blackwidow: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] blackwidow at 04:46pm on 02/02/2008 under , , , , ,
Title: The Special Ones
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: YoukoxKurama, KuramaxKuwabara.
Summary: Inner demons can be a bitch.
Notes: I wasn’t planning on posting this specific fic, but it demanded to be written ASAP and well, frankly I couldn’t find it in myself to argue. I don’t usually write smutty and angst-ish stuff so I have no idea if it worked or not.
 
-

The Special Ones

"A peacefulness follows any decision, even the wrong one."
-Rita Mae Brown


-
 
Kuwabara had gone over to his boyfriend’s house because he hadn’t seen him in a week. He’d always known that Kurama was an extremely private person, so he hadn’t pushed it, figuring that he just needed some time and space. But eventually, on the Sunday night that officially signaled a week since he hadn’t spoken to the fox, he walked up to the large two storied house, with the impeccable garden and clean name plate and knocked on the door three times with the back of his knuckles.
 
His mother’s car wasn’t in the driveway, so he figured it would be safe, however, Kuwabara still wanted to be cautious incase he woke her up. It was late at night after all.
 
He waited a long while, wondering on whether the door would actually open at all, and if Kurama was angry about something. Eventually his legs began to feel stiff and his eyes began to water, the reaction of not blinking while staring solidly at the number on the door. He huffed a sigh and turned to sit a little away from the door, staring out onto the street, propping his chin up with his palm.
 
He watched the small insects buzz by, he was slightly annoyed that Kurama had done some trickery and placed a block on the house so that ki could not be read. It was honestly not a good idea in Kuwabara's opinion, but he supposed that Kurama had to of had some sort of other protection, as Yoki could not be sensed either. Sitting now, and noticing just how many trees there were around, made Kuwabara stick to that theory.
 
His boyfriend was a skilled man; he could take care of himself. Even if there was no real great threat to them, now that Team Urameshi had, more or less, disbanded. There were demons true, but they were easily handled these days and had more or less lost interest in them. Especially with Yusuke being of such status now.
 
Even so, it meant that Kuwabara couldn’t check to see if he was home or not.
 
The front door clicked open behind him, and he stood quickly, swirling around to face Kurama, who stood, peaking through the crack of the door and then, probably realizing who he was, opening the door a little further. He looked terrible. “Kuwabara, hello.”
 
Just for a second, he completely forgot what he was here for, upon seeing Kurama’s state. “Ah…I uh… came to, talk?”
 
He took a step closer, and paused when Kurama's hand tightened on the door knob. What was wrong with him?
 
“I’m sorry we haven’t seen each other much Kuwabara…Kazuma, but I just…haven’t been the best this past week.” He slouched a little and ran his fingers along the hairline of his neck as he spoke, looking down for a second, and then straightening, obviously, to Kuwabara at least, attempting to not look so worn out. The warm smile he unleashed told Kuwabara that everything would be okay, despite whatever Kurama was going through.
 
“A cold?” He asked, though he suspected something more. Or perhaps he was too used to be big adventures he’d had not too long ago.
 
The reply was a simple, almost weak, “I hope so.”
 
Maybe Kuwabara wasn’t giving him enough credit. The fox still seemed strong, and it definitely wasn’t the knowledge of the power Kurama possessed that kept the ‘danger’ aura around him. He bit his lip a little too hard. “Uh… okay. I’m sorry for disturbing you so late.”
 
Kurama shook his head, sending crimson streams into disarray, then bowed a little in thanks. “I don’t mind.”
 
But his hand tightened on the door again, and Kuwabara almost demanded that he be let in, and that he take care of Kurama. If he was feeling unwell enough to grip the door so tight like that, then he obviously was not doing good at all. But in respect for Kurama, he kept his distance, standing awkwardly before the doorway. “Yeah… I’ll see you later then... When you’re better.”
 
Kurama nodded, and lowered his head a little. “Thankyou for your concern.”
 
“It’s my job, Kurama,” he said quietly as he turned and walked back towards the street.
 
