For a moment Ryouma was sure he'd heard wrong. He lifted his head and caught the gleam of Raidou's dark eyes over the edge of his arm. The cloth dripped blood-warm water between his legs, and Raidou's hand rested heavy on the small of his back, just above his stinging ass.

Ryouma swallowed.

"Tried it once," he said. "She'd read it about it somewhere, got curious, but she didn't like it. We didn't get far."

"I like it," Raidou said, with a dangerous, tilted grin. "Want to try it again?"

He was going away in the morning, Ryouma reminded himself. Two weeks to Mangrove Country, and he might not come back. It didn't matter what he did tonight, or what he let Raidou do. Even if he lived, he'd likely never see the man again.

He hitched his hips up, drawing his knees under him, and dropped his face back to the pillow. "Make it good," he said.

Raidou laughed, low and rumbling. "No pressure, then," he said. He dragged the cloth down between Ryouma's legs again for a final healthy scrub, and tossed it into the bowl, splashing Ryouma's thigh. Raidou shifted, stooping to move the bowl off the bed, and settled down on the bed again just behind Ryouma's feet. His spread hands cupped lightly over Ryouma's ass.

His touch was beginning to feel familiar; the rough ridges of callus on his fingers and palms, the square shapes of his fingers, the slow, taunting gentleness as he began to rub. Too teasing to be just a massage, too much pressure and focus. Embers began to kindle again in Ryouma's groin. He flattened over his thighs, fingers tightening on his neck. A knuckle cracked.

"Relax," Raidou murmured. Ryouma untangled his fingers, laced them together again, and tried.

At last Raidou seemed satisfied. He settled his palms, slid his thumbs down, spread Ryouma open. The bed creaked as he shifted forward. Hot, moist breath ghosted over Ryouma's skin, tickling. "What kanji do you use to spell your name?"

Ryouma caught his breath. "Ryou as in dragon. Ma as in horse."

"I'll start there, then," Raidou said, and flicked his tongue against Ryouma's hole. Ryouma nearly jumped; Raidou held him down. One short vertical stroke, a horizontal one below it, two vertical strokes angling in...

Ryouma began to laugh, helplessly. He ducked his head into the pillow, shoulders shaking, hips still held rigid in Raidou's strong hands. "You're unbelievable," he choked out. "You are—gyuh."

Raidou finished the tenth stroke. "I'll quote you on that," he said, laughter brimming. He shifted, bit a kiss into the curve of Ryouma's left cheek, and sucked a bruise. Ryouma caught himself somewhere on the edge of a laugh grinding into a groan.

He wasn't too good at keeping quiet; it never made much sense, when you weren't in the field. Raidou didn't seem to mind. He made encouraging noises of his own as he traced out the ten strokes of ma, as nerves sparked fire under Ryouma's skin and up his spine, and his cock twitched hard and leaking between his thighs.

The next kanji was one Ryouma didn't know. Or maybe it was something else altogether, a random pattern of licks and nibbles his brain was too sensation-ridden to parse; he couldn't tell the difference anymore. There didn't seem to be room in his chest for both heart and lungs. He tried to spread his knees, opening wider, and gasped at the new movement of Raidou's tongue.

A broad hand slid around his hip, brushing the bone, anchoring him down. "You're doing really well," Raidou said. His voice thrummed deep, approval and arousal together. "You can drop your hands down if you need to brace better."

Meaning he would need to brace. Ryouma unclenched his hands from his neck, flattened them on the duvet below his face. He looked back—easier now, without his own arm in the way—and saw Raidou's head dip down again, reddish-brown hair gilt-edged in the lamplight.

Raidou's stiffened tongue slipped inside him, drew out, and in again.

Ryouma's breath stuttered. He groped for a hold on the edge of the duvet, didn't quite find it before the third penetration, harder and faster, drove the air from his lungs. Then it was slow once more, a wet, easy in and out, opening him up. He buried his face in the pillow and gasped for breath.