Title: What Will Bring
Author: A'mael

Email: a_mael21 (at) hotmail (dot) com

Pairings: Komyou/Ukoku

Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Not Worksafe, Explicit M/M, Adult Themes and Language
Summary: Sometimes control is too heavy a burden. Ukoku needs, Komyou provides.
Words: 6165
With many, many thanks and hugs and love to my beloved beta s0hmam0miji You're the best, nee-chan!
Thanks also to the Merciful Goddess (mercifulkanzeon) for organizing the wonderful gift exchange that gave rise to this fic.



It was a new moon night. Priest Komyou Sanzo sat alone on the walk outside his room, staring contemplatively into the darkness beyond. The only illumination was the faint pastel glow of a lamp, slanting through the open door behind him. It was enough by which to see his sake decanter and his cup, which was all he really needed just then.

Slowly, an awareness crept upon Komyou, a presence that bloomed through his consciousness like black ink through water. He was to have a visitor, it seemed. It had only been about six weeks since their last meeting; such a short interval was unusual for this particular guest. Generally, their visits ran the course from good-naturedly adversarial discussion to companionable silence and back again, but a strange sort of bond had sprung up between them and sometimes the visits were something else entirely.

Komyou considered that this was likely to be one of those times and part of his mind began calculating. It had been about two hours since his young protégé and adopted son, Koryuu, had gone to bed. Safe enough there, then. Next, a run-down of the list of things that might be wanted, and their locations. It didn't do to be a poor host, after all.

Everything seemed to be in order, so all that was left was to wait. Komyou poured another cup of sake.

*****



He liked nights like this, with no moon to mitigate the darkness. It suited him; during these times, when the void inside yawned black, frightening and inviting, it suited his purposes as well. This synchronicity of internal and external circumstances pleased him. He quickened his pace.

Suddenly there came a lightening of the inky cloak of his consciousness, an invasion of pale light that made him flinch. It was Komyou, of course. His own dharmic powers were unrivalled but Komyou - actually much weaker in almost every regard - was consistently able to surprise him. It seemed almost as though Komyou was the lateral to his linear; his power was offset by the older man's subtlety. Perhaps that was the reason for their friendship. It was almost certainly the reason why he sought Komyou out at times like this.

Life had always been easy for him, to the point of boredom and even decadence. He knew that he had grown cocky over the years, and had even actively tried to quell it through failure. Unfortunately, those attempts had been the only thing at which he had ever failed, and that was simply not enough. Even the gods fell to him when, at seventeen, he had killed his master and stepped over the corpse to claim the title of Sanzo.

There was still a part of him that feared what he was becoming, and so sought the man who had witnessed his ascension and the discarding of the name Ken'yuu, who had named him Ukoku Sanzo, the man who, alone, stood between Ukoku and the void.

*****



Ukoku tried to suppress his aura as he approached the building where Komyou had his rooms. He was realistic enough to know that it was not going to work, but it should be enough to keep the old man from pinpointing his exact position. If he could not hide his arrival, at least he could keep the direction of his approach a surprise.

Some way along the perpendicular side, Ukoku slipped out of his sandals and tabi socks, unclasped his dagger sheath from his leg, secreted it within his robe, then climbed up onto the wooden slats of the walk that ran around the building. As with everything else, his ability to move silently was impeccable. He glided along the boards like a wraith in the darkness. At the corner, he glanced quickly around; Komyou sat, calm and relaxed, with his back to Ukoku and sipping his sake.

Ukoku waited a moment, but Komyou showed no sign of awareness of his presence. His mouth quirked up in a wry smirk. That was Extremely Unlikely. Oh well, whatever. He couldn't skulk around this corner all night.

A tingling coil of anticipation snaked through Ukoku's gut, and he drew a deep breath to calm it. He wondered at that reaction briefly, then discarded the thought as he launched himself around the corner with what should have been a devastating strike.

