Shattering 10 Feet to Life

right then. let's get this rolling. once again, i've done it: i've managed to overcome my procrastination bug and put some of my brain rot up. hooray for me. well, without further ado, the promised genxyoshi lovin! *warning: some sumimura kyoudai warm fuzziness! if you don't like implied incest, skip it.*
disclaimer: kekkaishi and all characters pertaining to do not belong to me. i'm a poor pastry chef.

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The sounds of gently splashing water accompanied a waft of steam out a small window in the side of the Sumimura’s expansive house and into the cooling dusk air.

Yoshimori let out a long sigh as he lowered his body into the steaming water. He felt restless despite the seeping warmth of the furo, and ran his hands up his arms, drawing his knees to his chest. He hissed suddenly and winced as his fingers brushed against a large scab on his shoulder.

‘What the –? Oh…that’s right…’ Memories rushed to the front of his mind unbidden and Yoshimori scowled, recalling the dark man and what he had done to the young heir against his will. The words that had been spoken, the actions that had been executed, the damage that had been wreaked.

He didn’t have to look or touch the other mark that had been left by Kaguro. Yoshimori had traced with his fingertips, had glanced at it every day for the past two weeks every time he stripped to shower or change into his purification robes for night work, and for every single time he did, felt a flash of mingled hatred, regret, and shame.

The kekkaishi rested his head against the cool tiles of the wall next to him and sighed, his breath rippling the surface of the water. ‘If it weren’t for Shishio, I’d probably be… I don’t know, traumatized for life I guess.’

He hadn’t spoken much to the other boy since he had seen him to his house the day following the incident. They had proceeded with life, school, and protecting Karasumori like usual, though it seemed to Yoshimori that Gen was hovering around him rather closely and definitely much more often. Strangely, he wasn’t bothered by it.

He felt…safe with the half-ayakashi boy.

‘Oh god…’ Yoshimori blushed in embarrassment, slumping further into the water, blowing bubbles dejectedly. ‘Am I…falling for him?’

His eyes widened suddenly, the recollection of Gen’s voice calling him by his given name, low and soothing, chasing out all previous thoughts.

‘Yoshimori…’

That did it.

“Uwaaaah!” Yoshimori shook his head furiously, his hands ruffling his damp hair as he felt the heat in his cheeks travel to his ears and the rest of his face. “Now I know how Madarao felt about Tokimori-sama!”

“What about Madarao and the founding father?”

Yoshimori gasped and choked on lukewarm bath water as he bolted upright and flattened himself against the wall, water flying everywhere.

Masamori stood in the doorway, a small towel wrapped around his waist, just enough to cover anything important, another draped across his shoulders.

“You make interesting faces when you talk to yourelf, Yoshimori,” he remarked candidly.

“U-uruseeyo… Haven’t you heard of knocking—?”

Masamori’s eyes had traveled downward while he was speaking, his eyebrows lifting.

“Ah. Marudashite.”

Yoshimori stared at him, nonplussed and bemused, before following his older brother’s gaze down his body.

“Gyaaaaaaaah!” More water followed over the lip of the furo and onto the floor as he dove under the water line again, this time, the heat in his face completely suffusing his entire body. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he could have reheated the water using just the warmth he was generating.

“Ero-aniki…” Yoshimori muttered, though the insult came out in bubbles.

Masamori laughed, striding forward and sitting outside the furo next to Yoshimori, resting an arm on the side. “Wow. You look just like a cherry. You’d better calm down or else you’ll get an anemia attack. Besides, what’s wrong? We used to take baths together all the time.”

Yoshimori angrily raised his head out of the water. “Yeah, like ten years ago! Don’t bring up things that aren’t relevant anymore!”

“Oh I don’t know about that…” The chief of the Yagyou reached out and ruffled his younger brother’s hair fondly. “Why don’t we try to relive the—?”

Yoshimori didn’t let him finish. He whipped the towel from Masamori’s shoulders and covered himself with it, stood up, and stomped out the door.

