of story.

Oh God, he was taking three showers when he got home.

He froze, eyes widening as By drew taut against him, hips jerking, and something warm and wet covered his hand; he knew that texture. "I thought you said you would be acting!" he choked.

"I said I could manage most of it." By’s smile was downright feline under languid eyes. "Mm, good. Maigny has stopped watching. Congratulations on being convincing enough."

Ivan bit back any answer and just scrubbed his hand surreptitiously with his handkerchief.

"You’re pretty good at that, by the way." By’s dark eyes laughed at him.

Three showers and a really big bottle of vodka, Ivan promised himself though the horrified haze descending over his thoughts as By urged him back toward the baths proper.

He was going to kill Miles for this.

End

The Hand of Fashion

Akira was used to he and Shindou tearing apart each other’s games, but he’d never honestly expected Shindou to start on his clothes.

"Seriously, Touya, that blue suit makes you look like a salaryman."

"Supposing it did, why is this your business?"

Shindou put his hands on his hips. "You’re a pro; you should look like it. Ogata-sensei has style. Even your dad has style. I can’t have my rival looking like he doesn’t know how to dress."

Akira was starting to get more indignant than startled. "As if you have any room to talk, when you show up to your matches in tee-shirts!"

"Hey, these have a lot of style!"

Akira settled back, a bit smug. "Even if they do, what makes you think you can pick out good styles in formal clothing?"

Shindou glared. "I bet I could."

"You never have before."

"I could!"

"Prove it!" They were nose to nose now, leaning over the table.

"Fine!"

As Shindou stomped out of the salon, growling, and Akira stalked after him, he heard Ichikawa-san sigh, "I’d thought they’d grown out of that."

He couldn’t imagine why she would think that; not as long as Shindou was Shindou.

Akira waved a hand at the racks of sober suits. "So. Go ahead and try. Find something stylish." He said the last word as if it had been dipped in a sauce he didn’t like.

Shindou snorted. "Easiest thing ever." He made for the nearest rack and started paging quickly through the jackets. Akira wasn’t surprised when a clerk approached them; he’d have wanted to protect the merchandise from Shindou, too.

"Can I help you sirs?"

"Ah, we’re just…" Akira started, only to be interrupted by a jacket landing half on top of the clerk.

"Yeah, take that. Oh, and this one, and these slacks." Two more items were tossed over the clerk’s arm. "Take those to a changing room, would you? Thanks."

Akira and the clerk both stared, startled, as Shindou trotted to the next rack. He paused and looked back.

"Well? What are you waiting for, Touya? Go try them on."

"If you would, please," Akira murmured, a bit dazed, to the clerk, watching Shindou efficiently ransacking a shelf of shirts.

Akira stood in front of the mirror, tugging at the cuffs of a shirt. "Black suit, white shirt… Shindou, I look like I’m going to a funeral!"

"Ah, that’s just to start with. Here, try this tie."

Akira gave the tie in question a resigned look and knotted it swiftly. Shindou squinted at the result and made thoughtful noises. "Nah, wrong jacket, that’s what it is. Try the shorter one. And the gray shirt."

"All black?"

"Why not? Ogata-sensei wears all white."

"That’s Ogata-sensei! He’s… he’s taller."

"What? I bet you’d look good in all white, too. Hang on!"

Akira rubbed his forehead as Shindou made for the racks again.

"Oh, yeah, there we go!"

Akira frowned. "Shindou, this is getting awfully informal."

"No it isn’t. It’s style, I told you. You definitely want a band-collar shirt. It’s perfect."

"So now I’m going to a casual funeral," Akira said dryly, examining his black pants and jacket.

"Not with a blue shirt you’re not. Trust me."

Akira shot his friend a dire look. "If you make me into a laughingstock at official matches, I will hunt you down."

Shindou sighed excessively and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "Touya, you’ll look good. And you need every edge you can get against people like Ogata-sensei, right? This is one you can use. So use it!" He grumbled under his breath, "Ogata-sensei sure does."

Perversely, that made Akira feel better.

"All right, fine. I’ll get this and a couple of shirts. Happy?"

"Sure!" Shindou straightened, grinning. "Now we just need to hit the casual section to get some tee-shirts. And turtlenecks maybe. And jeans, Touya, you really need to have some jeans. You look like a banker, even when you’re not in that suit."

Akira thought wistfully, as he was towed to the next department, of the days when he and Shindou had fought every time they met. It had been so much simpler.

"Dark gray denim, perfect! Try these on, Touya."

So very much simpler.

 

End

Now Must Everything, Everything Turn

Long, cool hands slid up the bare curve of Orphe’s back and he sighed. "Bienenstitch was being an absolute idiot today. We need the women to take on all the jobs they can, now."

Lui stroked a hand back down to Orphe’s hip. "He’s a fool."

Orphe leaned up on an elbow and glared, exasperated. "Why didn’t you say anything then? He dangles on your every word."

Lui arched a brow, fingers tracing the line of Orphe’s hipbone. "You think I should tell him he’s a fool?"

"Yes," Orphe snapped, hooking a leg around Lui’s, fingers kneading Lui’s shoulder.

