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Walking With The Dead

by P L Nunn

 

Chapter Three

 

Sai had not quite dropped the subject of the stripper and her thoughtful little present to Rowan and the equally thoughtful transference of said present to Sai. But he'd shut up about it. Which was a blessing on the one hand and an irascible little worry on the other. A sulking Sai was only marginally less appealing than a shrewish, screaming one. Rowan was stepping carefully regardless, aware of how close he'd come to the precipice and thankful that he hadn't toppled -- or been shoved -- over the edge. Sai was the funniest creature in the things he chose to forgive and the things he chose to carry with him to the grave and beyond. Sai got upset about the little things and let the big ones slide off like so much water.

Rowan was generally the opposite. He didn't sweat the small problems, only the major ones got under his skin. He was good at dissimulating though, so people generally didn't guess. He was all honest ignorance when he spoke to the deputy on the phone. Full of innocence and just the proper amount of 'what does this really have to do with me?', when he reluctantly agreed to ride into town and talk to the deputy face to face. He'd expected it. It was no big thing. He could keep as neutral a face, as he could a voice.

Ryo wasn't happy, but then Ryo hadn't been happy since this whole thing had started. Ryo didn't say anything, just moped about with an ominous look on his face all morning. Sai kept his mouth shut, even though it was painfully obvious he wanted to give advise. A good sulk had its drawbacks. Kento offered to ride into town with him, but he figured it was probably best if he went alone, just in case somebody remembered Kento being with him the day he'd talked with Drummond.

Seiji didn't come down till late. Which made one wonder if he'd broken his almost sacred ritual of early morning rising and slept in. He didn't have anything to say about the subject at all, just wondered into the kitchen and got himself a cup of tea, then settled on the coach next to Ryo, who was trying to distract himself from the issue at hand by watching ESPN.

Rowan, who had never been afflicted with procrastination, and was very much afflicted by impatience, could stand to wait about the house no longer, and grabbed his jacket in preparation for the ride into town.

"I'll be back in a little while, guys." He promised.

"Man, I'd tell you to be careful -- but it just doesn't seem to fit the situation." Kento shook his head wryly, then clapped Rowan on the shoulder like he was sending him off to some grave appointment.

"Just chill. All of you. It'll be okay. I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah." Kento grinned. He heard Ryo make a disgusted sound from the den. Seiji didn't say a thing, just took the abandoned remote control and began flipping through channels as if he'd gotten a sudden urge after all the years Rowan had known him, to channel surf. Rowan had far too many concerns on his mind at the moment to dwell on it longer than it took to take the step towards the door then out of it.

He took the jeep and made the long journey into town. The deputy didn't like him this time any more than he'd liked him the last. The deputy mentioned several unpaid traffic violations, as if the procurance of them and the subsequent avoidance of payment, made Rowan automatically an unsavory character. As if mentioning them, with his finger tapping on photocopies of the tickets would scare Rowan straight.

Rowan ended up almost emptying his wallet in the correction of his oversight. The deputy kindly informed him that they would accept credit cards for payment. If he'd have had one, he would have used it. Seiji was the only one of the lot of them with good enough credit to have one.

He was pissed off and mostly broke by the time he stepped out of the sheriff's office, but free and clear of any connection to Vic Drummond's disappearance. It didn't make him feel any better about the cover up. The whole thing made him feel -- dirty, which was silly because they'd seen hundreds of innocents die and had out of necessity, kept their mouths shut about it after the smoke had cleared and the rest of the world went back about its business. Ignorant. Blithely, happily ignorant of the horror that perched waiting for a moment of weakness, for a break the barriers that separated this world from the countless others that were darker and more malevolent that humanity, even at its worst, could not quite imagine.

He shook his head, running fingers through wayward hair. He did not wish to loiter about town, but also was not eager to head back to the house and have to deal with more of Sai's pouts and accusing glares, or Ryo's sullen mood of self-denunciation. There was always the city, but that was more than an hours drive and he had promised to be back soon. An all day trip to town without word would drive the guys crazy. He imagined Sai would open his mouth long enough to bitch at him when he got back, then.

He smiled wryly a the notion, then decided it was still early enough for a late breakfast and there was a diner just on the other side of town at the highway entrance that served deliciously greasy, unhealthy food. Since he got such bounty infrequently at home, Sai doing most of the cooking and Sai being much too influencable by talk of healthy dieting, Rowan made it his business to check out all the greasy diners within a reasonable distance.