He didn’t sense the intense, scrutinizing stare his brother was giving his retreating form, lingering on his shoulder and hips, all traces of amusement gone from his countenance.

In the next room, Yoshimori grabbed a towel from the stack and irately dried his hair with it, his face still burning. ‘Kuso aniki… He’s such a… such an—’

“Argh!” He threw the towel to the floor in frustration, breathing heavily. ‘Why the hell am I so wound up?’

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and his eyes were drawn the semicircular mark on his shoulder. His fingers automatically crept to his thigh, delicately fingering the fine scab lines there.

Yoshimori’s teeth gritted, harder and harder, until he tore himself away, snatching his dark kekkaishi robes from the hamper and throwing them on with excessive force. He ran to his room and grabbed his bag and tenketsu, and rushed out the door with a hurried “Ittekimasu!” to no one in particular.

The boy glanced at Madarao’s doghouse in passing, but finalized that he wanted to be alone and that the youken might not appreciate being disturbed so early in the evening anyway.

Yoshimori looked to the sky as he pulled invigorating lungfuls of air; the stars hadn’t even come out yet and the waxing moon was three-quarters full. He wanted to run forever…

Everything was quiet at the academy when Yoshimori arrived, and after a brief once-over, it promised it stay that way for the rest of the night. Shigemori called it “the calm before the storm"; right before the full and new moons, ayakashi were silent and passive, preferring to keep to their holes and lairs rather than venture out.

Yoshimori was grateful for once. He just felt so worn out, he wasn’t sure if he could have handled the unceasing wave of demons bent on increasing their power.

He meandered his way up to the roof where he and Gen frequently took their naps and flopped down with his back to the water supply, the tenketsu clattering noisily to the concrete.

Yoshimori stretched his legs out in front of him and hit his toes together a couple of times. He yawned and scratched the back of his head, then idly started to cast kekkai across the rooftop.

“Hey.”

“Aaaargh!”

There was a fantastic noise as the transparent barriers blew up simultaneously, Yoshimori having lost his concentration, and about a decade off his life. He craned his head backwards and saw Gen crouched on the top of the water tower, staring back down at him and looking thoroughly amused.

“You’re early.”

“You jackass!” The kekkaishi pointed an accusing finger up at his friend. “I thought my heart was gonna jump out of my throat and run off! Both you and aniki! Jeez!”

Gen leaped and landed, catlike, next to Yoshimori who continued to glare heatedly at him with arms folded childishly over his chest. “What about touryou?” he asked interestedly, crossing his legs and propping his hands on his knees. Yoshimori’s ears pricked at the tone in Gen’s voice and he sullenly turned his head away, setting his jaw adamantly.

“Hmph. Why don’t you go ask him yourself, if you’re just dying to find out?”

Gen didn’t reply. Instead, his eyes were roving over Yoshimori’s body, narrowing suspiciously.

“You’ve lost weight haven’t you?”

Yoshimori’s head whipped around at breakneck speed, eyebrows knitted together. “Wha?”

“You look thinner.” Gen leaned forward as Yoshimori gulped visibly. “You’ve got dark smudges under your eyes too.” He then pointed a finger directly at his comrade’s nose and growled, enunciating each syllable with meaningful clarity. “You still have those nightmares, don’t you?”

Bulls-eye.

Yoshimori’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Gen settled back, folding his own arms and letting out a slow breath through his nose, a frown creasing his face.

Yoshimori finally found his voice, taking a deep interest his clenched hands. “…It’s none of your business…”

A resounding crack split the air as Gen’s fist met with the side of the other boy’s face. Yoshimori skidded a few feet before coming to a stop, his eyes blazing. “What the hell, Shishio?!”

Gen towered over him, baring his teeth and cracking his knuckles before stepping over and straddling the offended young man.

