Author's note: Set somewhere around X 14. I blame Fuuma.
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His dreams were always nightmares. Ever since the day he had watched his world shatter around him, night had become a time plagued by visions of terror. A time to be surrounded by the corpses of those he loved, to watch the death of the world, or to be alone, naked and bleeding.
Kamui shivered, awakening from his latest vision. This most recent one was of gold, unblinking eyes that watched him as he twisted in razor-sharp wires. The thin lines had glistened with his blood, constricting around his chest and throat, making him writhe and choke. When he had tried to call out for help, the only sounds that escaped were pitiful gasping whimpers. The wires were pulled tighter, and Kamui was certain he’d died there, under that cold amber gaze.
His skin was soaked with sweat and he had to roll to the side of the bed to move out of the dampness he’d left on his sheets and pillow. He was used to this feeling by now- wet and trembling with the aftershocks of terror, yet oddly warm, with a now-familiar ache between his legs. Like so many of these dreams of late, it left him breathless and wanting.
Violet eyes squeezed shut in the darkness. None of them would understand, he knew. None of the other Seals could possibly know what this felt like- they were all so sweet, or innocent, or normal. He’d seen their confused, saddened expressions when they’d witnessed what Fuuma was doing to him. He didn’t really understand it himself. Perhaps the quiet onmyouji would, but some part of him was too ashamed to let the delicate older man see the things he felt at night. Thoughts of Subaru were reserved for the day, the light, when everything made just a little more sense and he wasn’t forced to hear his own dark, buried Wishes.
If he were to think of the other man now, he would see things he never saw during the day. Instead of the sad-but-kind eyes, pretty face, and gentle hands; he would see the slender lines of the onmyouji’s body, the curve of his white neck. Instead of the soft, reassuring voice that gave him comfort he would hear the faint, catching moans Subaru had uttered in his sleep while Kamui had watched him - fingers laced through his warm hands. He liked the way the other man made him feel- safe and secure and unjudged when they talked during the day; there was no pain or confusion or heartache like there was with his other special person. But at night… he could not help but wonder what it would be like to touch the onmyouji’s soft lips or to strip away his clothes to see more of that beautiful body. And if Subaru wondered the same thing.
Unable to help himself, Kamui imagined that the hardness between his legs was the onmyouji’s doing. That it was the older man’s small hands in place of his own that lifted his damp shirt, caressing the pale skin of his chest. That it was he who pulled down the boy’s pajama pants and began to fondle the erection there.
“Subaru…” He exhaled softly. A little color rose to his cheeks as he wondered briefly what Subaru would think if he knew Kamui was imagining him like this. His hands mimicked the older man’s feather-light touch, refusing to give and squeeze harder lest he break the illusion. Subaru would kiss him, he was certain. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips between the quiet noises of pleasure.
He imagined the older man lying beside him, enjoying the boy’s body as much as he enjoyed Subaru’s caresses. Subaru was a grown man, though, an adult… perhaps he would like things to go a little further? Kamui had wanted to know for ages, secretly, what it would feel like to make love to the pretty onmyouji. Raising a hand to his mouth to run his tongue over it, he imagined Subaru spreading his legs, nothing but trust and affection in his dull green eyes. He gasped as his wet palm closed over his length, and bit into the sheets beside him to keep from moaning too loudly. The Subaru of his fantasy arched his back as he was entered; pressing his lips to Kamui’s to stifle a cry. Kamui’s skin began to glisten with sweat while his hand worked his slicked shaft, losing himself in the illusion of the warm body beneath him.
It wasn’t long, however, before the thoughts of the night started to overtake his pleasant imaginings. Before the same lust that was roused in him from those dark, bloody dreams made its way to the surface.
He imagined he was watching now, as the onmyouji’s older lover; a tall, strong, predator of a man - with eyes that could be made of glass for all the warmth they showed- who smiled ruthlessly as he pinned Subaru down. Kamui could remember Subaru’s pained expressions when that man was mentioned, could remember the worlds of hurt that echoed in his quiet voice when he admitted that that person was still ‘special’ to him. In Kamui’s fantasy, he struggled helplessly while he was forced into a brutal kiss that bruised his lips. Kamui only grew harder when the Sakurazukamori pulled Subaru’s legs apart and thrust inside, his movements hard and fast while the younger onmyouji trembled beneath him.
