Title: Hidden, Something’s Always There
Rating: NC-17 (oh, welcome home, baby.)
Warnings: Crossdressing on Youko's part. : D
Summary: He always got what he wanted, and if you didn't like it... well, he'd make you like it.
Notes: Right so, in my head, Youko and Kuronue exist somewhere around the 18th century, because Youko didn’t do too well in keeping himself together once Kuronue kicked the bucket and the Yomi thing happened. (The way I see it everything started goin’ to shit once Kuronue died.) So, Youko’s dress looks something like this, only more randy and showing a little more of his arms.
Hidden, Something’s Always There
“You don't earn loyalty in a day. You earn loyalty day-by-day.”
Kuronue had gone to find Youko, in relation to some issues that had popped up regarding their next heist. Issues always popped up, so it hadn’t been an unusual day so far, not that he’d been expecting anything other than an ordinary day anyway. He’d walked down the relatively clean (although dirt, Youko managed to make it look like concrete or some other strong material, perhaps clay) hallways until he had reached the room that Youko usually used when time was their own and scheming had to be done alone, his ‘chambers’ he supposed they could be called. It seemed grand enough to fit the youko, whether it was proportional (to his ego, maybe) to his status in the realms or not.
When he slid the door open, he paused for a long while, simply staring forward, his mouth slightly agape.
“What are you doing?” Kuronue eventually forced out, unable to help himself from staring.
Youko had looked up when the door had opened, and he stared back now nonchalantly. “Human clothes.” He said, as if it wasn’t completely unusual for him to be wearing human clothes, and, of all the kinds available for him to choose from, he’d chosen the western styled, female, dress.
It was light in colour, a multilayered cacophony of cream, gold and white, with a corset tightly constricting his midsection, and a long, intricately layered skirt. His shoulders and arms were mostly bare but for the sleeves coming to his elbows and breaking off into to ruffles of lace. His pale slender hands were covered in fingerless, white fishnet gloves.
As he was now, Youko stood with one of his legs up in a dark wooded chest, his skirts pulled up around his hips as he pulled on thick boots, baring the pale and bare flesh of his inner thigh to him. His hair, light and wispy, pulled up messily and whips that he managed to have missed fell in disarray around his shoulders, framing his face.
If weren’t for the strong line of his jaw, and the obvious flatness of his chest (and the ears poking out from the mess of white silken hair) Kuronue would have seriously wondered if this were a human or not. Of course he would have had to have completely ignored the yoki and the general myth-like legend he’d gained.
“…why?” Kuronue asked, though his voice box seemed reluctant to help him covey how shocked he was.
Youko only shrugged his shoulders, let his booted foot slip from the chest and pulled his skirts back down, rearranging the material with a few brushes of his hands, making sure none of the under layers of petticoat snuck through. “You don’t find it sexy, Kuronue?”
He blinked and found he still couldn’t manage to force his voice into an acceptable working condition, because he was too busy staring at Youko’s thin waist and the soft folds of the satin and lace as he made his way over to him, the fabric rustling and whispering as he walked. He laced his hands together behind Kuronue’s neck, virtually hanging off him then fixed his partner with an innocent stare which still managed to look somehow sinister, Youko placed his head on Kuronue’s chest and sighed dramatically.
“I- its… very human.” He stuttered, and looked down at the man clutching onto him, mocking the humans. But of course, this was Youko, the most vicious thief and murderer that had existed in the history of demon kind, and he was wearing a human dress, clutching onto him, and lifting his head once more to stare at him, his deep golden eyes suddenly watery and appearing so, so naive.
If he’d been human, he’d have thought it a very outrageous thing. But that was only the stupidity, the inferiority, that all humans had when compared to their kind. Demons did not have to adhere to unwritten rules that made no sense to be following anyway. Especially Youko Kurama and Kuronue. The demons would sooner commit seppuku than adopt the ways of the humans.
He was putting on an act of course, and Youko was a terrifying actor, skilled as if he was born with no purpose other than too act. Kuronue was having trouble recognizing the creature clinging to him. It felt strange, so have such a body pressed against his, wrapped in the human materials of cream coloured taffeta with golden ridging and pale, pale folds of satin and silk. He’d never really held any interest in females before, but… this…
“Come on,” Youko taunted, pushing against Kuronue’s chest a little, the hardness of his corset almost digging into his chest. “Take the poor maiden, so innocently caught aghast by your sudden entrance.”
