Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Angel's Fall

Chapter 1

"Got a light?"

Fuuma’s light tone was at odds with the way his eyes bore into Subaru’s as he raised the unlit cigarette to his lips. Wordlessly, the onmyouji took the lighter out of his pocket.

Fuuma propped himself up a little against the bed’s headboard, but he made no real attempt to meet Subaru halfway as the onmyouji leaned over him to light the cigarette resting easily on his lips.

"I wasn’t sure if you’d actually come in here or not," the young man admitted as he exhaled the first drag of smoke. They were facing each other now, Subaru sitting at an angle on the bed, Fuuma sitting up just enough to make smoking easier.

"Is the dark Kamui actually admitting to an insecurity?" Subaru asked, amused despite himself.

Fuuma smiled smugly. "Of course not. I know you /wanted/ to. I just wasn’t sure you’d allow yourself to do it."

Subaru didn’t bother to deny that. Fuuma was obviously aware of his attraction to him, and Subaru wasn’t really prepared to examine it just now. And as for why he had come in, he didn’t know what Fuuma was up to, but he had to admit he wanted to find out.

"What would you have done if I hadn’t?" he asked finally.

Fuuma held his gaze for a moment.

"Jacked off and gone to sleep." He finally answered with a slight shrug. He let his head fall back, exposing his throat as he closed his eyes. "I’m glad you did, though. I wanted a smoke."

There was silence for a moment as Fuuma parted his lips and exhaled a second long, thin trail of cigarette smoke. His eyes remained closed and for a moment it seemed that he had dismissed Subaru’s presence at the side of the bed. When he spoke again, his voice came out almost a purr.

"Besides…" he opened his eyes and fixed Subaru with a shockingly direct gaze. "I thought you might like to watch."

Fuuma let the words hang in the air for an instant before sliding his own right hand down across his stomach in a languorously slow motion. His smile widened as his hand disappeared beneath the sheet barely covering his hips. He shifted slightly, like a cat stretching in the sun. Subaru could just see the motions of Fuuma’s hand reflected in the muscles of his wrist and lower arm. The air in the room began to thicken with the sound of increasingly heavy breathing.

Fuuma let out something suspiciously like a moan.

"He liked to watch." He said, his voice, though husky, was still amused. And the words still grated on Subaru’s ears. He knew who Fuuma meant. "Did he ever watch /you/ do this?"

"That’s none of your concern." Subaru was annoyed at the raw quality in his voice. He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away from Fuuma’s and purposely avoiding whatever was going on beneath the sheet. His eyes landed on the cigarette still between Fuuma’s lips.

"Maybe you were too /nice/ a boy back then…"

Fuuma’s unoccupied hand was on Subaru’s leg now, just above his knee. Subaru ignored it. He concentrated on the cigarette.

"But now? Would you have liked to entertain him?" His left hand kneaded its way further up Subaru’s leg, towards the inside of his thigh. "The way I’m entertaining you."

Slowly and deliberately, Subaru reached out and took the cigarette from Fuuma’s mouth. Fuuma attempted to nip at his fingers. The onmyouji raised the cigarette to his own lips, ignoring the slightly fevered light in Fuuma’s eyes as he looked at him. The smoke filled his lungs, and he felt his muscles relaxing.

"Do you miss him?" Fuuma’s hand passed lightly over Subaru’s crotch, nothing more than a teasing tickle through cloth. They were sitting close enough so that Fuuma didn’t have to alter his position against the headboard to reach the waist of Subaru’s pants. He slid cool, long fingers between the fabric and the onmyouji’s bare skin. Subaru lifted the cigarette to his lips for a second drag, and Fuuma chuckled slightly. He withdrew his hand and settled instead on undoing the button of the pants and sliding the zipper down. Perhaps it was that he was doing it one-handed, or perhaps it was merely staged clumsiness, but the process took quite a bit longer than one might have expected. By the time Subaru’s pants were open, Fuuma had somehow managed to "accidentally" rub his hand against Subaru enough to partially arouse him.

"I miss him." Fuuma continued. The sheet covering his hips barely managed to remain in place as his right hand moved more vigorously. Fuuma’s half-lidded gaze caught his, Subaru realized it was impossible for him to look away from those eyes.

"I used to love the way he fucked me."

The words escaped from Fuuma’s lips in a slow, sensual drawl, but their meaning, leaving behind veiled taunts, hit Subaru like a kick in the stomach. He drew in a sharp breath as Fuuma wrapped his fingers around his partly aroused length. Fuuma squeezed briefly, then loosened his hold as he slid his hand lazily up and down Subaru’s shaft.