-
 
When Kurama closed the door, he stubbornly ignored the presence behind it, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, staring at him. Instead he chose to grimly ponder Kuwabara’s last words to him, a small frown on his lips. Indeed, he could take care of those around him, his friends that’s were now all human, the life he’d chosen, but Kuwabara seemed like the only one that could take care of him too.
 
But this, the presence to his right, the epitome of what he used to be, had kept him away from Kuwabara, and all civilized human life for the past week.
 
“It’s his job.” The dry words seemed much harsher than they should have been. Closing his eyes, Kurama let his hand slip from the door and turned away, making his way towards the staircase which he scaled and pushed open the door to his room, closing it behind him.
 
Youko was already there, sitting on the edge of his bed, bathing in a patch of moonlight, his tail twitching slightly, as if a well fed cat. “His job, Shuuichi. Honestly, how corny.”
 
Though he wanted nothing more than to bury himself under him beds covers, and sleep for a long, long time, but Kurama settled himself beside the youko and sighed instead. “How many other corny things did we mutter to those that we spent the night with?”
 
Youko said nothing, and tilted his head to the side slightly, his golden eyes deepening in thought, then, “You made the choice to be human Shuuichi.”
 
He didn’t reply. Truthfully, he had decided that yes, he’d prefer it this way, but once it had become absolute truth, and he’d taken things a few steps further to purge his demonic self from him, he began to regret the weakness. As a youko, he was strong beyond words, and he’d always liked freedom the most.
 
He wasn’t sure if he could let Youko go.
 
Things were… complicated, at the moment.
 
 “What would Hiei think of this substitute?” the youko pondered aloud, turning to face his human counterpart, leaning forward a little, almost resting his chin on Kurama’s shoulder.
 
Kurama felt him smirk when he growled, “Kuwabara is not just a substitute,” in anger. Though his head stayed in his hands, and he didn’t move.
 
“You’re truly trying to deny demonkind entirely, aren’t you?”
 
Then, hands rested themselves on his shoulders and the youko moved behind him, the mattress beneath them sinking beneath his weight.
 
“Don’t!” He protested, smacking the hands away, knowing exactly that Youko was trying to cause more turmoil inside his head, and make him more confused. Why he didn’t exactly know, or remember.
 
As if reading his mind, Youko caught his wrists, human and fragile beneath the demons touch now, and chuckled in his ear, “You remind me so much of someone.”
 
It was warm like this, with Youko pressed to his back, and his arms almost wrapped around him, soft words being spoken into his ear, although they were thinly veiled knifes, Kurama liked to believe for a second, that it was Kuwabara behind him. He found he could not remember who Youko spoke of, which meant it was either a lie or he truly didn’t remember.
 
He said nothing.
 
“…you don’t remember, do you?” Kurama’s eyes snapped open at the highly insulted tone, staring at his wrist before him, held in the grip of pale, almost ivory like skin that almost glowed in what little light reached them.
 
“Why should I? We had thousands of lovers.”
 
“But I had two special ones.” He purred and pressed at Kurama’s neck with his forehead, licking up the shell of his ear, and closing his eyes.
 
Kurama, on the receiving end of this, could only stare forward blankly as he tried to remember in an honest attempt.
 
“You don’t remember that either!” Youko’s laugh was loud, and colder than he remembered it. It seemed strange to hear himself laugh, and to talk to himself like this, although there was an obvious difference between them. “Oh, other self. How disgusting you are. After all that was sacrificed for you.”
 
That cut deep, because he couldn’t remember it at all. All he could think of was Kuronue falling to the bamboo trap, and that didn’t seem to be the only thing that, as Youko had said, was ‘sacrificed’ for his existence. It didn’t seem completely right either, like he was off his mark.
 
Youko’s hands slid up his arms and pulled him back into and upright position, then his hands rested themselves above his heart, and he leant around a bit further to lick at Kurama’s cheek once. “He’s nothing but a useless shell now, because of you. He gave his body up, for me to live. How hideous of you to not remember, other self. Perhaps you didn’t quite take all of me out?”
 
