Scar
story by QueenYokozuna


+ DISCLAIMER: Characters are from the manga/anime series "Rurouni Kenshin" created by Watsuki Nobuhiro. +


"...Whaddaya fantasize about, huh, ol' man?"

Saitou would have likely choked himself off on his cigarette had he been any less a composed man. Instead, he glared sideways at the ahou who stood a couple feet opposite him in that dark, cramped alley. "What are you talking about," he mumbled his carelessly feigned cluelessness.

Sano flashed a simper that seemed to intensify the roguishness in his eyes. "Oh, you know." He shifted his weight against the wall behind him, allowing his hands to glide inside the loose pockets of his white pants. "Sex fantasies, that kinda shit."

"Hn. Idiot," Saitou scowled, shifting his own weight slightly against the wall behind him and dragging anew on his stick.

"Oh c'mon, everyone fantasizes about something! I'm sure even stiff pricks like you do too."

"And I suppose you think this is the perfect time to talk about it."

"W'll, why not? It's not like we're busy or anything."

"Aa...right. We're only hiding out here waiting to bust that whorehouse, after all."

"Exactly."

And Saitou did not bother anymore to retort. It would be more worth his while anyway to take another drag. And stare -- if even for just a moment -- at the light of the moon in those taking brown eyes.

Feh. He really shouldn't have let the ahou tag along in the first place.

Sano took Saitou's indifference as encouragement and carried on. "So tell me, man," he simpered again, "what kinda fantasies do ya have?"

Puffing without fervor on his cigarette, Saitou tilted his narrowed eyes away from Sano, a little upward into the distance.

Across the inky star-dotted sky he saw Sano's spent, half-naked body sprawled out flat on his back, looking the same way he did that day he'd defeated the corrupted monk Anji. That day... that Saitou had gotten his first glimpse of that scar. That scar marring the boy's right shoulder. That scar that had M-I-N-E inscribed all over it, in Saitou's own savage, Gatotsu-executed hand.

Mine. Saitou's thoughts since then had only been of that scar.

Ahh... How he ached to touch that scar. Touch it lightly, and tenderly, with the rough, uneven tips of his knuckles. Or with the callused tip of his forefinger.

Or with the tender, moistened tip of his cock... while that handsome face pressed caressingly against his hip, and those spiky locks of brown hair brushed softly against his skin.

Beautiful.

"...W'll, okay. I'll ask it this way, then: who do ya fantasize about?"

Saitou would have likely sighed had he been any more easily exasperated. The ahou was just too insufferably persistent.

"You're wasting my time, roosterhead." For some annoying reason, his gloves began to itch all of a sudden.

"Che. You're no fun at all." Sano stuck out an upcurled tongue at him, kicking at the little ground before the older man's feet.

This time at least Saitou bothered to form a smirk. An amused smirk nonetheless.

Drawing the last few puffs of his smoke, though, the smirk upon his lips gradually thinned out, for Sano's decided to finish what he started and asked,

"Wanna hear about my fantasies, Saitou?"

The slut. Yahari. Sagara Sanosuke was a natural-born slut out to annoy the wits out of him, if Saitou Hajime didn't know any better.

He let out a soft grunt of distaste: "I'm not interested," and glanced forward just enough to catch the glimmer of saliva on Sano's lips. 'Slut.'

But Sano wasn't about to be stopped in any way. "...I would fantasize about this, this cold, sexy bastard..."

And the Wolf couldn't help but steal another glance. Somebody really ought to teach the ahou a thing or two about appearances. He was practically giving himself away staring like that at Saitou's mouth. Not that it bothered Saitou.

"...and I would fantasize that... that me and the bastard are deep in love... and that he's the most romantic guy there is, kissing me and hugging me all the time, stroking my face, kissing me, and, and whispering shit in my ear, like, 'You make this life worth living,' or 'I'll kill anyone who gets between us' or 'I fucking love you so much,' you know, that sweet sorta shit and all... Gets me off every time, uh-huh. Like right now, too..."

Out of the corner of his eye Saitou could see someone approaching. He wasn't a spiritual man of any sort, but he thanked the gods anyway that Cho was back at last. If the broomhead had gotten here even a second later, there was no telling what Saitou could've done to shut the blathering kid up.

Just much too noisy, and sappy, that ahou. ...and beautiful.

We're on, Cho motioned to Saitou from across the quiet street.

Promptly Saitou ground out his cigarette to the wall. He glanced over to his left to nod at the small group of officers hiding at the other end of his alley.