Fuuma shifted position slightly again, raising his hips a bit. The movement succeeded in finally dislodging the sheet draped over him. Very deliberately, he looked away from Subaru’s mismatched eyes, letting his own stray down towards his right hand. The smile played on his lips as he ground two fingers against the base of his shaft, sure that Subaru’s eyes had followed his. He bent his knees and spread his legs, his movements slow and graceful, meant to trap an observer’s attention. Subaru’s attention in this case.

With a last, lingering caress, Fuuma withdrew his hand from Subaru’s lap. Subaru raised the half-forgotten cigarette to his lips once again, it helped steady his nerves. His eyes were once again impassive when he looked up into Fuuma’s face. As if he had been waiting for their gazes to meet, Fuuma chose that moment to lift his left hand to his mouth. Without ever letting up the attentions on his own erection, Fuuma proceeded to lick and suckle each of his fingers. His eyes, clear and feral, remained locked on the onmyouji’s as he reached again for Subaru’s cock. This time however, he didn’t wrap his entire hand around it or stroked it. He simply rubbed his the tips of his middle and index fingers, slick with saliva, over Subaru’s tip in a maddeningly slow motion.

Subaru continued to hold the now-forgotten cigarette between his fingers as it slowly burned towards the filter. Fuuma continued to rub his fingers against his tip, every once in a while he would caress more of Subaru’s length, but it was never more than teasing, and the pleasure it brought was also agonizing in what it denied. Subaru wanted to close his eyes, whether in an attempt to shut out the sensations or to be lost in them, he didn’t really know, but all the same, he found that he couldn’t. Fuuma’s hips were beginning to sway rhythmically, rising and falling, pushing back against the motions of his hand. Every movement he made was charged to bursting with the over-powering eroticism that was always hinted at by even his most casual actions. The sensuousness came naturally to him, as if it were inscribed in his flesh. And yet, even as Fuuma allowed sensations and pleasure to sweep him their wake, there was an obvious self-awareness in the way he touched himself, a precise and tantalizing quality to the way his long fingers encircled his own erection. The almost studied abandon to how he began to thrust slowly into his hand, made it achingly clear that the young man was indulging himself in a spectacle solely for the Sumeragi’s benefit.

The purpose of the show, however, was not pleasure.

Pleasure was a means to an end, and the end was just as much as taunt as any of Fuuma’s carefully studied impertinence. Fuuma allowed Subaru to see him inexorably and obviously approaching orgasm, but he denied Subaru his own release even as he gave the older man a tantalizing taste of it.

The fingers teasing the onmyouji into further arousal were too knowing, too deliberate. The pleasure they brought was too carefully contained, just enough to make Subaru grip the sheets until his knuckles hurt and make him bite his lips to keep from moaning, but not enough to satisfy the hunger they awoke. Subaru could feel the pressure building, he could feel it begin to escape painfully under Fuuma’s attentions, but he knew that this would give him no release. The smile tugging at Fuuma’s mouth, the dark fire in the golden eyes as they met his again, told him that Fuuma knew it too.

"He never... let me... play like this for long..." The words escaped Fuuma’s lips amidst low moans, they /were/ half moans themselves. The young man ran his tongue over his lips, his breathing was fast and somewhat harsh as his rubbed his palm over the wetness that had begun to escape Subaru’s cock. He grasped the erection in a somewhat loose hold and began to slide his slick hand up and down the onmyouji’s length. Subaru found himself straining not to react, but his hips thrust into Fuuma’s hand of their accord. And yet, it was not enough. Fuuma’s hand was too slow, too lazy; his hold was just a tad too loose. It was obvious that the reason was not a lack of experience or knowledge, but quite the opposite.

Fuuma was quite skillfully bringing Subaru to a razor-sharp precipice, while never really pulling him over the edge.

Fuuma’s half-closed eyes were still on Subaru, but they no longer seemed a feline’s clear and sharp gaze. They glazed now, shinning feverishly as his head fall back slowly, his breathing harsh and fast. With fleeting clarity, Subaru wondered how it was possible for Fuuma, so obviously close to orgasm, to retain enough control over himself to not falter or loose control of the hand teasing /his/ erection so precisely.

"By now... he would have slapped my hand away... he would be inside me... fucking me so hard that I’d forget how to do anything but scream his name..."

Fuuma’s eyes finally closed, his breath came in loud gasps; he separated his knees even more, straightening his legs out before him, the muscles of his lean stomach tightened convulsively. Subaru found that his mouth was suddenly dry, he couldn’t tear his eye from the spectacle of Fuuma, moving as he really /was/ writhing under an unseen lover.