Would have been, had Komyou still been seated in his previous position. Instead, he neatly sidestepped the attack and, grabbing Ukoku's lowered left wrist, used the younger man's own momentum to twist it painfully up behind his back. Ukoku grunted a curse as his shoulder blade strained to its limit. Really, it wouldn't have been so bad, had Komyou not defeated him so quickly, and always in the same way.

He lowered his head, as if in resignation. As he felt Komyou bend forward with him, he suddenly jerked up and back in a vain attempt to smash his skull into Komyou's face, only to have his hair viciously fisted. Komyou pulled back, stretching Ukoku's neck to the limit.

"Good evening, Ukoku," Komyou intoned gently, sounding for all the world as though they were about to sit to tea, "How kind of you to visit."

Ukoku ground his teeth together and failed to resist the urge to struggle. It was no good. Komyou's iron grip held him fast. He felt the blond priest's breath, hot against his neck now and the words, low in his ear,

"And what can I do for you, my young friend?"

The question that started the game, always. Ukoku twisted his head, wincing at the pain in his scalp, to crush his lips against Komyou's in a bruising kiss. When he tried to pull away, Komyou's grip tightened even further, pushing hard to keep their mouths locked together.

Komyou's tongue darted out to jab demandingly at Ukoku's lips, which he parted immediately, eager already for this, desperate for it. The prickling pain at the back of his head was welcome, the laceration of his mouth, something to be savoured. He returned the probing of Komyou's tongue equally, revelling in the purely sensual slide and thrust of it.

Ukoku moaned low into Komyou's mouth and was rewarded with another tug on his hair. Komyou preferred that he be quiet, naturally. In a building where walls were not much thicker than shoji doors, it was prudent, after all. Ukoku moaned slightly louder.

Komyou pulled back, inflicting a nearly vicious bite on Ukoku's lower lip before he broke the kiss entirely. He stared for a long moment into the younger man's eyes, and Ukoku met his gaze levelly, without subterfuge. He felt as though Komyou were appraising him, the depth of his need for this. After a time, Komyou pressed his lips together slightly, then gave Ukoku a hard shove with both hands, causing him to stumble a bit before regaining his balance.

"Inside," Komyou intoned quietly. The iron command in his voice would have stunned anyone else, Ukoku knew. This was not the placid, even-tempered priest that everyone else (including that officious little brat of his) saw. This Komyou was his alone.

He flicked a glance to Komyou's eyes before stepping through the open door. They were shuttered now, apparently hard. Komyou followed him into the room, sliding the door shut behind them. Turning, he dropped a length of wood between the wall and the door frame, effectively locking it.

Ukoku walked to the centre of the room, then turned to face Komyou. He schooled his features into a blank mask. The moment stretched between them, long and weighted with all that had not yet happened.

Ukoku smirked.

Komyou arched an eyebrow.

"Take off the robe," he ordered calmly, and Ukoku's spine thrilled to the sound of it.

Ukoku paused a moment, a tiny goad. Reaching up, he pulled the Muten sutra from his shoulders, the faint swish of silk on silk sounding too loud in the silent room. Intending to simply toss it to the side, he was stopped by the warning look in Komyou's eyes. He gave a tiny shrug, then rolled the sutra up neatly, and stepped over to place it gently on a table near the wall, leaving his glasses there as well.

Once back in the centre of the room, Ukoku removed his armour plate and placed it beside himself on the floor. Raising his eyes to meet Komyou's he paused again, hands at his waist. Another tremor ran through him as Komyou's face hardened a fraction in response. Ukoku felt as though his whole body were tingling with the weight of the gaze that rested on him, observing, waiting for any mistake, any disobedience.

He felt alive.

Ukoku unfastened the sash that belted his robe, then let it fall to coil loosely atop his armour. Though his own excitement was rising, becoming more and more evident even in his eyes, Komyou's expression did not alter in the least, as if he were watching Ukoku practice calligraphy, instead of watching him undress. It was infuriating, humiliating and strangely exhilarating to be looked at in this way. No one but Komyou would ever dare to do this, no one else could make Ukoku accept it. Certainly, no one else could make him want it.

