XXXHolic Fan Fiction ❯ Failing You ❯ 9 ( Chapter 9 )

Title:  Failing You
Pairing: Doumeki/Watanuki
Rating: M
Length: 9 chapters. (This is #9) 
Summary: What would Doumeki do if he ever failed to save Watanuki? What would Watanuki do to stop him?

 

DISC: I do not own xxxHolic or any of the characters. These belong to Clamp - those crazy mangaka who make us all practically faint for the shonen-ai and then YANK it out from under us. Clamp, if I can have one request, it's to give us some DouWata love by the end of this series! PLEASE!

 

 

Chapter 9

 

Panting, he ran as fast as his legs could take him - faster than he'd ever run in his life.

 

He had to make it in time to…

 

It didn't matter that he didn't know why he was running. He had to see Doumeki. Shizuka.

 

So what if Yuuko had said the injuries were just an illusion. She hadn't seen… He added another burst of speed as he entered the courtyard of the shrine. She hadn't seen it and he had and he had to see him. Now.

 

Without understanding why, he didn't head toward the house, but instead turned toward the kura, throwing the door open with a slam.

 

The sound made the kneeling figure jump and turn his head. He couldn't continue if someone was here. They'd try to stop him and he wouldn't be able to quietly die, alone, the way he deserved.

 

Watanuki stood panting in the doorway, using the frame to hold himself upright. Doumeki's eyes widened, but he made no sound. Instead, he moved to hide the tanto from sight.

 

The young seer, however, didn't miss what was happening. Catching his breath, he stared at the one he'd called rival for so long, wondering why his heart stopped as he realized what had almost happened.

 

Soft, like breath, he whispered, “Shizuka.” What had almost happened… What had…

 

The skinny seer stood tall and blazed into the room. “Doumeki Shizuka. Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?!”

 

The archer turned his face away, but not before Watanuki saw the self-condemnation burning there and his heartbeat stuttered.

 

“Yuuko was able to heal you. I'm glad.” Monotone as usual, yet somehow there was more to it. It was as if everything about him was flat now, two-dimensional instead of...

 

Walking as in a trance, Watanuki Kimihiro advanced upon the still kneeling exorcist, bending, sitting next to him. He reached out one hand to touch the archer's right foot. His voice was distracted, as if the words he spoke weren't important - nothing other than what he was focused on held any interest. “There was nothing to heal.” First his touch was tentative, lightly stroking, and then he grabbed it hard, gripping first his foot, then moving up his ankle, grasping there, then his leg. “It was all an illusion. Oh, thank god” His voice started to gain enthusiasm. “Thank god, it was just an illusion.”

 

The seer threw himself forward, hugging Doumeki tightly. “Thank god. Thank god.” His breath was warm against the archer's shoulder

 

“Il- Illusion?” The tanto dropped to the floor with a clatter, startling Watanuki, making him pull back from the embrace.

 

He stared at the knife, which had landed very near the parchment. “What did you see?” he breathed. Quickly he leaned over his protector and snatched up the death poem. He scanned it quickly. “What did you see that would bring you to this?” Mismatched eyes looked up into burnished gold, searching for some sort of answer that would make sense. Doumeki was a rock. The one thing - the only thing - that could be relied upon in the world of insanity that Watanuki called his life. What could possibly shake the perfect rock upon which he…Then, the words' meanings became clear and his heart strained against his own ribcage.

 

“Shizuka, what did you see?” He was so close, he was practically sitting in Doumeki's lap now.

 

And the archer was unable to bear the scrutiny. Now that his feelings had been bared, how could he look the seer in the eyes, see the rejection that had always been there. It was okay, it was alright before - because at least he knew that he'd save him no matter what. But now he knew. He couldn't count on that. He couldn't count on anything. Doumeki closed his eyes. “I was too late. I didn't save you.” One tear escaped and ran down a face otherwise completely void of any emotional display.

 

“So you thought I was dead?”

 

The archer shook his head, eyes still closed. “Worse.”

 

Watanuki couldn't help but run his hand up and down the leg he'd seen be taken from him. “Yuuko said… the demon fed off our misery. He projected the image he knew would hurt us the most.” His fingers kept trailing down to the foot and each toe - each toe he'd seen ruined - oh, it was intact and perfect. “It wasn't real. It wasn't real.”

 

“So, you weren't… I… wasn't… too late to save you?”

 

Barking a laugh, he said, “You were right on time. You were perfect. You're always perfect.” But this time, there was no bitterness in his tone. Just relief. And the difference in the tone was enough of a surprise that Doumeki couldn't help but open his eyes.