"Oh... god... Subaru... don’t you want to... fuck me... " Fuuma arched his back, his right hand pumping even harder on himself even as the hand on Subaru’s cock finally slipped out of control. He squeezed the older man’s erection more out of reflex than anything else, his hand finally rougher and faster. Fuuma’s touch was no longer a sensuous taunt, but now it was too out of control and sloppy to do Subaru any more good than before.

"...The way Seishirou..." Fuuma’s skin glistened with sweat as his body strained and arched. "...would /fuck/ us both..." His voice caught for second, and then Fuuma gasped and let out a moan that became a scream as he finally came and lost all control, semen spilling over his hand an onto the visibly convulsing muscles of his stomach.

It was almost enough to make Subaru come as well.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It seemed like a very long time since Subaru had felt anything like this, and his automatic reaction was to shield himself from it, to resist. Fuuma’s hand had gone slack on his erection and he found himself shaking far too much to finish himself off. Instead, he took several deep breaths to steady himself. The cigarette had burned itself out in his hand some while ago, so he light himself a new one, closing his eyes as he raised it to his mouth. After a few drags he found some measure of control and his breathing eased somewhat.

He was still, however, painfully hard.

Subaru closed his eyes. In the silence, he realized that Fuuma must be recovering from his orgasm, for /his/ breathing had eased somehow. As if to confirm it, the younger man’s hand stirred in Subaru’s lap, the fingers grazing fleetingly over Subaru’s length, as if he was merely checking that it was still aroused. Fuuma’s laughed then, a low, delighted laugh breaking the silence.

"The cigarette is usually for /after/ you’re done, Subaru-kun." Fuuma’s voice had reverted to his usual slow, taunting drawl.

"Forgive me for assuming you had no interest in finishing what you started." Subaru’s voice too, was no different from usual, just as cold and emotionless as ever.

Fuuma grinned at him. "Depends entirely on what you wish, Subaru."

Subaru didn’t answer. He wasn’t about to /ask/ Fuuma to finish, afterall. He held out the pack of cigarettes to the younger man.

"Ah, no thanks, I don’t really feel like it yet. Smoking hand’s all sticky. Should clean it off first."

Fuuma held Subaru’s gaze for a moment, his eyes sparkling with amusement. After a moment he brought his right hand to his lips, pausing for a moment to allow what he meant to do to sink in. He began to lick his hand free of semen. For some reason, Subaru thought of a cat grooming itself. An extremely smug cat. Fuuma’s eyes held his the entire time, and his left hand, still on Subaru’s lap, began to wander. His hand glided down over Subaru’s shaft, pausing to fondle his balls for a moment or so, pushing them lightly up against the older man’s erection, before moving on to rubbing small circles into the skin directly below them. Subaru was somewhat startled when he heard a moan escape his own lips.

"Enjoying yourself?" Fuuma paused in the act of licking the palm of his hand. He grinned wickedly as an idea struck him.

He sat up, reaching out to rub the fingers of his right hand on Subaru’s lips. It was no more than a fleeting caress, which continued over Subaru’s cheek and down towards the nape of his neck. Fuuma began to draw Subaru’s face towards his slowly.

"You’d like a taste of me wouldn’t you?" He murmured as their faces were barely an inch apart, but making no effort to close the distance.

They remained like that for a few moments, barely breathing, poised on the brink of a kiss. Until Subaru turned his face and pulled away.

Fuuma laughed and let go of his neck. His other hand, however, continued what it had been doing all along. Fuuma’s fingers were back to teasing and fondling Subaru’s erection.

"How very disappointing." He murmured in amusement.

"I thought whores didn’t kiss on the lips" Subaru answered coldly.

Fuuma shrugged, unfazed. "It depends. You let /him/ kiss you, didn’t you?"

"Well, you’re not Seishirou-san." He answered, ignoring the many insulting ways to interpret Fuuma’s comment.

"Oh, I didn’t mean /him/ this time. I meant /another/ little whore." There was an unspoken, dark challenge in Fuuma’s golden eyes now. Subaru stared back levelly for an instant.

"You aren’t Kamui either, /Fuuma/." He answered in as cold and contemptuous a voice as possible. "You’re just sick."

Fuuma’s eyes flashed angrily at the mention of his name, but it subsided quickly, and he let out a taunting laugh.

"Oh, /I/ am sick?" He gave Subaru’s erection one last tantalizing caress, running his finger over Subaru’s tip before withdrawing his hand. "Fine then. Have it your way."

In one smooth motion, Fuuma got to his feet. He slid into his pants gracefully, making as much a spectacle of that as from anything else. He then picked up the rest of his clothes and headed for the door. He didn’t look back at Subaru until he was past the threshold, the usual smirk plain on his lips.

"I’m glad you know what you want. Sakurazukamori."

He left without waiting for an answer.