Work Text:
–
wait down by the stream,
how sweet it will seem.
once more just to dream,
In the moonlight.
–
“ I’ve caught you, Kaedehara Kazuha. ”
Heizou’s voice is intolerably breathy. Husky, yet in that same fluid show it always was. Tainted, lightly, by the tension-filled atmosphere. His imagination runs rampant, sparks of electric touch cascading and shooting up and down his arms.
He’s panting. Composure shackled from their previous duel, if not an encounter he’d never experience again. A sheen of sweat masks over his skin, moonglow passing across and caught within it.
The same pale, moonlit arms that cage a certain ronin within their grasp. Serving as a clasp, muscle rippling as he tightens his hold around Kazuha’s wrists. The latter of which gives a low, humored laugh as he shuffles under the friction.
“You did, didn’t you Shikanoin?” Is his muffled reply, frame pressed into emerald-hued undergrowth. The white-haired man flexes his fingers, relieved to find their freedom evident from an otherwise pinned position. Cardinal red hair drifts around the detective’s shoulders, teasing and tickling at the back of Kazuha’s neck as Heizou lowers down. He reaches into his pocket, a faint ring of the shackles in said pocket chiming at the motion.
Ah?
He raises his hands, his expression more than eager as he reaches across the young body near his lap. A hand rests upon Kazuha’s hip, the only solid thing keeping him from a plummeting, fiery force as he adjusts the man onto the twirled tree just behind him.
Kazuha closes his eyes, the sensation of the forest spirals against his back lulling him into a gentle, trance-like state. A sensation akin to floating. And there he stays until the sound of the handcuffs being attached breaks through. The feeling that he has had was stolen from him by his own imagination.
There is, of course, a red-haired figure with a soft face and a strong jaw. He leans in, placing a firm hand on Kazuha’s shoulder. A smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, eyes alight with mischievous intent as he looks over at the young ronin. A casting, peridot-toned gaze that twinkles in a veiled mix of admiration and frisk. Frivolous, almost, as Heizou presses a warm kiss to the surface of Kazuha’s lips.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, detective?” The samurai sighs, puff of breath ghosting over the surface of glossed lips. There’s a click of the handcuffs fully snapping into place, interrupting the windsong for a brisk moment.
“I can’t deny the appeal, can I? Just look at you, all tied up. But I like you so much more when you’re this way.” A sigh that is half serious, half sad. “I want to feel you like this, Kazuha. This is what I want. To feel your heat; to feel the wind against my skin, the smell of your blood in my mouth.” Heizou stops to think on his words for a moment, consideration laden over his expression before it dips into a look ever so slightly melancholic. “I missed you.”
Kazuha grins, mellow, yet a genuine one. The feeling of butterflies blooms in Heizou’s gut as he leans in and draws his lips over the other man’s. An indulgent, firm kiss that lingers a few moments, leaving a clement taste in the air as their lips part. And there it is. The air itself is like the first day of spring, fresh and fragrant and filled with sunshine.
The sun is nowhere to be seen, yet neither is the darkness in his mind. Nothing but the warmth of the day before him, in the form of Kazuha. The air is crisp and bright and just humid enough to keep the chill away. And they both sign in such a way as to sound like the ballad of a lullaby. A sweet song that the wind hums through the leaves, the scent of fresh grass and new blossoms.
“I missed you as well. I always have.”
The samurai pulls back and looks down, his mouth pressed into a line of pure, soft satisfaction. And there it is. The glistening of tears. A tear, that of a young, tired man. Kazuha’s expression is pained, an expression of loss as it dips down into faint sorrow. Just for a minute.
“I thought you didn’t do feelings, Kazuha.” Heizou gives the man a coy glance as he leans over him and against the tree they sit by.
“I guess it’s all I have to offer you right now.” Kazuha’s eyes are slightly hazy as the two of them sit there, listening to a sonnet of the flux-air, only accompanied by river-stream. Their words hang in the air like a mist. Heizou is strong, rough-edged and deft, yet apt with the tips of his fingers. Kazuha’s own are supple, nimble and strong in their own right. Yet, they remain locked behind his back. One hand reaches up to touch a lock of Kazuha’s hair, the other tracing across his jawline. As if marking his skin, in the same manner one would brand a territory, the detective’s hands draw lazy patterns over each dipping crevice and note of the moonlit ronin’s skin.
“You’ve been trying so hard to hide from me these last few weeks. Don’t . You can trust me.” The one word is said with a firmness to it, moreso cold in disposition than Kazuha expected. He knows that Heizou is going to find him again like this, someday. At some point, in some way, he is going to get lost in those viridescent eyes. He knows that.