“None of my—? Of course it’s my goddamn business!” He reached down and grabbed the front of Yoshimori’s clothes, pulling him up and shaking him slightly. “How can you be so self-absorbed? Touryou was worried about you! I’m worried about you! I’ve spent the last ten days worried sick about you, hanging on tenterhooks and wondering if that man was going to…”

Gen trailed off and slowly fell forward onto his knees, still clutching Yoshimori’s robes, his head lowering until their foreheads were resting against each other. He closed his eyes and whispered, “You really know how to piss people off don’t you? Konoyarou.” He half-opened those eyes again and stared deep into Yoshimori’s, then slowly pressed his lips to the corner of his mouth, asking.

Yoshimori replied by turning his head and meeting Gen fully. Cool fingers reached up and caressed the abused cheek as soft lips played chastely against each other.

“Shi…Shishio…”

“Mmh?”

They parted, Gen lacing his fingers with Yoshimori’s and kissing the palm, while the kekkaishi lay spread on the ground, blushing and looking lusciously coy.

“S-suman.”

“For what?” A pink tongue darted out and teasingly traced the houin mark; Yoshimori gasped and Gen grinned wolfishly. “For what, I asked?”

“F-for making you worry.”

Sharp teeth nipped at the pads on Yoshimori’s fingertips and he moaned, writhing and still trapped beneath the Yagyou boy.

“Well…” Gen stopped with his ministrations and leaned back down, kissing Yoshimori’s lips again.

“Just as long…” He moved to his ear and nibbled the lobe thoughtfully. “…as you don’t…” The pale throat was attacked next, Gen sucking a mark onto it, carefully avoiding the old wound mere inches from it. “…do it again.”

“Nn…you make s- ah! …sound like it’s my fault.” The half-ayakashi began to pull apart Yoshimori’s robes, dropping kisses upon the skin as it was exposed.

“Hmm, it kinda is.”

“What?” Gen smiled against the beating pulse of Yoshimori’s heart.

“You’re just so damn cute.”

Yoshimori blushed hotly, sputtering indignantly, “What kind of—?! I’m not—”

“You are. Especially when you’re sleeping.” Yoshimori had nothing to say to that, particularly so because the other young man had now attached his hot mouth to a nipple and was suckling it softly. Yoshimori buried his hands in the short spiky hair, arching up and keening loudly.

Gen growled quietly. “Pitch a kekkai.”

“Nnah?”

“Pitch a kekkai,” he repeated. “You’re loud.”

Yoshimori blushed in embarrassment, but complied anyway as his partner started to tease the hardened nub with his teeth, running his fingers down Yoshimori’s sides, over the bumps of his ribs, feeling his sharp hipbones, and finally tugging his jinbei and haori out of his hakama, throwing Yoshimori’s top open, exposing his upper body to the cool night air, despite the fact that they were in an enclosed space.

“Uwaah!” The kekkaishi hurriedly attempted to cover himself up against the nip of the cold, but Gen grabbed his arms and pinned them to his sides, laughter dancing in his eyes.

“Cold?”

Yoshimori nodded dumbly, feeling his nipples harden even further as heat traveled to both his face and groin.

Gen smiled, a feral light joining the mirth in those slitted pupils.

“I can amend that,” he purred, sliding down Yoshimori’s body, but still keeping a firm hold on his wrists. He raised his eyes, carefully watching Yoshimori’s face for his reaction, then dipped his tongue into his lover’s navel, swirling it around and nipping the sensitive skin there, before moving downwards ever so slowly and grabbing the tie of the hakama with his teeth and pulling it undone. Grasping the hem of the article in his mouth, he dragged it down until he had released Yoshimori’s erection from its confines. He chuckled as he nuzzled the soft, thin fuzz of his partner’s emerging pubic hair, teasingly ignoring the straining member, letting his breath wash over it and feeling himself grow hard listening to Yoshimori’s plaintive whimpers and enthusiastic moans.

It was rather empowering. He wanted more.

Taking a deep breath, Gen steeled himself and without a second thought, took the whole of Yoshimori’s cock into his mouth.

The kekkaishi’s eyes widened, his lips parting in a silent scream as his hips thrust upwards, fingers catching and digging into Gen’s wrists.

“Aaa…aahn…haaa… Ge— uwaah…Gen!”

