Chapter Text
When, sweaty and exhausted, they'd finally made their way back to the empty inn through oppressive vegetation and crisscrossing trails, this room had been advertised to them as the best one available. A casual observer would have been skeptical, wary that it was as far from the hot spring as possible without being on the other side of the mountain, had deficient AC and was too small to lay out the two futons in any way that didn't suggest happy marital life.
But there was a window, that occupied most of the far wall and gave on a valley that looked like it had never been discovered by humankind (which was most likely the case, given the dubious species of the owner). Lush forests, a lake, and the moon casting a warm glow over all of that; cramped and sweltering as it was, this room was the antechamber to paradise.
Watanuki had been smiling at the view up until a paper bird had flown in out of nowhere, poked him in the forehead and unfolded in his hands.
"You," he said sternly, "are out of your mind."
"Are you talking to a sheet of paper?"
This, right now, was not the time to put up with Doumeki's habit of making fun of him whenever he damn well could. "It's a message from Yuuko," Watanuki snarled, attempting to glare the offending word into nothingness. He did not have much success.
"Is it talking back?" The question was breathed in braille on his skin, making him shiver in a way the choking heat should not have allowed. Doumeki was doing that thing he did now, where he stood so close that Watanuki could feel each of his intakes of breath without there ever being actual contact. At least until gravity did its work and, owing to Doumeki's more important body weight, forcibly pulled Watanuki back to close the space between them.
Yes, he wanted to say, yes it is, and it has her voice too. "I want to make one thing very clear," he said instead, still glaring down at the paper. "We are only here because we missed the last of the two trains a day that leave from this place, and the room was cheap." Probably because the owner of the inn owed Yuuko a few limbs. "This is purely incidental. The thought that it might be anything even remotely close to a honeymoon would be ludicrous."
"Okay." A hand was set low on his hip, firm and warm through the thin fabric of the yukata he'd put on not fifteen minutes ago, after a long, hot bath.
A long acquaintance with Yuuko had taught Watanuki to recognize a losing battle, and since even the laws of physics were against him he knew not to fight the inevitable. At least when he leaned back deliberately he was in control of his own fate: it was a thought he liked to hang onto.
When he glanced back at the letter the words had changed again, and he crumpled it in his fist before 'enjoy your wedding night' brought to his imagination the horrible vision of Yuuko's smug, smug smirk as she watched them in the crystal ball that every evil witch ought to own, like they were the protagonists of some stupid romance movie. He looked up suspiciously, searching for a mystic video camera of sort.
That didn't last long. Doumeki's thumb was rubbing small circles on his lower back, and whether Watanuki wanted it or not it was quickly becoming the focus of his attention. "I mean it," he insisted, and closed his eyes with a sigh.
Doumeki's other hand reached around him and pried the letter from his lax fingers. He must have turned his head too, because his breath was warm on Watanuki's neck when he spoke. "Sure."
The next moment Watanuki's support was gone, and there was that shivering again, coursing down his back despite the dead summer heat. He whipped around, fully ready to impart the annoying bastard a piece of his mind about pretension and sarcastic one-word answers.
He never got there. Doumeki hadn't gone far; just far enough in fact to catch him mid-turn and pull him against his chest, hard and incredibly present and warm in a way that was nothing like the surrounding heat.
"Shut up," Doumeki breathed against his lips, and while that for once may have been valid advice it was still completely out of line, so Watanuki shoved hard at his shoulders. He didn't expect it to have much effect (heaven knew Doumeki wasn't one to be pushed around), and yelped in surprise when Doumeki tumbled onto the adjoining futons, pulling him along in his fall. Any protest he might have had was muffled in a kiss before it had a chance to reach full volume, but then he was pushing himself up on his elbows, righteously indignant.
Again, no words came out. Doumeki was looking at him and it was that same look that got to him, every time; the way Doumeki got focused on him, eyes intense and lips parted. Whatever it was he saw, it would have been obvious to any sane person that it wasn't actually there; but Watanuki had been waiting for him to realize that for weeks now, and still Doumeki never failed to look at him like there was nothing else in the world worthy of his attention.
It was still so new, this ability to want something for himself, and to have it and want it still. It was new and terrifying and fantastic and if it meant that occasionally he had to end up straddling Doumeki in a thoroughly indecent fashion, clothing pushed down his shoulders even as he was kissed out of breath, well. He could live with that. He could even live with Yuuko's glib remarks, her snide comments and the crystal ball that probably had a regular paying audience, even though Yuuko was evil and bent on his doom and this wasn't a honeymoon, dammit.