“I have been looking for you for an eternity’s end, Kaedehara Kazuha. I don’t want you to disappear again. I don’t want to scare you by stealing away this freedom you so crave, whatever that means.” The redhead dips his head down so that his lips may meet at the edge of Kazuha’s collarbone, peppering and tempering its texture with want.
“You don’t scare me away, Heizou. Not at all. I would run back to you if I could. Always. ” The albino’s response is delayed after the prolonged exhale he gives at the touch, sanguine gaze fluttering open from where it had narrowed shut just a moment prior. “But- hm, you know I can’t give this away. My liberty.”
Heizou is quiet for a deep moment. A deep, sonorous sound of the breeze’s cry in evanesce.
“So, you’ll just keep running is what I’m getting.” A slight feeling of irritation rises in the detective’s voice, covering a usually composed tone with its silent shade of red.
“Yes. That’s what I am saying.” Kazuha tilts his head backwards, biting his lip for a second as he’s reminded of the handcuffs behind him. He wishes that they would disconnect for a moment, if only just a moment, so that he could embrace the upset boy in front of him. Heizou doesn’t deserve this. Nobody deserves this, and yet he can’t quite ignore this indulgence. It’s a permanent, perpetual emotion that he can’t cast aside. He needs it.
“Then,” Heizou drawls, a servile smile replacing the frown on his lips, “I will continue to chase after you everytime.” And then he bites. It elicits a strangled, shocked groan from Kazuha as Heizou’s teeth trail up and down his neck. As if he’s painting him, like a masterpiece within an estranged gallery.
Heizou kisses him again, this time more pliant, lingering on Kazuha’s skin. A tongue to the side of his ear, the tip tracing a line down his jaw. The air is electric around them. A breeze of cool air touches the back of Kazuha’s neck, his skin aflame, as if he’s going to burn from within. The taste is like summer. Summer, and strawberries, and sunlight. A taste he craves. It is a bitter taste, simultaneously, the taste of his own sorrows. And when Heizou bites, it is a sensation that he hasn’t felt in a long time.
And all the while, there is the voice of the wind. Chanting and carrying the weight of a hundred words in its chorus.
“I will always find you, Kazuha.”
A sigh of relief, one of both pleasure and a tiredness of heart, as Heizou’s hand finds the samurai’s thigh and holds it tightly.
“I always go back to the sea…and I always return. I am a man of the ocean, Heizou. Back and forth, like an ebbing tide. I am a man of wanderlust. A vagabond.” Kazuha quivers for a second, meeting the solid sage and olive of Heizou’s stare head-on. His own is cautious, nebulous cerise orbs illuminated by the milk-white of the moonlight.
“But tonight, you’re a man of mine.” Heizou almost whispers, his voice so reverent as he surges forth to meet Kazuha’s lips with fervor. Ardor, for this affection. And Kazuha can tell that he’s been waiting for this, far too long, and that perhaps it may be the last. In fact, every kiss they shared was to be read like it. Like this could be their last, at any moment.
The zephyr once again blows through the branches overhead, soft as the wings of a kite that has flown over them. Heizou’s expression is almost serene as he looks down at Kazuha. Gone is the tension and annoyance he felt minutes prior, replaced with a deep calm. One of peace and comfort. One of hiraeth. Like Kazuha is his home. One that he longs for.
A trail of saliva webs from where they part, only to be intercepted when once more Heizou greedily takes Kazuha’s lips into his own. They can both feel almost everything about one another, save for Kazuha’s wrists kept behind his frame. The gale intertwines around them, streaming across a Narukami landscape.
Kazuha hums with the sound of rustling leaves and chirping birds. He kisses Heizou. Light as a feather, like ferns brushing against a pane of glass. The sound that the two of them make is another such ballad. A soft melody of sighs and moans. It is an unspoken promise and a truth that lies dormant beneath their skins. It is a feeling that Heizou knows better than any. In that moment, he has found peace.
Kazuha is a good samurai. He is kind and brave, and has always deserved the mantle of the title of the sword. But he has never been a warrior in the manner of his father. He has never trained in the same way, or experienced the same discipline. He loves flowers and butterflies, and the gentle warmth of the sun’s rays.
Heizou has seen this world for what it is, he’s not foolish. And as such, he will always understand. He knows that Kazuha is the blade that will never break, the sword that will always be sharp. The shadow of his sashimono will forever follow the ronin, as long as he lives.
“I love you , Kazuha.”
Kazuha’s eyes meet Heizou’s, and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. He leans in, just enough to catch him again, just enough for them to linger. Their two tongues dance with each other. Vermillion striking against emerald. He holds Kazuha’s breath in his lungs. A breath taken from his very soul, if he would admit it. Fleeting.
