Scattered Pages and Blood-Ink

Title: Mirror, Mirror
Warnings: Non-con. Foursome. DP (double penetration). Blowjob. Angst. Violence. Character death(s). Bondage of the bad kind. Dirty talk/taunting.
Pairings: MajarixKurama. KuronuexKuramaxKarasuxYouko. (Yeah, you read that right.)
Rating: R18+ (NC-17/R whateverthehighestratingisoverthere)
Summary: Demon God Majari had been quite the fan of Youko Kurama in the past. Now with the chance to torment and punish the traitor he’ll take full advantage of the opportunity.
Notes: I was re-watching the movie and I got attacked by bunnies soon after. They gnawed at my brain all night. Thus this was born. Unfamiliar characters are from the Poltergeist Report movie, they aren’t OCs. I built a bit on Majari’s character and took tome liberties however, as he only has a small appearance. Though he DOES smirk at Kurama when he calls Kuwabara’s name, hence the rabid bunnies.



The night had been dead.

Dead of wind, dead of sound, dead of life.

The trees were silent, no animals stalked the streets, nor human’s for that matter.

Then purple, chaotic light burst upwards in a tornado of light and sound and energy and oh that was not good.

Yusuke had failed then.

The sky above blackened, churning and humming with pure energy. Twisting around the pure, corrupted energy spiraling up, piercing through worlds, draining Ningengkai’s power like a leech. Taking the last of their hopes of protecting Reikai with it.

Dead grass and leaves crunched under Kurama’s feet as he ran towards the clearing where he could hear Kuwabara and one of the demon gods fighting, he took no notice. Yusuke was screaming something and fuck his side hurt—Kuronue had wounded him, and badly. Kuronue was alive but he’d faded away as if he wasn’t really there…like it was all just a horrible dream.

When he burst through the threshold of the forest and into the clearing of pale dirt surrounding the not-so-deep lake and the small pathway carving into the lake which held the shrine for Soul, and acted the arena for Kuwabara and Majari’s fight, his eyes flew wide.

Kuwabara was staggering, falling, failing.

His name left his mouth before he realized it had. The effort he put into his scream aggravating his wound, the blood leaking down to his jeans and coating the inside of his jacket. He clutched at it, wincing and gritting his teeth, breathing shakily through the pain.

The demon god’s golden eyes flicked to Kurama, his attention on Kuwabara waning for the split second he took to smirk at him. At his feet, Kuwabara panted, clearly nearing the end of his tether.

He was tall, nearly matching Kuwabara, and was stressed in white-bone armour and thick blue body melding material. Long, knee length blue hair swayed behind him as he shifted. He didn’t seem to have the appearance of a fighter.

But something about him was so very damning.

Because they were winning…and they knew it.

The demon god made an amused sound and then turned his eyes back to Kuwabara, who pushed his way to his feet, staggering and lilting forward dangerously.

Nothing was going right, the Netherworld demons were winning. It wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. They’d so far gotten every elemental site but this one, Soul, and Kuwabara had succeeded better than any of them in protecting it. They’d all failed protecting Reikai, the horrid purple masses of energy rising from Ningenkai and reaching into the worlds above was proof enough.

And Botan…

Botan…

Kurama looked up in shock as Kuwabara’s ki flared, and then suddenly cut. He’d run out of spirit energy. Though he was still teetering on his legs, glaring at the demon god, Majari he’d labelled himself, who still stood in a defensive crouch, mimicked spirit sword held high. He’d blocked the blast from Kuwabara, through unknown means. It couldn’t have simply just been his spirit sword, it couldn’t have made sense.

Kurama knew things about the Netherworld, he’d heard stories from the past, long before Youko had graced Makai, about a demon that mimicked and stole attacks. He’d been unstoppable up until his death, but even in death he’d become a loyal subject of the king of the Netherworld.

Kurama swallowed thickly.

“Ah, what an interesting technique, thank you for showing me,” Majari intoned, lips twisting up into a smile. The sword dispersed, flickering from his fingers as he unwound them.

Kurama’s eyes flew wide. To his right he could hear Yusuke and Hinageshi.

“Yeah?” Kuwabara panted, sighing out his words and clutching his wounded shoulder. The bad situation seemed to mean nothing to him, his eyes still held the clear determination that startled even Kurama at times. “Why don’t you show me? You could just be lying.”