Kurama turned and glared at him then, furious that he dare say such things, which could be, for all he knew, one of the demon’s tricks. He was Youko after all. But before he could say anything, he was cut off by a pair of warm lips, and an invading tongue.
 
He didn’t want to do this with Youko, he’d tried all week to ignore the lingering touches and blatant hints Youko had dropped, but he refused to play this game. Kuwabara meant too much to him to do something like this, even if it was himself. Especially if it was himself. Especially Youko, who was most probably only doing this for the express purpose of seeing him suffer. Inari knows he deserved it, if he still held his old concepts he’d be horrified at what he’d become too. This tame, docile, Inari-loving human, that wanted to stay human.
 
But Youko didn’t care about his reasons, he didn’t care about Kurama. He wanted what he wanted, and got it whether people apposed to it, or not. So Kurama’s hands were, happily ignored when Youko dragged him further onto the bed, and slipped around to plant his knees either side of Kurama, and keep his arms wrapped around him for now, trapping him. Even if he tried, he knew fighting Youko would be futile.
 
When he finally did brake away from Kurama’s mouth and lean back for a deep gulp of air, his arms slipped from around Kurama, and they rearranged themselves at his shirt, slowly undoing the buttons, relatively well considering the length of his nails, and sneered into Kurama’s ear as he stared up at the ceiling. “Do you remember what I did? I pillaged, I plundered, I raped and murdered. I fucked, and damn the consequences, I even went up against Lord Koenma himself. I came off second best though, and Mother sorted that out for me, game me new life and a new shell, shockingly familiar, yes, and now that shell has rejected me, and I will have nothing of it Kurama.”
 
Kurama bolted his eyes closed and clenched his teeth when the youko bit none too gently into his neck, and settled himself more comfortably against him. Kurama’s hands were useless as they pulled and pushed at him, he seemed like an unmovable rock above him, and made not even the slightest reaction to his squirming. In fact the fractured cry of pain that slipped from his lips unannounced seemed to only please Youko.
 
“Come on, come on,” he muttered, licking at the warm blood Kurama could feel leaking from beneath his skin, “Don’t you remember how fun this is?”
 
Persecuted from himself, Kurama could only feel disgusted at what he used to be and yet torn that Youko may have been onto something, there was a large gap that he couldn’t seem to remember, and it saddened him. But no, he didn’t want to remember, because he wasn’t Youko anymore, and that’s how this had all started. He didn’t want to be this creature above him, forcing himself onto his future-self for having seen the ugliness of his own soul.
 
When Youko thumbs ran over his nipples, his chest now bare, Kurama bit his lip and brought a leg up, then jerked his shoulder up, trying to twist away and dislodge Youko from him. That had no effect that fell in his favor, instead Youko pressed himself closer against him, and let his arousal be known, and, along with his persuasive fingers, awakened interest in Kurama’s body, despite his mind’s objections.
 
“Yes, see. You know this feeling.” The youko taunted, grinding their cocks together through the layers of fabric, and his expression contorting in pleasure.
 
Despite his ire, Kurama found himself pressing his head back into the soft mattress and sighing, his hands lessening in their efforts and simply griping at the youko’s white clothing. Youko didn’t seem to mind, or just didn’t care that Kurama was giving in.
 
When Youko began to pull at his pants, Kurama lifted his hips and Youko pulled them from him quickly, throwing them to the side uninterestedly. Then, easily handling him like a rag doll, he then picked him up and placed him in his lap. It seemed a terribly intimate position for Youko, and from what Kurama could remember, they’d never really liked fucking like this, but something must have swayed his mind.
 
“Human clothes are so annoying, and so is your weak body. I don’t like holding myself back.” The demon muttered, cupping Kurama’s face for a second and running his other hand through his hair as he leant back against the wall, facing the window. Like this Kurama could see every detail of Youko, and at an angle he’d never been able to see before.
 
