Failing You

Title: Failing You
Pairing: Doumeki/Watanuki
Rating: M
Length: 9 chapters. (This is #9)
Summary: What would Doumeki do if he ever failed to save Watanuki? What would Watanuki do to stop him?

DISC: I do not own xxxHolic or any of the characters. These belong to Clamp – those crazy mangaka who make us all practically faint for the shonen-ai and then YANK it out from under us. Clamp, if I can have one request, it’s to give us some DouWata love by the end of this series! PLEASE!


Chapter 9

Panting, he ran as fast as his legs could take him – faster than he’d ever run in his life.

He had to make it in time to…

It didn’t matter that he didn’t know why he was running. He had to see Doumeki. Shizuka.

So what if Yuuko had said the injuries were just an illusion. She hadn’t seen… He added another burst of speed as he entered the courtyard of the shrine. She hadn’t seen it and he had and he had to see him. Now.

Without understanding why, he didn’t head toward the house, but instead turned toward the kura, throwing the door open with a slam.

The sound made the kneeling figure jump and turn his head. He couldn’t continue if someone was here. They’d try to stop him and he wouldn’t be able to quietly die, alone, the way he deserved.

Watanuki stood panting in the doorway, using the frame to hold himself upright. Doumeki’s eyes widened, but he made no sound. Instead, he moved to hide the tanto from sight.

The young seer, however, didn’t miss what was happening. Catching his breath, he stared at the one he’d called rival for so long.

Soft, like breath, he whispered, “Shizuka.”

Then, he stood tall and stormed into the room. “Doumeki Shizuka. Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

The archer turned his face away, but not before Watanuki saw the self-condemnation burning there.

“Yuuko was able to heal you. I’m glad.”

Walking as in a trance, he advanced upon the still kneeling exorcist, bending, sitting next to him, then reaching out one hand to touch the archer’s right foot. “There was nothing to heal.” First his touch was tentative, lightly stroking, and then he grabbed it hard, gripping first his foot, then moving up his ankle, grasping there, then his leg. “It was all an illusion. Oh, thank god. Thank god, it was just an illusion.”

The seer leaned forward and hugged Doumeki tightly. “Thank god. Thank god.”

“Il- Illusion?” The tanto dropped to the floor with a clatter, startling Watanuki, making him pull back from the embrace.

He stared at the knife, which had landed very near the parchment. “What did you see,” he breathed, “that would bring you to this?” Quickly he leaned over his protector and snatched up the death poem. He scanned it quickly, his heart jumping in its rhythm as the words’ meanings became clear.

“Shizuka, what did you see?” he turned back to him, practically sitting in his lap now.

Unable to look at the seer now that his feelings had been bared, Doumeki closed his eyes. “I was too late. I didn’t save you.” A tear escaped and ran down his face.

“So you thought I was dead?”

The archer shook his head, eyes still closed. “Worse.”

Watanuki couldn’t help but run his hand up and down the leg he’d seen be taken from him. “Yuuko said… the demon fed off our misery. He projected the image he knew would hurt us the most.” His fingers kept trailing down to the foot and each toe – each toe he’d seen ruined – oh, it was intact and perfect. “It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.”

“So, you weren’t… I… wasn’t… too late to save you?”

Barking a laugh, he said, “You were right on time. You were perfect. You’re always perfect.” But this time, there was no bitterness in his tone. Just relief.

Doumeki noted the difference and opened his eyes. Watanuki was crying with a smile on his lips, staring at the archer’s foot, his fingers tracing it.

“Why are you playing with my foot?”

Watanuki shook his head, sorrowfully. “You gave it up to save me. Even though you knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Just to give me another minute. You gave it up. You always give everything up to save me.” He thrust the poem in the archer’s face, his ire building. “It’s stupid! Don’t you know you have to live?!” Now he was in rant mode. “How am I supposed to go on if you sacrifice yourself for me? Don’t you know that if you die, I’ll…” his rant wore out. Instead, he picked up the tanto.

His mouth tightening, Watanuki Kimihiro placed the blade point toward his own belly. “Promise me you won’t ever be this stupid again.” He paused, then said, “I know it’s hard for an idiot to promise not to be stupid, but do it anyway. Do it, or I’ll… do what you were just going to do.” He nodded at the poem. “That will work well enough for me. Just replace blue with gold and my name for yours.”

One side of the archer’s mouth curved up in a smirk. “That’s one too few syllables.”

Watanuki huffed, “Well then add ‘my’ before it! Sheesh! I think I can get away with ‘my Shizuka’ for something like this. Does it even really matter?”

“It really does. To me.” Doumeki was staring at him with longing. “Would you really be okay with calling me your… Shizuka?”

With an exasperated exhalation, he threw the knife away. “Good, god. You’re such a complete moron! What the hell have I been saying? I-” And that was as far as he got before Doumeki pulled him into a kiss.