"Then you’re a fool too. However," Lui continued, calmly, though Orphe’s annoyed sound, "talking to you occasionally has some effect. Tell me. Who is the king’s heir?"

Orphe eyed his lover sharply. Lui lay back against the sheets, still and unconcerned. Three years ago that would have driven Orphe half mad with frustration.

It still did.

What he had learned was that Lui didn’t ask questions without a purpose, though, so Orphe ran a hand slowly down his body and answered. "With the king’s brother attainted, I doubt the nobles will see his children take the crown. If the king has no children… it will probably be you."

"Mm." Lui looked up at the ceiling, abstracted and detached even as Orphe’s fingers caressed his stomach. "Only the fact that the queen is still alive has kept me from being named already." His eyes focused abruptly on Orphe, who had to catch his breath. "If I was only inheriting Lichtenstein it would matter far less what enemies I made."

Orphe was silent for a long moment. "If you don’t speak though," he finally said, quietly, "how will you ever change them? How will you ever make the people who serve you other than fools?"

Lui’s thumb stroked over the curve of Orphe’s mouth and he smiled, thin and sharp. "I don’t need to change them. I only need to know that they are fools and plan accordingly."

Orphe’s lips parted, breath coming short as Lui’s thumb stroked back over his lower lip in silent demand. "I hate that you think like that," he whispered, wrapping his hand around Lui’s cock.

Lui’s voice was lighter now, husky as he flexed up into Orphe’s grip. "I know you do." Long hands teased over Orphe’s body, swift and precise, a fingertip rubbing his entrance softly, a palm stroking slowly between his legs and up, gentle fingers coaxing and pinching his nipples. Orphe held Lui close, mouth moving over his, swallowing Lui’s gasps and trading back his own soft moans. It no longer surprised him that Lui brought him to the edge first; he was simply pleased that Lui arched up into Orphe’s abruptly tightened grip, arms finally locking around him.

"Orphe…" Lui’s eyes closed and Orphe smiled and kissed him gently until he relaxed back against the sheets.

"You know," Orphe murmured, "if you become king…" He smiled down at Lui. "I’ll still argue with you."

Lui’s stomach trembled under his palm, a laugh that didn’t show on Lui’s face. Lui reached up, hand curving around the back of Orphe’s neck.

"I’m counting on it."

 

End

A/N: Title from the poem "Faith in Spring" by Ludwig Uhland.

Homecoming

They gathered quickly, and Belial thought that it was just like Alexiel’s latest
incarnation to not give any warning. The room was small enough, and the
interested parties many enough, that aides and seconds had been left outside,
but that had never stopped Belial before, and se watched from a slice of
shadow in one corner.

Kurai didn’t exactly pace, but she hovered at two distances, and flitted from
one to the other every now and then. Gabriel, by contrast, stood calmly beside
Alexiel’s body. Of course, Gabriel had done this herself just a year ago.
Raziel sat behind her, equally calm; of course, he had never met Alexiel,
only Setsuna. Michael fidgeted, on the far side of Raphael from his brother.
And Lucifer and Uriel held up opposite walls, both about as far from Alexiel
as they could get without leaving the room.

Belial sighed. Se hoped, for hir lord’s sake, this would go well.

And then hir glance sharpened, because hir sigh had been echoed by one from
Alexiel. Kurai spun around so fast she wobbled, poised at her distant hovering
spot. After one more moment of utter stillness, Alexiel drew in a deep
breath. As she exhaled her eyes opened.

Belial watched Lucifer exhale with her.

Alexiel rubbed a hand across her eyes and yawned. "Where?" she mumbled,
and then blinked at the crowd surrounding her. "Oh. Right."

Gabriel laughed. "Welcome back, Alexiel." She put a quick hand behind
Alexiel’s shoulder as she started to sit up. "Take it a little slowly.
You weren’t sealed, this time, it may take a while to settle back in."

Raphael waved a dismissive hand. "The strength of her spirit will draw
the body around itself immediately. No need to worry about her."

"Love you, too, Raphie-kun," Alexiel muttered, flipping him off with the hand not rubbing her face.

Kurai made a small noise, at that, hope lighting her eyes. Alexiel looked around
and smiled. "Kurai." When that failed to make Kurai stop chewing
on her lip, Alexiel’s smile softened and tilted. "Hey, kiddo."
She held out her arms.

Belial shook hir head as Kurai took two running steps and flung herself into
Alexiel’s embrace. It would do no one any good to lead the girl on.

"I missed you," Alexiel said, gently. "Both of me."

Kurai looked up, one crystal blue eye showing under her rumpled hair. "Really?"

"Really," Alexiel laughed, and ruffled Kurai’s hair some more.

Kurai giggled, and backed away. "Okay." Her eyes were clear again.

Belial’s estimation of Alexiel rose. Maybe this would fail to be a catastrophe after all.

Alexiel swung herself off the plinth and stood, but her stretch was interrupted
as her eyes fell on Lucifer, still leaning against the wall silently. "You
came," she whispered.

