Current music:	The Buzzcocks - Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've)?
Entry tags:	char: doumeki shizuka, char: watanuki kimihiro, fandom: xxxholic, type: ficlet

[ficlet] xxxHOLiC: Desideratum
Rating: R? No naughty bits mentionned though.
Characters/Pairings: Doumeki/Watanuki, except perhaps the other way around.
Disclaimer: xxxHOLiC and its characters belong to CLAMP.
Download: pdf
Note: Prompted by this request at the doumekiwatanuki anonymous ficfest. For anyone interested in comparative litterature (I can't even keep a straight face as I type this), the first draft is here.


It might be that ambushing Doumeki while he was undressing was just the tiniest bit underhanded. After due consideration, Watanuki has decided that there is no other way to keep him still and make him stop taking charge long enough to make his point.

The point in question being that Doumeki drives him nuts.

Granted, he doesn't usually resort to bondage to get that across. But the usual methods just can't seem to make the oblivious bastard get how much he's come to hate the way things are between them - the 'them' that's private and usually comes right after 'me and that insane mission and you who Yuuko told me I had to take along'.

Usually he shoves it down, because as much as he refuses to admit it out loud, Doumeki is good at everything he does, and that includes turning Watanuki into a shivering mess. But they both went way too close to the edge this evening, through no one's fault in particular, and by the time Watanuki was walked home, pressed against a wall and halfway stripped, he found he couldn't stand it anymore.

He hates the way Doumeki treats him with the same reverence he himself might have treated Himawari-chan in similar circumstances. He hates how the usually callous bastard gets so gentle, so much more considerate as physical intimacy grows.

"What do you think you're doing?" Straining slightly against the bonds, testing to see if there's any give; but still calm and collected.

Hates that each of his touches seem to go through a mental screening process.

"Are you so stupid you can't even figure that out?" Rough bite on the inside of an arm, bodies brushing together for a mere second.

Hates how all that seems to go through Doumeki's mind at these times is always you you you. Hates that he's always the one who ends up losing his footing, while even when he's coming Doumeki keeps silent and focused as if he was still drawing his bow.

"Why?" Trying to spread his legs to get more leverage. More control.

More responsibility.

Above all, Watanuki hates the way Doumeki gives and gives and never goddamn takes no matter how blatant the offer is.

"Why not?" Pushing him back down in a twisted, rough lapdance. Fingers on his lips that he sucks in slowly, deliberately, with all the skill acquired from so many times going down on a more than willing body.

He's sick of the nagging thought at the back of his mind that this might be nothing more than another service, something falling between rescuing him from the depths of hell and holding out an umbrella so he won't catch a cold.

"Tell me what you want."

So here they are: Watanuki, with three large bruises on his back and a minor burn on the flank, half-naked and straddling; dealing out ghost caresses, licks and bites at random. Doumeki, skin unmarred but barely recovering from the exhaustion of getting his soul forcibly extracted yet again, fully naked and straddled; sweating and twitching under the flickering touches. The ribbon tying the latter's wrists to the bedpost, stretching his arms over his head in a way that has no right to make anyone's mouth water. And, to complete the look, the strip of white silk hastily twisted into a makeshift blindfold.

"Please," Doumeki says, and he never says please

(unless Watanuki is dying unless he's desperate)

but it's still not enough, still not the response Watanuki is looking for. So he removes his fingers from Doumeki's lips and smirks a little in satisfaction when Doumeki whimpers at the loss.

(has he ever whimpered before? in pain or otherwise?)

"What. You. Want," Watanuki says, stressing each words; makes it a question, holds everything still for it.

"Untie me." The voice is raw, needy but still somehow commanding and Watanuki sees red.

"Not that," he snaps, his fingers digging in Doumeki's skin to punctuate.

Doumeki gasps, but still has the gall to ask why, a single word that ends in a hiss when Watanuki scratches a red path down his side. He jerks, but not away: towards it, towards more, as if he's craving the pain and he's always like that and Watanuki doesn't understand and it makes him so furious. "My decision," he hisses angrily in Doumeki's ear, because the bastard likes these words doesn't he? Aren't they his answer to everything?

"Then..." Doumeki croaks, arching a little more into the touch, "whatever you want."

You again, even now, and it's the last straw because if he can't say what he wants now of all times, then it must be that he wants nothing. The answer rolls over Watanuki like a tsunami and suddenly it's like he's on the other side of the storm, far beyond angry and frustrated and somewhat terrified - just maybe a little broken and too full with water.

He needs to get out of here.

So he swallows, once, and leans over Doumeki one last time to reach for the knot with something eerily like calm.

Except as soon as he removes his hand from the skin underneath, Doumeki's body jerks and he gives another whimper as his fists clench over the ribbon that holds them.

"Anything you want," he says brokenly, almost hurriedly. "Just. I. Everything. Give me-"

It doesn't make sense but it does, sort of, enough at least to make something catch in Watanuki's throat, make him brace himself on top of Doumeki and rest his forehead against his, as if this kind of closeness will help him read that cryptic idiot's thoughts. He lets out a breath and it sounds like 'what?', question and demand and plea all at once.

"You," Doumeki exhales back, then his name and "everything" and "please" and his name again, begging but still with that reverence he only ever displays in bed, that deadpan voice so gentle and careful as if-

As if-

The next moment Watanuki is scrambling to remove the blindfold. Doumeki strains against his bounds to grab his hand and their fingers tangle together with the soft silk even as they're kissing, short and shallow and breathless and their eyes wide open.

"So much," Doumeki says against his lips, his eyes wide and dark and his pupils dilated and Watanuki can't help but ask "can you see?" which is a stupid question because there's nothing in this world that draws stronger emotions from him than this cocky bastard.

Doumeki swallows and says "from the start" before tilting his head away, exposing his neck in what is clearly an invitation; and then it's all heat and skin and the occasional embarrassed noise as they struggle to find a decent position with only one free hand between them and shared reluctance to pull away for even one second.

---

Of course, the first thing Doumeki says afterwards, when they're both sweaty and barely catching their breath, is "I have archery tomorrow".

"So?" Watanuki asks without even a tenth of his usual antagonism.

"So I'll need my arms for that."

Watanuki grumbles - because his head is nicely pillowed on Doumeki's chest and he doesn't really want to move, but he does drag himself a bit further up the bed to untie the elaborate knot.

The instant his hands are free Doumeki reaches for him, wraps his arms around Watanuki and pulls him as close as possible, and it's sweaty and too hot and uncomfortable, but.

Watanuki thinks he understands, now.