It wasn’t searing. It was chaste, lips closed. But Watanuki could feel all the longing in it. When it ended, Doumeki pulled him into a crushing embrace. Softly, the words whispering past his ear, Watanuki said, “I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully. Don’t ever leave me, Shizuka. I need you.”

Shizuka’s words whispered back into his own ear, “I won’t. Kimihiro.”

They pulled back from each other, looking in each other’s eyes. And then… like lodestone to iron, they were together again, lips upon each other’s.

Tingles starting in his ears, ran down his torso, ending in an area he’d never much thought about. Oh, his blood was lighting up like sparklers. And the lithe young man pushed the muscular one down onto his back, his tongue thrusting into his mouth, attacking, reaching to feel every crevice. He moaned into the archer, lining his body to run the length of him.

Then, Watanuki’s hands were inside the white robe, pushing it off his shoulders. His fingers traced the angles of the muscles there. He couldn’t help himself. He broke from the kiss, let his fingers roam down, down, down his right leg. And then, he was kissing the archer’s leg, kissing down from his knee. Kissing every inch that had been stolen in the illusion, proving it false with his lips.

Without a hint of a quiver or a chuckle, Doumeki said as lips pressed to his instep, “You know that tickles.”

“I just needed to prove it wasn’t real. That you…”

Quietly, he nodded. Then asked, “Can I, too?”

Watanuki looked over his shoulder at the archer and smiled. Then nodded.

Doumeki kneeled in front of him and slowly untied the sash holding his yukata closed. Then pushed it off his shoulders. And stared at the now naked beauty in front of him.

Watanuki’s pale skin, marred by the many attacks of many spirits in all his years of life, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And then, he was kissing the skin, starting at his shoulder, spinning him, to work his lips down the seer’s back, where there were absolutely no cris-crossed scars, just a weaving of old – very old – ones.

He kissed down, down each and every one of them, working down to the tight muscles of Watanuki’s well-toned ass. Must be all that running. His hands worked over it, and he continued kissing down.

Embarrassed, Watanuki blushed, but allowed the archer’s actions. And as his lips reached nether regions, parted his globes, and then a kiss was placed on either side – which was a good thing, Doumeki’d better not kiss that particular area if he wanted his lips to touch Watanuki’s ever again – it occurred to him what he must have seen. And then, he was pulled back against the archer’s bare chest, held tightly, as Doumeki cried over his shoulder.

Watanuki leaned back on the solid form of the archer as he held him and a soft smile graced his face. The arms wrapped around him were corded with muscles and he traced them with his fingers. All of a sudden, he realized, ‘I’m naked. I’m naked and being held by naked Doumeki.’ But the thing most startling was that instead of being freaked out, he wished… he wished the man would turn around and kiss him some more.

When Doumeki’s fingers started brushing lightly against his abdomen, that wish expanded into a whole lot more. Well, the man was here, naked and holding him. What was to stop him from-

He leaned back, forcing the archer to lie down, and he twisted within the exorcis’s arms, so that he was facing him, straddling his waist. And then, he kissed him.

Doumeki’s tears had dried as he’d held the one he loved. His soft skin was in his embrace and he wasn’t fighting. Which was the dream? What he’d witnessed before, or now? Had he devolved into madness? It must be. Watanuki would never let him… Would never push him back and kiss him. He wouldn’t. But the feel of his skin, his lips…

He broke from the kiss and gasped, “Am I dead?”

The words caused Watanuki to pause and blink in amazement. When he’d fully processed the question, he punched the archer in the shoulder. This was followed up by a series of jabs. “No, you idiot! You’re not dead. Unless I decide to kill you. Now shut up and kiss me before I go over there and get that tanto and stab you with it myself.”

As Watanuki’s ineffectual punches rained down, as the loudness of his voice threatened to deafen him, he started to laugh. He reached up and stroked the seer’s face with both hands, pulling the glasses off of him, folding them, setting them aside, and then he pulled the face above him down to a kiss that would convey all he wanted.

And there was so much that he wanted.

Dazed by the depth of emotion the kiss conveyed, Watanuki didn’t even notice as Doumeki rolled him over to tower over him, plundering his mouth. All he knew was that one second he was on top of the man he loved, kissing him, and the next, there were electric kisses moving down his torso, lower and lower, and when did that erection get there, but all thought flew as the archer’s mouth enveloped him.

“Shizuka!” he cried, “Oh, god!” His mouth moved over and around, sucking and licking, and Watanuki couldn’t move, couldn’t think, his head was flailing, his body was all gone, it was just Shizuka’s mouth and his cock. “Shizuka! Stop. Stop.” He knew he was close, but didn’t know what to do. The man allowed the rock hard rod to slip out of his lips with a pop, looking up – terrified that Watanuki didn’t want this. That would make him as bad as his vision.