Lucifer returned her gaze, eyes hooded. "It seemed polite to give you
a clear opportunity, in case you wanted to try killing me again. Consider
it your homecoming present."

Belial had to wonder, as Alexiel stood frozen, whether she could see past
the sardonic chill to the genuine offer underneath it. If Alexiel really
did want Lucifer’s life, for the sake of the world or the sake of a grudge, he would give it to her this time.

As Alexiel paced toward him, through a room full of people holding their breaths,
Belial wondered whether she was going to take him up on it.

Alexiel stopped a hand’s breadth away, glaring up at him with stormy eyes.

And then she reached out and hauled him into a rib-cracking hug, burying her
face in his shoulder. "You are such an asshole," she declared,
a bit muffled.

Lucifer’s eyes widened, and Belial saw him swallow before his hands lifted,
hesitant and slow, to settle on Alexiel’s back. "Careful," he said,
voice just a little uneven. "You’ll have me calling you Setsuna if you
keep talking like that."

"Fair enough." Alexiel sniffed. "Kira-senpai."

"Not anymore."

"I know."

Lucifer’s eyes darkened, and he ran one hand, slowly, through her long, thick
hair.

Alexiel stiffened abruptly, at that, and lifted her head. Belial caught a
flash of apprehension in her face.

Lucifer shook his head. "I know why you didn’t tell me who I was." His mouth twisted. "Or that I had already had my wish, more than once, in Eden."

The tangle of sorrow and anger and tenderness plain to see in Alexiel’s expression
was a match for the tangle lurking in Lucifer’s eyes. Belial wondered whether
it was uncharitable or just accurate to think that they deserved each other.

"What… what if I ask, first, this time?" Alexiel said at last, voice wavering.

Lucifer’s snort was a bit pained, but the arms around Alexiel tightened without
reserve. "You have me, idiot," he murmured. "You’ve always had me."

Belial had to look away when their lips met. The kiss was too hesitant, too
heavy, too beautiful with hir lord’s relief. It made hir dizzy to watch.
So se watched the other watchers instead, and hir lips quirked as se took
in the generally indulgent expressions on their faces.

Se wondered how many of them realized that Abe’s real ruler was home now.

 

End

If Only

"Ryuuki? You shouldn’t be out here in nothing but a sleeping robe."

Ryuuki looked up from watching the dark water over the rail of the pavilion and had to smile. Seiran wasn’t wearing any more than he was. "Doesn’t that go for you, too?"

"I only came looking for you, not to stand out, contemplating the reflection of the moon." Seiran came to stand beside him, winding a warm arm around him.

"I just couldn’t sleep," Ryuuki murmured, leaning into his brother. "Do you ever think… what if everything had gone like it should?"

For a long moment there was no answer; when it came it made Ryuuki shiver because the voice beside him was Seien’s, sure and firm, the voice of a leader. "You rule well. Don’t doubt that."

Ryuuki ducked his head. "I don’t." At least not too often. "I just…" He turned, resting his hands against Seiran’s chest, head bowed. "I wish I could have seen you rule. Served you as my Emperor." Demonstrated, every day, what his brother meant to him.

"Ryuuki." Seiran’s voice was husky in the silvery dark. Intimate, and Ryuuki flushed a little to think that. He looked up with wide eyes as Seiran’s arm tightened around him, pulling him close.

"Aniue…"

Seiran’s hand cupped his cheek, thumb brushing over Ryuuki’s lips. "Be still."

A shiver of heat ran down Ryuuki’s spine and he swallowed, silent, as his brother ordered. He couldn’t help a small, breathless moan, though, as Seiran tipped his chin up and took thorough possession of his mouth. He could see Seiran was smiling as he drew back.

"Turn around."

A swift shudder ran through Ryuuki as he did, and found himself caught between a pillar of the pavilion and the breadth of Seiran’s chest against his back. Another shook him harder as Seiran’s hands moved slowly over his body, loosening his robe, sliding down his stomach to take him firmly in hand.

"Perhaps you can see enough, this way, to satisfy you," Seiran purred against Ryuuki’s bare shoulder, gathering Ryuuki’s robe up over his hips.

Ryuuki moaned, clinging to the pillar for support at the feeling of Seiran’s cock sliding between his cheeks. He made a wordless, entreating sound, flushed in the darkness.

"Stay there," Seiran commanded softly, stepping away toward the benches and the table with it’s unlit lamp. Ryuuki did as his brother said, breathless and heated as he stood exposed to the night breeze and his brother’s pleasure. And then Seiran was pressing against his back again, hands closing on Ryuuki’s hips, and his cock was pushing into Ryuuki, slick and hard and relentless.

Ryuuki moaned, unable to catch his breath as Seiran thrust into him again and again, strong hands holding Ryuuki still for it. The warmth of his brother’s body, caging him against the pillar, the coolness of the breeze on his bare skin, the heat of Seiran’s cock stretching him open and filling him over and over, they all twined together into pleasure that wrung him out mercilessly and left him panting. He made soft, pleading sounds as Seiran drove him up against the pillar harder, tiny shocks of heat still dancing down his nerves.