Was this really Youko? He’d been confronted with all sorts of imposters before but, no one was this good at acting where they? Even if his words spoke of who he really was, the actions and looks seemed completely wrong. Without any bust whatsoever, he looked like a childlike, porcelain doll.
Now, Kuronue had traveled to Nigenkai before (of course he had, who hadn’t?) and he’d even stolen a few ideas off the men of the day, however most of their pieces of clothing were ridiculously flashy in looks and so typically human in the fact that they didn’t allow for comfortable mobility whatsoever. He had, however, fallen in love with the corset of the human females and the vest that the males wore, along with a few other pieces of interesting clothing, and so he’d taken it into his own personal style, and it hadn’t changed for a long time.
So Kuronue couldn’t help but be suspicious as too why Youko was doing this. Okay so, maybe, he’d figured it out, maybe he hadn’t, he didn’t think now was the time to ask. Then again, knowing Youko, he could have also been fucking with him, and as soon as he said something positive about the situation Youko would call him a worthless idiot and feed him to his plants.
So he hesitated in replying, stared down at the deceptively innocent ‘maiden’ pushed against his chest, virtually his own height, and swallowed harshly.
Youko watched him for a long time, his eyes snapping back and forth subtly, until a fierce little smirk crosses his lips, only for a split second though, and then he broke away with a loud cry, shoving Kuronue back and almost cowering away from him. In a second, the Youko he knew so well disappeared under whoever, whatever, this was.
“Sir! What motivates you to burst into my chambers with such force?” He looked defiant while still petrified, his eyebrows drawing together and his eyes almost glaring at him through the disheveled silken hair. His lower lip quivered, and even his hands shook lightly as they pressed against his chest. Though he made no attempt to throw his voice whatsoever, Kuronue still had to wonder if this really was Youko Kurama, or some other thing. Or perhaps this was a dream, and he’d wake up and bee thinking about it for the next week, or until he found a whore that would give in to his fantasies of Youko Kurama and human clothing.
But Youko wanted him to play along didn’t he? He could see it in his stance, not really terrified of him, but purposely leaving himself open and still able to strike him should he so wish it. So, he’d play along.
“I…” and then he couldn’t think of anything, because Youko’s expression flashed an incredibly pleased expression before disappearing under the façade of the innocent maiden again. Kuronue found himself wanting to shatter that innocence, and take it, take it until there was nothing left, because Youko was granting him something he hadn’t ever had the mind to ask for. “I am here for an inspection, rumors have been circulating that you, madam, have been unfaithful to the lord.”
“I would never be unfaithful to my lord!” Oh, and there it was again. That innocence that begged to be stolen, without the weakness of the human body and mind. He looked so earnest now, in his protective stance, close to the wall, far away from him.
Kuronue, standing in the doorway, felt a sudden stab of need wrenching at his gut. It shortened his breath, and his wings twitched slightly in interest. “The reports of our good people state otherwise.” He declared, taking a step forward, then another, and another.
“And you mean to investigate these lies, is this true?” Youko’s arms suddenly fell to beside his waist, resting against the intricate joining of layers and corset, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes blazing defiantly at him, furious that someone dared accuse him of such a deed.
Kuronue smirked a little and tilted his head to the side, taking another step forward, and noticing the way Youko’s eyes flickered to his feet and then up to his face quickly, then took a step back. Oh, he was so… so good at this. The fear in his eyes… looked so real, and he shivered, because he wanted to see more of it. More of that look in Youko’s eyes.
He’d been in this room a few times before. This was Youko’s domain; the only room in the many rooms of the underground den Youko had created long before he met him, that he was always cautious of entering. There was a bed of furs and plush cushions in which Youko slept, and the chest beside them, on which Youko had placed his foot, then a table off to the side, with writing equipment and scrolls pilled next to it. Other than that, the room was relatively bare, surprising for the youko’s taste in finery.
Stepping forwards once more, forcing Youko back to press himself against the wall as he stared at him, almost panicky in his manner, Kuronue reached forwards and took Youko’s arm in his, wrenching him towards him. He let out a small whine when he yanked him close and kept his head down, turning his face away, all sense of defiance chased away.
