blackwidow: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] blackwidow at 12:19am on 30/09/2010 under , , , , , , , ,
Title: Equilibrium
Rating: R
Warnings: Non-con, mentions of torture, dub-con, rough sex.
Fandom: YYH
Pairings: Yomi/Youko Kurama/Kuronue, Kuronue/Youko Kurama, Youko Kurama/Yomi.
Summary: There's often a thin line between fight and fuck when it comes to matters of jealousy.
Notes: De-anoning myself from [profile] yyh_kinkmeme . Yomi, aaah, how stubborn you are...I still hate writing you though. Asshole. Not you Kuronue. I love you baby, never change. <3


Equilibrium

They may forget what you said,
but they will never forget how you made them feel.

Carl Buehner

-

Yomi wondered if Youko had ever been less of an ice-prince.

He wasn’t inclined to believe the whispers that said he was as heartless as the worst of all demons, that he was the worst of all demons. Youko looked after the lost souls he’d gathered around him. He checked each one of them at the end of each night, making sure they were all healthy, mediated any issues they had within their ranks, dealt a swift and harsh punishment to traitors and deserters, cared for those who had done right by him. He was a cold demon, some said. Cold, cruel, depraved, and pitiless. But he was not without compassion for those he worked with.

Trailing at the back of their ten-strong group of bandits, Yomi watched their leader as he walked ahead of them with an intensity in his eyes that could have been called obsession. Others thought it was a simple childish crush, idol worship, but Yomi knew it was something deep. It was strong, kept him up at night, kept his eyes trained on his mentor with hungry eyes.

He wanted to learn, wanted to be what Youko Kurama had become. The kitsune had simply always existed, had always been around, lurking the darker corners of Makai. No one knew how old he really was.

As they reached camp, and Youko slowed, the men groaned and unloaded their packs, weapons, investigated the loot and Yomi watched the kitsune.

Their camp at the moment was set up at the base of an enormous and ancient tree. Between two of the roots the trunk split, creating a doorway. Youko ducked through the arch, being so great in height that he couldn’t even pass through a six foot arch without needing to bow his head and hunch forward to fit. He came to a stop before he dissolved into darkness, turned to look over his shoulder.

One of the demons started a fire, and Yomi busied himself for a moment, something in his belly fluttering about. He slid his pack from his shoulders and drove his sword into the earth. He’d care for it later.

“Youko doesn’t look happy,” one of the demons said as they walked by him to the fire where the others were gathering. Tonight was cold, almost frigid. The fire would warm their fingers and toes and they’d sleep clothed and dirty beneath the starless sky.

“New boy fucked up again,” the demon with him said, at a level that would have escaped Yomi’s notice if Yomi hadn’t his over average hearing.

He looked up-- froze.

In the darkness of the archway, Youko was watched, mostly hidden amongst the shadows. The white of his skin and clothes were dim, as if the darkness around him was absorbing everything about him. Even his brilliant mane of hair.

But his eyes, twin pools of shinning golden light, flickering in the firelight, shone brighter than supernovas. And they were cold, so cold. Shallow and empty. Heartless.

From the darkness a lily-white hand appeared, palm up, and a clawed finger extended, curled back in.

Yomi swallowed thickly.

A hand suddenly landed on his shoulder and Yomi startled, looked up to Youko’s current second in command. “Time to face the music, little lamb,” the demon said, his lips curling into a smirk until Yomi could see the tip of a white fang.

Yomi turned back to look at Youko, but all there was to see was the tense set of their leader’s shoulders and the irritated flick of the kitsune’s tail as he walked further into the tree before the darkness swallowed him whole. Yomi had never been within the tree, it seemed almost sacrilegious to dare.

Yomi looked back to the demon, shrugging his hand off his shoulder. “Don’t touch me.”

“Frightened?”

“Shut up, Kuronue.”

The demon laughed regardless of the harsh tone and nudged him toward the tree. “Go. Don’t add tardiness to your list of fuck ups.”

Yomi glared at the demon, who only narrowed his eyes a little and circled around him in return. The entire air changed about him. Like there wasn’t even a switch to flip, Kuronue just slipped in and out of that almost crazed state without warning as suddenly as a lightning strike. He could be laughing and then he could be feeding you steel.