“I won’t fall for that trick.” Blue lips twisted into a wicked smile. “You wasted the last of your energy on a last ditch attempt to trick me and you failed, Kuwabara. Goodbye.”

“No!” Yusuke screamed.

After that, things happened quickly, wounded and mind reeling Kurama watched as Yusuke raced forward and Kuwabara tried desperately to dodge Majari’s next attack. Then, at Hinageshi’s cry of horror, he acted without thinking. He rushed to the priestess, his movement hampered by the open wound on his side.

Then, standing before her, he watched as Kuwabara fell, his blood spilling onto the ground in a wide arc. Yusuke hadn’t the time to stop or defend himself as Majari turned, spinning on his heel and bringing his spirit sword up slicing through Yusuke, hip to shoulder.

He fell beside Kuwabara, who wasn’t breathing. The seeping blood, the redness of it all, and Majari’s cruel quiet laugh was something that Kurama knew would linger and echo into his nightmares.

Hinageshi grasped his jacket from behind, desperately trying to hold back his sobs.

Hiei, where are you? This isn’t supposed to happen.

Dissipating his spirit sword once again, Majari turned his attentions to Kurama, walking towards them slowly. The lake rippled slowly, waves moving outward, even in the dead of night. There was no sound, just Majari’s nearing footsteps and Hinageshi’s sobs.

Swallowing thickly, Kurama glared at his opponent.

“I’m a fan of yours Kurama, you’ve been around almost as long as me. I admire that,” he murmured calmly, his hands dripping with his friend’s blood. He looked like the perfect horror in Kurama’s eyes. “I’d like to talk to you a little more privately however, she’ll have to go.”

Gritting his teeth Kurama narrowed his eyes at him. “No.”

“Oh, come now.” He came to a stop before Kurama, bone armor reflecting the glow of the purple shield and the four already broken elemental sites. He raised a single hand, pointing a finger at Kurama, blue lips curving up into a smirk. “I really am…a big fan.”

“Kura-aahhh!”

His eyes flew wide, blood running cold at Hinageshi’s wet scream. Her hands tightened in his jacket, then slipped free. She crumpled at his feet, short crimson hair spread across the dirt, mixing with the blood seeping from her mouth.

Letting out a breath shakily, he looked down at his feet, forcing himself to look at his failure.

“No…”

“Yes.” A deeper voice this time, strikingly familiar. He looked up, fighting the urge to back away.

Golden, empty eyes stared back at him. Only they were in a different body now. One a little taller than he and pallid in colour. Watching him past strands of displaced silver hair, Youko smirked. An odd out-of-body experience if there was ever one.

Kurama shook his head, feeling his anger rising. This was too much, it’d all gone wrong. He’d made a promise to himself, when he’d died on part of his neglect of distancing himself from emotions after Kuronue’s death, never let his anger control him…but this was too much. There…there was nothing else to fall back on.

Youko blinked slowly, gazing at him with cruel eyes, dead eyes. His tail lashed, almost as if in irritation. “You let them die.”

“Never,” Kurama growled, clenching his fists. “My priority was protecting Hinegeshi. Stop this, Majari.”

Cold, familiar laughter. Youko tipped back his head and crossed his hands over his chest languidly. When he finally did look back at Kurama, his eyes held no compassion at all. “Yet, she lies there. Dead… You’ve failed. Admit it.”

He…he hadn’t. This wasn’t. He was taunting, wheedling his way into Kurama’s rage so that he’d attack and he could devour Kurama’s knowledge like a starved and savage animal.

“Fight me, Kurama,” he whispered, eyes widening just a little.

Kurama couldn’t. There was no worse shame than being defeated by your own attacks, and this, this was the epitome of shame. Dying wile attempting to avenge the death of the people he had come over time to know as friends.

“I see,” Youko mused, turning speculative as his eyes dropped to Kurama’s feet and then dragged up his form slowly.

