The Still Watch of The Night
Warnings:Spoilers. MAJOR SPOILERS to Chapitre 120 and above. Even the pairing is a spoiler.
Timeline:Unidentified. In some random universe which exists only for the sake of this fic…
Rating:R, I guess. It goes slightly further than kissing.
Summary:This time, Syaoran proves to be more cooperative, but then things get slightly out of hand.
Notes: A short and possibly strange one, but I want to write it. It mentions some things from my other fic, Burned, but you don't have to read it to understand this ficlet. I hope everyone enjoys.
Syaoran took one step back and tried to evaluate the whole situation.
Hypothetically speaking, that was. Seeing that he currently had his clone pushing him to a tree and kissing him senseless, both actions mentioned above were quite impracticable at the moment.
And it wasn't as if he had not contributed most willingly in their process of… devouring each other. Even though his mind was in a chaotic whirl, Syaoran could tell that he was kissing back and his tongue was doing things he couldn't have imagined it doing a few minutes prior. His fingers were curling around tattered fabric which wrapped the body so close to his, much too close that it almost felt like they were molding into one. The back of his head dug into hard, rough bark behind him as an involuntary moan left his mouth, yet another after so many during this small encounter of theirs.
Syaoran had lost count on how many times they had parted only to join their lips again after a second of hurried intake of breath. The feeling of his clone's mouth on his was addicting and he knew he wouldn't be getting over it anytime soon. He would be lying if he said that something like this had never occurred to him, particularly since that day in the burning village. He kept reliving the moment in his mind, behind the curtain of his dream – the kiss, the smoldering touch, the feeling that in some obscure, twisted way, he was indeed alive.
It was an irony and the most agonizing of all, that he needed his clone to convince himself that he did exist. His only consolation was the fact that the other seemed to want him as much. The hands on his body. The insistent mouth on his lips. The little, muffled sounds. The heat.
Emotionless as he was, apparently lust still stood a little higher above others. Despite how wrong it sounded, Syaoran could spare none of his attention to care, not when every drop of it was already taken by a significantly more urgent matter. Like trying to keep his voice down. Which was a nearly impossible task when his mouth was being pleasured like that. Whoever said that copies couldn't exceed their original clearly had never been kissed by his clone. For the life of him Syaoran couldn't figure out where and when the other boy had learnt how to use his lips and tongue like that. This particular skill hadn't been in his bank of knowledge before.
With all his concentration or not, Syaoran still couldn't suppress a strangled groan when the other boy's hips came in contact with his own. His eyes snapped open immediately and he pushed his twin away, the motion sharp and impulsive. For once, there was no opposition. His clone's body withdrew and they were left there staring at each other, breathing against each other's face. Syaoran swore that he had seen a ghost of emotion in those mismatched eyes – a semblance of surprise, only fainter, duller. Or maybe it was the moonlight playing tricks on him.
His hands were trembling slightly, strained muscles taut under his skin as shock spread all over his nerves like ice on sizzling fire. He had never felt anything quite like that, and from the other's reaction, he could tell that he wasn't the only one. The knowledge didn't make him feel any better. He was afraid, frustrated, because he was aching all over and he wanted more but he couldn't because the way his body reacted was frightening – the spasm, the jolt, the moan ripped off from his throat – and he had no control over it and the thought was disturbing but ohyeshewantedmore…
It was his clone who made the decision for him.
The lips returned and he was suddenly being kissed again. Roughly. Uncaringly. For a few moments, Syaoran stood there frozen, opposing sides screaming in his head, one the calm, measured voice of reason and the other low, seductive, insistent, dripping with sweet, sweet poison. But then a knee pressed between his legs and every thought of pride, caution, inhibition flew out of the window, leaving him gasping and writhing and pressing back almost desperately.