Yomi thought of the times he’d heard loud, angry voices from within the tree as Youko and Kuronue argued, fought, until everything died down into pleasured screams and everyone in camp shifted awkwardly, trying to ignore the hardness between their legs. The last time Kuronue had heard some of the demons jerking off to his loss heads had rolled and then another fight had began, this time in broad daylight, in the midst of their band of misfits.

It was what had started Yomi’s fascination with the kitsune. That fight they’d had on his first day in the camp, when Kuronue had beheaded one of their better men and merely pointed to Yomi, saying he would make up for the loss. Wouldn’t he, little lamb?

Kuronue was definitely something to look at, even with all of his scars and the way he sometimes screamed at a pitch that hurt Yomi’s ears. His long black hair just begged to be played with and his mischievous blue eyes oozed seduction at times.

But Youko, who had been livid at the time, had been a force of nature. Kuronue had killed a truly valuable man out of jealousy, as if he owned him.

He’d overpowered Kuronue like he was a leaf in the wind; had pinned him down and kept his palm on the bat’s head as he fucked him, face down, making it hurt in the most horrible way as he put pressure on his skull to the point of where Yomi could hear tiny little fractures forming. It was the kitsune’s gift as much as his punishment; sex.

Yomi hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off the glimpses of the body he could see beneath the curtain of ice-white hair though. The curve of his hipbone and thigh, the flush of his cock as he drove into Kuronue while blood swelled and dripped to the dirt, ran down Kuronue’s leg until it pooled in the rumpled leather around his knees. Most of all, he’d been fascinated by the look of anger on Youko’s face that had only bled away when he finally tilted his head back and sighed as orgasm tore through him.

There had been other such punishments, but none of them had been in public as Kuronue’s had, no one had to go through the shame of picking themselves up and limping away from camp to the nearest stream the way Kuronue had. They emerged from the tree tired and battered but determined to fix their mistakes.

So Yomi raised his chin and met Kuronue’s stare, thinking of the blood that had been on Kuronue’s hands after he’d clawed and dragged sharp nails over whatever surface he could to try and get away from Youko. The dirt beneath him had turned into thick sludge and then mud from the sheer amount of blood as his fingernails tore and broke away from the nail bed.

“Go,” Kuronue said, low and harsh this time. The pendant that hung from his neck flickered a brighter shade of red in the light of the fire.

Kuronue’s punishments were worse than any Youko could deal; the loss of fingers and sanity effected a demon’s future survival. Humiliation, degradation, was easily healed, he figured. But still, they were equals, were they not? And yet they all treated him as if he was not.

Yomi took a step away from Kuronue and then turned, made his way towards the trunk of the tree, all too aware of blue eyes on him. He paused at the threshold of the doorway, staring into the darkness. He steeled himself and stepped in, faintly aware of Kuronue’s eyes finally leaving him.

-

It was cold inside, and it took him a moment to figure out how to get down to the underground chamber that Youko kept as his own. He passed what Kuronue likely claimed as his own retreat and made his way into the open space between the two rooms. There the walls were bathed in the golden glow of a fire that heated the place up, and plants hung from the ceiling giving the room that crisp morning air sensation even though it was well past sunset now.

Youko was lounging there, sake cup in hand and one of legs thrown over the arm of a chair he slouched in. It was a fine chair, carved with little vine patterns within it and painted a golden colour. Or it might have been gold plating. The light was too dim for specifics at this distance.

As he drew closer, Yomi found the courage to look up into Youko’s eyes. They were shaded, looking off to the side away from him, dark, long eyelashes allowing only a thin line of gold to be seen. The hand not holding the cup as it rested on the free arm of the chair was toying with a strand of white hair, letting it run through fingers as he curled it idly.

“You wanted to speak with me?” Yomi prompted, ignoring the worry in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t like him to worry, or at least not to allow it to show. He was fascinated and terrified of the creature before him, yes, but he was also obsessed with him and had great faith in his abilities as a leader.

Finally those glass-like eyes gestured to the floor before his chair. “Kneel,” he merely said.