He leered. “Perhaps you would prefer…this one…”

White hair bled to black, pallid form tainting and reshaping. On instinct Kurama tried to put some distance between the two of them. He couldn’t do anything for Hinageshi’s corpse, nor Kuwabara’s, nor Yusuke’s. Not until this had all been sorted out. He had to move away, needed distance—

Long, thin fingers wrapped around his forearms and dragged him back with such force that Kurama’s head snapped back oddly. Violet eyes flashed bloodthirsty carmine, wicked and lustful. Kurama struggled mindlessly.

Distancedistancedistance.

He tried to free one of his arms, to pull a seed from his hair, to kick away, something. The wound in his side and the pain of Kuronue’s accusation meant nothing now. He was running on pure hatred and adrenaline for the creature before him. Majari was fetid, he knew too much about Kurama. It was sick, he’d have to have either done his research or had been following all along from the Netherworld.

Dead straight black hair slid along his shoulders as Karasu pulled him closer, a mocking embrace, as his fingers wound in his hair. Only this time, he did so to rid him of his weapons. Kurama shuddered and gritted his teeth, pushing against him, bucking and squirming, screaming wordlessly in rage. He could feel the heat of Karasu’s fingers sliding along his scalp, feel the odd texture of his mask against his temple. When did he get so damn strong, his human body wasn’t this weak was it? Surely not. Releasing the elemental site couldn’t have taken that much of his youki.

“Shhh…Kurama, I can’t feel you against me when you struggle like that.” Wide, violet eyes watched him, grasping Kurama’s chin and wrenching his head back to stare down at him. He was sure that he was smiling behind the mask, his lifeless eyes seemed to suggest as much.

Managing to get a hand at least somewhat free he jerked his arm back and then rammed the palm of his hand into Karasu’s solar plexus, pulling away from him as he doubled over. If he’d done it hard enough he should have jolted his organs enough to displace his spine.

Run. Run.

Wetness. Agony. He was screaming and falling forward before he knew it, the smell of burnt flesh and wet dirt somehow stronger than the pain coursing through him.

His spine hurt, leaked, just like his side. His head pounded with pain, vision clouded with red. Hair or blood he couldn’t tell. He pushed himself up, trying to at least get onto his knees. He needn’t have worried, there was a hand fisting in his hair and yanking him up roughly not too long after. Pulling and wrenching tears from his eyes.

He swallowed the sound of his shock and pain at the kick in side ribs, feeling the bones shudder and threaten to snap or fracture. Blood poured, his mostly healed wound reopening.

He couldn’t defeat Karasu, hell he couldn’t defeat Youko. He was powerless like this, stuck in this human body, unable to use his attacks lest he only copy them, steal his techniques. There had to be something, something he could do.

With blurry vision he watched Karasu drop to his knees as a pale hand reached up to remove his mask. Cold eyes watching intently—always, always. It fell and Kurama closed his eyes, clenching his teeth when his head was wrenched back further, baring his throat. Kurama growled instinctively, struggling against the perverse demon, his fingernails threatening to snap under the texture of Karasu’s coat as he clawed at him. Back arched painfully, mouth forced open with the angle, Kurama clenched his eyes closed as Karasu’s cold lips pressed against his.

Soft. Chaste.

Teeth pulled at his lower lip. A warm, wet tongue slip along his upper lip.

Gentle.

Patronizing.

Kurama barely held back his revulsion, forcing his jaw closed, straining to do so at such an odd angle.

Karasu wouldn’t have it. His tongue, coy and demanding, wanted everything from him. His hands wandered, pulling and tearing at his clothes as Kurama struggled to get away if nothing else. To pull his head away, even as Karasu’s hand tightened in his hair and made his eyes water in pure reaction.

Growling, Karasu grasped his jaw, digging his fingers in forcing his jaw open with brute strength, taking his mouth, raping it with suddenly vicious lust. It was disgusting, the intrusion and his tongue sliding along his. He tasted like gunpowder and dirt.

He wanted to scream, to kill Karasu as he damn well did the first time—but his seeds were gone, lost, Karasu had exploded them as soon as they’d fallen out, like cherry bombs, his last hope crackling out of existence—but he couldn’t.

He just…couldn’t.

And that was…

A second voice came from far off, filled with malicious laughter. “Traitors should be put in their place.”

Inari have mercy, Lady Kitsune…not him….