Seiran groaned against Ryuuki’s shoulder, his last thrusts so hard they made Ryuuki’s breath catch. Even once he stilled, he held Ryuuki in place, hands stroking over him. "Sometimes," he murmured at last, "I wish this could be all there was. Just you and me."

"Yes," Ryuuki whispered, husky and wanting.

Seiran’s arms closed around him, drawing him back snugly into the shelter of his brother’s chest. "Since we can’t have this all the time, remember that we can have it some of the time." He turned Ryuuki to face him and kissed him, slow and deep.

Ryuuki leaned into it, mouth open and soft under his brother’s. "Yes, Aniue."

 

End

Comfort

By late afternoon, Ryuuki was drooping over his work. "Is it very bad of me to wish that Aniue had become Emperor instead of me?" he asked, mournfully.

Seiran looked up from the tea he had brought, laughing softly. "It isn’t bad of you." He tilted his head, hands stilling as he regarded Ryuuki thoughtfully. "Do you need to take a break?"

Ryuuki made a wistful noise and Seiran smiled. "Very well, then." He set aside the tea set and settled comfortably on the raised seat under the windows. Ryuuki’s eyes widened a little as his brother’s whole bearing changed, turning straight and open and confident, the way it had been years ago.

"Come here, Ryuuki." Seiran held his hand out, and the command in his voice made Ryuuki’s breath catch. He came, obediently, and laid his hand in his brother’s, kneeling on the seat beside him. Seiran smiled, slow and pleased, and pulled, and Ryuuki gasped as he was tumbled down into Seiran’s lap in a dishevelled sprawl.

"Aniue…"

"Stay right there," Seiran said softly, in his ear.

Ryuuki shivered and did as he was told, leaning against Seiran’s chest with his robe falling open over his parted legs. A moan caught in his throat as Seiran’s fingers slid over his bared thighs, stroking them further apart. He panted for breath, leaning his head on his brother’s shoulder as Seiran’s hands pulled his robes further open, baring more of him to be touched by sunlight and his brother. This was the way it should be. "If things had been the way they should," he whispered, "I would have served you. Obeyed you always."

Seiran’s lips curved, against Ryuuki’s throat. "You obey me now, little brother."

Ryuuki moaned again as Seiran’s hand closed on his cock, strong and knowing. It was the middle of the day and this was his outer room. Anyone might come and see him, spread out and disordered over Seiran’s lap and being fondled so openly. But Seiran’s order held him where he was as Seiran’s hand worked between his legs and heat curled through him.

And that was as it should be. For a little while, they could set the world right again.

Seien ruled him absolutely, and always would, and that was just the way Ryuuki liked it.

 

End

Better than Dessert

Tsuzuki made soft, breathless noises as Hisoka’s fingers pressed into him, slender and strong. "Mmm. I don’t really need…"

Hisoka thrust more firmly. "Be quiet, Tsuzuki. I like it."

It was hard to argue with that, especially when Hisoka had found just the right spot and was rubbing his fingertips back and forth over it, hard. Tsuzuki whined a little, rocking his hips up for more and Hisoka’s soft snort of laughter answered.

Hisoka made him wait for it tonight, fingering his ass slowly and thoroughly until Tsuzuki was panting and begging softly.

"Nn… Hisoka, please… oh… oh please, more…"

"You sound like you’re asking for dessert," Hisoka teased, husky and deadpan.

"You’re better than dessert," Tsuzuki assured him, moaning.

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

Tsuzuki decided this must be true, because the next thing he felt was Hisoka’s cock driving into him fast. He moaned approvingly, more than ready, and Hisoka finally seemed to be in a mood to oblige. He pulled Tsuzuki’s hips up into the air and thrust in again, hard, fucking him with concentration. Tsuzuki pushed up to meet every stroke, loving the feeling of Hisoka’s cock sliding thick and hard inside him, the jar of Hisoka’s hips against his that vibrated pleasure up his spine. When Hisoka’s hand, still slick, slid down to close on his cock and stroke him firmly, it was perfect, and he moaned as heat surged through him like a tide, deep and unstoppable.

When Hisoka rested, panting, against his back, and murmured in his ear, "Sure that’s better than dessert?" Tsuzuki hid a grin.

"If I say yes, can we do it again?"

Hisoka’s rare, open laugh was better than a dessert shop.

 

End

A/N: I wasn’t sure whether to interpret "Hisoka on top" psychologically or, um, geographically; my Hisoka muse voted for psychologically, so here we are.

Al Fresco

She loved having their hands on her. The fact that they were outside, under the sun, with the scent of summer grass heavy in the air all around them just made it twice as good, which was amazingly good.

Aerith leaned her head back on Tifa’s shoulder and laughed, soft and breathless.

"Mm, I can feel it when you do that," Tifa murmured against her neck, long fingers pushing deeper into Aerith.

"And I can feel it when you do that," Aerith purred back at her, and gasped. "Oh… that too." She smiled down at Cloud, stretched out with both the women straddling him, and smiling up at them sweet and open. She rocked a little against Cloud’s fingers as they rubbed gently through her folds. "Mmmm."