With a level gaze and a slightly defiant up-tilt of his chin, Ukoku slid his robe from his shoulders and let it crumple to the floor at his feet. He stood now before Komyou clad only in the black silk undershirt and arm covers that were part of the vestments of a Sanzo priest, his excitement very obvious. Komyou's lips quirked up into a lopsided smirk.

"Tsk. Prideful child," he chided. "No knife today?"

Ukoku gestured toward his fallen robe by way of answer. He grabbed the hem of his shirt, intending to take it off.

"No," Komyou said, "leave those on."

Another surge of tingling swept Ukoku; as if the demand had been required, he became suddenly and incredibly aware of the feeling of the silk against his body. It was tight, like a second skin, brushing sensually over his hardened nipples as he breathed. With three words, Komyou had turned what had been well-known and comfortable into both restraint and instrument, making Ukoku feel enclosed and hyper-sensitive to his own flesh. His breath quickened, growing shallow and harsh.

Slowly, Komyou moved across the floor toward him, until they were mere inches apart. Staring directly into Ukoku's eyes, Komyou raised his arms up and away from his sides.

"Now mine," he said, so low that it was almost a whisper. Ukoku felt this as much as heard it, warm breath sweeping his cheeks and mingling with his own. His hands immediately found the sash, untied it, dropped it to the floor. There was nothing artful or elegant in it; he was eager, shaking with anticipation. He snaked his hands inside Komyou's robe, sliding his palms up along his taut, silk-covered abdomen and slight chest, then up and around slim shoulders. The soft cloth fell smoothly from Komyou's body, revealing an identical black shirt and arm covers beneath. Ukoku released a deep, ragged breath that he had not been aware he was holding.

Komyou, unlike Ukoku, always wore something else beneath his vestments. Ukoku automatically began to slide his fingers inside the waistband of Komyou's boxers, then belatedly looked up for permission. It was granted with a tiny nod, though the other man's expression twisted somewhat in disapproval. He slid them down over thin hips and let them drop. It seemed that Komyou was somewhat less calm than he appeared, if his erection was anything by which to judge.

Ukoku stood straight, reigning in his desire to touch either Komyou or himself. He was aching with it. The moments stretched, seconds like hours as Komyou simply stood there, not saying or doing anything. Ukoku gritted his teeth, his fingers twitching at his sides, waiting. Just as he began to lose tether on his control, Komyou raised his hands to Ukoku's shoulders and exerted a gentle but firm pressure downward.

A measure of relief ran through Ukoku as he sank to his knees before Komyou; he could abandon himself here. The various tensions he carried daily began to dissipate along with the trepidation that always accompanied one of these visits. For the next little while this room would be his world, and Komyou his law, as he allowed himself the luxury of submission to another.

Gently, Ukoku glided long fingers up and over lean thighs and hips, then across to grip Komyou in his right hand. He tilted his head back slightly, to meet the gaze of the man now towering above him. With slow deliberation, Ukoku opened his mouth wide, leaned forward and wrapped his lips around Komyou's hard cock.

Komyou uttered a satisfying little hiss at the contact, his eyes fluttering shut for just a second. That was more than enough encouragement for Ukoku. Closing his eyes, he began in earnest, relishing the feeling of Komyou's length sliding between his lips. His tongue darted around, slipping across and circling around the head, eliciting tiny moans of pleasure from the blond. As Komyou's cock became more slick, Ukoku gripped harder with his right hand and increased his pace, twisting his hand and his head in opposite directions as he did his level best to swallow every inch.

Komyou's breath was coming fast and shallow now, his thighs growing tense. Ukoku pulled away, smiling just a little at the sharp exhale from Komyou, and turned his attentions elsewhere. Ducking his head, Ukoku snaked his tongue out to lave Komyou's balls, which earned him a low sigh of satisfaction. He pumped a slow rhythm on the shaft in his fist while Komyou's blunt fingers twined through his hair. Suddenly, they gripped and twisted viciously; Ukoku's turn to hiss.