“Nnhh!” He squirmed, bucking and twisting. Biting at Karasu’s tongue and crying out when a second pair of hands closed around his neck, pulling at his jacket, tugging it from his shoulders. Tearing, shredding. There was the distant flap of wings, a body pressed against his back as Karasu allowed him to kneel upright. The pressure in his spine and neck released.

But he was trapped between two solid bodies of men who hated him and wanted nothing more than to see him suffer and die. As they had died.

Karasu sat back, a pink tongue licking along his lips, cupping Kurama’s face with a pale hand, forcing him to look at him. Hands reached from behind him and took hold of his arms, yanking them down to rest by his ankles. The hands restraining his were bound in black leather, the ends of the cords dangling along the blood clogged dirt by his knees.

The chest pressed against his back and the warm breath at his shoulder, teasing the bared skin revealed by his torn shirt, was so familiar to him.

“Kuronue!” he breathed, gasping for air. He told himself he wasn’t begging to a ghost. He wasn’t. He wasn’t pleading.

“Yes, Kurama?” Lips against his neck, moving with the words, sharp teeth grazing along his skin. The voice was so very Kuronue, though angry and filled with vengeance. It had never been directed at Kurama before.

His chest ached. He closed his eyes, unable to stand the utter sadistic amusement in Karasu’s eyes.

“I don’t understand…”

“You don’t have to,” Karasu purred, his lips gliding along his cheek.

Kuronue wrapped something around his wrists, and then bound them to his ankles, forcing him to remain kneeling. His wrists would chafe and bleed if he struggled too much, it was a very unkind, thick material.

His eyes flew open at an unnatural sound. Squelching and something like rubber twisting. Kuronue’s hands worked at his remaining clothes, tearing at the buttons of his jacket, his shirt, jeans. The gleam of his scythe ran down the outside of Kurama’s outer leg, shredding the material like warmed butter, leaving a trail of red and scathing pain.

Karasu was splitting, lightening, forming features that were familiar and yet not.

Half formed, Youko gasped and growled, his hands on Karasu’s shoulders leaning over him to leer at Kuronue, then flicked his eyes down to Kurama.

“We’ve caught a rat,” Kuronue hissed into his ear, tearing the last of his clothes from him.

The wound on his side, and Karasu’s more recent burns and gouges in his flesh, leaked blood steadily, marring the awkward teenager’s body he inhabited. He shuddered, from the chill of night and from their gazes. Hungry, vengeful, demonic gazes.

Laid bare before his enemy—Majari, not these illusions—he bolted his eyes closed and clenched his teeth. He tugged at his arms, testing the bonds.

Kuronue had always been good for tying inescapable knots.

“I have waited so long…” Karasu’s hands slipped from his hair and traveled down his chest. His claws extending and turning blood-red, drawing scores down his chest, cutting hot paths of burning pain, until smoldering burns and bleeding gouges alike remained.

Kurama swallowed his yowl, letting his chin fall to his chest. He struggled to keep his breathing steady, to keep himself conscious through the emotional turmoil and physical punishment.

“I want to fuck you so hard you fall apart in my hands, Kurama,” Karasu breathed, leaning forward a little, his lips brushing along the hair that fell in Kurama’s eyes. He shuddered in revulsion.

“I want you to beg me to stop.”

Ignore it.

Kuronue’s hands shifted to his thighs, the tips of his fingers tracing along the junction of leg and hip, finger threading through soft curls at the base of Kurama’s cock. He could feel Kuronue’s hardness, and the slow intake of breath.

Kurama swallowed thickly.

Ignore it.

“I want to spread your legs wide and fuck you like a doll while you choke on his cock. I want to see the tears in your eyes and the blood on your hands.”

Karasu’s eyes were wide, his voice shaking a little as he intoned very carefully just what he wanted to do to Kurama. Behind him, Youko watched with a satisfied smirk.

In his ear, Kuronue’s much kinder voice whispered. “I want you to die in agony, like I did.”

Ignore it.

Youko’s laughter split through the air, an echo of his own, once-laughter. He looked up glaring, spitting pure hatred and venom (after all what other emotions could he fall back on to keep himself sane?) at the illusions of his past.

But they felt real.

“I have had enough of playing.” Youko shifted out from behind Karasu, and knelt beside him. He wrenched Kurama’s face towards him, yanking at his hair and running a smooth finger over his bruised lips. “Do you remember Kurama? This is the bit I always liked the most. The beginning.”

