Scattered Pages and Blood-Ink

Title: Only You
Rating: R
Warnings: Slavery, forced participation in BDSM.
Fandom: YYH
Pairings:Karasu/Kurama, Bui/Kurama, Bui/Karasu/Kurama.
Summary: Karasu invites Bui to enjoy in his new slave.
Notes: Written for yyh_kinkmeme. Originally I felt a little horrible about using BDSM for such evil purposes, because the last thing I want is for twits to think it’s a ‘bad’ practice, but still. It’s fucking hot y/y?


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Only You

--and every other pretty skeleton in my closet

-

"Come see," Karasu said, standing on the landing of the staircase. Long fingers caressed the metal balustrade, smoothing back and forth. There was dried blood under his nails.

Bui wasn't particularly keen on doing so considering the other demon's kinks, but he couldn't help but wonder just what Karasu had done to the pretty little redhead they had brought home with them after the Dark Tournament. The demon had a kind of spirit he hadn’t seen in a long time, his rage and indignance at his treatment under the hands of Karasu only seemed to compliment his ruby-red hair and delicate features. In all his years Bui had never seen such a graceful thing put through such degradation.

He stood silent for a while, long enough for Karasu to grow impatient and begin to descend the stairs. His ratted old coat had long since been discarded, thrown away after their service to the Toguro brothers had been terminated. While Bui still wore his armour Karasu now wore another long coat that swished around his legs as he moved, the delicate red stitching along the lapels contorting in all kinds of swirls and arches that made Bui’s eyes cross sometimes if he wasn’t careful.

He placed a hand on Bui’s chest and looked down that short distance to meet his eyes. “Come, old friend. Have a taste. I know our tastes run along the same vein.”

Looking into those insensate violet eyes, Bui had to agree. Indeed, their tastes were much the same when it came to this red-haired human. He nodded curtly and watched his blood-brother’s eyes light up in cruel anticipation as a smile pulled at his lips.

He turned on his heel with a swirl of ever longer black hair and began to ascend the staircase. Bui, cocking his head to this side and wondering at his own apparent reluctance, began to follow him.

Kurama had long since been given cleaner and better rooming, Karasu’s reasons for such had never quite been discussed. Bui thought that, perhaps, Karasu was attempting to reward good behaviour and create Stockholm Syndrome within their charge to keep the boy a while longer. He certainly wouldn’t have put it past him. It was a true Karasu tactic, another way to degrade the boy. Bui could well tell Karasu loved him, but he would not kill him just yet. He wanted to love him ever more, wanted to grow more and more attached to him before he killed him.

After the second flight of stairs they walked down a few hallways until they reached Kurama’s quarters. He’d almost gained his own wing by now, though he had no servants to service him and all windows and doors were locked. There was no organic material here, not even in the walls and fixtures. Nothing sharp, nothing soft; excluding the room Karasu allowed him to spend his days in if he’d been behaving well.

The mansion itself had the quality of sapping static energy. As such, Karasu could go without his mask and Bui without his armour if they so desired it, yet they both were still unused to doing so and preferred their long-time comforts born of habit and repetition. It was also good for training, to hide and track that ever present sensation that drew their energy if they went above anything less than hiding their youki as best they could.

When they reached Kurama’s door, Karasu reached out and smoothed his hand over the grey panel softly, almost as if he were petting the door itself for its good service. The door handle was grasped and twisted next, the door pushed open. Following after his blood-brother, Bui cast his eyes around the room, quickly taking inventory.

The atrium to Kurama’s waiting room was quite lavish. There were two couches facing each other, both made of soft leather. The floor was carpeted and lush, likely soft underfoot. Books lined one wall, along with painting and other artefacts Karasu had collected over the years. Most of the artefacts were pictures and souvenirs from all those in the past who had spent their time in these rooms; locks of hair, dried lengths of skin. As they stood by the door, waiting for it to swing shut, the red-head himself emerged from one of the rooms deeper in. There were no doors further in, not unless entry therein was forbidden for the moment.

Karasu stepped forward, completely ignoring Bui for the moment, a slight smile on his lips. “Come greet me properly,” he purred, yet somehow his voice was still dead. An even monotone that never changed unless he was in the state of maniac frenzy or bloodlust. It was less often these days. Bui was glad to see a little life in him.

Kurama came to them, long limbed and graceful as always, but Bui was quick to notice the difference in him. He hadn’t seen the boy in so long, the change was almost startling.

He'd drugged--or broken--him, somehow. Bui wasn't quite sure how or what with but the vacant look on Kurama's face seemed to say as much. There was no struggling, no shyness at his utter nakedness--no resistance at all, not even a flinch. The boy simply made his way to Karasu, his eyes hidden behind long dark eyelashes, and kneeled by his feet. Sitting back on his heels, the boy spread his knees wide and reached up to interlock his fingers, his hands behind his head.

Turning his face up, the boys eyes never once drifted from Karasu, but nor did they meet the crow’s eyes. It could have been an act of defiance in itself, not subservience, but despite how wrong he found the lack of fire in the human, Bui felt his arousal stir. There, at the boy’s neck, was a metal band. Thick and tight enough to touch his skin all the way around, the metal marked ownership without actually choking him.

Bui could see the burn scars beneath it too; Karasu had no doubt touched the metal to bring it to branding hotness about Kurama’s neck.

“Welcome back, Sir,” Kurama greeted, his voice just as empty as Karasu’s had been as a child.

Bui blinked. There was something utterly wrong about that, about the way they greeted and spoke with each other. It was...sacrilegious, in a way. For some reason that only made his arousal stir harder until his cock pulsed within his pants and a surge of fire-like arousal shot through him.