He managed to waste an hour there, sipping black coffee and ordering double portions of breakfast meats. Bacon was his favorite. He got it whenever he could and consumed it in mass. Sai always admonished him. Don't you know how bad it is for you? It will clog your arteries. And so on. Rowan sighed. It wasn't a terrible thing to have someone looking out for you, even though persistence in the matter could be annoying. He had the feeling that he wouldn't be hearing any of those little warnings for a while.

The coffee got to him eventually and his jittery nerves refused to allow him to sit sedentary at the diner bar for one moment longer. He paid his bill, with only spare change left over for a tip, which left his wallet exactly empty. He flirted with the aging waitress for a moment, explaining the utter unreasonableness of the law in regards to unpaid tickets and promised to come back and make up for it the next time. She let him slide, the number of young and attractive males that spent the effort to flirt with her having diminished some years back.

He went home. Walked into the house and had Kento almost immediately jump him with a multitude of questions. Sai appeared from the kitchen doorway, his hands dirt covered and his face smudged, as if he'd been digging in the dirt. Probably out back playing with his garden.

"Well, what the hell happened?"

"The bastard called me on all my tickets." Rowan grumbled, a little bit of malicious humor making him pretend ignorance of what Kento and probably Sai, though he was hiding it better, was desperate to know.

"Rowan, don't be an ass." Sai snapped, knowing that streak in Rowan only too well.

"Where are Seiji and Ryo. Don't wanna have to repeat it."

Kento rolled his eyes ceilingward. "Up there. After hogging the TV all morning -- and being damned selfish about it -- Seiji decided he wanted a morning romp and dragged Ryo upstairs. They've been at it for about forty-five minutes."

"Kento." Sai shook his head in reprimand. "You don't know that's what they're doing."

"Oh, please, you've been in the back yard all morning. I've heard what they're doing and it ain't Seiji teaching Ryo the finer points of meditation."

"Oh, standing with your ear outside the door again?" Rowan asked with a raised, innocent brow.

Kento gave him a glare. Kento blushed a little. One had to wonder how Kento took the very active sex lives of his roommates. As far as Rowan knew didn't have one of his own. Kento was shy around girls, and other than the occasional heartfelt and mooning glance at Sai and once and while, Ryo, he had no interest in boys either. Being a healthy twenty year old, he had to have urges. Mind boggling, intelligence dimming urges. Being a healthy twenty year old himself, Rowan was well aware of said urges and practiced them as often as possible -- if Sai would let him. If Sai wouldn't -- well there was always a bottle of lotion and a dirty magazine. He supposed Kento had the same outlet.

"Well, fine then." He said. "I took care of it. I told you I would. It wasn't like he had a reason not to believe me -- other than being a vicious traffic offender. I still owe, but the son of a bitch said I could come back and pay the rest next week."

"Which you will do." Sai said airily, before turning on his heel and tromping back through the kitchen. The back door banged shut after him. Kento and Rowan exchanged looks. Rowan sighed. Kento shrugged and said.

"I told you not to do it. But do you ever listen to me?"

"No, mother. I never do. But if he ever gets over it --- I gotta admit -- the look on his face was priceless."

"Yeah, you say that now. A week from now, when he's still giving you the cold shoulder -- I bet it won't be so funny then."

"I didn't say it was funny now. Well not at this moment -- I just said it was something to remember."

"Yeah, right. Whatever. " Kento waved an dismissive hand at him, which was a Kento pretending to put on airs motion. He was never that convincing at it. It always looked like Kento trying to immolate Seiji and failing miserably. He just had too good natured a face to do nonchalance well.

"Yeah, whatever." Rowan echoed him, then sighed and decided that Kento was probably right. Before the week was out, he was going to be needing that lotion and dirty mag.

 

*

 

Ryo came up for air --- again, head spinning in the aftermath of yet one more pinnacle of physical gratification. Seiji rolled away from him, putting a little distance between sweat sheened, overheated bodies. The sheets were sticky with it. Among other things. Ryo had the taste of those things in his mouth, which he didn't mind so much, but the stickiness between his thighs deserved a shower. He lay there, letting his body come down from the high Seiji had taken him to, trying to organize his thoughts. Seiji had been particularly -- thorough. Particularly interested in Ryo's body, the secrets of his flesh. It was exhausting when Seiji was in these fey moods, both mentally and physically, for there was only so much intense sensation a body could take without some toll being collected. And Seiji had been particularly adamant about traveling those roads these last few days.