The half-ayakashi slowly lifted his head, laving his tongue up the thick vein on the underside of the penis in his mouth. It really wasn’t all that bad; the taste could be better, but the sweet expression on his lover’s face made it all worthwhile. He tongued the slit, making the heir yelp, then sucked powerfully on the head before diving back down again.

Yoshimori had never felt anything like this before. The new and overwhelming sensations flooded his head, causing his eyes to water and all methods of forming a proper and coherent sentence impossible.

“Ge-nnnn…haa…Gen. Gen!”

“Mmwha?” He pulled off, releasing one of Yoshimori’s hands only to place it on his cock as he lavished it with nips and warm kisses. Just that sight alone of Gen between his legs was enough to make Yoshimori go boneless but he stayed the course.

“Want you… I want…” Gen rubbed his index finger over the leaking slit, spreading the fluids that had collected there over the hot velvety tip.

“Well? What is it?”

Yoshimori turned his head away, gazing through his kekkai and across the rooftop to the distant night-darkened mountains, his face gaining a stain of crimson.

“I want you…inside me.”

His partner froze, blood running cold.

‘Could it be…that that man…’ He looked into Yoshimori’s eyes, innocently pleading with his friend, oblivious to the frenetic train of thought running through his head. ‘He’s caused this person to be…’

Gen silently pulled away, turning his back to the kekkaishi and resting a hand against the warm surface of the kekkai. It felt like Yoshimori’s spirit…

The other boy sat up, confused and alarmed.

“Shishio? Is something wrong?” When there was no reply, he crawled closer and touched Gen’s shoulder, feeling the quiet strength thrumming quickly beneath the taut muscle and smooth skin.

“Hey Sumimura…” Yoshimori’s eyes lit up and he leaned forward slightly, some of his fear easing. ‘I guess he doesn’t hate me after all…’

“Do you want me inside you because he fucked you?” Gen’s grated words went straight to Yoshimori’s core, resounding and echoing into emptiness. His smile faltered, but the smaller boy hitched it back again, not really understanding.

“What?”

Gen didn’t turn to face him, just kept his face averted in an attempt to somehow mask the tremble, the hurt in his voice.

“I asked you if that person is the reason why you want—”

What? Want what? What was he supposed to say? It? To be fucked? To remember?!

“Shishio, I don’t—”

The Yagyou boy cut him off, all of his frustration pouring out against his bewildered companion.

“Is he the reason why you’re willing to have sex with me?! Are you that willing to spread your legs for just anyb—”

What happened next occurred in such quick succession that Gen couldn’t process exactly what transpired.

Yoshimori grabbed his shoulder, spun him around, seized the front of his shirt and slammed him down on the concrete. Hard. He could only listen to Yoshimori as he lay there, dazed, winded, and temporarily robbed of the capacity to move.

“Would you listen to yourself?! Now who’s being selfish?! I – I’m doing this ‘cause I…’cause I…”

Gen blinked blearily up at Yoshimori as he slowly started to turn a brilliant shade of red, though his eyes remained hard and determined, never leaving his own.

He took a breath and blurted, “BecauseIloveyou. I really…truly…do love you.”

He paused, swallowing against the jackhammer beat in his chest and continued. “That’s why – that’s why I’m willing to give all I have to you. I want you to take everything I have to offer and put yourself in that place.” Yoshimori’s face softened, his eyes taking on an almost sad light. “I love you.”

The tables were turned as the kekkaishi was the one who started to slowly undress his friend, baring his teeth as he raised them against the tendons that stood out from Gen’s neck.

“I love you.”

He moved down and gently mouthed a nipple through the fabric of Gen’s overshirt, undoing the himo around his waist, sliding his hands over the mesh-laced skin of Gen’s developed abs as the ayakashimajiri watched him blankly.

Gentle, curious fingers traced the dark flame restriction seal that wound its way across Gen’s torso and continued the meandering trail to his back.

“Love you…” He hooked his fingers into the waistline of the dark pants, but at that moment, Gen seemed to come out of his stupor and grabbed Yoshimori’s wrists.