And, gods help him, Yomi did. Even though it was degrading, he knelt before him and stared up at Youko past those evocatively spread legs and half-bare chest to the sharp featured face with the narrow eyes and thin eyebrows that arched just so enough to make him look seductive as all hell. He swallowed thickly and placed his hands in his lap, hoping the kitsune wouldn’t call him out on the hardon pressing against the cotton of his pants.

Youko took a moment, tilting his cup to stare into it. Then he looked back at Yomi. “Last night I went for a walk.”

Fuck.

“Strange that I find Kuronue and yourself nowhere to be seen.” Golden eyes were glaring down at him now.

He couldn’t think of anything to say. It was like his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth.

“Well?” Youko asked, his tone lowering an octave in his anger. He didn’t shout, he never shouted. If Kuronue was dread then Youko was the chill up your spine. His anger was cool and calm, but you knew he was angry.

Yomi still said nothing.

“If you two are going to fuck around behind my back, I’d prefer you did it before me so that I knew whether or not you two are conspiring against me,” he hissed, taking a sip from the cup and pouring himself more from the bottle that rested by the leg of the chair.

Yomi lowered his head a little, alarm rushing through him. “Forgive me, Kurama, but I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t. You’re new.” He snorted and looked over Yomi’s shoulder. For the first time Yomi heard and sensed the presence of another. “And you, you should know this by now.”

A shrug, evident by the shift of leather wings and hair. “Figured you already knew.”

“He’s only been with us for a month, Kuronue.”

“Yet you seem to trust him enough to make him your partner too,” Kuronue bit back, a slight hint of frustration in his tone.

Yomi’s jaw tightened. New though he may be, it gave them no reason to treat him like a child, like he’d done something wrong. Kuronue got away with murder and yet here Yomi was, suffering for fucking the demon sat on Youko’s right hand side, where as he sat on the left. They were both his partners, and yet Youko seemed to place more importance on the other demon. It infuriated Yomi.

“How old are the both of you? Three?” Youko stood and snarled at the both of them, his tail lashing wildly. The cup went sailing past Yomi in Kuronue’s direction and there was a resulting inhuman sound to which Youko ignored completely.

“Sort your shit out before I come back.”

And then he was gone, the walls to the opening of the room thickening and leaping to the other side, twisting and hardening into something thicker than concrete. They were trapped until Youko decided to let them out.

“Nice work, newling,” Kuronue drawled. “Neither of us is getting fucked tonight now.”

Yomi stood and spun around, facing the other demon with wide eyes and a burning kind of anger that almost made his vision go slightly blurry. He launched himself at Kuronue, intent on ripping his head clean off. “You think you own him?!” he shouted, slamming his forehead against the other demon’s as soon as he was near enough.

Kuronue reeled and stumbled a little, but fought back once he had his feet under him again, tackling Yomi and bringing their faces close, snarling at him as he fisted his hands in his shirt. “He’s been fucking me for longer than you, you little—ugh...”

Yomi didn’t even feel the pain in his fists, his forehead, all he felt was the rage and the desperate jealousy that consumed him.

“Whore,” Kuronue spat as Yomi rolled them over and used his weight to keep Kuronue down, his erection unwillingly pressing against the demon’s hip. “You’re not even old enough to control your own dick.”

That was it.

“I’ll show you who’s better,” Yomi growled, flexing his claws and tearing at Kuronue’s vest, swatting away the bat’s hands as he reached for him, remaining stubbornly astride him as Kuronue bucked and struggled, tried to roll them over.

Then Kuronue started laughing. “This is the only way you can get back at me, huh?”

“Shut up!”

Kuronue did shut up, but only for a little while. He fought half heartedly against Yomi as he tore at his clothes and belts, writhing more than struggling, his hands choosing obscene places to gip as he fought against him. Flushed like this, panting and nigh naked, Yomi could remember how they had been last night, fucking like little boys in their parent’s bed, like it was forbidden to get off, especially with each other.

“I’ll show you,” he muttered again, and Kuronue licked his lips lewdly, rocking his hips upwards into him, making him pause and grunt as the bat’s knee ground up against his cock.

It was all of an opening Kuronue needed to shift and roll them over, taking Yomi’s wrists in hand and pressing them to the floor as he rocked down into him, grinding their cocks together in a slow, mocking rhythm that made Yomi all the more frustrated and angry and yet...

