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storypaint ([personal profile] storypaint) wrote2009-11-10 09:19 am

Pride (Yuuko/Haruka/Clow)

Title: Pride
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 1674 words
Prompt: [livejournal.com profile] springkink 8 Nov 09 - xxxholic, Yuuko/Haruka/Clow: oral sex in the dream world from which all worlds can be reached - Wine in the bottle does not quench thirst
Pairing: Yuuko/Haruka/Clow; mostly Clow/Yuuko
Other: R for sex; unbalanced threesome. Set pre-series, some attempts to be canon-compliant.

Excerpt: "The dream world connects to all worlds," he replied, stroking her hair to one side and pressing gentle kisses into her shoulder, "but you know that your world is particularly difficult to dream into. You do not have pleasant dreams, my love."

When the priest appeared in her dream, it was no surprise. Yuuko had began seeing him more frequently as the time of her own death approached. But his companion tonight shocked her.

"You brought him too?" she said, pointing at Clow.

Haruka just smiled gently. "He brought himself," the priest answered. His tones were serene and though Yuuko generally liked his calm attitude, she found herself dissolving in irritation.

It was strange how two men who seemed similar in temperament could provoke her to such different reactions. Haruka's silences led to her own. Sometimes they sat in her dreams and she leaned her head against his shoulder and said nothing at all.

But Clow, Clow, even when he was quiet, even when he was smiling, he gave her such fits of temper and sometimes passion. Her bosom heaved as she looked at him with one of her most annoyed glares.

Clow wasn't paying attention to her tone or her expression. He was staring at her with that awful look he had, full of longing and lust and love. She thought she'd broken him of that, at least in her presence, but there it was, back again.

He reached out reverently and brushed her cheek. She froze for a second and then turned her back to him, knowing he was still staring at her body outlined in the thin dress she was wearing.

"Nice of you to visit," she said, her tone sharp.

He never asked before he touched her and even dead he hadn't changed that habit. His arms were around her shoulders, and somehow, they were warm, and somehow still they were familiar even after all these years apart. She bit her lip and her spine stiffened.

"The dream world connects to all worlds," he replied, stroking her hair to one side and pressing gentle kisses into her shoulder, "but you know that your world is particularly difficult to dream into. You do not have pleasant dreams, my love."

There was no use disagreeing. She used to see the future in her dreams, but now she only saw the present, Syaoran and Sakura and the others struggling, Soel crying.

"And," Haruka spoke, his voice steady as he reached for her hand, and kissed it, "you had to let him come."

Yuuko had before been thrown by her pride. It was the only vice she would not freely admit to. She would not let him come because she would not admit she missed him.

Was this her admittance? Had she drank too much red wine and wished to dream of him?

She'd pay the penalty for that. Everyone paid for their wishes.

Clow reached down the low back of her dress and unfastened her bra. His hands crept around stealthily to cover her breasts, and he squeezed, just a little roughly, just like he used to do when he was alive.

And Haruka, every inch the gentleman Clow pretended to be (another burst of annoyance swiftly covered by need) leaned down to run his fingers down her ankles and lift her foot, pressing her back against Clow, and delicately she found herself in the magician's lap.

This was her shop (even if it was a dream), this was her porch, and these were the two men she'd loved when both of them were alive. But they hadn't been able to maintain the balance and the relationship had fallen over; she'd fallen onto the annoying one and he'd kept her and kissed her and prevented her from dying.

She'd never ever say it to the man whose teeth were gentle but persistent on her neck, but she didn't regret it, the whole mess, even the sacrifices made by all of them. It was selfish of her, which was another reason she didn't mention it. She leaned back into Clow's arms as he unzipped her dress.

Haruka's hands were gentle but persistent on her thighs as he removed her stockings and her garters. He kissed the underside of her knee, making her exhale suddenly.

It had been a while since she'd been with him. He'd left her and Clow to themselves, saying nothing like he always did, and married and had a son. She passed the temple some days, lifting a hand, smiling, and he always smiled back. She watched his son grow and marry, unsurprised, somehow by the old face Haruka's grandson wore, so much like his grandfather but more serious. And she'd gone to his funeral and waved goodbye.