“Wait,” he hissed, his eyes wide. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you to remember—”

Whether Gen had any more to say, neither of them found out, as Yoshimori’s lips claimed his, effectively silencing him.

Opening his mouth, Yoshimori slipped his tongue into Gen’s own, who accepted it after only a moments’ hesitation. Their slick muscles entwined in a dance for dominance as the half-ayakashi released his lover’s wrists and wound them around his neck, pulling him closer. Their mingled saliva ran out of the corner of Gen’s mouth, accompanying the small whimpers neither of them could quite contain.

The kekkaishi’s nimble hands took the opportunity in the lapse in protest to slip into the other’s pants. A shock of raw pleasure caused Gen to break the heated kiss and throw his head back, gasping raggedly as Yoshimori stroked his erection, bringing his attention back to the exposed neck and lapping at the salty sweat that had started to bead there.

“You taste good Gen,” Yoshimori murmured. “It makes me wonder how much better another part of you is…” And with that and a mischievous smirk, he ducked down, pulling the cock he had been fondling free and taking it deep into his mouth.

Gen’s hands flew to Yoshimori’s head, his fingers tangling into his long hair, his breath hissing harshly through clenched teeth.

Yoshimori’s other hand slowly reached down between his own legs and found the tight pucker, inserting one finger with ease. He gasped and let out a weak moan around the length in his mouth, the vibrations causing Gen’s hips to jerk and forcing a taut “Yoshimori!” to escape his lips. Pleased with the reactions he was getting, the kekkaishi began to hum contentedly, slowly pulling that finger out and driving it deeper, allowing himself to gradually lose his mind to the bliss clouding it. Applying a gentle suction, Yoshimori began to work the hot erection, returning the earlier favor and moving up and down in a steady rhythm.

The lewd, wet noises accompanied by Gen’s labored breathing echoed slightly in the kekkai punctuated by Yoshimori’s satisfied little mewling moans.

“Hmnh…oh god, Yoshimori. Enough… That’s enough!” Feeling his limit start to near, Gen tried to get the other to raise his head, but when he persisted, Gen had no choice but to get rough.

Fisting his hand in the black strands, he yanked sharply, forcing Yoshimori to release his aching member from his mouth with a wet pop. The young Yagyou boy would have found it slightly comical if he hadn’t been so turned on at the moment.

No other words were exchanged, just a very intense and pointed stare from Gen at the middle Sumimura sibling as he rubbed at his abused scalp, looking a bit put out. Finally catching and interpreting the look Gen was sending his way, Yoshimori blushed and slowly moved to straddle his partner’s waist. Reaching behind to grasp Gen’s arousal, he positioned himself over it, then, looked to Gen.

The half-ayakashi paused, preparing and collecting his spirit, took a breath, and nodded. Yoshimori smiled reassuringly, if not a little awkwardly, and lowered himself onto Gen’s penis. To their surprise, it slid easily inside without resistance, but they barely had time to register such reactions before their minds were gripped in the throes of pleasure.

“Ah…ha, anh~”

Yoshimori could scarcely believe he was doing this, such a forbidden act, on the roof of the school, with his friend.

Shishio Gen of all people! The taboo of it all intoxicated and exhilarated him, much in the same way a twelve-year-old who was getting his first sip of alcohol would, knowing full well he was far too young to be getting inebriated, uncaring and rebellious. And indeed, inebriated was exactly what Yoshimori was becoming, though from a far rarer and genuinely exquisite source.

“Gen…”

The half-ayakashi opened his eyes upon hearing his name, having closed them against the onslaught of heady sensations brought on by his partner riding him with pure abandon. He watched Yoshimori from beneath half-lidded eyes, his hands coming up to grasp his waist, guiding him in his movements.

“Gen, please… I need to feel you more…” With these whispered words, Gen unleashed himself upon his lover.

He surged his hips upward with incredible force, almost bucking the kekkaishi off himself, who yelled as his prostate was violently stabbed, tears flying in a sparkling arc as he threw his head back.