And yet he was bucking up into him too, gasping for air and tipping his head back as Kuronue sealed his lips over his throat and bit lightly, hot tongue soothing over his skin lightly not to sooth but to mock. He sucked and bit the flesh he took between his teeth, being damn sure to leave a mark and to have Yomi cry out.

“F-fuck you,” he cursed, his eyes falling closed as he groaned.

Kuronue let go of one of his hands to force one of his legs aside so he could shift between them properly, and Yomi could feel his cock nudge against his perineum and ass. He was so hard and eager for Kuronue’s cock he felt an almost debilitating flush of pure arousal surge through him, and for a second he’d thought he’d come.

Hand free, he reached for Kuronue’s hair and tugged him closer, fisted his hand in his hair to keep him there as he forced their mouths to meet. It wasn’t a kind kiss at all, or even passionate. It was brutal and needy and violent to the point where they could taste blood and it only made them all the more needy.

The vicious cycle came to a crescendo as Kuronue grabbed at Yomi’s hip and them thigh and rocked against him until finally his cock forced its way into Yomi and the demon had to break the kiss to throw his head back and scream.

“I’m sorry,” Kuronue panted, looking down at his with half-lidded eyes and that infuriating smirk. “Who is fucking who now?” He gave a particularly brutal thrust that had Yomi almost choke and sob with the utter pleasure it brought.

When Yomi could think straight and his eyes stopped trying to cross and look up into the back of his head, Yomi snarled and struck Kuronue, pushed him away as well as he could. He turned over onto his belly and made to stand only to be caught around the waist and dragged back down to the floor.

“No! Fuck you, Kuronue, you slut!”

The demon only laughed as he crawled over Yomi and wrapped his arm around Yomi’s neck so that his forearm was pressing on his throat, forcing him to arch back lest he choke. Nudging his thighs apart again, making Yomi’s knees scrape on the rugs under them, Kuronue slid right back into him. And this time he didn’t hold back at all.

Yomi clawed at the rub and arched his back to lessen the pressure on his throat, which only drove him back on Kuronue’s cock and brought those bright blinding flashes of pure bliss pouring up from the base of his spine to the very tip of his skull, making it tingle and send out more of those lovely impulses that made him moan despite himself. The sweat, the obscene sounds, it all got to him. He cried out, again and again, unable to help himself.

Kuronue was growling above him, and then biting into his shoulder as their pace changed, turned violent enough to make the both of them rock forward each time and have Kuronue’s hair sticking to Yomi’s shoulders and neck as well as his own. “Fuck,” Yomi cursed, unable to ease the ache in his own cock in case he lost his balance.

“Who’s the whore? You’re the whore,” Kuronue moaned, releasing his neck this time and shifting, instead bringing both of his hands to Yomi’s hips, fingers on the tops of his thighs, so that he could pull him back to meet his thrusts.

Giving a low, long moan Yomi let one of his hands collapse and rested his head against it so he could fist his cock and stroke himself frantically in time with Kuronue. It was delicious, all of it, his fights with Kuronue and Youko’s frustrations with their attention starved bickering. In his sour moods they fucked like rabbits and fought and fucked all over again. This was liberation, this was the life Yomi had wanted.

As climax crept forward, Yomi’s cries changed pitch and Kuronue fucked him all the more harder, arching forward and grunting, teeth grit and hands tight on Yomi’s hips.

Yomi came first, gasping and choking on his own cry of bliss. “Ku—”

Kuronue fucked him through it, and he was still reeling and spilling himself onto the floor and his own hand as Kuronue came, cursing and spitting the foulest words Yomi had heard in a long time.

And then they collapsed in a heap of limbs and lack of oxygen, gasping and panting and spent. Kuronue’s head rested by Yomi’s somewhere and Yomi could feel the demon’s come leaking from his ass—and that was the most disgusting feeling ever—as they recovered slowly.

A while later Kuronue rolled off him and sighed. “You’re still a bitch,” he mused.

“Fuck off.”

Shit never changed.
Music:: Opiate Soul - Kamelot
Mood:: 'blah' blah

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