Whispers in the Dark A Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle vignette Sephy This is wrong. Even as Syaoran acknowledges this, he can't help but tip his face upward, feeling the gentle press of calluses against his cheeks, oddly softer than he expected. Soft and not drenched with the smell of blood or worse, just -- very human. Warm and human and achingly familiar. He remembers these hands, remembers them from nights long past when he was little more than a child, teaching him how to fight back when all he'd ever been able to do was run. They were gentle then too, confident and knowing just how to move his body, as if it belonged to him and not to Li himself, seeming to know instinctively which touch would get him to move a little faster or slow down, needing only the squeeze of fingers on his shoulder to communicate pleasure to him. But it had been a childish pleasure and what Seishirou-san was teaching him now was decidedly not A breath escapes his lips as Seishirou's fingers trace over his cheeks and nose, already having mapped his hairline and brow, the older man seemingly fascinated, his one brown eye following the trail of those fingers and Syaoran finds himself unable to look away, seeing his reflection in the false one, mirrored but the image -- He's never seen himself like this before. Not so open or vulnerable, eyes lowered and mouth slackening as those talented, familiar fingers drift over his lips, shuddering as the rough pad of a thumb is pressed there, mashing tissue against his teeth, Syaoran's tongue darting out to lap at it in spite of himself. Seishirou smiles at that, almost pleased and yet somehow oddly knowing, sure hands lifting his face and he's not sure how Seishirou got so close but they're kissing, the hard-silky feel of the mouth against his wringing another shudder out of him but it doesn't stop him from kissing back. This is wrong, terribly wrong and he knows it. It's Sakura he loves. Sakura he's trying to protect and help but -- It's not Sakura who's kissing him. It's not Sakura's nimble fingers that are undoing the collar of his shirt, the sweet scent of cherry blossoms filling his nostrils, confusing and lulling as Seishirou coaxes his mouth open a little wider, a tongue sliding over his teeth and over his tongue, stroking, stroking -- just like slide of hands over the now bared skin of his throat and breastbone, another wet noise falling between them, torn from deep within his throat. Seishirou is leaning forward, trapping him against the bark of the tree behind them and his fingers loosen, the sword in them hitting the dirt with a dull thud. He should pick it up, he should pick it up and dust it off and not it lay like that but instead his fingers tangle in Seishirou's dark hair, his cassock warm between them, the cool metal of the chain slithering against his chest. There's some surrender in this and betrayal, too. Betrayal of Sakura, betrayal of himself and all that he is but inside there's still a small boy, battered and dusty, nearly dead and watching with awe as this dark man appeared out of the shadows, seemingly made of and part of them as he dispatched those who had hurt Li in the first place and it's that boy that's here now. It's that small boy clinging to the shards of some deeply nursed fantasy and desire, wanting to be like this man, to be as strong and confident, cherishing the memory of arms wrapped around him as they moved his hands in the right defensive position. The moment stretches out and like the warmly cloying scent of flowers, who he was is all that Syaoran knows now and despite himself, he can't put it aside. Maybe that's the problem. He's clinging so hard to everything, to Sakura, to his memories of all they were and what he hoped they would be, that he can't see anything else anymore. He can't let anything go. He can't part with any memory no matter how painful and there is something terrible and attractive at being with someone who knows him, who knew him then and doesn't seem to care whether he's strong or can make the right decisions or deal whatever comes up. There's no fighting here, just giving in and were he to confess it, Syaoran would be forced to admit it's a fantasy he's entertained. To just stop and let someone else, let Fai or Kurogane lead the way, find the feathers. Because with each regained feather the pain that he thought would lessen is only growing, realizing the curse of the Time Witch's words, feeling that promise come to fruition. Were it anyone but Sakura he would give up. Anyone but Sakura and he might have played the coward and stayed in Clow. But it is Sakura and that makes everything different. Just as