Tifa gasped as Cloud rocked his hips up and her low moan sent a shiver straight down Aerith’s spine. The way her hand tightened on Aerith’s breast made Aerith squirm back against her with a pleased sound. The firm curves of Tifa’s body against her back and the solid planes of Cloud’s chest under her fingers were enough to make her drunk on pure sensation, even before the pleasure of their hands touching her, caressing her.

And then Cloud’s fingers found just the right spot, stroking her softly, and Aerith arched, gasping, heat washing through her. Her body wrung down on Tifa’s fingers and when Tifa twisted them firmly pleasure spilled over completely and burst through her like light.

She stared up at the blue sky, panting for breath, feeling Tifa’s arms tight around her as Tifa ground down against Cloud, moaning, and Cloud’s hands stroked over over both of them, as if he wanted to touch as much as possible.

"There’s nothing better than this," she whispered, releasing the words to the summer air, to the sky and earth and the spirits of those who still watched over them.

Over all of them.

 

End

Over the Edge

Ikkaku’s hands tightened on the edge of the desk as Zaraki-taichou’s cock pushed into him. This was the part he liked best.

"Ahh… nn… fuck…" Every sound he made was on a quick gasp of breath, and his muscles quivered. Zaraki-taichou was huge, and Ikkaku’s ass felt like it couldn’t possibly stretch any more, except that more kept coming, sliding into him until he was leaning over the desk on his elbows, panting, achingly full of his captain’s cock.

Ikkaku liked pushing limits, and getting fucked by Zaraki-taichou did that all right.

He felt like he couldn’t move, he was stretched so hard and wide, but Zaraki-taichou was moving, pulling back and thrusting in again, deep. "Oh fuck yeah… oh yeah…" the words tumbled from Ikkaku’s mouth, haphazard, just because he needed to respond somehow to how big Zaraki-taichou’s cock was inside him, big enough to make his whole body shake as it pushed in and out, in and out, and Ikkaku’s ass didn’t even feel open because what was in it was so damn big.

The sounds Zaraki-taichou made, half moan and half growl, vibrated through Ikkakku’s bones, and the feel of the scars and calluses on his captain’s hand as it pumped his own cock made him come right there. He groaned as his body tried to tighten and couldn’t, because Zaraki-taichou was buried deep in his ass, fucking him with short, fierce thrusts.

"Oh yeah." He lay over the desk, feeling wrung out like a towel as his captain pulled back. "Mm. Perfect end to the day."

Ikkaku lived to fight, but when it came to sex with his captain, sometimes the fighting was just a warmup.

 

End

A Knowing Smile

Sena

Sena breathed a sigh of relief as the end of the second quarter was called, and then tried not to wince visibly.

"Hey, fucking manager! Get the fucking moron some water."

Mamori-neesan grumbled as she turned away to rummage in her bag. "One of these days, Hiruma-kun, you’re going to learn how to actually ask a favor…"

Hiruma-san snorted, and added very quietly as Sena passed behind him, "Cold packs are in my bag in the changing room. Hurry up."

Sena smiled and bobbed a grateful nod and hurried before Mamori-neesan could finish and ask if he was all right. He also carefully kept his lips buttoned over any observations about how Hiruma-san was still protecting him from Mamori-neesan, even after she had stopped protecting him from Hiruma-san. He already hurt enough without getting shot anywhere.

The changing room was deserted, so he let himself hiss and yelp as he peeled his shirt and padding off. He couldn’t see any bruise, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, but it felt like his ribs were jabbing his kidneys with every breath.

Holding a cold pack on his lower back when it hurt to flex his arms too far was a bit of a challenge. He’d just fumbled the pack for the second time when the door opened.

"Mm. I thought so."

Sena blinked. "Shin-san." He smiled a bit wryly. "It was a very good tackle." It had just been a slightly bad landing, was all; on someone’s shoe, he thought.

"Just a cold pack won’t be enough," Shin-san told him, letting the door fall shut as he came to hand Sena a small jar. "Use this."

The scent, when Sena unscrewed the lid, was sharp and spicy and very strong. He looked up at Shin-san, tipping his head in question.

Shin-san frowned just faintly. "If you don’t play your best in the second half, winning won’t mean anything."

Which wasn’t the question Sena had meant, but was one he’d had, so he smiled and ducked his head and scooped up a fingerful of the stuff. "Thank you, Shin-san."

Spreading something on his back turned out to be even harder than holding something there. After a moment the bench creaked as Shin-san sat down behind him.

"Here."

Sena gave the jar back with a sigh of relief. It turned into a bitten-off gasp as two large fingers smoothed the salve over a lot of his lower back and briskly rubbed it in. He twitched a bit as what had to be a huge bruise twinged, but whatever was in that stuff was warm, and the warmth seemed to dissolve the knot over his kidney.

"Ah." Sena sighed out. "Oh, that’s better." Shin-san silently spread another layer over his skin and rubbed it in a bit more firmly. That seemed to find another layer of twinges and they jerked and pulled at him, drawing him taut. He kept his teeth clenched on his yelps and sighed gratefully as the heat unwound the twinges again. "Ahh… oohhhh… " Maybe the gasping for breath had made him lightheaded, or maybe it was just the pain going away, but whichever it was was just fine with him, really.