Kurama glared, twisting his hands by his ankles. They pulled uncomfortably, pinched the tender soft human skin and left bruises rushing to the surface. He arched his back oddly and squirmed under Kuronue’s roaming hands and the lingering agony of Karasu’s wounds.

“I get first taste,” Kuronue demanded, his hands by Kurama’s hips drifting up and running over the tender soft skin of Kurama’s nipples. He dropped his head again, clenching his eyes closed as they traveled in circles, back and forth over the tight pebbles.

Unwanted spikes of pleasure tormented him.

They knew him to well, he thought with sudden, horrifying clarity. They knew what could make him scream and beg like a whore as he was being violated, taken, raped.

Karasu growled and reached past him, but Youko pulled him back and snarled at him. They glared at each other for a moment, until Karasu tilted his head and let a slight smile cross over his lips.

Kuronue pulled away from him, letting the chill of the night air grace the wounded skin on his back, focusing instead on Youko

But Kuronue took advantage of it, biting into his shoulder harshly, drawing blood and tearing muscle, as he reach down between them to pull at the ties at the front of his leathers, forgoing his belts.

Naked, bare, defenseless and in pain, Kurama screamed and squirmed. It did him no good, it only broke the skin of his wrists and let the warm crimson nectar taint the dirt that was cutting into his knees and the back feet as he knelt.

He felt the hard heat of Kuronue’s cock against his ass, pre-come smearing down the ravine of his ass as Kuronue teased, his blue eyes that held all the depth of darkness inside them half lidded idioms of revenge and rage.

“Kuronue…” His voice was strained, he was desperate. Something inside he hadn’t been aware of snapped into two. “I tried to save you, I did, I tried—”

“No!” Kuronue snarled, his fingers digging into his sides and drawing a sharp gasp of pain from Kurama. “You left me to die, Kurama. You set me up left me bleed out. I didn’t. I was caught long before I died. I suffered Kurama. I suffered because of your heartlessness!”

His hands clawed at Kurama’s thighs, lifting him up and shocking Kurama into a shout of refusal and denial and—pain. Tipping Kurama forward, making him bow forward as he bit into his shoulder, hat strewn aside, he forced himself past the tight ring of Kurama’s muscles, drawing a loud, raw scream from Kurama and a soft grunt from Kuronue.

It drew Youko and Karasu’s attention, rolling and snarling and fighting for dominance a few feet away. Blood carved a path from Youko’s nose over his lips. He licked at them as he looked up, tail curving and arching.

Kurama could only focus on the utter burning pain, the too-full ache and sharp unwelcome entry. Kuronue’s teeth sinking into his shoulder-blade did nothing to ease the agony spearing up his spine into his skull and spreading throughout him, until his very fingertips ached.

He struggled to breathe calmly as Kuronue moved, wrenching his knees open wider and forcing his head down as he fucked his ass regardless of how he was tearing him or how blood began to smear his cock and drip down to the already blood-soaked dirt beneath their knees.

Kurama pulled at his restraints tugging and writhing in utter pain, gasping and staring wide eyed at the dirt inches away from his nose. He just wanted it to stop, it was hell. He couldn’t even properly hold back his screams, though he bits his tongue and hid his face to keep his enemies from seeing the expressions he couldn’t control, he still make small choked howls of pain. He thought he’d throw up for a moment, but Kuronue wrenched his head up, forcing him to sit upright to watch through bleary eyes as Karasu and Youko stalked closer, their clothing torn and ripped. He shuddered, green eyes hid behind dark eyelashes that brushed along his cheeks as he looked down to their feet.

“No, no. Don’t do that,” Karasu said as he knelt before him, taking his face in his hands and running his thumbs over his eyelids. “Open your eyes, Kurama.”

He swallowed thickly, trying to calm his breathing and keep it steady enough to not hyperventilate. He was already pale and loosing a lot of blood.

He obeyed, opening his eyes to stare blankly at Karasu.

His lips twisted into a smirk, a pink tongue running along his top row of teeth. “Are you full, Kurama?”