A timid draft, a breeze that carries the sweet scent of leaves and wildflowers. A final note of a beautiful tune echoes in the night. A lullaby for the dying light.
Kazuha can feel the danger, being in the open, as such a location is the one that is the harbinger of death. For as long as he has known this feeling, there is always the hint of regret. And yet, he still embraces it.
As he reminisces on the transpirement, there’s a wave of sudden pleasure that rocks through him. It’s from his lower half, eyes shot wide open as Heizou grinds down onto his lap with a simple utterance;
“Eyes on me, loverboy.”
His face hardens, his eyes turn towards his lover, and his mind is suddenly awash in green . Shamrock and chartreuse, so rich in color that the world becomes more vibrant, deeper, and more sensual. He’s the sun, he’s the warm earth, and he’s this world, and everything that exists. They are as one.
The world fades away, the scent of the forest, the wind in his ear, the sound of their own bodies. It’s all as one, and Kazuha’s voice is now just a voice. His body is a body. His mind is a mind. A single, complete, whole thing.
There is no fear, and no hesitation. There is no one else. And at that moment, there’s just the two of them. The moment they are now is the moment of their lives. And their existence as one is all that exists. Nothing else. And it is the truest that exists in this world.
They are the first, and the last.
When the fire of all things has burned and died, only they remain.
That moment of bliss is brief, too, soon ending in the way of dreams, and their two lips part. To the left, then to the right, the tempest racing past them. Like a wave over a sandy beach, it washes the sweat of their skin in a cool, serene breeze. The sounds of the night surround them. A night of stars, and a moon that is nearly full. And Heizou’s smile. A smirk that is as much of happiness as his eyes are of fields of green.
He is Kazuha’s, so close, so familiar. And yet so much like a stranger.
The wind carries their words like a flock of birds flying overhead. The warmth and softness of a night full of hope and dreams.
But he knows that this is it. For a while, because, oh, it could never stay.
“I wish to be one with you. Just for tonight. To feel the inside of you.”
Heizou’s face is beautiful when it flushes that divine peach, Kazuha notes, and those harlequin green eyes glisten and shine with anticipation. With appreciation, breath still shackled and heaving in and out of his chest.
“Okay.” Comes his excited, breathless reply. “ Okay.” It rings through Kazuha’s ears again, this time more ushered as the detective knees at the space between the other’s legs in a way that hitches his low moan. “Just one rule, Kazuha.”
“And what is this rule, detective?” The white-haired boy’s eyebrow quirks in curiosity, not very expressive apart from the simple and placid look he typically carried. He admits he wants to know. What, really, could Heizou ask from him? Ask from him, that was more than this?
“ No touching.” Heizou’s voice responds as if a murmur, directed towards Kazuha’s ears in a way that makes the skin there scald and burn ever more brighter. He reaches down, pecking a kiss to his lips only to tighten the handcuffs coiled around Kazuha’s wrists.
Fuck.
"We really should do this again, someday. A proper date with a proper everything. That way, you can go as wild as you want with me, and we can play around with the handcuffs as much as we want." It won’t. And Kazuha knows it won’t, not in the way the two of them hoped it would. It can’t ever be like the way they wish it would be. Maybe in another life.
"If you'd like. It'd be my pleasure." The detective adds, in response to the flush in Kazuha's face. And he knows just what he has to say to convince him. The thought of this, again, no matter how surreal gets Kazuha just as worked up. It is very much appealing.
And the thought of Heizou’s hand on him, of being with him in such a way, is enough to drive the ronin mad with curiosity, and need. If he could, he would be just as wild with his love for him.
Heizou moves lower, to his knees once more, his mouth leaving Kazuha’s ear. To his hair, to his neck, and down his collarbone. As if worshipping and devouring the boy in front of him with this devout feeling. A feeling of love.
Beneath him, Kazuha’s breathing deepens, and his pulse rises, a small but firm throb in his throat.
But Kazuha's not so sure that he wants to. He can't leave. Not now, not yet.
The detective is going to start making that impossible dream into a reality. The very air is filled with the scent of it. The scent of sweet and gentle longing, of something unyielding, and unshakable, and true.
Heizou is working him over now, and Kazuha feels himself rising against Heizou's hand at his side. He arches his back up, and closes his eyes. The flecks of colour he would usually see during the day, under the sunlight, were not present now. Instead, what simply rests there is a sable abyss of obsidian black.
He's never felt like this before, not like this, not this hard. Not like he is now. Emotional, in this way. Not even when he has. It isn't the same.