And Seiji was getting creative, which was both appealing and distressing. The former because being the recipient of some of those lengthy physical forays was quite, quite pleasurable. The latter because Ryo generally didn't leave their lovemaking sore; Seiji despite all his other faults -- and Ryo would never say he had any to his face -- was generally a solicitous lover. At least in the respect that he took care that Ryo's pain was generally laced liberally with pleasure and did not linger hours after the actual act.

Seiji got up, stretching, all pale, shadowed skin and tousled golden hair. The shades were pulled against evening and the room was dusky in the hue of the scant light that spilled through the slit. Seiji was shadows and planes, perfectly made and beautiful.

He glided across the floor to his closet, where his robes hung in perfect order.

"Shower?" Ryo asked, just to break the silence. It didn't bother him really, Seiji had never been one for pillow talk, or talk of any kind really, it was merely that sometimes he liked to hear the sound of Seiji's voice, with all his perfectly formed syllables and his precise, thought out speech, more often than not utilized in subtle sarcasm. Ryo didn't mind those either. Much.

Seiji turned, looking at him through the shadows, only the barest hint of his eyes visible past hair and lashes. He ran a hand leisurely down his chest, fingers trailing the lean muscles of his abdomen. He didn't have to say a thing, the motion was mesmerizing, startling in its sheer seductiveness. Wanton almost. Seiji generally did not do wanton -- unless there was a tremendous amount of alcohol involved.

"You may join me."

Ryo didn't know if it was a suggestion or a order. Seiji's tone implied the latter. Showers with Seiji never merely entailed the cleansing of the skin. Ryo knew he wasn't up to anything more. Three times that evening, once during the afternoon when Seiji had caught him going out to the grove he liked to practice with the swords in. More sex in two days than he'd had in the last four weeks, what with the Hell thing and Seiji being all prickly and morose after they'd gotten back.

He was sore. He was young and limber, but still, there limits. "I'll wait." He said reluctantly. He really did want to wash the results of several hours of sex off his body. Perhaps the half bath down the hall.

Seiji tilted his head, curious, fine brows drawn down over his eyes.

"No?" There was something in the tone that was odd.

Ryo almost laughed, but stifled it. Seiji didn't like to be laughed at. "Dude, ---Seiji," he corrected himself. Seiji also didn't like to be called dude. " I don't know where you're getting your stamina, but I'm like totally beat. You're gonna kill me."

"That would be a terrible waste." Seiji leaned over the side of the bed, palms pressing into the mattress. "Change the sheets while you're waiting, then."

 

Seiji bullied him into one more bout. Bullied only because Ryo was mostly asleep when Seiji rolled him over and preceded to have his way. And in his half sleep, on the verge of dreamstate, there blossomed a panic as his face was pressed into a pillow and his body weighed down by a larger one behind him. He came awake with a start and a reflexive attempt to twist and shove off the weight.

"No...." he hardly even realized he uttered it.

Seiji's fingers pressed into his skin, nails biting deep enough to leave marks as he exerted strength to keep Ryo down.

"Quiet." A hiss of a word, breathy from concentration and exertion. Ryo lay there and took it. There was little choice in the matter, Seiji most certainly had the controlling position. Seiji was almost through. He finished and rolled off and Ryo swung into a sitting position, irritated and still somewhat shocky from such a rude awakening.

"Jesus, Seiji, that hurt." He twisted his head about to see the nail marks in his sides above his hips.

"What's the matter? I thought you liked a little -- pain?"

Ryo blinked. As a matter of fact -- he did, in a twisted sort of way, but damned if they ever actually came out and said it.

"That's not the point." He muttered, off balance and blushing, a moot sort of point now, considering the night they'd just shared.

"What is?" Seiji leaned in a smiled, leaned even closer and drew in a deep breath against Ryo's hair. "Oh, I remember. The point is that I do. Like a little pain. Yours."

Ryo drew back, not certain if he were teasing. Sometimes, if you caught him in the right mood, Seiji would. Not often. Not generally when they were in the midst of what might turn into a spat.