"Ukoku," Komyou almost grunted, his voice as coarse as it ever got. Ukoku leaned back enough to meet Komyou's eyes, a carnal shock racing through him at the sound of the command, "Open."

The young priest obeyed, wondering as Komyou pushed forward, how it could be so arousing to be held here like this, with another man thrusting forcefully into his mouth. It was too much suddenly, and he dropped his hand to grip his own aching cock. A bead of pre-come had formed at the head; he swiped his thumb across it, making himself shudder a little. Komyou's thrusts grew harder, faster, and Ukoku pumped his fist in time with them. He glanced up again, to see Komyou staring fixedly at him, eyes half-closed and glittering with carnality in the lamplight.

The force of his body's reaction brought Ukoku swiftly to his limit. He squeezed the base of his cock hard, to keep from coming too soon. He could not hold back the low groan that rose through his throat, though. Komyou's colour heightened slightly, just before the muscles in his jaw clenched and he abruptly pulled out of Ukoku's mouth. For a few moments they remained like that, Ukoku on his knees, Komyou standing before him, hands tangled in thick black hair as each caught his breath. Eventually, Komyou's grip relaxed, his fingers sliding lightly from Ukoku's head.

When they were both sufficiently calmed, Komyou ordered Ukoku over to his bed, which sat raised a little off the floor, on a kind of dais. Ukoku knew from previous visits that it was hollow beneath, behind the little wooden slats that panelled the sides. It was where Komyou tended to store things that he did not want out in the open: cigarettes, sake...and some other accoutrements with which Ukoku had become intimately familiar.

He rose to his feet and padded across to the bed as directed, sitting on the edge while Komyou removed a couple of loose panels and reached inside to rummage around. He glanced briefly back at Ukoku, a tiny frown creasing his brow.

"Well? Lay down."

Ukoku obeyed, both dismayed and aroused by the fact that he couldn't see what Komyou was bringing out. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, knowing that if he tried to get a peek, Komyou wouldn't like it. That would be breaking the rules, and then the blond priest would have to bring out the little flogger. Komyou had only used it once, when Ukoku had been particularly defiant and difficult. Memories of that night flooded his mind; his nipples hardened again and his cock twitched in response to the images. He remembered the feeling of the floor mats under him, positioned on his hands and knees, naked flesh exposed to the flogger's bite. Komyou had walked slowly around Ukoku, his wrist twisting in rhythmic circles that allowed Ukoku to anticipate the next strike, but left no room for even a thought of evasion. At first it hadn't hurt at all and he had almost laughed at its light touch, but after a few minutes, his flesh had grown hot and begun to sting. Eventually, even the air moving across his back had been a kind of exquisite torture. It had been an amazing night, but the sound of the strikes against Ukoku's skin had nearly gotten them discovered, which would have put an end to these little visits. Now Komyou preferred not to use it, but he would have no choice if Ukoku broke the rules.

Lost in his memories, Ukoku almost didn't notice when Komyou joined him, sitting on the edge and near the foot of the bed. The extra weight settling beside him pulled him reluctantly back to the present. He looked to Komyou, who held out a hand expectantly. For a second, Ukoku was puzzled before he cleared his head sufficiently to understand that Komyou wanted his hand. He complied, and the older man placed a dab of lubricant into his palm, then guided that hand to Ukoku's stiff cock. He gripped it, coating himself with lubricant, but he fixed a questioning stare on Komyou.

"I have something else to do," Komyou said cryptically, a tiny smile playing around his lips. He stood and turned to face Ukoku and the bed. "Spread your legs."