Seeing himself was…strange. He’d owned mirrors, and he’d seen artist depictions of himself in old books and scrolls from Makai, but he’d never been able to see himself with the naked eye like this. He didn’t seem a day older than the human twenty, with perfect skin and out of place wise dark and yet glowing gold eyes that cut right through him. Silkily flowing hair, almost weightless to the touch, spilled everywhere, and the arch of his ears were covered in fine fur, from memory pleasing to the touch, like running your finger across the surface of water.
 
“Why so tender?” Kurama asked, despite his better judgment.
 
Youko looked insulted, and the hand at his cheek snaked back to wind in his hair and pull in an unkind way, his other hand trailing down his stomach towards his hard cock. “You should be thankful, other self. I could tear you in half as you are right now, and I mean that literally. Inside and outside, I can split you. You are in no position to be making smart cracks at me, you have yourself to thank for that.”
 
With his head held at an awkward angle, pulled back and to the side, his back arched away from Youko, Kurama groaned weakly as Youko fingers traced his cock, and dragged the tip of his long nails over the most sensitive parts. His hand weren’t really doing anything, just griping at Youko’s shoulders, and so he moved his hands down to his cock along with Youko’s and helped him stoke his cock, manipulating the long and thin fingers to hold and pump his cock deliciously as Youko leant forward to run his tongue over Kurama’s nipple and bite at it gently.
 
Youko was treating him like a woman, but Kurama rather preferred it that way, rather than the other options available. They had not been the gentlest lover, but they were, undoubtedly, the best. He wasn’t lying when he said that he could tear him in half, he was, after all, only human.
 
“Fuck me and get this over with.” Kurama demanded, gritting his teeth as Youko tightened the hand around his cock a little, and pulled at his nipple with his teeth.
 
“I see no reason why I should,” came the stubborn answer, though deepened and husky with arousal.
 
“Then you can- uhnnnn…” With all of his breath suddenly gone, Kurama gasped and moaned, turning his head to the side.
 
Youko knew him too well, he knew where to push, and where to pull, and prod to achieve the right results, he new exactly what made him speechless and wild. “Hmm, apparently some things never change… What were you saying?”
 
“You--…nnn…ha…back to…Makai…” Oh, he could barely form words under this torrent, and this was only Youko’s hand.
 
Youko chuckled against his chest, and slipped his hand from his hair to shift him back a little, still in his lap, Kurama opened his eyes to investigate, and they widened once he gleamed the sight of Youko’s huge engorged cock. Oh, no way, no way that was going inside him. Kuwabara was big but that was…not what he remembered.
 
“Back to Makai? Yes, I think so. There are a few things left untouched that must be taken care of, but I think I can stay here for a while in the meantime, don’t you? There are people I can fuck with here too.”  They were not the words Kurama wanted to hear, having Youko around for the past week had taken it’s toll on him, with his constant taunts and reminders he’d slowly backed Kurama into a corner.
 
The thing that got to Kurama the most was that he couldn’t understand the youko’s reasoning behind it, and that was like not understanding himself. It wasn’t as clear cut as a simple ‘I want to cause mayhem’, there was purpose behind Youko’s actions.
 
Youko wasn’t pleased with Kurama spacing out, and smirked against Kurama's now bare shoulder when he caught his attention buy hooking his hands under him and pulling him forwards and up, so that he was on his knees, his legs spread wide hovering over the youko’s cock. Kurama placed his hands on the wall above Youko’s head when fingers trailed down the seam of his ass, slick with, if he remembered correctly, sap from one of the seed’s he kept handy, just incase, pulled from Kurama’s own hair.
 
“It sickens me to treat you like this,” the dark voice mused, disgust evident, but Kurama was focusing on the fingers teasing his ass, and a long length slipping inside him, rather than the youko’s ramblings.
 