It was almost seven. He caught that from the corner of his eye as he gave ground and looked away from Seiji's stare. It was an excuse and he was feeling a little uneasy. At least not comfortable enough to snuggle back down and sleep in.

"I gotta get up. Things to do today." And another shower. Seiji didn't say anything. Just sat there and watched him grab up his clothes and pull on his boxers, in that order, which made it ungainly, but he was flustered and wanted just a touch of breathing room.

He did have a legitimate excuse. It was his turn to do the lawn and he might as well get to it early. It was a big lawn, with a lot of trimming to do around the sides and the areas where the woods met the grass. He fumed while he was about it, working up a bit of righteous indignation over his treatment this morning. Seiji had been out of bounds and just plain --- unpolite, which would not have bothered Ryo so much if not for the sting of sweat in the cuts made by Seiji's damned sharp nails. Granted he'd been woken from a sound sleep before by hands and mouth on his body, but not by a sudden and rude and completely unprepared penetration. Then not even an apology, not an I woke with this unbearable stiffie and there you were and -- well, sorry, dude. Well, maybe it might have been phrased differently by Seiji, but anything was better than Oh, I thought you were into a little pain.

He ground his teeth and mowed down a line of weeds near the woodline. Oh, yes, he was going to let Seiji have a piece of his mind. Yes, indeed.

 

*

"I'm going into the city to look at cars. Come with me, will you?"

Seiji looked good enough to eat, all decked out in one of his designer suits with his hair pulled back in a thick tail at his neck and very stylish shades perched on the bridge of his thin nose.

Ryo stood and stared, dirty and sweaty from just finishing the lawn, his hair in a haphazard tail of his own, his white tank-top not so white anymore.

"You're going today?" His planned tirade sort of got shuffled to the side in the face of Seiji's cool perfection and his mention of car shopping. Ryo liked car shopping, though he'd never actually purchased a vehicle of his own. The thought of test driving and walking among all the shiny, expensive toys was somehow --- exciting.

"Uh, okay. Let me run in and change shirts. Just be a second."

Seiji shrugged, looking bored. Seiji was talking to Sai in the foyer when Ryo came back down after a quick scrub with a wash rag, a new T-shirt and a rebunching of the hair at the nape of his neck. He looked like a shiftless vagabond next to Seiji. Seiji gave him an up and down look, apparently didn't find him too grungy to be seen with and turned back to finish what he was saying to Sai.

"Its intolerable and you oughtn't let him get away with it."

Sai was nodding, apparently in full agreement. "I know. No one else seems to think its important." He tossed Ryo a frown, apparently clumping Ryo in the no one else category. Which meant they'd been talking about Rowan, which meant Ryo was didn't want to hear about it. He'd heard quite enough about it already.

"You need to get over it, already." Ryo muttered on his way past. "You've had worse things in your mouth." Which came out a little less savory than he'd meant it and Sai made appropriate stuttering noises behind his back.

"Ryo." Seiji said sharply. "That was cruel. Its not the act so much as the lack of remorse."

Which coming from Seiji just seemed -- hypocritical. Lack of remorse was his middle name.

"Listen, Sai, sorry, okay. Are we going, Seiji?"

Seiji patted Sai on the shoulder and said something consoling which made Sai smile weakly -- his martyr's smile --and totally baffled Ryo, since Seiji in no wise was known for his putting up with -- much less offering sympathy -- to Sai's occasional tantrums.

They rode into the city in silence, with the top off of the jeep and the wind spilling through their hair. You could barely hear the radio over the rush of air, talking would have been difficult even if they'd been inclined.

"So where first?" Ryo wanted to know when they'd joined the migration of traffic on the turnpike bleeding into the city. There was a haze over the city scape, fog or smog. Probably the later. The air was so much heavier here than it was out in the country.

"Mercedes." Seiji said without hesitation and Ryo glanced at him in surprise.