When he'd stepped into her dreams for the first time, after he'd taken Watanuki under his wing, their relationship had been nearly platonic. Perhaps it was this he was thinking of when he met Clow's eyes above her head. Clow reached out to touch Haruka's cheek. He leaned forward, and then the two men kissed once, gently, above her head. Clow's fingers slipped down her stomach, further, and it had been decades, but he still had the knack. His movements were slow and unhurried, persistent across her most sensitive skin, and he and Haruka shared another long kiss before some sort of conclusion seemed to be made between them.

"Let me taste you," Clow breathed in her ear. Haruka's hands cascaded across her breasts as though he were sculpting her. She pretended to consider while Clow's fingers worked in her. She never gave anything to him easily, even the things she herself wanted.

"If you must," she said finally, hissing with desire as his thumb brushed over her clit before he pulled his hand away.

"You're still warm," he said, when she turned around so that her hair was spilling across Haruka's chest instead. Clow's eyes twinkled with mischief and she opened her mouth to break the mood, to throw away this momentary thing (the diversion of a memory, of a way things used to be, to keep until the day she too could join them).

Haruka chuckled and said, "Did you expect anything different from her? She is very good at dreaming."

Perhaps it was from his grandfather that Shizuka had inherited his tendency to avoid using names. Given that names had power, Yuuko had always approved. Between Haruka, Clow, and Yuuko, moreover, his meaning was always clear, and his voice always held just a trace of affection in his pronouns.

His words were enough distraction that Yuuko did not protest when Clow exhaled warmly on her inner thigh and said, "Of course not. It was a compliment." He kissed her sweetly, high on each leg, before lowering his mouth to her.

He was warm too, confident, his tongue hot, and Yuuko squirmed, biting her lip against verbal acknowledgment of his skills. From behind, Haruka's hands played over her, mapping her collarbones, tracing across her breasts, his kisses on her neck soft but not without bite. He tasted like cigarettes and the sake they had drank the night before Clow went away (and they'd done this then, too, in silence, drunkenly, though she'd come back to herself with her hand down Clow's pants and Haruka pressed against her back, and swore she'd never give him the satisfaction, because he was leaving).

That memory provoked a moan, shuddering from her lips. Yuuko did her best to live with no regrets, and she did not regret then (or now), but sometimes she wondered how different their lives (and deaths) could have been. But there was hitsuzen, and it was all. There was nothing to regret, because things happened as they needed to happen.

She slid into those moments when desire was all, when the body ruled, when they were not three, but one, and she kilted her hips forward, breathing heavily. She reached back to clutch at Haruka, the best that she could, given a certain inability to focus and the angle, but just her touch provoked a sigh of satisfaction.

Clow was patient and persistent. He pulled back a little to suck on her clit, and then slipped two fingers into her. He curled them up, seeking her G-spot, provoking another guttural sigh from her when he found it. They both had big hands, a long reach, and she appreciated that. They were the only men who could ever make her feel small (physically, that is, she would not let anyone make her feel small otherwise).

"There," she managed in encouragement, and he acknowledged that with, "Mm," just a buzz of his lips on her, and with Haruka breathing hard in her ear, she slipped over the edge into orgasm, letting it roll through her in waves of pleasure. Clow didn't pull back until her spasms ceased. His own breath ragged, he stared at her with something resembling awe on his face.

He'd told her once, when the two of them were alone and drunk, that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, especially in her afterglow-- her skin glistening with sweat, her lips half-parted. She was a goddess, he'd said, his voice too loud in his inebriation.

She'd told him, tartly, that he was only a mess, and he'd just smiled. He was (both smiling and a mess) now, hair falling loose from his ponytail, his lips slick with her.

His eyes were dark and his clothing was hopelessly rumpled, but what she hadn't told him then, even drunk, was that she liked him that way, when he seemed the most like a normal man and the least like the cocky magician she knew him to be. She didn't say it now, either. This was her dream and her desires, but there were secrets kept between them, all the same.

When she could focus again, she leaned forward to kiss him, almost possessively, wrapping her arms around his neck and then burying her head in his shoulder, pushing away a wish. Then she turned to kiss Haruka too, and run her hands through his short hair.

Together, the three of them dreamed.