He reached down, between Kurama’s spread legs, and leant forward until his hand brushed along Kurama’s cock, traitorously half hard despite the pain and emotional turmoil. Kurama dropped his eyes to Karasu’s chest, gritting his teeth, forcing back each of the whimpers that threatened to force their way from his throat with each of Kuronue’s thrusts that were hard enough to pitch him forward.

“Oh, he’s nice and tight like a virgin, I don’t think this human body of his is as much of a whore as the other,” Kuronue husked by his ear, his fingers on his hips tightening enough to puncture the skin and bruise. It tore a pained mewl from Kurama and made Karasu’s breath hitch.

Karasu’s hand slipped down further, tracing along his perineum until it met his asshole and Kuronue’s blood-slicked cock.

He couldn’t hold back his scream as Karasu’s fingers worked their way in roughly as well. His nails retracted and mostly blunt, but the pain was enough to send a violent shock through him and make him convulse. He threw his head back until it connected with Kuronue’s shoulder and screamed until his throat was hoarse.

Then Karasu curled his fingers and Kuronue grunted whilst the tune of Kurama’s scream altered.

His cock ached.

“Oh, such a pretty scream,” Youko purred, sliding a little closer, standing behind Karasu and running his hands over his shoulders, taking his jacket with it, popping the buttons from the material like flimsy inconsequential things. It polled at his sides and Youko ran locks of his ebony hair through his fingers, eyes flicking up to Kurama every so often.

“He’s begging for more, aren’t you? Ass like a virgin and a mind like a whore. My, you are perverse, Kurama.” Karasu pulled Kurama forward, leaning him against his bare chest and carding a hand through his hair whilst his other plucked at the buttons and zipper of his by now far too tight trousers. He sighed and tilted his head into Youko’s caressing hands, his eyes falling closed for a moment and then opening again.

“No!” He screamed, choking on what he denied to be a sob. Spiked with pain, again and again and again.

They only laughed.

He wished Kuronue would just come and be done with it but he seemed to be taking his time, enjoying playing with Kurama’s mind, avenging his supposed death. Or was he dead? They were stripping away at his sanity, sliver by sliver, with slow deep thrusts and quiet, breathily moans by his ear, hot tongues flicking at his ears and neck, teeth sinking into any bear flesh they could lay claim to. Raping his ass like they believed he belonged to them, and he let them because he was trapped, trapped and he couldn’t kill them. He couldn’t fight back. He could only suffer through it and hope he survived.

“Fuck him already,” Youko growled impatiently, long hair sliding from his shoulder to shield his face as he plucked at his sash, his ears twitching slightly. “He chose this fate, he’s gagging for it.”

Kurama twisted his wrists again, pulled at his binds, it only aggravated the wounds and spilled more blood. He bolted his eyes closed and let out a broken moan of pain, turning his face away from them, feeling his carmine hair stick to blood soaked skin. Inside he curled into a ball and placed his hands over his ears.

Their words hurt the most, the physical pain he could bear.

Karasu’s fingers slipped out of his too full ass blessedly, but Kurama’s reprieve was short lived. His bloody fingers stroked down his cheek, turning him forward so that they faced each other as he shifted closer. He shook Kurama’s head in frustration with a snarl, jolting Kuronue and earning a low growl for his troubles.

Karasu ignored him. “Keep hiding those lovely eyes of yours, Kurama, and I’ll claw them out so I can look at them when I want.”

He opened them, his gaze falling on Youko over Karasu’s shoulder. He was smirking at him, letting his sash fall to the ground along with the rest of his pale ivory clothing, cock hard and arching upwards, begging for touch, leaking. He leered at Kurama as he ran one hand languidly up his length, his eyes falling half closed.

Emerald eyes snapped back to Karasu when hands procured his thighs, teasing the edge of his ass, and lifted him up awkwardly. It pulled his arms down and tested his pain threshold as the leather-like cords around his wrists pulled and ground against his raw, broken skin. He whimpered pitifully, hating himself for it.

Karasu only extended his tongue and licked along his cheek, jaw to temple, and settled a little closer until Kurama was firmly trapped between Kuronue’s hard chest and Karasu’s lithe form.

He could feel the blunt, hot head of his cock pressing against his ass. He writhed, trying uselessly to free himself. No. This wound tear him clean in half, it’d split him in two. It’d be too much, surely.