Leaning forward a little more he buried his face in the maiden’s neck and breathed in his scent happily, canine and arousal overpowered all other scents in the air, and he was sure Youko could almost taste it. He quivered against him, whether in fright or arousal he didn’t know.
“Leave me be… I did not disobey our lord…I swear it…” His voice seemed so weak, and broken, he’d never heard that tone of voice come from the body before him, nor had he imagined himself enjoying it as much as he did.
“Shall I test it then? How much of a whore you are?” Oh, those words, even if they were his own, sent a spike of heat right to his cock, and need extended from his spine, running along his nerves and almost contorting him with its intensity. He pulled Youko against him, his hands immediately falling to his waist, pulled in forcefully by the tightness of the corset, almost as much as a females, and tilting his head up to nuzzle at Youko’s neck until he lifted it in shaky compliance and allowed him to run not quite kisses down his throat.
Youko’s hands where at his arms, pushing him away weakly, and squirming against him, though with no particular force, and Kuronue frowned.
This wasn’t Youko.
Immediately he let go and stepped back, turning away from Youko’s curious glance.
He shook his head and kept walking, then paused and tried to get his voice to work once more, turning a little to look over his shoulder. “I… I can’t.”
He had turned enough to see the fury in Youko’s features before he was sailing across the room and slamming into the wall with a terrible force, and falling back down to the earth before he’d realized he’d even moved. Youko had been careful to not injure his wings, but still he felt a sudden stab of worry that he had pissed Youko off enough to warrant a blow like that, even if it was nothing compared to his true strength. There had been many close calls in the past, and it was difficult to know the difference between playing and seriousness when it came to Youko.
With his mind reeling, and his body uncoordinated, he struggled to right himself, to stand, but instead he felt himself pushed back down to the earth by Youko himself, one of his heeled boots between his shoulders, digging into his spine achingly.
“What’s wrong?” Youko’s voice was cold and empty, not very pleased at all. The curious edge, the childish innocence, the taunting, only existed there when he was angry.
This was… not good.
“It—” Oh, the room was spinning two ways at once. He couldn’t think of what to say in reply. “Its… not you.”
Then there was silence for a long while, and Kuronue let his forehead rest against the ground (he’d left his hat in his own room), his right arm was acting strange, perhaps he’d fractured it… The pain was not all that great though. Perhaps he’d only bruised it with the impact of the wall, which most probably had left a small crater.
He couldn’t breath suddenly.
Because Youko was pulling him up with his hand around his throat, forcing him in the direction of the bed, pushing him down again. He was still too dazed to wonder why he wasn’t fighting back, because that was what Youko wanted now wasn’t it? He’d denied them both and now Youko was going to have it his way whether Kuronue agreed or not.
He struggled uselessly, not because he was still reeling, but because he knew giving in and knew that becoming immediately compliant would only anger Youko further. He knew that Youko liked it rough sometimes and he wanted to keep Youko happy. His clothes were pulled from him, torn more often than not, and he heard the sound of ripping behind him as Youko pulled the outer layer of his dress from him, discarding the heavy skirts and needless layers.
“Too bad.” Youko growled, yanking Kuronue back against him once he had him fully unclothed and vulnerable bellow him. Nestled between the arch of his wings, one of Youko’s hands splayed over his chest and the other pulled his head back with a wrench of his hair.
“Too bad, Kuronue.” He repeated, nipping at his long tapered ear.
Kuronue could feel his cock through what remained of Youko’s clothing, and he bit his lips when he was released, his head falling to hang while his elbows kept him propped up, and Youko posed over him, his hands drifting down, and down, and down. His teeth and lips working his neck perhaps a little too roughly.
It was getting to him slowly, the closeness of Youko, and the arousal from before still lingered. This was the Youko he knew, the one that he could unreservedly give himself too, and take should the need become forceful enough to have Youko turn into a pliable mess beneath his fingers. This one he could be content with, the other was merely an act, a lie, and it did not arouse him to the degree Youko did when he took him as he did now.
This was Youko, and he could slit his throat, and Kuronue would go to death happily knowing that it had been Youko that had sent him there, and not any other. It didn’t really matter what Youko did to him, just so long as it was Youko.