it is with Seishirou. This man is his enemy. He's proven it. He cares nothing for anything besides his own mad quest, willing to hurt and kill people to accomplish his own desires. And yet Li can't bring himself to kill him. Each time they meet, no matter what the world, he comes to these meetings meaning to kill Seishirou and reclaim what belongs rightfully to the Princess. And each time he finds himself outwitted or outmaneuvered, wondering deep in his heart if he really wants Seishirou to die or if it was something else he hoped for, some veiled promise in that laughing amber eye each time they met. "Syaoran-kun." He never thought his name could sound like that, all warm and husky, like heated sake rolling over his senses and he struggles to keep his feet, aware of an arm around his waist. He shivers, "Seishirou-san?" His skin prickles, the hairs on the back of his neck lifting at smile, predatory and amused, pressing a kiss below Li's eye, the one that's not real, a ghost of remembered pain chasing after it, "Has anyone ever told you that you are, " A finger taps his nose and his eyes cross a little trying to follow it, unafraid, "Very cute?" It's certainly the last thing he ever expected to hear and he scowls just a little, resting his head against the tree behind him, "I'm not cute. "Yes, you are. Trying to be fierce and follow my lead. You're like a little cub following its mother." Brows slashing downward, Li shoves at the fingers still tapping his nose, Seishirou's smile becoming an outright grin, obviously entertained. "I'm not following your anything." "Aren't you?" Seishirou seems almost innocent now, or rather a macabre parody of innocence. "You've been on this world too long already. You have your Princess' feather and yet you linger here still. Why is that?" "Because I want the feather you have," he gritted his teeth. "I don't care what it is you're looking for, I just want the feather. If you give it to me, we can go our separate ways and I'll stay out of your way." "Now why would I do that? I rather like having you show up the way you do. Like a bad coin. It keeps things interesting but tell me, Syaoran-kun, what is it that you truly want? What is it that keeps you coming back for more? Certainly it's not your little Princess," Seishirou's tone turns mocking now, "She can barely stay awake from one moment to the next." "Don't you ever, ever talk about Sakura again," he growled. "She's not your business." "Of course she is. She's my business because you're my business, because you belong to me, my dear Syaoran-kun. You always have. Ever since that night I saved your life," Seishirou pauses, appearing to think about that, stepping back, his expression more intent and somehow possessive, "Syaoran-kun, how would you like to make a little wager?" "A w-wager?" Nodding, Seishirou adjusts his hood and cloak, "I'm growing bored with my travels and you amuse me. You always have. I should have killed you long before now and yet I can't seem to bring myself to do it. I'm not quite sure why to tell you the truth." "And you want to make a wager about why you haven't killed me?" "Not quite. I was thinking more along the lines of something much more interesting," Seishirou looks over him curiously, "For some reason I keep thinking about when we first met and how our destinies seem to be intertwining since then. Most of the time, I feel nothing and care for nothing but you --" Fingers smooth over Li's jaw, down his throat, letting the silence build between them before speaking again, sounding almost contemplative, "Make me feel things again. So, I think I'd like to make a bet with you -- something just between the two of us. And if you agree, I'll accompany you for a year and help you in your quest to gather the feathers. "Without giving you my own," he adds, "I wouldn't want to make this too easy for you." "In exchange for what?" Syaoran asks warily. There's no denying that having Seishirou on their side would more than make things simpler. If he could be trusted, he could be their greatest ally. Or perhaps worst liability, Li reminds himself, wondering why he's still here, why he's even listening to this. Seishirou almost beams and that does more to soften his face than any of his smiles, Syaoran catching his breath and thinking perhaps he has his answer to those questions. But Seishirou more than startles him with the next, his words hot against Syaoran's ear, burning into his mind and leaving him wide-eyed. "If you can make me fall in love with you, I'll stay with you and continue to help. But if not, after a year, in return for my services, I'll kill you. Is it a bargain?" ***End return to splash page