“Say, ‘please’,” Kuronue husked in his ear, his breathing quick and slurred. “Please I want you to both fuck me.”

He shook his head, vehemently refusing to say such a thing. He wasn’t saying anything, refusing to bed or do anything than deny their accusations. That at least, would keep him sane. If they took that away, he’d crumble beneath their touch like a stack of cards.

Youko closed the distance between them, slipped his fingers into the crimson hair that fell into his eyes and yanked his head back, baring his throat. “Fuck him.”

Karasu grunted and obliged, slipping his fingers into his ass again to help himself spear in. Kuronue grunted, shuddering against Kurama’s back, his hands on his hands on his hips shifting to Karasu’s ass as clutching, urging him to move.

Kurama screamed, his eyes rolling back in his head. His breathing simply stopped, stuttering between shock and agony.

Karasu groaned, letting his head fall back on his shoulders and a lazy grin spread over his lips, black hair cascading and brushing against his bare ass and the crumpled mess of his trousers shoved down enough to allow him movement and freedom.

There was no real rhythm to their rape. If their was Karasu tried to set it and Kuronue ignored it, pulling Karasu’s hips forward out of time, forcing his cock to slam into Kurama’s ass and tear a hoarse scream from Kurama’s throat and low groans from their own.

Youko hummed deep in his throat, his fingers sliding along Kurama’s lips and prying their way past his and into his mouth. His fingers pressed down on his tongue and slid back far enough to almost have him gag and throw up, drool slipping from the corners of his mouth and sliding down his jaw. His screams were mostly silent, turned into whimpers and sickening choking sounds.

“Now,” he purred, leaning forward a little, enough to have his hair tickle along Kurama’s face as he bent down to watch him properly. His cold golden eyes speared into Kurama and made him shiver. “I am going to put my cock in your mouth. And when I do, you won’t bite, will you?”

Karasu moaned at that. One of his hands shifted from beneath Kurama’s thigh to take a hold of Youko’s pulsing cock and lick at it luridly before wrapping his lips around it. He sucked wetly, loudly. His hand deviating to the back of Youko’s knee.

Kurama watched from the corners of his eyes, breath hitching, and taking in a deep breath when Youko’s fingers left his mouth. He swallowed thickly. There was a small sense of relief through the waves of agony, it only lasted as long as it took for Youko to slide his eyes closed and lose himself for a minute before wrenching Karasu’s cocksucking mouth away form him and wrapping his fingers around his throat, squeezing in a way that only made him thrust deeper and harder into Kurama. Kuronue groaned, jerking his hips up more desperately now, pressing his forehead into the crook of Kurama’s neck and shoulder.

“Not you,” Youko sneered.

Youko released Karasu, who coughed and gasped between pleased moans. He laughed, licking Youko’s pre-come from his lips.

He turned his attentions back to Kurama who stared up at him with numb resignation.

“Bite my cock and I’ll see to it that you get something else shoved down your throat instead.” He waved his hand pointedly, his claws seeming longer than he remembered. They’d wreak havoc on his throat, he’d done so too many of his victims in the past. Back then he’d though it an interesting way to watch them die.

“Now give us a good show.”

He wrenched Kurama’s mouth open once again, prying his jaw open with his fingers and slipping his cock past Kurama’s lips, keeping his head tilted back a little.

Youko’s eyes closed and he moaned quietly, licking his lips.

“Suck,” Kuronue demanded harshly, biting at his earlobe and fucking his ass with little self-control. The word itself drew Karasu wild, moaning and mouthing along Kurama’s cheek, licking at his cheek bone and jaw as he whimpered and complied with their order.

He couldn’t breath all that well, but he managed. At least until Youko got impatient and placed a hand on the back of his head, knotting his fingers in his hair and began yanking his head forward. Thrusting his cock deeper and deeper into Kurama’s mouth until it seemed permanently lodged against the back of his throat where he couldn’t breathe and gagged and choked around. He writhed desperately as his lungs began to scream for air in a way he could not.

Inari…I wont survive this…much longer.

His eyes rolled back in his head as he shivered, suddenly feeling too cold and overwhelmingly lightheaded. He pulled at his wrists again, bucking as he felt Kuronue shuddering in a not-so familiar way.