Shin

Seijuurou smiled faintly as Sena sighed, that wincing tension easing, and then blinked as Sena swayed back against his chest. Sena’s eyes were closed and his lips were parted on a slow breath, and he was rather flushed. Probably with relief from the pain; he was familiar with how that went. Seijuurou’s body was interpreting things a little differently, though, and he had to swallow in a dry throat as Sena relaxed bonelessly against him.

"Is that," he cleared his throat, "better?" He tried to find something to think about besides how slim and strong Sena’s body was against his, and how nice Sena’s bare skin felt. It didn’t work very well.

Sena opened his eyes and smiled. "Lots. Thank you." And then he blinked, and seemed to realize that he was more or less lying in Seijuurou’s arms, and shot upright, stammering. "Ah! Um, I, um, excuse me please!"

The relief was only partial, because Sena was still very close and, now that Seijuurou was thinking of it, he had an even better view of how sleek and taut Sena’s body had gotten. He tried again to think calming thoughts, like training and football technique, and found himself thinking of new tackles he might try on Sena.

That wasn’t helping.

The door flew open to a firm kick and Hiruma looked in. "Hey, aren’t you done yet?" His brows rose as he took in who all was present.

Sena smiled brightly. "All finished, Hiruma-san! Shin-san was very kind and helped out. I’m fine now!"

Hiruma’s brows rose further as he eyed the two of them. "Right, then. Get going." A corner of his mouth curled up as he looked at Seijuurou. "As for you. I said I’d bring him to you. I didn’t say you could have him."

Seijuurou rose silently and strode out of the room as well as he was able at the moment, trying not to pay any attention to Hiruma’s wicked laugh and just be grateful for Sena’s look of total incomprehension.

There had better be time for a cold shower before halftime was over.

 

End

Run Down the Night Corridor

This was clearly not Satoshi’s night.

Dark had gotten the pendant he came for, which didn’t surprise Satoshi at all, and Satoshi had stayed right on his escape trail this time. He’d found out that all that meant was that all the traps Dark set off came that much closer to catching Satoshi himself.

And now both of them lay on the floor of the museum attic, panting, having scrambled past what was left of the stair up, and Satoshi would pounce on Dark any minute now, really, just as soon as he got his breath back.

"You’d make a great thief, you know," Dark laughed, gasping. "How about it, Commander?"

"Of course I would," Satoshi grunted, levering himself up. "But that wouldn’t get me what I want."

For a moment Dark’s smile lost its brashness and turned old and inhuman. "What do you want?"

"Peace."

He really must be more tired than he’d thought, Satoshi told himself a moment later, to let that answer be startled out of him. He looked away, at the stacks of old frames and the light glinting on broken display cases.

It was Dark’s sigh that pulled his head back around. Dark was fishing in his pocket and Satoshi tensed when he held up the pendant he’d stolen, expecting Dark to do something typically irritating like throw it out the window. Instead Dark murmured softly to it. Satoshi caught only the German for "sleep" and "time".

And then Dark strolled over and tossed the chain over his head.

"What…?"

"It won’t last long," Dark interrupted. "Probably not more than a day and a night. But it should put Krad to sleep for a little while."

Satoshi’s eyes widened. It shouldn’t be possible to use the pendant that way. This was stretching even Dark’s ability to sweet-talk other artwork. But he could feel the tension, the ache of holding off those white wings, subsiding.

This time when he spoke it was a whisper. "Why?"

Dark’s mouth quirked. "Your family didn’t make me to have mercy. You probably know that better than most. But," he shrugged, "three hundred years dealing with Niwas and their idiot chivalry will do things to a man."

Satoshi couldn’t quite stifle a snort of laughter. One year of dealing with a Niwa, not to mention Dark, had certainly done things to him. He wasn’t sure which of them he had more sympathy for.

"Hmmmm."

Dark was looking at him, now, with a rather worrying light in his eye.

"I wonder…"

Satoshi was hard put not to gape as Dark’s fingers closed on his chin. "What do you think you’re doing?"

"There are a lot of different kinds of peace, you know." Dark grinned.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Satoshi tried to step back, but Dark’s hand on his lower back stopped him.

"Krad’s asleep," Dark pointed out. "You won’t get many chances like this, you know."

"I trust not," Satoshi returned in his iciest tone. It was going to be difficult to extricate himself, though, given how worn out he was from the chase and how warm Dark’s hands were.

…he had not just thought that.

It was true, Dark was warm, but they’d just been running all over a building, surely that wasn’t any surprise. And warmth was dangerous, it brought Krad out.

Of course, Krad really did seem to be sleeping right now.

And Dark’s hands on his back were gentle, careful not to touch his shoulder blades, where he was always sore these days.

Satoshi wanted badly to pound his head on Dark’s shoulder a few times. Since Dark’s hand was cupping his head and Dark’s mouth was on his—and how had he managed that?—Satoshi could only make a soft, confused sound.