No matter how many times he heard it, that tone of command in Komyou's voice never failed to elicit a physical response in Ukoku; the hand around his cock tightened and he couldn't resist increasing the speed of his strokes. He watched the blond climb up on the bed, settling on his knees between Ukoku's open legs. Reaching down, Komyou slid his hands under Ukoku's knees and raised them until his heels were as close to his ass as they could get, then pushing his legs to fall wider apart.

A furious blush rose to Ukoku's face as he realized exactly how exposed he really was to Komyou's eyes, like this. The desire to move, to cover himself was strong, stronger than ever before. His thighs twitched involuntarily, his hand stilled its movements as he fought to control himself. Komyou's hands came to rest on his knees, gently but firmly keeping them apart.

"No, don't stop."

There was a note of warning in it that made Ukoku's blood surge, urged him to resume his movements. He tried to concentrate on that, on the feeling of the smooth slide of the rougher skin of his hand, with its contrasting silk on the palm, along the slick hardness of his cock. Within moments, the humiliation of his position began to become a part of his arousal, heightening and honing it to a razor edge. Ukoku could feel the touch of Komyou's gaze, physical, like a breath, roaming over him as he embraced this new subjugation.

Closing his eyes, Ukoku rode the wave, content to let it take him wherever he was being led. He could hear the soft sounds, feel the shift and sway, of Komyou's movements, there by his legs. There was a muted rustling, and a quiet clicking sound. They piqued Ukoku's curiosity, but this one time he felt no real need to satisfy it. Instead, he savoured the mystery, the suspense of not knowing.

"My, Ukoku," Komyou chuckled, "slow down a little."

He hadn't even been aware of his quickening pace until Komyou pointed it out. Swallowing hard, Ukoku reined himself in, to a slow and deliberate pace.

"That's better," Komyou said, with a note of approval. "Now keep it steady, and relax."

He did his best to comply, though the sheer depth of his arousal made it somewhat difficult. After a moment, Komyou reached down with slick fingers and gently massaged him, describing small, soothing circles that soon had Ukoku not only relaxed, but moaning with pleasure. When Komyou slipped a finger inside him, he had to throw an arm over his mouth to muffle a deep, satisfied groan. Komyou matched his movements to Ukoku's, effectively forbidding any change. Ukoku considered that he might seriously go mad.

This was only a prelude, however; Komyou soon withdrew, replacing his fingers with a larger, round object. Ukoku bit back a gasp as he felt his flesh stretching to accommodate it. Just as he began to wonder how much more he could take without crying out, it slipped past his muscles and inside, sending a shock of pleasure racing through his body and eliciting a soft grunt of satisfaction. Before it had even ended, before he could catch his breath, Komyou was pushing another bead into him. Wave after wave of intense sensation rolled over him as it continued, one after another. There were eight in total.

Ukoku' strokes sped up, he couldn't stop himself. The beads, shifting with his movements, were a sublime ecstasy. He actually whimpered a little when Komyou reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

"Put your hands above your head," Komyou said as he let go.

Ukoku hesitated.

"Now."

Reluctantly, he did as he had been ordered. Komyou wrapped his own hand around Ukoku's stiff length instead and began pumping at a maddeningly slow pace. Ukoku's hips wanted to snap forward, to increase the speed and friction of Komyou's strokes. Knowing that Komyou would be displeased, he managed to keep himself under control, but just barely.

Ukoku gripped his left wrist with his right hand and squeezed hard. The desire to reach down and wrap his hand around Komyou's was so strong that he had to do this. It kept him aware of where his hands were, and reminded him of his position. When he thought about that, about how he was wantonly laid out on this bed to be devoured by Komyou's eyes and hands, a hot rush of blood flushed his skin and his back twisted, writhing in response.

"Ukoku."

He was so intent on this image that he didn't truly hear Komyou's voice. He was conscious only of the results of Komyou's ministrations, the rolling sensations that moved through his body as the blond priest's hand slid over him and the movement of those beads inside his body.

"Ken'yuu!" Komyou barked. Ukoku's eyes snapped open, his gaze flew to meet Komyou's. Another blush raced across his skin and his cock pulsed in Komyou's fist at the sound of his childhood name.