But it was excitement taking over exhaustion. It was the impossible summer breeze flowing all over his body and the lips tracing his collarbone. It was the calluses of the hand splayed over his heart, grown from drawing the bow that protected him. It was the hardness pressed against his thigh and the short hair between his fingers. It was the one thing that Doumeki seemed to want from him but would never demand as payment for services rendered, and that Watanuki felt neither obligated nor reluctant to give.
It was everything but the inevitable. Yet it had happened anyway and Yuuko had no right, no right at all to be looking over his shoulder and telling him what to do.
Neither did Doumeki, but he'd stopped trying that a while ago. Well trained, Watanuki had thought at the time with no small amount of pride, until he'd finally figured that Doumeki had learned to make his demands without a coherent sound, after maneuvering Watanuki into such a state that he couldn't not comply.
Like now, with insistant hands that had sneaked their way between their bodies and were tugging at the loose knot of the yukata, making him draw back a little, just long enough for their clothes to fall open. Then it was skin on skin, and Watanuki couldn't resist pushing back against Doumeki's body any more than he could stop the whimpering noises he made in Doumeki's mouth, and it was all because of that look, except he wasn't any better at resisting with his eyes closed, either.
There was some comfort in the fact that he wasn't the only one making noises, that some of the moans and groans and half-words that somehow made sense weren't his. Except that they were, in a way, and acknowledging that was as overwhelming as everything else.
Eventually there was an actual word, and shockingly, impossibly, that word was "wait". No, he wanted to say, no, dammit, no waiting, but before he could find his voice Doumeki had rolled them over, effectively pinning him to the mattress in a way that was difficult to protest. Even when Doumeki didn't resume the kiss and slid up his body instead, the tip of his erection leaving a wet trail up Watanuki's stomach.
There were rummaging noises above his head, and Watanuki looked up to find Doumeki's hand leaving his bag, wrapped around-
He froze, staring at the innocuous tube in something halfway between shock and horror, because. While the overhead gossip (that he wasn't listening to, but you couldn't always help hearing) may have given him the impression that they'd moved comparatively fast at first, this was- They'd never talked about this, not even in the half-words and looks that had let them move from kissing to touching, over clothes and then under, and from there to- well. There had been no discussion of this, no mention whatsoever, and if Watanuki had ever considered or even desired, well, he hadn't shared any of it and so it was horribly pretentious of the bastard to just assume-
There was a hand on him, cool and slick, and suddenly their hips were aligned just right and Doumeki's cock was sliding easily against his own, held together by Doumeki's fingers, and oh, okay, that's what he'd been going for, of course, why had Watanuki even expected something else from someone so slow.
Still a bastard for not warning, he thought even as he spread his legs and laid his feet firm on the mattress. He took a deep breath and pushed, making Doumeki groan and give him a suprised look, his rhythm faltering for a moment.
"Something wrong?" Doumeki sounded genuinely concerned if a little distracted, and might even have looked the part. But there was a drop of sweat rolling down his hairline, and Watanuki was suddenly overcome with the desire to lick it off, but Doumeki was too damn far to reach. He settled for another thrust, and "dont. stop." and reaching between them too; wrapping his hand around Doumeki's to make it move again, by the use of overwhelming force if he had to, god, why had the idiot stopped now?
At least he could take some hints, because soon then were moving together, urging each other on in breathless moans and fleeting eye contact, and the feeling built up fast, inevitable but still somewhat foreign, warmth pooling in Watanuki's lower body until his thoughts were a linear string of comeoncomeoncomeon, eyes clenched shut in effort, reaching for-
The warmth exploded, spreading through his limbs in hard spasms, and he wasn't sure when and if Doumeki had come but by the time Watanuki was aware of more than the shuddering relief again, Doumeki was laying at his side, pressing their foreheads together, and they were almost sharing the same breath but not quite so Watanuki reached up with trembling hands and pulled him down close, over him and all around, and for a while it was like they couldn't let go of each other's lips, licking and biting and sucking, stuttering and inconsistant but indispensable.
Eventually Doumeki broke the series of kisses to reach inside his bag again (how had he known to take a bag anyway, when they'd been supposed to be home by sunset?) bringing back a pack of tissues. He pulled one out before callously dropping the pack on Watanuki's chest.
Watanuki sniffed, and focused the last of his energy on a cursory cleaning of the mess spread over his belly and chest before sprawling back on the mattress, utterly spent and now grateful for it.
"Not a honeymoon," he mumbled happily, already halfway asleep as Doumeki's hand came up to lay on top of his.
"Of course," he heard from far away, through the haze of much deserved slumber. "I haven't even asked yet."
Watanuki's eyes snapped open.