 

Watanuki was crying with a sad smile on his lips, staring at the archer's foot, his fingers tracing it.

 

“Why are you playing with my foot?”

 

Watanuki shook his head, sorrowfully. “You gave it up to save me. Even though you knew it wouldn't make a difference. Just to give me another minute. You gave it up. You always give everything up to save me.” His eyes tightened in pain. “Why? Why do you always…” He looked at the paper in his hand, and then scowled as he thrust the poem in the archer's face, his ire building. “It's stupid! Don't you know you have to live?!” Now he was in rant mode. “How am I supposed to go on if you sacrifice yourself for me? Don't you know that if you die, I'll…” his rant wore out as if he were exhausted.

 

Shaking his head, his eyes misty, he picked up the tanto. One finger traced the blade. His mismatched eyes settled in that determined look that always preceded the seer doing something stubborn and reckless. His mouth tightening, Watanuki Kimihiro placed the blade point toward his own belly. “Promise me you won't ever be this stupid again.” He paused, then said, “I know it's hard for an idiot to promise not to be stupid, but do it anyway. Do it, or I'll… do what you were just going to do.” He nodded at the poem. “That will work well enough for me. Just replace blue with gold and my name for yours.”

 

There was a pause as Doumeki Shizuka looked on in disbelief. Then, one side of the archer's mouth curved up in a smirk. “That's one too few syllables.”

 

Watanuki huffed, “Well then add `my' before it! Sheesh! I think I can get away with `my Shizuka' for something like this. Does it even really matter?”

 

“It really does. To me.” Doumeki was staring at him with longing. “Would you really be okay with calling me your… Shizuka?”

 

With an exasperated exhalation, he threw the knife away. “Good, god. You're such a complete moron! What the hell have I been saying? I-” And that was as far as he got before Doumeki pulled him into a kiss.

 

It wasn't searing. It was chaste, lips closed. But Watanuki could feel all the longing in it. When it ended, Doumeki pulled him into a crushing embrace. Softly, the words whispering past his ear, Watanuki said, “I'm only going to say this once, so listen carefully. Don't ever leave me, Shizuka. I need you.”

 

Shizuka's words whispered back into his own ear, “I won't. Kimihiro.”

 

They pulled back from each other, looking in each other's eyes. And then… like lodestone to iron, they were together again, lips upon each other's.

 

Tingles starting in his ears, ran down his torso, ending in an area he'd never much thought about. Oh, his blood was lighting up like sparklers. And the lithe young man pushed the muscular one down onto his back, his tongue thrusting into his mouth, attacking, reaching to feel every crevice. He moaned into the archer, lining his body to run the length of him.

 

Then, Watanuki's hands were inside the white robe, pushing it off his shoulders. His fingers traced the angles of the muscles there. He couldn't help himself. He broke from the kiss, let his fingers roam down, down, down his right leg. And then, he was kissing the archer's leg, kissing down from his knee. Kissing every inch that had been stolen in the illusion, proving it false with his lips.

 

Without a hint of a quiver or a chuckle, Doumeki said as lips pressed to his instep, “You know that tickles.”

 

Realizing he was actually kissing Doumeki's foot, he sat up and rearranged his yukata, pulling it tightly closed around him. He tried to recover his usual demeanor, his voice flippant as he replied, “I just needed to prove it wasn't real.”

 

Doumeki reached out and laid one hand on his shoulder and he looked up. Quietly, almost shyly, the exorcist asked, “Can I, too?”

 

With wide eyes and raised eyebrows, Watanuki looked at his former rival. Then, slowly, he nodded.

 

Doumeki reverently kneeled in front of him. His large, callused hands slowly untied the sash holding his yukata closed. Then, he pushed it off the seer's shoulders, leaving him completely bare. Blushing furiously, Watanuki looked to the side, obviously embarrassed, but unwilling to back down.

 

Awe colored the stoic archer's face as he stared at the now naked beauty in front of him.

 

Watanuki's pale skin, marred by the many attacks of many spirits in all his years of life, was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. And he was allowing this. It was more than he'd hoped for, and on top of everything else that had happened this night, it was almost too much to believe. But, was there even the question of turning down this opportunity?

 

Then, he was kissing the skin, starting at the seer's shoulder, spinning him, to work his lips down the seer's back, where there were absolutely no cris-crossed scars, just a weaving of old - very old - ones. He kissed down, down each and every one of them, working down to the tight muscles of Watanuki's well-toned ass. Vaguely, as his lips glided over the sculpted muscle there, he thought, “Must be all that running.” His hands worked over it, and he continued kissing down.