His own cry of pain brought him from his thoughts, as Youko forced his way inside him, without preamble, and he was left to shiver beneath him and curse the silver fox with all the venom inside him. It hurt, and it had surprised him, the sudden hard thrust pushed him forward onto his elbows harsher, and he’d clenched his teeth in agony.
“Shhh…” Youko hushed, almost tauntingly, his hand finally slipping down to his cock, which Kuronue was surprised to find hard, and aching, as was the rest of his body, and his ass stretched to wide too fast.
But the fingers that closed around him changed everything, and sent everything scattering in different directions all at once. What pain he did feel, seemed to become entwined in the heat of need, enough so to make him choke on a cry. Everything was mixing and confusing him, the pain, the anger, the need. The conflicting sensations, as they went on, spurred by Youko’s touch, gradually turned into undiluted pleasure.
Youko had stilled himself upon entering Kuronue, but, he moved no further, and slowly, Kuronue became more and more desperate to have the thick cock inside him deeper and deeper, because he knew, he knew the sensations it would cause, the bliss. But Youko only held his hips still with his free hand, as he, on his knees behind Kuronue, watched the demon below him slowly begin to shiver and moan as he clenched at the bedding below them. His hair a cascading trickle of water, still pulled up tightly, held in place with a light coloured band.
Youko’s hand against his cock was perfect, perfect, but not enough, he wanted him to move. He could still feel the folds of Youko’s under-dress, no doubt he still wore the corset too, as he drove Kuronue further and further from his mind, delighting in the morbid silence of what was to be an… innocent encounter. Now that he thought about it, it did seem to be Youko’s style.
Had the youko planned it from the beginning? Kuronue wondered, and then abandoned the thought in favour of moaning into the demons touch, and shivering violently as slicked fingers slowly trailed up, and down and then up again, to swirl his thumb over his hard cock, the hand gripping him a little tighter, sending bolt of pleasure right through him, and having it control the movement of his body, rather than he.
He ached to move back, and force the movement of the cock inside his ass, Youko’s cock, but Youko held him firmly (perhaps a little too tightly) with his hand at his hip, and his hips, pressed against Kuronue’s pale round little ass didn’t really allow him the choice to move, constantly forced forward as he was, like a stretching cat.
“Please…” He moaned, eyes closing, shutting out the bedding below him, and instead focusing on the youko’s touch. “Please… Kura~ ah! Hnnn…”
Two of the youko’s fingers were in his mouth now, restricting him to petty moans and weak little whimpers to communicate his state of utter need. “Shhhh…” he was hushed again, his pleas ignored. It only made him buck forward into the hand a little, with no great results.
Youko was playing with him, leaving him to tremble in the strong grips of hot rushes, signaling his need. The hand at his cock had lightened, and he desperately moaned for more, the obstacle in his mouth beginning to become an annoyance. The fingers pressed down on his tongue, coating them with saliva, unable to swallow, the fluid flowed free, wasted.
Wasted like Youko’s cock being in his ass when he refused to move, and tormented Kuronue instead. Driven by need, Kuronue switched the weight of his body onto one hand, and reached behind him with the other, twisting, and head angling up, sucking on the digits in his mouth now, as he forced the movement of Youko’s cock inside him. Moving forwards and pulling Youko towards as best as he could with his hand, and then rising back onto his knees to impale his ass on Youko’s cock.
They both reacted violently, Kuronue screaming and Youko grunting, leaning down to press his forehead between Kuronue’s shoulder blades, his fingers slipping from Kuronue’s mouth to take possession Kuronue’s hand which supported him, and to pull it from underneath him, so that he lurched forward again. In the smooth action, navigating around Kuronue’s wings, and the hand Youko previously had captured Kuronue’s cock with, griped his hip, he pulled Kuronue back onto him, slamming his cock deep inside, and gritting his teeth at the resounding moan-like scream directed at the bedding below them, forced from Kuronue’s throat.
Mindless, Kuronue didn’t acknowledge his victory, instead he helped and urged Youko on as best he could, bent around to face Youko as best he could, one arm pulled out sharply before him, his fingers interlaced with Youko’s own, and his other doing its best to pull Youko’s hips towards his ass harder. Together, they gasped and moaned, delighting in the swirls of ecstasy, and hot waves of nothing but irrational mindless urges, animal instincts, to growl and fuck and do as they pleased, so long as it was hard, and hot, and served them well.