"Come."

As he uttered the command, Komyou reached down, taking hold of the string that bound the beads inside Ukoku; he increased the speed of his movements, pumping faster and faster as he pulled. Ukoku's eyes squeezed shut, his entire body grew rigid as he felt his climax building at an impossible speed.

The first bead stretched him and slipped out, triggering his release. His back stiffened, immobilizing him in the grip of this ecstasy as he obeyed Komyou's order. Ukoku erupted in hot bursts, punctuated by the shocks of intense pleasure as each bead in its turn was pulled from him. The need to cry out was so intense that Ukoku brought a hand to his mouth and bit down hard in order to stop it. His vision dimmed, narrowing to a tunnel in the aftermath.

Komyou allowed Ukoku a moment to catch his breath while he tended to a bit of cleaning up. Ukoku felt a soft towel swipe across his hip, picking up the sticky wetness there. Soft clicking sounds floated to his ears as Komyou wiped down the beads with another. After raising his hand back above his head, Ukoku lay still in the wake of bliss, waiting for Komyou to come back to him.

The bed shifted beneath him as Komyou repositioned himself, spreading his knees farther apart. Without warning, he hooked Ukoku's legs and lifted them to rest on his shoulders before wrapping his arms around Ukoku's thighs and pulling him closer. Komyou's hands ran gently up the backs of his legs to his knees, then pushed away, pressing them toward Ukoku's chest and exposing him once again.

Through eyes half-closed, Ukoku watched as Komyou reached a hand down between them. A moment later, he felt the silky, slick head of Komyou's cock pressing against him; there was little resistance as he pushed forward, driving himself in to the base. Ukoku moaned as Komyou drew back, wrapping his legs around Komyou's waist to keep him from going too far. There was an eternal second where they hung there like that, in stasis.

Ukoku, his legs actually trembling with anticipation, didn't dare move. He could feel Komyou stretching him, and it was good but it was not enough. Not enough. He raised his eyes to meet Komyou's.

"Komyou," he breathed, "please."

Suddenly Komyou was leaning over Ukoku, thrusting in hard. When he withdrew, it was a slow anguish of pleasure. Again and again he drove into Ukoku this way, his breath coming is harsh gasps. Ukoku bucked his hips up to meet each thrust, wanting, needing to feel all of Komyou's stiff length inside him.

Komyou's long, braided hair slid forward with the violence of their movements, falling over his shoulder. Ukoku found himself drawn to that plait, watching it swing between them; he wanted to reach up, to buy his fingers in that silken softness. As if reading his thoughts, Komyou stretched his arm up to clamp his hand around Ukoku's wrists, pinning them down. When he leaned in to capture Ukoku's lips in a bruising kiss, his hair swung down to brush across Ukoku's nipple, but the silk that lay between muted the contact, making it a maddening denial.

Komyou released his lips and wrists and pulled away. Ukoku tasted the copper tang of the lacerations the kiss had left in his mouth, and something snapped inside him. Komyou's thrusts were rough, deep and frustratingly slow; the compulsion to grab that golden hair, to feel it between his fingers was overwhelming and all of it was infuriating. Besides, he thought darkly, he really had been far too compliant until now.

Lightning-quick, Ukoku pulled himself up, wrapped an arm around Komyou's neck, tangled his hand into the hair at the nape of the blond's neck and yanked back hard. Komyou hissed at the pain, but Ukoku covered it with his mouth, then bit down on Komyou's lower lip. In the split second while Komyou was surprised and distracted, Ukoku reached for the braid with his free hand, grabbed the string that tied it and yanked it off. Just in time, it seemed, as Komyou's hand snaked up to Ukoku's throat and shoved him back down to the bed.

It was not enough to restrict his breathing, but Ukoku could feel his blood pulsing through his neck as his heartbeat raced. Komyou fixed him with a calculating stare; unable to resist, Ukoku let his lips curl up into a deliberate and devious smirk. The older priest responded with a single raised eyebrow.