 

The embarrassment was almost too much to take. Watanuki knew his entire face was beet red. He wondered how far down the red had spread, but there was no way he could look - that would be too much. And… the feel of Doumeki's lips - how were they so soft? - was making him forget his embarrassment, making him feel…

 

And as Doumeki's lips reached his nether regions, he found his embarrassment and anticipation were so evenly divided that he had no idea what he wanted to happen.

 

Strong hands parted his globes, and then a kiss was placed on either side, reverently, and the balance finally shifted. Oh, sure, there was a brief side thought that it was a good thing, Doumeki hadn't kissed in the middle of where he had - not if he wanted his lips to touch Watanuki's ever again. But that was just a side thought to the main moment of clarity, where it occurred to him exactly what the archer must have seen. At that point, he knew exactly what had been going through his mind.

 

And he knew, finally, exactly what he wanted to do. For once.

 

His eyes closed in peaceful anticipation as he was pulled back against the archer's bare chest, held tightly, as Doumeki cried over his shoulder.

 

Watanuki leaned back on the solid form of the archer as he held him and a soft smile graced his face. The arms wrapped around him were corded with muscles and he traced them with his fingers. He realized, `I'm naked. I'm naked and being held by naked Doumeki.' But he wasn't in the least freaked out. Instead, he wished…

 

Well, it was time for him to take some action.

 

He leaned back, forcing the archer to lie down, and he twisted within the exorcist's arms, so that he was facing him, straddling his waist. And then, he kissed him.

 

Doumeki's tears had dried as he'd held the one he loved. His soft skin was in his embrace and he wasn't fighting. The boy he'd been in love with and sworn to protect was holding him down and kissing him. Earlier, he was torn apart by a violent demon while he watched helplessly. Which was the dream? Had he devolved into madness? Oh, god. The feel of his skin, his lips…

 

He broke from the kiss and gasped, “Am I dead?”

 

The words caused Watanuki to pause and blink in amazement. When he'd fully processed the question, he punched the archer in the shoulder. This was followed up by a series of jabs. “No, you idiot! You're not dead. Unless I decide to kill you. Now shut up and kiss me before I go over there and get that tanto and stab you with it myself.”

 

As Watanuki's ineffectual punches rained down, as the loudness of his voice threatened to deafen him, he started to laugh. He reached up and stroked the seer's face with both hands, pulling the glasses off of him, folding them, setting them aside, and then that emotionless face whispered his name. “Kimihiro.” And Watanuki could see, it wasn't emotionless at all.

 

He raised one eyebrow cockily and said, “Shizuka.”

 

Doumeki pulled the face above him down to a kiss that would convey all he wanted. And there was so much that he wanted.

 

Dazed by the depth of emotion the kiss conveyed, Watanuki didn't even notice as Doumeki rolled him over to tower over him, plundering his mouth. All he knew was that one second he was on top of the man he loved, kissing him, and the next, there were electric kisses moving down his torso, lower and lower, and when did that erection get there, but all thought flew as the archer's mouth enveloped him.

 

“Shizuka!” he cried, “Oh, god!” His mouth moved over and around, sucking and licking, and Watanuki couldn't move, couldn't think, his head was flailing, his body was all gone, it was just Shizuka's mouth and his cock. “Shizuka! Stop. Stop.” He knew he was close, but didn't know what to do. The man allowed the rock hard rod to slip out of his lips with a pop, looking up - terrified that Watanuki didn't want this. That would make him as bad as his vision.

 

But Watanuki was looking at him with a dark eyes, lit from within with fire. They blazed as he said, “Shizuka. I want you…” He looked away and blushed, but even though his skin was on fire, he continued. “Yuuko has these books … I want to… *With* me.” Turning into that tomato red color that only comes with complete embarrassment, he pulled his knees up like he'd seen in that book of Yuuko's and said, “Shizuka, please.”

 

At that, the warrior chastely kissed his lover's lips. Then he smirked. “Guess it's a good thing I *do* take orders. Wait right here.” And he stood, walking over to a cabinet in the corner, opening up a drawer and pulling out a small tub of petroleum jelly. The look of horror on Watanuki's face was almost comical in its transparency. He could see the boy wondering why that particular item was kept out here - did Doumeki have sex out here a lot? What if he didn't love him the same way… Doumeki quickly responded to cut off that train of thought, “Grandfather always kept some out here to clean his calligraphy brushes. Otherwise I would have had to go inside to get the tub I use when…” He actually looked embarrassed and his voice dropped to a whisper, “When I've had too many dreams of you.”