"I thought you weren't going that expensive?" Not that he couldn't afford it, between the big insurance check from the car Ryo had wrecked and the healthy allowance he got from the trust, Seiji could damn well buy whatever sort of vehicle he wanted. It was just that Seiji was practical. He liked fine things, but he didn't like to waste money. Ryo had never actually seen the figures of Seiji's trust, and the investments he'd made with the portion of it that he was free to use, but Rowan, who had, claimed it was considerable. Rowan said it with sort of wide eyes and a hushed tone, which meant that it was probably very considerable. Which only made sense, Seiji being the only heir on his mother's side of the family and being in direct line for the holdings of his grandfather's various and sundry business ventures. Old American money and older Japanese money and Seiji hardly ever gave a damn about either set of fortunes. His father's brother and his family had taken over the Japanese interests when Seiji's father died. The American money was in the hands of corporate lawyers. Seiji got what he wanted, when he wanted it and that was about the extent of his interest in it. He wasn't particularly close with the remaining family on his father's side. They were not particularly fond of him. He was tainted beyond repair with two generations of foreign blood and they were traditionalists. Ryo had never met them, Seiji never talked about them, and that was that.

They walked about the dealership lot, trailed by an imperious, condescending salesman. Well, condescending to Ryo. Seiji got better treatment. He might have looked young, but at least he looked affluent young. Ryo stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at the SUV's while Seiji got the tour and the royal treatment.

"What happened to the comfortable, four door?" he asked when Seiji beckoned him over to a very spiffy convertible.

"You don't like it?"

Ryo looked at the price at the bottom of the paperwork in the window and almost choked on his gum. "Seiji! That's -- that's a lot of money." He was gaping. The salesman looked down his nose at him, barely hiding a thin smile of amusement. Ryo wouldn't have bought the car just because of the guys attitude. Seiji didn't seem to notice.

Seiji patted his shoulder and said. "He has his uses. I'll take a test drive." And walked away with the salesman hot on his heels. Ryo stood there and gaped, furious and embarrassed and of a good mind to take off and leave Seiji here without a ride, only such dire threats generally only lived within Ryo's mind and never actually saw the light of day. And Seiji pulled up shortly thereafter at the wheel of a burnished silver Mercedes sports convertible and gave Ryo an over the sunglass look which suggested he get in.

He did and the car took off. Seiji neglected to stop at the stop sign on the corner. If he hadn't been going so fast, an intersecting pick-up would have crashed into them.

"Seiji, didn't you see that stop sign." Ryo decided to put on his seat belt.

"Stop sign?" Seiji gave him a blank look, then nodded. "Oh. Stop sign. No missed it."

"Seiji slow down, there's a speed limit." Seiji never sped. Seiji was doing a fine imitation of Kento at the moment.

"Really?"

"If you wreck it, do you have to buy it?" Ryo held onto the arm rest as a corner was taken at breakneck speed. "And they just let you take out cars that cost this much and do whatever to them?"

Ryo knew -- he just knew -- that they'd never have let him test drive the thing without the salesman planted firmly in the car. If then, even.

Seiji took the interstate out of the city, weaving recklessly through cars until he'd left the major clutter of traffic behind. He veered off onto one of the rural routes where there was no traffic, just long highway lined with trees. The Mercedes rode like it was treading air. So smooth that Ryo was shocked to look over at the speedometer and discover they were pushing 110.

"God., Seiji, slow down."

"No."

"We're gonna get a ticket."

"I like the speed."

That statement baffled him. It was not something he would have expected to come out of Seiji's mouth. Seiji didn't do frivolous. That was Rowan or Kento.

"Seiji, slow the fuck down. What's wrong with you?"

Seiji glanced at him, eyes hidden by the dark glasses. The tires squealed and they decelerated from 110 to a crawl in less than it took to draw in a handful of startled breathes. There was a clearing off to the side of the road. What looked to be a picnic area down a little track. Seiji pulled off the road, pulling the nose of the car almost to the woods.

Ryo sat there, his fingers still clutching the armrest, his feet still braced against the floorboard and stared in amazement at Seiji. Seiji leaned over the gear shift the glasses still firmly concealing his eyes and whispered.

"Don't presume to tell me what to do, Ryo."

Ryo blinked. "Well -- well don't do stupid things then."

Seiji straightened. He carefully took off the glasses, folded them and stuck them in his inside jacket pocket.

"Get out." It was softly said, but there was an intensity in Seiji's pale blue eyes that made Ryo wince. That sent chills up his arms and a little tremor of uncertainty rolling in his stomach.

"Of the car?" he asked stupidly. Seiji was not going to strand him. "Listen, I'm sorry, okay, but jeeze, you were freakin' me out."

"Ryo. Don't make me repeat myself."