Kuronue barked out a cry as he came, and clenched Karasu’s ass forcing them to both fuck the life out of Kurama, if not whatever last dregs of dignity he had left. Blood stained come leaked from his ass, dripping from Kuronue’s cock and coating Karasu’s cock and balls, staining his black trousers.

Kurama moaned in pain and that only made Youko’s hand tighten in his hair painfully.

Kuronue pulled out, grunting. He kept hold of Kurama and dictated Karasu’s thrusts still as he craned his neck and licked at Youko’s cock along with Kurama, lifting one of his arms to wrap it around Youko’s hip and pull him a little closer.

Noticing the sudden compliance from Kurama, the lax in his struggles, Youko let up a bit and focused on Kuronue’s tongue licking at his cock while he let Kurama breathe enough to not pass out on them. He gasped and coughed, moaned in pain, head lilting forward.

Karasu shuddered, his thrusts spearing agonizing pain through Kurama in a way that didn’t match the pain that it had been with Kuronue’s presence, but its ferocity seemed to be attempting to make up for it.

Tears streaked down Kurama’s cheeks, lapped up by Karasu’s tongue between shuddering gasps for breath and wordless mutters in Makai tongue.

His head was wrenched back to the side again and mouth pried open. He chocked on Youko’s cock, gagging. Instinctive tears welled in his eyes, spilling easily.

Karasu’s breath shortened, his thrusts becoming frantic, and Kurama could feel Youko’s silent orgasm creeping closer with every thrust into his mouth that hit the back of his throat that made him gag and swallow around his fat cock instinctively.

Karasu came first, hissing and clenching Kurama, wrapping one of his arms around Kurama’s waist and the other clenching on his thigh. Kurama found his skin tingling oddly, burning. Karasu moaned deeply, his mouth falling open and eyes closing. The air around them crackled, thick with electricity and thinly controlled explosions.

He kept fucking Kurama as he rode out his orgasm, catching his breath and turning his eyes to where Kurama’s lips were sealed around Youko’s cock, watching from behind streaks of black hair that fell from his shoulders in a silken curtain.

Then he leaned forward and joined Kuronue and Kurama, licking along the youko’s pale hip and caressing a quivering thigh, grasping his pert ass with a long fingered elegant hand.

Kurama gagged once again when he felt his cock swell in his mouth. Youko came with a shaky sigh. He spilled himself into Kurama’s raw throat and watched as it dipped from the corners of his mouth.

Kurama spat what come was still in his mouth at Youko’s feet, when he finally removed his cock from his mouth, and coughed a few times. His throat burned as did just about the rest of him. His very bones ached.

Kuronue soothed his hair back, murmuring mockingly reassuring words. “Better now, love?”

He reached down to swirl two of his fingers in Kurama’s ass, who winced and let out a soft agonized mewl. “Spread like the whore you are now aren’t you?”

Karasu placed a kiss on his temple that burned long after he’d moved away and burnt his restraints into char that snapped with little effort.

Plucked of his strength and resistance, his dignity and pride, Kurama merely sagged against Karasu and turned his head away from them all. He closed his eyes and focused his whole being on trying to regulate his breathing and ignore the darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision when he did have his eyes open.

Kuronue behind him faded out, as if he’d never been there, leaving Kurama feeling suddenly exposed and cold. He was vaguely aware of Youko joining with Karasu once again, who held Kurama against his chest in what would have been a loving caress if he hadn’t been Karasu.

Kurama worked up the energy to push away from him, but only slumped back against him when yanked back. He complied like a marionette with its strings cut.

Karasu’s form shifted then, lightning and hardening. Kurama found himself on his knees slumped against Majari, bleeding and in pain and so very close to giving in and passing out.

“We’ve won, Kurama. The Netherworld will rule once again,” he whispered, petting Kurama’s hair and skin like he was an animal, smearing his blue skin with the red tinge of his blood.

“If you don’t die of blood loss, I’d love to fight you again. You have a strong spirit. If you do die…well, there’ll be plenty of time for that in the Netherworld, won’t there?”

He chuckled and faded away silently, just as Kuronue had, letting Kurama fall in a naked, broken heap.

He was unconscious before he hit the ground.