In this dream, though, Subaru enjoyed it. Kamui liked it better that way - watching Subaru submit to the pleasure of the older man inside him. He imagined the cries he made came from Subaru’s lips instead of his own. Alone in the darkness, he could admit that he wondered - at least a little - what it would be like to have the beautiful onmyouji like this; to take him and possess him and make him plead for more.
Or maybe… he wondered - as the Sakurazukamori of his fantasy finished with his lover, leaving the younger onmyouji to stare away at nothing, eyes vacant, his stomach and thighs dripping with the aftermath of their coupling - maybe he wanted to know what it was like to be taken and possessed.
Kamui rolled onto his back and parted his slender white thighs. Delicately, he pressed a few fingers into himself, not knowing what to expect. There was a little pain, a little discomfort, but his other hand did not stop moving, and the sensation only made him more excited. He imagined the Sakurazukamori kissing him the same way he had Subaru, and wrapping his legs around the older man’s waist, his muscles tensing in anticipation of being penetrated. He felt a little guilty using the thought of his dear friend’s lover like this - he did not even want to know what Subaru would think if he knew - but this faceless stranger with his cruel eyes was better than allowing himself to slip into his darkest, most forbidden wishes.
“Ah…uhn!” The boy’s fingers touched something inside that made sparks dance across his vision. His whole body shook, his thighs clenched, and he bit hard into his lip. He was already covered with sweat, and he cried out as the feeling of burning heat spread through his abdomen. He loved it. He wanted more. This kind of pleasure blurred all reason and he found himself desperately wishing someone were here - Subaru or his lover or anyone - who would give him what he wanted.
Along with reason, the heat between his legs blurred restraint. And... In the depths of the darkness, in the throes of pleasure, Kamui could admit that his body understood far more than his mind would allow.
He knew exactly who he wanted.
The white and honey of the stranger’s eyes faded into gold, his features becoming more youthful. His expression changed from coldly dispassionate to a dark, ominous longing. “Fuuma…” Kamui breathed, lying back on the pillows, shaking with want. He had memories to replace the fantasy now. Wet tongue sliding over his skin, hungry lips on his neck, the other boy’s body pressed against his. In the light of day he could not accept that he knew the meaning behind every act, the violent symbolism of each piece of glass or metal shoved through his body, the inevitable outcome of their encounter in Shinjuku if the other Seals had not arrived. But now, he understood. And he wanted.
“Fuuma! Ungh… please!” He did not know if the other Seals, in their rooms, could hear him. He did not care. He wanted Fuuma to hurt him, Fuuma inside him, Fuuma’s fingers on his neck.
In his fantasy now, like in the dream, there were wires. They wrapped around him and made him bleed, but the pain only served to heighten the feeling. He could hear Fuuma’s heavy breathing in his ear, feel his gentle hands bruise his skin, and see the longing in his eyes deepen as Kamui twisted in his bindings, choking, dying. It was what he wanted, all of it - his punishment for failing everyone that cared about him. His moans had long since turned into loud cries, unabating until his own hand clenched around his neck, silencing him. In the fantasy, it was Fuuma. But, in reality, what did it matter?
They were one person, one, joined together - oh, god, he couldn’t breathe - his twin star, him, and he only wanted what they both wanted, and…
“Aaaah! Hah-aaahh!!!” Kamui’s strangled scream echoed his climax, and he collapsed.
He lay there for a long time, gasping for breath. It was even longer still before he could force himself to move. His whole body ached and he longed to sleep, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he needed to clean himself.
The rest of it was blank. He felt nothing when the mirror exposed the bruises on his chest and neck and thighs, nothing when he washed his hands of the blood and semen that stained them.
In the morning, he’d tell them he’d had another nightmare. In the morning, he would cry and feel guilty. But tonight he would lay quietly, a smile gracing the Dragon of Heaven's lips - wishing that his twin star would come and reveal the truths he saw in the darkness.
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Ari: I usually write the seme's POV, so tell me how I did with the uke!