 

Watanuki's eyes widened as he processed that thought. That had to be embarrassing. This was something he could hold over the perfect archer - at long last. But as he read the desire in Doumeki's eyes, he kind of knew that it didn't matter. Things had changed. And Doumeki, perfect Doumeki, loved him. His heart felt as if it couldn't hold all the feelings within him. He met the archer's eyes and swallowed hard as Shizuka's desire fuled his own.

 

And then, Doumeki was stroking him, hand fully lubricated, causing his eyes to roll back in his head at the feeling. He found himself babbling as the sensations overtook him. “Shizuka… Oh. You. God.”

 

The finger probing, then entering was a little strange, causing him to gasp. But, as it moved, in and out to match the movement of Doumeki's other hand, he found that thought was becoming very difficult. And then, it became more somehow, more filling. The fingers - there were two now, moving back and forth as well as in and out, and he felt his eyes roll back in his head. “Shi- zuka,” he gasped, as a third finger entered, stretching him. And it was so good, so…

 

Shizuka's mouth descended, licking at a nipple and he groaned. “Shizuka. Slower, or I'll… I'll… God!”

 

It seemed the archer did take orders, as his hands changed rhythms, causing his ascent to slow. Watanuki moaned and Shizuka smiled. It was time. He removed his fingers from Watanuki's pucker and was pleased with the disappointed groan he received in response. Gathering another handful of jelly, slathering it on before he set the tip of his own rod against it, he asked “Are you sure… you want…?” He left unspoken the rest of the question: `this? Me?'

 

After a heartfelt moan, the seer responded, “Stick it in me, or I swear, I'm going to get that tant-OH!” It was good to find another way to stop his rants, and this might be the best way ever.

 

Tight around him, he'd never let himself even imagine, but his dreams sometimes took him here without his consent and it had never been like this. Worry tickled the back of his mind - the horror of his vision and was he any better than… Except Watanuki had his back arched, pressing him closer, taking him in deeper. “Oh! Oh God! Yes! Shizuka!” And just like that, his worry vanished. He was here, making love to this beautiful, amazing person - the one he loved more than life, and it was - So. Good.

 

The slapping of flesh on flesh as Doumeki rode him, escaped into the shelter of him, was the perfect counterpoint to Watanuki's moans of “Oh,” and “Shizuka,” which grew ever louder and only made the everything more perfect. If he hadn't been completely in love with the seer before, he knew there was no escape from it now. He would die for this person. And he would live for him.

 

Bending to lick at one of his perfect pink nipples caused the seer to just gasp. “Shizuka. God. Shizuka, I'm… I'm… gonna…”

 

The seer's head arched back, exposing more of his thin, delicate neck. His mouth opened in wordless scream, and the proof of his pleasure was released all over Doumeki's chest, dripping down to decorate the seer's own. “I love you,” he sighed, unthinking, and then smiled up at the exorcist - that smile that he'd given to everyone he'd ever cared about. Everyone except Doumeki Shizuka. Until now.

 

That smile would have been enough. But the seer's words, more than the heat he was buried in, more than anything, took him over the edge, undid him. Opening his mouth in a soundless cry, he came inside the most beautiful person he had ever known. The release was more than he could take. He collapsed to one side.

 

Several moments passed in silence, the two catching their breath, lying spent next to each other. Finally, the silence was broken.

 

“Tomorrow, make Katsudon.”

 

Watanuki's head quickly spun, eyes wide. Then, he scowled playfully. “You're the one who takes orders, not me. Remember?”

 

“Hm.” Doumeki considered reminding him of the fact that he usually did take orders, even though he expended considerable effort proclaiming that he didn't.

 

Instead, he simply reached to grab their discarded robes so they could get someplace where they wouldn't catch their death of cold while they slept. They dressed in silence.

 

Watanuki picked up the parchment, rolled it, tucked it carefully in his sleeve. Doumeki watched, a question in his eyes. “I consider this idiot tax.” The subtext was clear though.

 

As they reached the door, the stoic man blurted out a query, “Stay with me tonight?”

 

The amused smirk on Watanuki's face was an expression that Doumeki knew he'd never actually seen there before tonight. “You're pretty cocky. Two exorcisms plus…” He waved his hand around the room. “You actually think you're going to do more?”

 

The archer barked out a laugh. “Maybe after we get some sleep.” He took his hand and led him toward the house. Watanuki let himself be led. But not without getting the last word.

 

“Idiot.”