Somewhere far away, teetering between half-hearted life and eternal defeat was his losing conscience. Syaoran grasped and held onto it, before forcing himself to look at this person he had become. What he saw disgusted him. A weak, whimpering mess at his clone's mercy. Where was the fierceness, the determination to protect, to right the wrongs, to fulfill his oath. Only because of that one kiss a few weeks ago and now he was reduced to this.
"We shouldn't be doing this," he managed to say through heavy pants, eyes still squeezed shut to spare him the mortification of having to see the world laughing at him. His final attempt to save the last bits of his pride. Or the last bits of himself. The Syaoran he knew – the only Syaoran he had ever known how to be. His twin's response was a nip on the juncture of his neck and a growl that ordered him to shut up.
Syaoran found himself obeying. It was easier to surrender. It had always been. What he had just discovered was how good it also felt. Dumping his responsibilities, down to the last specks of them, to a trash bin somewhere and forgetting about them. Only the 'now' mattered, those lips, hands, the hard trunk behind him, how good the other boy was making him feel with his slow, almost methodical grinding.
Syaoran had never considered himself pathetic, but there was no other word that could describe him right now. Pathetic. His body hummed with want, with need. The kind that made him beg, whimper, plea, and only want more and more. His hips arched forward and he threw his head back when the clone gave him the friction he sought, again and again, faster and harder. His throat was eliciting sounds he didn't know existed and right now didn't care. He felt like he would explode. His entire world narrowed into this frenzied rhythm and sweet, agonizing pleasure. There was only him and this hot, hard body pressed against his. No feathers of memories to chase all over the different dimensions. No Clow Reed. No evil uncles with evil intentions to take over the world. Only him and this person who made him feel, breathe, alive.
His heart felt like it had plummeted into the pit of his stomach. Syaoran quite literally wrenched himself away from the clone once the shout had registered in his mind. In that frantic hurry, he lost his coordination and fell to the grass-carpeted ground. There was a hand holding his upper arm and his twin's mismatched eyes were dark, boring into him when he looked up. Syaoran felt his mouth going dry. The insistent throbbing between his legs intensified and for a split of a second, he wanted nothing more than to press the other boy against the damn tree and continue what they had been doing.
For some reason, the idea terrified him. He scrambled to his feet and pulled away, running as fast as he could from his clone and his dark eyes and the grim shadow of the trees along with the nightmare they had carried. His heart was hammering violently in his chest as he climbed up the slope, back to the small road he had steered out from earlier. Kurogane was standing at the other side of the road, looking enormously pissed off, red eyes glaring and hands fisted tightly on his side.
"Where the hell have you been?"
"I…" Syaoran started but couldn't think of any lie to concoct. He was shaking so badly and he still could feel his twin's body against his. At least it was dark. He couldn't imagine how he must look right now.
"You're all right?" The question sounded anything but concerned, but the hand on his shoulder spoke otherwise. Syaoran was torn between being grateful and panicked and the fact that he still couldn't think straight was definitely not helping.
"Yes," he forced himself to nod, his voice harsh and strangely shrill. "It's just… I ran all the way here when I heard Kurogane-san's voice."
He couldn't tell if the older man bought it or not – technically it wasn't a lie – but the subject was dropped and it was all that mattered to him. A muted sigh escaped his lips when Kurogane finally took his eyes off him.
"We should go back. We'll continue our search tomorrow morning."
He gave a very slight nod and the ninja turned around, walking with fast, long strides to the other direction. Syaoran knew that he should follow but couldn't resist a glance toward the cluster of trees on his left. He could feel it. Somewhere in the shadow his clone was still watching him.
The thought sent a shiver down his spine and he looked away. He didn't want to think about what had happened, or what would happen when they met again. But even as his feet trailed after Kurogane's distancing footsteps, he knew that there was no escape. His clone would haunt him forever. Like always. In reality. In dreams. In between.
Because in the end, they were one.
I couldn't resist. I just had to make Kurogane interrupt them. If I manage to frustrate anyone (except Syaoran, that is), do tell.