“If you…hate it so much then why…” Oh, he loved this bit. He loved the not quite pleasurable shivers that stuck him, and the anticipatory waves of bliss. It could all change so quickly, from this to orgasm-like pleasure just with a single touch inside him, but Youko was ignoring that, and instead forcing another finger in. It brought a tinge of pain with it this time, and Kurama bit his lip, letting his head fall to his chest and pressing his hands against the cool wall.
 
“It would be better if you were the genuine article, how horrible it is that you don’t remember.” Back to the same thing again, messing with Kurama’s mind.
 
“What would Kuwabara think?”
 
That made his breath catch in his throat, and he looked down to Youko, who leered up at him with a positively evil expression, and licked at Kurama’s chest as he began to pump his fingers. Kurama’s mind was in a state of utter chaos, he couldn’t do this, it wasn’t right to Kuwabara, even if it was himself, technically they were different people now. Or at least should have been, Youko had just proven, yet again, that even if he was human, he was still Kurama, and never would be Shuuichi.
 
But the sensation running along his nerves, and singing right up his spine in delicate little waves distracted him, and tore him from his thoughts. He selfishly wanted to forget about his boyfriend, and continue this decadence.
 
“Humans are so fragile, and yet possibly more cruel than demons, don’t you think?”
 
Oh, shut up, shut up. Not now. He was being stretched wider and the sensations, the shivers from being stoked and pumped from inside, where to good, to alluring and seductive to be thinking of things like that now. With only this in mind he bent down and Youko looked up, allowing Kurama to run his tongue along the youko’s lips that he had once possessed, and to initiate further depth. Annoyingly, Youko slipped inside Kurama’s mouth before Kurama could protest, and silenced him with a third finger, and a certain hard thrust of his fingers.
 
There it was, the pleasure made him wail into Youko’s mouth and forget all else. Using his hands on the wall before him he pushed down and back onto Youko’s fingers. Trying to get more sensations like that, more consuming and utterly hard hitting walls of pure bliss. His cock too was desperate for attention, but he could bear it for now, if this pleasure kept up.
 
Youko grunted and hissed, leaning forward to lick at one of Kurama’s nipples once, before lowering him a little, and slipping his fingers from inside Kurama. The both of them were breathing heavily by now, and the heat between them, the friction, was so beautifully welcomed, but Kurama’s breath was stolen when he was forced down, and impaled, too quickly.
 
But it hit that spot inside him again, and the vicious flood of all consuming pleasure came again, and he cried out once more, his back arching and his hands slipping from the wall to grip at Youko’s shoulders, gripping at the clothing he still wore.
 
It was strange, so strange, to fuck himself. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Kuronue had felt, and all the other demons that had been taken by the youko. If they had feared breaking as he did, from the shear pleasure that wracked his body and spoke through his sobs and cries of utter ecstasy.
 
It was in desperation that he held onto Youko for dear life as Youko’s cock made the sweet sensations return again, and again, and again. Just by fucking him, all of the world seemed to disappear, and only the solid body of the demon before him existed, and the cock in his ass. It drove him increasingly wild, as it went on and Youko increased his thrusts speed and strength, pulling screams from his throat.
 
Then the verge presented itself, and he gasped, because there it was. The final, raw and intense end that had him screaming so loud he was sure his throat would he hoarse afterwards. He didn’t care about anything else, because it was empty, and blissful, and perfect.
 
Until he opened his eyes to Youko once more, and then he groaned, wanting to have the demons cock out from inside him. He went to move, sluggishly. But strong hands wrapped around him, and held him still. It was uncomfortable like this, and he could feel Youko’s cum seeping from him.
 
“You’ll stay there for a while, as I will.” Youko hummed, resting his head against the wall, his eyes closed, enjoying the silence and the writhing human in his arms.
 
Kurama didn’t know if he meant right now, or in general terms. All he knew was that, even with his demonic self separate, he was still Youko Kurama. And for Kuwabara’s sake, he hoped that it was not as bad an omen as he thought it to be.
 
 
 
The End.
 
 
 
Music:: Coma - Yann Tiersen
Mood:: 'busy' busy

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