But Watanuki was looking at him with a dark eyes, lit from within with fire. And he said, “I want you to…” He looked away and blushed, but even though his skin was on fire, he continued. “Yuuko has these books … I want to… *With* me.” Turning into that tomato red color that only comes with complete embarrassment, he pulled his knees up like he’d seen in that book of Yuuko’s and said, “Shizuka, please.”

At that, the warrior chastely kissed his lover’s lips. Then he smirked. “Guess it’s a good thing I *do* take orders. Wait right here.” And he stood, walking over to a cabinet in the corner, opening up a drawer and pulling out a small tub of petroleum jelly. The look of horror on Watanuki’s face was almost comical, and he could tell he was wondering why that particular item was kept out here. Therefore, he quickly responded, “Grandfather always kept some out here to clean his calligraphy brushes.” Horror was replaced with anticipation and nervousness, and a tentative apologetic smile.

And then, Doumeki was stroking him, hand fully lubricated, causing his eyes to roll back in his head at the feeling. The finger probing, then entering was a little strange. But, as it moved, in and out to match the movement of Doumeki’s other hand, he couldn’t help but enjoy it. And then, it became more somehow, more filling. The fingers – there were two now, moving back and forth as well as in and out, and he felt his eyes roll back in his head. “Shi- zuka,” he gasped, as a third finger entered, stretching him. And it was so good, so…

Shizuka’s mouth descended, licking at a nipple and he groaned. “Slower, or I’ll… I’ll…”

It seemed the archer did take orders, as his hands changed rhythms, causing his ascent to slow. Watanuki moaned and Shizuka smiled. It was time. He removed his fingers from Watanuki’s pucker and was pleased with the disappointed groan he received in response. Gathering another handful of jelly, slathering it on before he set the tip of his own rod against it, he asked “Are you sure… you want…?” He left unspoken the rest of the question: ‘this? Me?’

After a heartfelt moan, the seer responded, “If you don’t stick it in me, I swear to god, I’m going to get that tant-OH!” It was good to find another way to stop his rants, and this might be the best way ever.

Tight around him, he’d never let himself even imagine, but his dreams sometimes took him here without his consent and it had never been like this. Worry tickled the back of his mind – the horror of his vision and was he any better than… Except Watanuki had his back arched, pressing him closer, taking him in deeper. “Oh! Oh God! Yes!” And just like that, his worry vanished. He was here, making love to this beautiful, amazing person – the one he loved more than life, and it was – So. Good.

The slapping of flesh on flesh as Doumeki rode him, escaped into the shelter of him, was the perfect counterpoint to Watanuki’s moans, which grew ever louder and only made the everything more perfect. If he hadn’t been completely in love with the seer before, he knew there was no escape from it now. He would die for this person. And he would life for him.

Bending to lick at one of his perfect pink nipples caused the seer to just gasp. “Shizuka. God. Shizuka, I’m… I’m… gonna…”

The seer’s head arched back, exposing more of his thin, delicate neck. His mouth opened in wordless scream, and the proof of his pleasure was released all over Doumeki’s chest, dripping down to decorate the seer’s own. “Oh, Shizuka,” he sighed, and then smiled up at the exorcist – that smile that he’d given to everyone he’d ever cared about. Everyone except Doumeki Shizuka. Until now.

That smile, more than the heat he was buried in, more than anything, took him over the edge, undid him. Opening his mouth in a soundless cry, he came inside the most beautiful person he had ever known. The release was more than he could take. He collapsed to one side.

Several moments passed in silence, the two catching their breath, lying spent next to each other. Finally, the silence was broken.

“Tomorrow, make Katsudon.”

Watanuki’s head quickly spun, eyes wide. Then, he scowled playfully. “You’re the one who takes orders, not me. Remember?”

“Hm.” Doumeki considered reminding him of the fact that he usually did take orders, even though he expended considerable effort proclaiming that he didn’t.

Instead, he simply reached to grab their discarded robes so they could get someplace where they wouldn’t catch their death of cold while they slept. They dressed in silence.

Watanuki picked up the parchment, rolled it, tucked it carefully in his sleeve. Doumeki watched, a question in his eyes. “I consider this idiot tax.” The subtext was clear though.

As they reached the door, the stoic man blurted out a query, “Stay with me tonight?”

The amused smirk on Watanuki’s face was an expression that Doumeki knew he’d never actually seen there before tonight. “You’re pretty cocky. Two exorcisms plus…” He waved his hand around the room. “You actually think you’re going to do more?”

The archer barked out a laugh. “Maybe after we get some sleep.” He took his hand and led him toward the house. Watanuki let himself be led. But not without getting the last word.

“Idiot.”