Demons | By : Macx Category: Descendents of Darkness/Yami No Matsuei > General Views: 1854 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Descendants of Darkness (Yami no Matsuei), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Sinking down on the soft carpet Watari wrapped his arms around his lover,
looking up in a pair of intense blue eyes, reflecting the flicker of the
fire in the fireplace. Tatsumi’s lips met his gently; his hands slowly
ran over his body, caressing each inch before slipping under the loose
shirt.
“I just want to feel you, ‘Taka,” Tatsumi said softly.
Watari was only able to moan in compliance, as the skillful hands freed
himr sor so gently from his clothes. Being stretched out beside his equally
nude lover Watari simply enjoyed the touch of skin against skin, of hands
mapping his body slowly, as if Tatsumi hadn’t seen him before, as if he
wanted to take in every inch of him. He returned the favor, fingers mapping
the strong curve of muscle under the toned skin, the line of the ribcage,
up to the shoulder, following a collarbone to the neck and throat.
Tatsumi let himself run his fingers over his face like a blind man
would, kissing the inquisitive fingers. His own continued r slr slow caress,
strong, reassuring and gentle.
* * *
The morning after the night before.
Tatsumi watched his lover, smiling as he recalled the unrestrained
passion, but it was dampened by the lines of exhaustion, mentally as well
as physically, that were still quite visible. Watari needed to recover
from his ordeal, from the attack on his mind, and if it went by Tatsumi
he would have all the time in the world. There was no need for Watari to
push himself, to prove something he didn’t have to.
I love you just the way you are, he thought.
The blond moved sleepily and golden eyes blinked open. A smile graced
the pale lips.
“Good morning,” Tatsumi greeted him.
“Morning already?” came the semi-yawn.
“It’s nine o’clock, to be precise.”
Watari’s eyes opened wide. “What?!” he blurted and sat up.
“It’s Saturday,” Tatsumi murmured and sat down on the bed, calming
the panic. “We have all the time in the world.”
“Oh.” Brows drew down in puzzlement. “I… forgot.”
He smiled. “I figured. How do you feel?”
“In desperate need of coffee,” came the answer and Watari gave him
a grin.
“That can be arranged.”
Blue eyes still upheld the question and Watari squirmed a little. Finally
Tatsumi got up and gave his lover a look.
“I’ll make coffee.”
The blond nodded silently.
With that, Tatsumi left, giving Watari the time to get showered and
dressed.
Fifteen minutes later Watari walked into the kitchen, hair damp and
held back by a ribbon, glasses off, wearing light sweats. Without his glasses,
he usually looked a lot younger than his actual twenty-four years, the
age at which he had died prematurely. He gratefully accepted the mug of
steaming hot coffee, not really meeting Tatsumi’s eyes for very long.
“Sorry,” he murmured after a while.
“What for?” the Shadow Master inquired.
“Everything. I… kinda lost it.”
“Understandably lost it, ‘Taka.”
He winced. “Not really. I should have been able to counter the attack,
to detect the influence… to get it all undone before this culminated.”
Tatsumi frowned. “What makes you think you’re Enma-Daiou?” he demanded.
The blond head shot up, golden eyes wide, and the mouth opened, then
snapped shut again. “W…what?”
“What makes you think you have the power of Enma-Daiou? What makes
you think shinigami are immune to demonic influence?”
Watari stuttered, then fell silent. “Somehow I think I should have
been more… capable.”
“You are capable, Watari Yutaka. You are a shinigami!”
It looked like the argument from last night was flaring again, but
the younger man just sank into himself. This would take a lot more time,
Tatsumi realized. More than a night of talking and love, more than a few
gestures and touches and reassurances. What the demon had done to Watari
had been anchored deep within his soul.
“And you are worth of it,” Tatsumi said quietly. “Never doubt that.
You are one of eighteen shinigami in the service of Enma-Daiou.”
The tiny owl that had been watching them with eagle eyes hooted her
agreement.
A shudder ran through Watari and Tatsumi stepped closer.
“You are everything to me,” he went on, in a rare moment of complete
emotional openness. He needed to say this, Watari needed to hear it. “You
are my life. You know I don’t lie.”
The blond swallowed. “I know,” he whispered.
Tatsumi stood in front of the slightly smaller man and when tentative
eyes met his, he smiled openly.
“We can handle this, ‘Taka. Whatever this thing did to you, we can
handle it. Its influence will wear off.”
Watari nodded slowly. “It has already gotten weaker.”
But it had left its marks already. The shame and guilt and perceived
weakness was strong.
He touched one smooth cheek. “Don’t listen to it."
"It's hard not to."
Tatsumi met the usually so warm and lively eyes, angry at himself,
the demon and the circumstances. He could have been faster; he should have
thought of the possibility; maybe if… He pushed the thoughts aside.
Useless.
It was over and they had to deal with the consequences.
"We can do this," he murmured, as much to uplift Watari's spirit as
his own.
Tatsumi wrapped his arms around the other man, desperately needing
the contact, and Watari placed his mug aside, letting himself be drawn
in. The older shinigami buried his head in the blond mane against his lover's
neck, and held on tight. He needed as much reassurance about his lover,
of his lover, as the other man needed from him.
"Don't run," Tatsumi begged.
"I won't," Watari vowed softly.
They stayed like this for a while until Tatsumi lifted his head, meeting
the expressive eyes and seeing the familiar warmth with only a few remainders
of the nightmarish days of last week.
"Got plans?" he wanted to know.
"For the weekend?" came the playful replay. "Well, let's see, I was
actually looking forward to some peace and quiet in the lab…"
Tatsumi's frown stopped him and Watari chuckled.
"Actually, I was very much looking forward to you and me… spending
some time together."
"Me too," Tatsumi murmured and leaned down for a kiss that was readily
given. "So how about breakfast," he added when he released his lover's
mouth.
"Sounds like a plan."
Sparkles adorned the golden gaze and Tatsumi felt part of his heart
lift in joy. He knew they weren't over it, but at least it had been a start.
A s sta start.
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