Suddenly, viciously, Komoyu pulled back and out, too fast and almost painfully. Leaving Ukoku no time to think or adjust, he grabbed the younger man's legs, wrapping his arms around them again, and twisted. With no warning, Ukoku could not counter, and found himself laying face-down on the bed. Komyou left him for a second, and he got his arms under himself and pushed up, but not fast enough.

Ukoku grunted as he was crushed back down and Komyou's knee landed on his back. He tried to resist, but in an instant, Komyou's iron grip encased his right wrist and twisted it painfully up behind his back. Ukoku subsided, knowing that it was useless now to try any further. Left wrist next, and then Komyou was binding them tightly together with a strip of silk. He briefly wondered if it was one of their sashes, but dismissed it. They were halfway across the room, and Komyou had not been gone long enough to get one; he must have anticipated this.

When he was sure that Ukoku's wrists were secure, Komyou got up and moved to stand on the floor beside the bed.

"Roll over," he ordered, his voice lower than Ukoku had ever heard it, with a dark edge that thrilled the young priest to his core. He rolled onto his back, though his arms protested a little.

"Sit up. Get off the bed."

He raised himself to a slightly awkward sitting position. Fortunately, the bed was narrow enough that he was able to simply swing his legs over the side, and then stand up with minimal difficulty. Komyou did not tie his hair back again; Ukoku kept his eyes downcast in order not to show that this pleased him.

Komyou's hand shot out to fist tightly in Ukoku's hair. He jerked his hand to the side, and Ukoku turned to face the bed.

"Kneel." Komyou ground out.

A shiver raced down Ukoku's spine as he obeyed. Komyou sank down behind him and leaned forward, pressing against his back. Ukoku felt Komyou's breath, hot against his ear as the hand in his hair released and slid down to spread across the back of his neck. With a hard shove, Komyou bent Ukoku over the edge of the bed, pressing his face into the covers.

Within seconds Ukoku felt Komyou's hard cock pressing into him again. No warning, no preparation, just the gasp tearing through his throat as Komyou drove inside him deep and hard. Ukoku's muscles protested a little at this sudden, forceful penetration, but that pain was not equal to the pleasure, the pure carnal jolt that accompanied it and made his own cock harden again.

Laying there, bound and essentially helpless, Ukoku abandoned his last vestige of self, sacrificing his will to Komyou for mastery and release. Hands on Ukoku's shoulders for leverage, Komyou slammed into him again and again without pause or concern. This was what Ukoku needed, this punishing rhythm and strength that pinned him to the world. He was real and alive in this moment.

Powerless now to prevent it, Ukoku began to cry out with Komyou`s rapid thrusts. Low at first, they grew rapidly in pitch and volume, until Komyou reached up and clamped a hand over Ukoku`s mouth. They were of a height; Komyou had to lean over Ukoku`s back in order to keep that hold and adjusted his movements accordingly.

Ukoku felt this as a change from deep, powerful thrusts to a rolling of Komyou`s hips that stretched and stoked him inside. His eyes rolled back in his head and his cock pulsed as Komyou plunged into him time after time. Ukoku became dimly aware of the sensation of Komoyu's hair sliding down over his exposed upper arm and shoulder; the contrast of this touch, so delicate, and the uncompromising solidity of Komyou's cock inside him was profoundly delicious.

Komyou slid his free hand down Ukoku's side to the hem of his shirt, then up and under to roll a nipple between strong fingers. Ukoku groaned helplessly as his groin tightened in response. Komyou made a noise that Ukoku couldn't identify before reaching down to grip Ukoku's stiff cock again.

With his hand still pressed tightly to Ukoku's mouth, Komyou pulled back firmly. Ukoku raised himself from the bed and leaned back against the man behind him and they both settled back toward their heels. Komyou's thrusts continued, though with slightly less force now as he jerked his fist over Ukoku's length. Impossibly soon, Ukoku felt his balls tightening, ready to come again. He uttered a soft grunt that stretched into a moan behind Komyous fingers.