Turning to step out to the street, "Just stay behind me," Saitou firmly told his young companion. "Make sure you don't do anything stupid."

And then he took a grip of his sword and proceeded to stalk away. Sano said something under his breath, but Saitou paid extra effort not to listen. Which wasn't easy, especially as he thought he heard something silly like '...love you...' in it.

+

All in all, the raid went smoothly, fairly well. Arrests were made within minutes of their entry, huge stashes of opium efficiently seized, the whores rounded up weeping among themselves in a corner. Saitou couldn't complain. Except that his gloves still wouldn't stop itching. So he carefully pulled them off his hands and tucked them away.

Cho spoke as he passed by him. "Where's the roosterhead?"

And Saitou's eyes stalked the crowded room in an instant. The ahou was indeed nowhere around.

"Want me ta look for 'im?"

"No," Saitou said, as simple as that. And then he turned to leave everyone there, not half-way caring if he stepped over any of the strewn bodies on the floor.

Across the long, bright hallway he caught a door that was slid open. With swift and nimble steps he drew near. He got to the door in time to see there inside the room, Sano arguing with a large, hastily robed man. Some two-bit politician, if Saitou recognized the familiar face right. Apparently, the bastard refused to be taken away.

"Look, mister, I don't wanna have ta hurt ya, 'kay," Sano growled. "Just come with us to the station and you can explain all your shit there."

Sano made a grab for the man's arm, but the bastard did the same thing in turn, unwittingly ripping the right sleeve of Sano's white jacket in the process. Exposing Sano's shoulder. And his scar.

That scar.

"Tell me your price, pretty boy," the bastard leered at the seething Sano.

And things progressed at breakneck speed from there. The politician went from a breathing bag of shit to another stat in the body count in under one second.

"Shit, Saitou!" Sano grimaced. "You didn't hafta kill the sonofa bitch!"

Saitou twisted the long, curved blade of his nihontou deeper into that lifeless neck. "Probably not," he replied without contrition, "but I wanted to." 'He was trying to touch what's mine.'

It was only after he'd let the body drop to the floor and sheathed his sword again to his left hip that he bothered to make out the mess he made. No little amount of blood clung onto him and Sano, splattered across most parts of their faces and chests.

He looked over at the young man just beside him. Sano was staring... awed. Staring awed right at him.

Saitou found it all too natural to return the stare.

"Do it. Right now and here -- do it, Saitou." Sano stepped a bold inch forward. His breath smelled oddly sweet and enticing. "Fuck me."

The faint sound of approaching footsteps shook Saitou out of his momentary daze. 'Company.'

Grabbing the yielding Sano by the arm, he made his way stealthily, in a hurry, through the doors that led into the adjoining hall, up the narrow, concealed stairway to the top floor, where he shut themselves alone in an empty room. The livid silvery glow of the moon seemed to burn its way through the paper windows.

By the far corner sat a heap of folded and rolled-up blankets and futons. Saitou half-threw, half-laid Sano on his back against them, ripping his pants off his long legs as he bent over him. With two of his blood-coated fingers he pressed inside Sano's tight, puckered ring, and no sooner had Sano begun to cry out from the invasion than Saitou sank his thick and excessively aching cock into him. He buried his face in Sano's shoulder, in that scar, that ugly yet exquisite scar of Saitou's own making, listening to every little sound that Sano made and feeling the marked trembling along his body as he fucked him deep and fucked him hard. ...and slow, Saitou made sure of that, too. He didn't want it to be over too fast.

Within minutes he felt Sano come between their pressed torsos. It was incredible, all that heat, that it spurred him on to come sooner than he would've likely pleased. He went soft a little after, only to find he'd grown hard already once again as Sano coiled a leg around him and rocked their joined selves together.

And finally Saitou lifted his head. Sano was staring up at him. Waiting.

He pressed his sweaty palms against the boy's cheeks and initiated a long, and soft, open-mouthed kiss. One that nearly made him come again before it ended.

"I'm not romantic at all," he said plainly to Sano, at the first chance he got. "So there go your fantasies, sappyhead."

"Oh yeah?" Sano grinned, hugging the man. He ground himself harder against Saitou and tried to take him impossibly deeper still inside of him. "Who says I was fantasizin' about you anyway." And then he laughed.

Saitou shut him up promptly with an aggressive kiss. He didn't pull himself once out of the boy, fucking him up the ass over again and over again through the night, until his exhausted body gave in eventually to sleep.

Even in his dreams, he was making love to Sanosuke, anyway. His face in his roosterhead's shoulder. In his scar. Mine. ...beautiful.

END




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