"It’s been tried you know," Dark murmured against his mouth. "Coldness. In three hundred years, everything’s been tried at least twice. It never works. So why not take this while you can have it?" He chuckled. "I’ve lived by that for centuries."

"I noticed." It was less repressive and more husky than Satoshi had quite intended.

"Oh come on. You’re Hikari. I’m an artwork. What’s strange about you taking pleasure from me?"

Satoshi jerked back, at that. "I’m not like them! I won’t be like them!" He glared at Dark, hands pushing against his chest.

Dark didn’t let go. "I know." His mouth tilted. "I’m offering."

Satoshi relaxed warily, because Dark’s smile was old and strange again. He admitted, it was… tempting. To know warmth for just a little while.

And Krad already wanted to kill Dark; it wasn’t as though he could put Dark in any more danger.

Dark drew him back and kissed him again, and Satoshi let him. Dark made a pleased sound and Satoshi hmphed at him, but he did relax with Dark’s hands when they kneaded over his lower back. It felt good.

He wondered how long it had been since he last felt good in his body.

His hands tightened in Dark’s shirt when Dark’s fingers flicked down the buttons of his own. He didn’t really know where this was going, and he wasn’t used to that.

"Easy," Dark murmured against his ear. "I know what I’m doing."

"That," Satoshi managed without sounding too breathless, "is what worries me."

Dark just laughed and lifted Satoshi’s shirt off his shoulders. At Satoshi’s sharp look, he grinned and obligingly stripped off his own, tossing it over the nearest worn picture frame. His hands felt different on bare skin and his skin felt different under Satoshi’s hands and it was all very distracting. Satoshi was distantly pleased when Dark casually kicked over a stack of display drapes and eased him down into the muddle of plush and velveteen. At least he didn’t have to concentrate on standing upright anymore.

He swallowed a sharp gasp as Dark’s mouth moved down his throat and over his chest. "Ahh—" Dark made a smug sound, though it softened when Satoshi’s hands closed hard on his shoulders.

"Easy, there, Commander." The teasing voice was soothing now. "It’s just feeling. It won’t hurt you."

Satoshi’s laugh was harsh. "Shows what you know." Dark’s hands rubbed gently over his lower back, thumbs stroking Satoshi’s ribs.

"For tonight, it won’t hurt you." A grin crept back into Dark’s voice. "Come on, you know you want to put one in Krad’s eye."

Satoshi snorted softly, but he also relaxed. He supposed he should be worried by how well Dark knew him, but, really, it was old news. What was new was how careful Dark’s hands were, and how amazing the slow, wet heat of his mouth felt on Satoshi’s skin. And this was all his, something he felt with a body that belonged to no one else. He leaned back into the plush curtains with a sigh.

Dark made approving noises and his mouth slid further down over Satoshi’s stomach. Strong hands supported Satoshi as he shivered, back arching under the sensation. The lap of Dark’s tongue over his stomach made his breath catch again and again, and he was glad when Dark’s fingers undid his slacks. He might not know exactly how all this went, but he did know he wanted more.

Large, gentle hands eased his pants down off his hips and Satoshi’s fingers dug into Dark’s shoulders as Dark’s lips brushed low over his stomach. "Dark…"

"Shhh. Easy." Dark’s voice had softened to velvet in the light-striped darkness. "It’s all right."

Satoshi was dizzy with sensation, with how right and wrong this was, and he couldn’t find the words to say exactly how. And then he couldn’t find words at all, because soft heat was surrounding his cock, slow and wet.

He was breathing in long gasps, when he remembered to breathe, and he was distantly grateful for Dark’s hands, curved around his rear and back. He knew how to deal with pain. Pleasure was stranger and more difficult.

"Mmmm." Dark’s lips slid slowly up his length and brushed against his head when Dark spoke. "Just feel. It won’t hurt you. Not tonight."

Satoshi moaned, soft and harsh, as Dark’s mouth closed around him again and Dark’s tongue caressed him. It felt so good, so intense and immediate after years of holding his own senses off at arm’s length. So good he didn’t know if his skin could contain it all.

Even so, the end came as a shock.

Pleasure tightened fiercely around every nerve and rushed out of him in deep tremors that wracked his whole body. He thought he might have cried out; his throat felt raw. And through it all, Dark held him carefully.

Satoshi stared up at the ceiling, panting for breath as Dark delicately buttoned him back up and eeled up his body to lean over him.

Grinning, of course.

Satoshi mustered a faint sniff.

Dark laughed low in his throat and leaned down to kiss him; Satoshi blinked at how soft and light it was. "Don’t close the world out, Commander," Dark murmured in his ear. "It won’t work. Try the other way around, instead."

And then feathers brushed over Satoshi’s bare arms and Dark was gone.

After a while, Satoshi stood up and pulled his shirt back on, brushing dust off his clothes as well as he could. He would take the fire escape down to the ground again and disperse the police. He’d have to tell them Dark had taken the pendant, because explaining why he had it and why there was going to be another fight for it tomorrow night would be… complicated. He didn’t want more complication right now.