Ryo opened his mouth, shut it in shock. He didn't move. Seiji did. Seiji's door opened and Seiji slid out, stalked around to the passenger door and jerked it open, then reached in and grabbed for Ryo's arm. Ryo snatched his arm away, angry and confused, and got out on his own.

"What?" he cried. "What's the matter with you, damn it? What did I do?"

"You told me no. Twice."

"What ---?" He glanced down for a moment, intimidated and ashamed to admit it, of the look on Seiji's face. The blow caught him the moment his attention was away. Nothing more than a backhanded slap, really, but Seiji put his strength behind it, and Ryo wasn't expecting it. God, he never in a million years would have expected it. He spun, hit the front fender of the car and leaned there, shocked beyond reaction. He lifted a hand to his mouth, tasted blood where teeth had gashed the inside of his cheek. Anger began to surface, fighting its way past the confusion. He started to push himself up to face Seiji on two feet instead of listing against the car, to demand some sort of --- of explanation maybe. He hardly knew.

Seiji shoved him hard before he got the chance. Backwards against the hood of the car, hands wrapped in the material of Ryo's shirt front, weight pressing down. The metal was pleasantly warm. Seiji's heat was not. Seiji was scaring the hell out of him and he hadn't the foggiest notion why.

"Get off." He hissed, trying to shift and gain the leverage to force the issue.

"Ah, Ryo, you are so exquisite when you're angry and scared."

"I'm not fucking scared. Get off me, or -- or --"

"Or you'll what? Hit me back? Can you? Do you want to step over that line? What if I take offense and just stop wanting you. Who would you have then? How many people are you responsible for driving away that never came back, Ryo?" All a whisper against his ear. A heartstopping, terrible whisper that made his breath catch in his throat and nausea rise in his gut. And a sudden, unspeakable fear that was perhaps already there rose up to thicken his throat. How many people that he'd loved had gone away and never come back, until there was no one left? Two at least, although he couldn't very well remember more than a soft sweet voice of the first.

"None." He whispered back, hoarsely, feeling wetness at the corners of his eyes. "It wasn't my fault." Somebody, he forgot exactly who, had told him that once upon a time.

"You think? Don't make me hate you, Ryo?" Seiji whispered, all sweet voiced now, his lips very close to Ryo's cheek.

Ryo couldn't gather the strands of rational thought. He couldn't get past the lump of dread and fear that had afflicted him. The slap had been nothing compared to the impact of Seiji's words. He was floored, literally, figuratively and with Seiji's weight pressing into him and Seiji's hands slipping up under the bottom of his T-shirt, he flailed for balance and lost it.

"Seiji --- I don't understand." Something had gone wrong along the way and he'd not noticed.

"Simple. Don't deny me. In anything." His hands drifted down to Ryo's pants. There was a thickness against Ryo's leg. Seiji. God, Ryo thought, this has turned him on. And then, he's gonna do it, right here. And the frenzied question of whether he ought to push him off and what Seiji would do if he did.

Don't make me hate you. Don't make me stop wanting you. The words tumbled about in his head. They superseded pride and anger, because Seiji superseded everything else. Seiji was not something that, when he got right down to it, that he could live without. Not and be whole. He had never in his life had a threat aimed at him -- and he had received a great number of them -- that terrified him so completely. And until the words had been uttered, he hadn't had a clue that they might effect him so greatly.

He rolled his head to the side, shutting his eyes and let Seiji do what he wished. He recognized it for what it was. Punishment of a sort. For what, telling Seiji to slow down? For refusing a grope in the shower? For taking offense at being mauled in his sleep?

So he let Seiji take him on the hood of the car, with his cheek pressed against the warm metal and Seiji's hard body pressing into him from behind with no more lubrication that the natural one's produced by Seiji in his arousal. Ryo wasn't ready, Ryo didn't want it and subsequently it hurt like hell. There was blood this time, that made it easier for Seiji but didn't do a damn thing for Ryo, other than make him cringe and bite his lip and concentrate on not crying out. And despite all that, despite the pain and the threat and the damned fucked up way Seiji was acting -- it was still Seiji inside him, still Seiji's fingers pressed into his flesh and Seiji's golden head bent over his back and he would take from Seiji what he would not take from anyone else in the world. Pain.

Pain, which some screwed up synapse in his brain turned into pleasure. But only from Seiji. Only from Seiji.

 

 

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