All Those Threads We Weave

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.

A/N: Written for springkink. All feedback appreciated.

...

It really shouldn't be like this: in the world outside, it's raining (pouring, dripping, pattering raindrops - water falling on the ground like petals on the earth) , but he doesn't pay much attention to the sound, all senses - eyes, nose and mouth too focused on what's going on right now. His eyes can only see Doumeki: stern face, small mismatched eyes looking at him (always observing him - and only him). Just like his eyes, his nose can only perceive the odour of the other man clinging to him like an over-possessive vine, ever-curling and twisting. Mouth too - always the first to betray him - still remembers the taste of Doumeki's kiss.

He smells of aftershave, Watanuki finds himself musing idly as Doumeki presses hot lips against his neck, tender and yet not tender because he's somewhat forceful, and it is as if his lips were saying "You're mine - your skin, your flesh and blood is mine and mine only. Only I can own you."

He shouldn't shudder or make any kind of noises, yet fails miserably, falling prey to the sensations that Doumeki's awakening in him and - drowns, drowns in them like a wretch losing himself to the comforts of opium. Perhaps, he's addicted. Addicted to Doumeki's smell, sight and taste; there's no other excuse for allowing him to do this otherwise. And, if he weren't addicted, he wouldn't touch him either. His hands wouldn't tug at Doumeki's shirt - pulling and pulling- in order to urge him to do it faster (although Time is not his master, its claws still hold possession over Doumeki).

Watanuki wonders what kind of picture they make now, and whether it's erotic or not. It must be, he thinks, because - in a way - this is nearly the perfect setting for one of those sensual wood paintings: him, dressed in a kimono, surrounded by the smell of incense intermingling with all the items in the shop which harbour thousands of mysteries shelved up and down like corpses in a catacomb. It's strange how his thoughts somehow always stray to Death, and - then again - it's not strange. After all, Death is a permanent fixture on every man's mind - in the end, the curtain falls on everyone.

The sound of rain is still audible (falling even more heavily now, like thunderbolts full of ire and hatred sent from a vengeful spirit in heaven - to crush and destroy) as Doumeki fully disrobes him. If he'd been younger, Watanuki might have felt some mortification at that; however, feelings of shame have long since given way to need - it's so bad that he's trembling slightly, fingernails digging into the mattress and forehead glistening with sweat.

Damn it, Watanuki wants to say, but loses all desire for articulation as Doumeki kisses him: his lips gently pressing against Watanuki's while pining his hands down - is Doumeki that afraid of his running away?

It's not like Watanuki has got anywhere to go to.

He's losing it - falling even deeper and they haven't even done anything yet. Doumeki's kiss is too much, just too much and Watanuki - though it's not wrong - can't stop himself from putting his arms around Doumeki, nearly as if he were afraid of his leaving. Closing his eyes, Watanuki doesn't think about what this could mean - no, no - but just kisses him him back, mind desperately trying to make up contrived excuses for why he's doing this.

It's just a dream.

Still, it's too tender, too gentle. Too much a reminder of the fact that it's not a dream, but real - all too real (you can run away from dreams - store them away like fireflies in a jar - but reality always comes back to knock you hard on the face).

Why are you doing this, Doumeki?

He's glad that he doesn't have the guts to ask him that - the consequences would be too severe. Because, as long as the question remains unanswered, the lingering tension - the pretence, the cat and mouse game between them can continue. If it crashes down, there's no knowing what will happen and Watanuki is -

- no, he needs the assurance of at least their relationship not changing.

(Like a moth fighting against the dying light, we cling to the familiar, shunning anything that's bright).

His eyes snap open after Doumeki breaks the kiss and he regrets it - instantly. That idiot - the nerve of him to appear so serious about this. Watanuki detests the gaze, wants to scream and tear things in half because - he doesn't want to be reminded. Doesn't want this at all. He'll not be Doumeki's - he won't allow himself to be wrapped around Doumeki's fingers. Because it's -

Not what I really want. I promised something else. I'm not going to go back on my word.

"Just do it already, idiot," Watanuki, breaking the silence for the first time and it feels wrong (words are always wrong, always twisting and bending what one actually means).

Doumeki just smiles - Watanuki doesn't know whether he should punch him (old reflexes die hard) or be very, very afraid.

"Doumeki-" Watanuki starts as the addressed trails kisses down his chest until reaching his groin. Excitement builds up inside of him because, no matter how much he claims to hate it, he really does want Doumeki to touch him there - so much that he's aroused already and he's sure that Doumeki knows.

Just a bit and he'll feel that hot mouth around his - but that never happens. Instead, there's this sensation of teeth biting - not harshly, but teasingly - the skin of his inner thigh.

Watanuki freezes, heart beating wildly against his ribcage. He's lost all ability to speak, and - even if he could - nothing would come out of his mouth but incoherent mumbling. Because - damn it all - Doumeki is licking skin now, gently - and Watanuki should hate it, should stop him because it's - not what he needs.

(A plaything, something to help get rid of his itch, a book he can read and then store away).

But he can't ignore this, can't stifle the slight groan escaping from his lips as shivers scuttle down his spine because of Doumeki's licking: tender yet forced. Wonderful and yet awful. Selfless yet selfish.

You're mine, Doumeki makes clear as he gives the same treatment to Watanuki's other thigh, you're mine and can't run away from it - no matter how hard you try.