The world is not beautiful, therefore it is. (dorrie6) wrote in porn_battle,
xxxHolic, Watanuki/Doumeki, sour
"You've changed since the last time we met," the little psychic girl said. "You're blending with this person."
Watanuki's eyes got big, and Doumeki waited for the protest that never came.
*****
The first time it happened, they were running from something that Doumeki wished he couldn't see, and was unable to forget afterward. They reached the temple where Doumeki lived, and fell near each other on the futon that had held Watanuki once in illness, and lately quite often for reasons Doumeki wasn't sure about, but didn't really feel like questioning.
"We should have run to the shop," Doumeki said, between rough breaths, "Yuuko-san would say you should be there."
Watanuki said nothing. Doumeki closed his eyes, willing the vision in his right eye to fade. When he opened them again, he was kissing Watanuki.
Watanuki's face was pink, breath coming out of him in tiny puffs. "You know I love Himiwari-chan," he said, grabbing at Doumeki's shirt to draw him closer, and Doumeki wondered who he was really saying it for.
*****
The second time was after school, near where the fox's oden stand sometimes was. The third time, by the river. The fourth, outside Yuuko's shop, while the rest were distracted by a heavy dinner and too much sake. After that, Doumeki stopped counting.
*****
The afternoons were getting hot, and the sounds of semi could be heard outside the open window of the empty home economics classroom where Doumeki found Watanuki after classes. Doumeki closed the door behind him.
"Don't you have your club today?" Watanuki asked.
"Yes," Doumeki said, leaning over to find his mouth. He grimaced. "No umeboshi tomorrow. Too sour."
Watanuki grunted, "Forget it," and kissed him harder.
Doumeki's hands wandered under the back of Watanuki's shirt, tracing light patterns in the cool beads of sweat pooled above his waistband. Watanuki nuzzled his face into Doumeki's neck, and became quite still.
"Hey," Doumeki said.
"Is this a dream?" Watanuki's voice was sharp.
"No. idiot," Doumeki said.
Then Watanuki pulled Doumeki's earlobe into his mouth, and Doumeki suddenly needed to be on the floor. He carried Watanuki down with him, providing a cushion with his body, barely noticing as his own head hit the floor. Hands were everywhere, his and Watanuki's, and he wasn't quite sure what was what between sensations, warm skin and cold floor, damp clothing pushed and crumpled up, and Watanuki's eyes, blue and gold, looking down at him, clear and close.
Watanuki's breath hitched, and then Doumeki was looking at himself, his own heavy eyelids, hot cheeks flushed with want, someone that was him but not him, warm and beautiful in some way he'd never considered, and then two images were blending into one, Doumeki and Watanuki, Watanuki and Doumeki, as he came, warm and sticky, into his school uniform.
*****
"Winter uniforms would be better," complained Watanuki, scrubbing at his pants with a paper towel. "There's nothing to cover this up at all."
"If we just sit here for a while, everyone will have gone home," Doumeki said, still sitting on the floor, leaning against the cupboards.
"I'm already late," Watanuki said, but he sank down beside him anyway.
They sat in silence.
"I saw myself," Doumeki said, "through my right eye. What you see."
Watanuki frowned. "But... you're real," he said.
"Are you sure you know what's real anymore?" Doumeki asked, and Watanuki's forehead wrinkled up like someone older than Watanuki should ever be. Doumeki curled his hand around Watanuki's wrist and closed his eyes, Watanuki's pulse tapping against his fingertips. Doumeki wondered if it was his blood or Watanuki's pulsing under his fingers, or if there was even any difference now.
"You are blending with this person." Watanuki's voice broke through the silence with an uncharacteristic calm.
Doumeki blinked. "That's what that little girl said."