No longer tormented with petty tastes if pleasure, but instead slammed with the full intensity of Youko’s vicious thrusts, and his own efforts to slam back onto him, left him a thoughtless glutton. Delighting in the pleasure, his cheek pressed against the soft bedding bellow him, made of silk and furs and many other stolen goods, his ass in the air, legs spread, his demon partner pounding into his ass, growling slightly, fingers tightening on his hips slowly.
The only thing he could hear was his own wails, and perhaps in the distance, Youko’s growl-like moans, his panting breaths and the tearing fabric beneath his fingers. “Nhaaa! K- Kurama! Fuck… oh…”
He was right there now, right there, and Youko must have been to, because the only response he got was a growl, and the intensity doubled as Youko’s hand made its way back o his cock. Instantly, he was gone, and he couldn’t keep track of what he was saying anymore, or what he was doing. He was driven by primal urges, and the need to cum.
He would cum soon, if this kept up. His throat would be sore from screaming and his fingers tender from clutching the bedding so tightly, his ass would hurt from Youko’s punishing though and he would be gloriously okay with it all. Because this was Youko.
“You like it better this way don’t you?” Youko taunted, his words spoken right into his ear, and his chest pressed up against Kuronue back as he thrust his hips forward, and Kuronue threw his head back with a wail, almost too far gone to not even hear the youko’s breathless words.
“Hhhhnnnn… Ku--I-- ah!” He couldn’t reply, not when Youko was so close too him, inside him, fucking him. Not when he whispered taunts in his ear and stroked his cock in time with his thrusts, put all his effort into giving the both of them the most pleasure out of it all.
How Youko managed the composure to chuckle in his ear, he didn’t know, (nor particularly care) all he knew was that it was Youko’s laugh that set him off. Youko’s laugh that pushed him over the edge and had him enduring the most wonderful, powerful sensations of extreme and absolute ecstasy. With Youko’s cry to follow him, as his hand wrapped around his chest and he pressed himself against Kuronue, still with the corset, and still within the throws of orgasmic bliss.
And when everything began to wind down they collapsed, and Youko, still drifting, flopped wordlessly onto his side when Kuronue pushed him off.
He stared at the wall for a long while regaining his breath, his head turned away from Youko. He wasn’t going to complain about the whole thing, it had worked out fine in the end, but…
“The dress is soiled now.” Youko’s mumbled, and Kuronue felt him shifting behind him.
Still facedown, he turned his head to the side and propped himself up with an elbow while he reached over and punched Youko on his shoulder. Or at least attempted too. Youko, who’d been frowning down at the pale skirt of his dress, glanced up within time to notice and catch the fist before it made contact. Not that it had been a serious punch anyway.
“You’re fucking stubborn.” Kuronue stated, when all Youko did was stare at him, his lips parted and his eyes warm and, for the moment, softened with the effects of orgasm hangover. White hair spilled about him like small rivers of mercury, shining under the dim light of the room. The dress was soiled, with their cum.
Youko’s eyebrows rose, and his lips widened into a taunting smile. “We got what we wanted.”
No. Kuronue got what he wanted. What did Youko get out of it?
The pleasure of seeing him crumble beneath him? Was he a game?
“What did you get?” He asked, narrowing his eyes and furrowing his brow.
Youko manuvered their hands, the one’s that had attempted and defended the punch, until their fingers were laced together and their palms upturned. “Loyalty.”
Kuronue would have questioned him further had Youko not suddenly sat up and taken Kuronue’s mouth with his, his hands holding Kuronue’s head still when he attempted to break away, and caressing him when he gave in with a small sound deep in his throat. Yielding to Youko's persuasive prowess when it came to kissing. He never had a chance.
When they broke apart, as Kuronue worked at pulling what was left of Youko’s dress from him, he managed to catch the secret smile Youko shared with himself. And then, with a hand up the youko’s skirt, fingernails dragging against the white of his thigh, his lips brushing against a porcelain knee, he allowed himself a secret smile too.
Because this was as good as it got.