“More… Harder, please! Oh-!"

Gen sat up, biting down on Yoshimori’s collarbone and adding to the numerous possession marks he had already left on his body. Yoshimori encouraged his actions by clutching at the ayakashimajiri’s shoulders and squeezing them, sobbing in ecstasy.

Yoshimori was being pushed closer and closer to the edge with each smooth, long thrust Gen was making, each retreat and advance of the member inside him forcing the breath from his lithe frame, his coherent mind having long since fled the scene.

With a strained whine, he gripped his hand around his erection, choking in surprise as another larger, rough hand covered his own, speeding up his jacking and mercilessly shoving him over the metaphorical knife edge into bliss. He didn’t know if he was ascending into nirvana or spiraling out of control deep into darkest oblivion.

Yoshimori arched back, his body singing, his mind barely registering the hot wetness splashing across his chest and over his hand.

Gen snarled as the kekkaishi’s passage constricted, and suddenly, the animalistic instincts lying dormant inside him coursed forth.

Smoldering black eyes now tainted with a gleam of yellow glimpsed the mark left by Kaguro and one thought forced all others out for a single brief moment: My possession, no others. Claim this as my own and erase all other signs of tenure.

Yoshimori, still caught up in his rapture, was slightly pulled out of his haze when he felt a rush of heat and energy and looked to his side through half-lidded eyes. Gen had summoned the black claw to his right hand and before the younger boy had any time to think, it had seized his thigh.

Those auburn eyes widened a second before Gen climaxed with a roar and buried the tips of his claws into the fair skin bearing Kaguro's mark, ripping and dragging.

Poor Yoshimori wailed, wrapping himself around his lover as the pain and something else, something indistinct, something akin to a sick kind of pleasure rushed through his nerves, setting them aflame and crackling with the aftereffects of his orgasm.

“Mine…” Gen rasped, and Yoshimori laved his tongue across his collarbone in reply. They rode out their highs, eventually descending back to reality and the comfort of one another.

“Gen…” When his partner raised his head to look back at him, Yoshimori could see himself reflected clearly in them and was sure that Gen was thinking the same.

The ayakashimajiri leaned up, kissing him gently, and then whispered in an almost inaudible voice, “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Yoshimori countered, nuzzling his boyfriend affectionately. “It doesn’t hurt that much. I’ve had worse.”

Gen didn’t say anything, just wrapped his arms tighter around the other boy, running both his hands, now back to normal, down the sweat-slick expanse of back. There was a pause in which the only sounds were their steadying breathing.

“I love you, Gen.” He felt the sturdy frame beneath his tense faintly before a gusty sigh rolled down his back, making him shiver.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Yoshimori pulled back, his eyebrows drawing together as he pouted cutely. Gen glanced at him, then looked away just as quickly the blush lingering.

“…What?”

“I want to hear you say it. My name too.”

“…Say what?”

Groaning loudly, Yoshimori flopped bonelessly back against the wall of his kekkai, as Gen, alarmed and flustered, tried to catch and support him.

“You’re not gonna say it, are you?” Yoshimori drawled, an arm thrown across his eyes.

Gen buried his face in the scarred chest, shaking his head slightly.

The kekkaishi glanced down at him from beneath him arm and chuckled softly. “Oh well, maybe some other time then.” He reclined his head back to look up at the stars, feeling his own warm blood, and Gen, and their joined heartbeats, and knowing that all was right with the world just then.

“It’s a nice night.”

Being broken, becoming shattered, having the shards picked up and pieced together again, feeling alive once more…together with you.

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A/N: to all those who have stuck through and suffered the long wait, thank you. your dedication and suffering is much appreciated. to all those just joining in and who had the good grace to check this pitiful writer's work out...you'll be joining them soon, won't you?
oekaki fanart special!
http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a281/776fox/yaoi/need.gif
for the sake of useless information, the title of this chapter is a line taken from a song on the kekkaishi ost, "get away from here" by shinya and tarantula.