And perhaps, when he got home, just this once, he would take a long, hot bath.

Dark winged through the night, grinning. Daisuke was one huge, hot blush in the back of his mind.

I can’t believe you did that, his Tamer wailed. How am I supposed to look Hiwatari-kun in the eye ever again?!

"Well, you know, you don’t have to look him in the eye if you kiss him," Dark pointed out logically.

The blush-feeling heated up several degrees and Dark laughed. Daisuke freaked out so easily. Of course, sometimes this was a good thing; like when he needed to shock Daisuke enough that they wouldn’t transform. But it was all in a good cause.

"You know, Daisuke, for someone with such a big heart, you don’t have a lot of brain to go with it sometimes. I’m just doing my part for the happy ending."

Confusion. What?

Dark sighed. Children; the older he got the stranger this was to go through life after life. "He cares for you," he explained patiently. "You’re the one who makes him change. And you care for him, too."

More confusion. Dark rolled his eyes.

"Daisuke, track me, here. If you and your ‘holy maiden’ love each other, I sleep again and the curse waits another generation. It’s completed love that matters, right? If you and the other Tamer love each other…"

Shock vibrated through his head like a gong-stroke. But Riku…!

"Well, yeah, her too." And probably Risa if Dark was reading the situation right. Just as well; it would keep that little firecracker Riku from feeling outnumbered by the boys. Dark sighed at Daisuke’s sputtering, and repeated with heavy emphasis, "For someone with such a big heart…"

After a long silence Daisuke asked, hesitantly, Would that really work. I mean… for good?

It was Dark’s turn to be silent for a while. "You remember what I said about everything being tried twice? This hasn’t been tried."

Not successfully, anyway. He buried that thought as deep as he could.

All right. Daisuke’s determination was like a fire catching. We’ll try.

Dark’s grin turned wry. He doubted they’d have to try hard; Daisuke and the Hikari were more than halfway there already.

Hey, Dark?

"Yeah?"

I thought you didn’t like boys. When I drew that picture for you…

"What? You expect me to let a little thing like the truth to get in the way of teasing you?"

Daaaark!

 

End

Cracked from Side to Side

Daisuke chewed on the end of his brush, frowning at his painting. "It’s not right yet," he muttered to himself.

"It probably won’t ever be," Hiwatari-kun said, quietly, behind his shoulder.

Daisuke smiled up at him ruefully, not really surprised. Hiwatari-kun always seemed to know when he was in the art room. "Well, maybe not, but it can be closer than this. At least it should be closer than this." He sighed and mumbled around his brush, "Though maybe not, a Niwa trying to paint and all. I know it’s probably silly to try…"

Hiwatari-kun smiled slightly, fingers brushing the edge of the canvas. "No. You’re a true Niwa."

"But…" Daisuke looked up at him. "No Niwa has ever painted."

Hiwatari-kun snorted. "Niwas have always pursued beauty for the sake of beauty."

Daisuke thought about that, and the distant look in Hiwatari-kun’s eyes. "What do the Hikaris do?" he asked slowly.

Hiwatari-kun glanced down at him for a moment. When he spoke it wasn’t really an answer. "When you create something beautiful, it will always be for its own sake. For that reason, your art will not harm those who look on it."

"Hiwatari-kun…"

Hiwatari-kun turned away sharply. "Pride," he bit out. "The Hikaris create for pride. And for hearts and minds and souls." The line of his shoulders was bitter. "Can’t you see that reflected in our curse?"

Krad wanted people’s hearts and minds and souls, all right, Daisuke had to admit, at least Hiwatari-kun’s and Dark’s. "Is that why you don’t make art?" he asked quietly.

Hiwatari-kun bent his head silently.

"I’m sorry. That must hurt. To want to make things," Daisuke explained hastily as Hiwatari-kun’s head came up again, eyes startled, "and not be able to."

"It was a cursed gift from the start," Hiwatari-kun said, softly. "To see like this. To want like this." He turned his head to regard Daisuke’s canvas for a long moment, and the stiffness in his shoulders slowly eased. "You, though… I can watch you. Without," his mouth curved slightly, "an overwhelming urge to just do it myself."

Daisuke blinked. "I’m glad." Even if he didn’t really understand.

Hiwatari-kun, turning to leave, paused and looked over his shoulder. "Your pursuit is pure. That is its own perfection."

Daisuke thought about that, as Hiwatari-kun vanished through the door, brush tapping absently on his palette. If Krad did reflect the Hikaris, then did Dark reflect the Niwas? Beauty for the sake of beauty?

Why do you think I love so many women? Dark yawned in the back of his head.

Daisuke flushed. "Because you’re a jerk," he muttered.

Dark laughed and Daisuke picked up his brush again. He thought while he painted, though.

There was more to Dark than that.

Was there more to Krad, too? What did Krad really want?

What did any of them want?

Daisuke paused and looked at the shape he’d just brushed in on the canvas. There was a space in there that he hadn’t noticed before. An empty space, behind his winged figure. It made the composition seem… lonely.

He put down his brush and picked up his charcoal and started sketching more figures into the empty space.

 

End