"Good," Komyou whispered huskily in his ear. "Let go, Ken'yuu."

The approval in Komyou's voice combined with the sound of that name released him, and Ukoku came explosively, shooting viscous white fluid into the air and onto the bed in front of him. His muscles jumped, gripping the cock inside him tightly. Komyou straightened and bent him forward over the bed again; grabbing his hips firmly with both hands, he pounded into Ukoku mercilessly. The sounds of their flesh slamming together were loud in the small room, but neither man cared.

Seconds later, Komyou's body stiffened, his cock pulsing steadily as he came, pressed deep inside Ukoku's body. No sound escaped him save a low grunt at the moment of his release. His head fell forward as his body stilled.

They stayed like that for a minute, a tableau of spent carnality as their breathing slowed and the world crept back in on them.

Ukoku felt Komyou's fingers at his wrists, gently unbinding him. When he was free, Ukoku brought his hands around to rest on the bed, but he was unable to move any further. Komyou pulled away and out, then reached for a towel. He cleaned Ukoku up with a kind of quiet efficiency before helping the younger man up to lay on the bed.

Ukoku was vaguely aware of Komyou's movements after that, but he was drifting in a kind of daze, and was content to simply lay there until Komyou returned to him. When the blond priest came back to sit beside him, he was dressed gain in his robe, though his hair remained unbound. Laying a towel down across Ukoku's hips, he offered a cigarette.

While they smoked, they did not speak. Words were sometimes unnecessary, and sometimes a burden. This time was a bit of both, and the silence was comfortable. Afterward, Komyou held the tie for his hair out toward Ukoku, who gave him a puzzled look.

"Please fix it," he requested with a small smile and a pointed look.

Somewhat nonplussed, but seeing no reason to object, Ukoku took the tie and moved to sit behind Komyou on the bed. He ran his fingers through the long golden strands to smooth it and release the worst of the small tangles. As he separated it for braiding, he marvelled at the pure silkiness against his skin. It occurred to him that this was what he had been wanting, not the rough grasping that he had considered earlier. A small frown creased his brow at the thought, and he filed it away for later.

Really, Komyou's hair was just like Komyou - soft and strong at the same time. This led him around to something that he had been wondering for some time, and which he concluded he was ready to ask about. He cleared his throat and drew a deep breath before he began. For some reason, this was a little frightening to him.

"Komyou," Ukoku began, a note of inquiry in his voice, "do you like doing this with me?" Suddenly the sound of his blood pumping was loud in his ears. He was not used to this feeling, and it was disconcerting.

Komyou didn't say anything for a moment, and Ukoku began to think that he was not going to, when:

"Would you believe me if I said that it wasn't pleasurable?" the answer was in the question, and yet it was not. Komyou was - most likely deliberately - missing the point.

"I don't mean physically, Komyou. Do you like the way we do things?"

"My thoughts about that don't matter, Ukoku."

Again, an answer that was not. Komyou really was the master of this type of conversation, never giving away more than he meant to. It was part of the reason that Ukoku remained so fascinated with him, but he was determined to get a real answer now that he had begun.

"Then why do you do it?" Ukoku's voice was low, his true desire to know evident in it.

Komyou sighed. "Because you ask."

"I never have," Ukoku responded, a little indignant.

Komyou turned to look over his shoulder, into Ukoku's eyes.

"You're here, aren't you?" Ukoku dropped his eyes, his own answer that wasn't. Komyou turned away again, and was quiet for a moment before he continued.

"If you ask, then you need."

Ukoku swallowed hard. "And that's it?"

Again Komyou turned, his gaze direct and open.

"What more reason could there be?"

The question, the answer, the reason...suddenly Ukoku understood them all, and he knew:

It wasn't over yet.

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