Kazuha can feel his heartbeat in the palms of his hands, can hear the air around him being pumped out in short, shallow gasps as his breaths rise and fall, as the air around him is left behind.
The poet tries to close his eyes, but this detective is much too good at the moment, his tongue moving around with such skill. He's so fast at it, and it's so much like a warm, loving kiss. It's the strangest feeling he's ever had.
He shakes his head, his back slamming into the wall of the tree as the other’s hand starts a rhythm up and down on his shaft, his tongue swirling around the tip for a moment, his eyes closing as he focuses more.
It all takes a very short amount of time. Heizou can feel him throbbing, the blond’s hand gripping a lock of his hair tightly, as a lifeline. He feels it. All of it, so precise and laden full of that same want.
A loud gasp catches his attention as Kazuha's body shudders, the blond-haired man arching his back as a trembling moan escapes him. He’s wrangling in his confines, squeezing his legs around Heizou’s head in a manner that would usually make him splutter. After a moment, the detective pulls away with a smirk that almost reads victorious.
"Oops, I guess we got too far there, didn’t we? You’re all high strung now. That’s no fun.”
"You're not going to stop, are you?" He asks, but Heizou shakes his head, smiling at Kazuha's body slumped downwards in such an exasperated, debauched way. He’s not quite sure he’s used to seeing Kazuha like this, not completely in tune with his emotions.
"Well, no, so, I guess we can agree that it's time to do this then?" He starts, leaning in. He feels Kazuha's body heightening and collapsing almost with a struggle, still desperate to use his hands. But ultimately incapable of doing so, due to their position. Locked there, as if in punishment.
The onslaught of his affection stops, briefly, as Shikanoin Heizou hums in appreciation. He observes the ronin’s rigid cock, uprighted, before he makes a way to sink his ass down onto it. Both of his hands meet either side of Kazuha's shoulders as he groans at the sensation. Heizou snaps himself down, audible and so loud in an otherwise silent night.
"I want you to look at me." The detective pants, raising himself upwards only to fall back down. Kazuha’s binds ache and seer against his wrists during the process, fangs like a leer deeply embedded into his lips to a point it draws blood. The stench of iron fills the air, yet with that same scent of wildflowers, he can’t find it in him to dislike it.
"Me." He says in a loud, gasping voice, his cheeks flushed. He doesn't mean it as a suggestion, but it comes out that way. "And just me."
"I’ve been looking for you- all my life . Everytime the sun rises and everytime it sets." Heizou grits out, aroused as Kazuha makes a single move to shift further into him. He can feel his cock tightening. His being caught ablaze by the turmoil of heat in his gut. “But you’re always running.”
His jade eyes are burning, not with the bright fire of a thousand suns but something softer. Gentler. Something like the stars themselves.
"I see you." Kazuha says, kissing the edge of his lover’s cheek. "So beautiful." He licks the side of the other boy's cheek, nibbles on his earlobe. He can’t reach out. But he wants to. Smoldering, he thinks, eliciting another bout of pleasured sound. Euphoria.
The sensations are so vital. So cauterizing in him, more so than it ever was in the past. Because there’s more danger ramping up every day. More of everything, more of the constant threat of his arrest. Heizou really can’t tell whether or not Kazuha is thinking this way, like he is. If he wants to stay. If he will give away this life.
He’s over the edge, at this point. Way past that border, of pleasure and feeling. He believes Kazuha must be, as well, from the way their breath goes labored at the same time. In sync, as they were two bodies eclipsing for perhaps the final time. Perhaps there would be more after this, but every time was the last time until it wasn’t. Living this life, in all of its peculiar threats and all. Heizou can tell, actually, that there’s always the chance either of them would be dead tomorrow. Maybe even dead today. Because fate was not a benevolent being.
There are stars, moons, suns whirling in his headspace all of a sudden. And the white-hot, sudden surge of euphoria meets with his body and with Kazuha’s at the same intertwined time. They’re a duet of moans, a duet of song. And he fears the day he will be watching Kazuha leave to never return.
Calming down, from his high, they both recollect their breath. Their standing, and their composure. Although, it’s always like this. Whenever he’s around Kazuha, he can’t help it. They have such a perfect understanding of one another that he almost fears it. Almost lives in constant terror, that the Tenryou Commission would catch on and reject this. Stop him from ever going out again. Lock him in a cage of no light, no sun, only shadows.
And Heizou really wants Kazuha to–
“Stay.”
If just this once, remains unspoken.
“I will.”
–
my honey i know,
with the dawn that you will be gone.
but tonight, you belong to me.
just to little old me.
–