Karasu bent at the waist as ran the tips of his fingers over Kurama’s cheek lightly before they ducked into his hair and slid through the clean, dry locks. Bui thought it somewhat disproportionate that his hair be so clean and well looked after when the rest of his body was covered in deep purple bruises that were ringed with a sickly green.

“We have a visitor, Kurama. How do you greet your visitor?” Karasu asked, raising his chin a little and tilting his head at Bui.

With a blank expression, Kurama made to stand, but Karasu’s backhand sent him sprawling backwards. Red hair spilling about him on the white carpet and his knees jerking up as he fell back until, oh, Bui could see everything. That limp cock as heavy balls, the sweet little valley between his legs that lead to his entrance nestled between terribly discoloured cheeks.

“I didn’t say you could move yet,” Karasu admonished, raising a booted foot and bringing it down on Kurama’s cock. The boy arched and moaned in pain at the action, his hand automatically reaching down for his boot to try and relieve that painful pressure Bui knew Karasu was putting on him if the expression on the boy’s face was anything to go by.

“Hands behind your head!” Karasu ordered, sharp and mocking as much as it was obviously lusty and excited. Bui could see the little highlights of blond straining to show in his dark hair, his energy rising with his eagerness.

Clenching his jaw, Kurama did as he was told.

It was the first sign of resistance Bui had seen yet. Not broken then, he thought, perhaps learning to accept his place, but not broken.

But with that fire gone, it seemed like it wasn’t the Kurama even Bui had been attracted to during the Dark Tournament. The fear that had made Kurama freeze and turn rigid as Karasu ran his hands through his hair had disappeared too, now all that existed was a kind of dull acceptance and automatic reactions. The kitsune had lost his spirit.

And yet, the bruised outer shell still made his cock twitch as he placed both of his hands behind his head again, linking his fingers.

Karasu twisted his heel, grinding it against Kurama’s cock. The boy’s eyes widened first, his lips parting as he cried out in agony. Ever the voyeur, Bui’s eyes wandered, caught little reactions in the boy’s muscles as he trembled in pain and did all he could to prevent less of it. “F-forgive me, Sir,” he gasped, eyes bolting closed now.

Karasu smirked, white teeth flashing as he did so. He bent, reached out with one long arm and fisted his hand in Kurama’s hair, lifted his boot from his groin and lifted him up, carrying little for Kurama as he scrambled to lessen the pull on his hair by following quickly. When he was kneeling Karasu took the boy’s chin between two fingers and looked at him past his own violet eyes, dark with lust and slightly glazed over with depravity.

“We have a visitor, Kurama. How do you greet your visitor?” Karasu repeated, tone dark and something even more menacing lurking behind the veil of relative civility.

Kurama waited this time, staring at Karasu’s chest with darkly shadowed eyes his lips pressed tightly together in thinly veiled indignation. Very likely Karasu had forbid the boy to speak unless it was an apology or to beg. It was what he had done with all the others that slipped through his hands like sand in the past, after all.

“You may greet him,” Karasu allowed eventually, releasing the boy’s hair and straightening.

As Kurama moved to stand again, the demon’s leg stuck out, kicking in the back of Kurama’s knee with enough force to have him falter and fall forward, his hands unhooking and rushing forward to stop himself from breaking his nose on the carpet. “Crawl,” Karasu ordered, his boot placing itself on Kurama’s ass and pushing him forward none too lightly.

Face hidden behind his hair, Kurama crawled towards him, slowly after that first initial lurch that left his hair swinging and his shoulders shaking just a little.

Bui stood immobile as Kurama neared slowly, his eyes flicking over to Karasu briefly. The demon had crossed his hands over his chest, though one hand covered his mouth as he watched, his eyes almost glowing with a faint inner light. He was almost vibrating in his utter pleasure. Bui looked back down to his leg when he felt the echo of a touch.

Kurama had crawled right up to him, enough so that he had a knee on either side of his leg and his chest was brushing against Bui’s knee guard. Small hands gripped at the back of his thigh as Kurama tilted his head—and red hair parted and fell just so to allow Bui to watch without obstruction—as he licked at the hard surface of Bui’s armour. Down further he went, the more he backed up, and the more Bui could see of the length of his spine and the delicious curve of his ass. He licked all over his armour, tongue worming between the guards themselves to the leather he wore beneath these days. That alone made Bui’s breath hitch a little, feeling the pressure of that small little tongue against his knee and again at his heel.

He moved on to Bui’s other leg, and he watched that pretty pink tongue slip from between red lips—they were split from where Karasu had backhanded him before, and somehow it only made them all the more attractive—as he licked along heel of his boot and then up to his guards by his thigh. Entranced, Bui hardly noticed Karasu coming closer until the demon placed his hands on his shoulders and whispered to him.

“Enjoy him with me,” he urged, and Bui could imagine the smile that would be pulling at him lips now, slow and dangerous as he shifted with all the liquid grace of a panther.

When Bui said nothing, and only stood there, watching Kurama as he licked up the seam of his leather pants on his inner thigh, Karasu reached for Bui’s mask. He removed it slowly and let it drop to the concrete floor with a heavy thud. His helmet was next and Karasu ran his fingers through Bui’s hair as he nuzzled up against his cheek. He could feel the demon’s slim form against his back and Kurama’s pretty little mouth working its way beneath the sash at his waist to lick over the creases in his leather pants leading to his hip.

He said nothing; often felt he didn’t need to. Karasu continued to remove his armour, bearing him piece by piece until he was down to his shirt, leather pants and boots.

His fists flexed and released, and feeling his reluctance give under his height of arousal, Bui reached for Kurama’s hair and threaded his fingers through it, yanked at it until he could pull his head back. Ignoring Karasu as he hung off his shoulders and watched with amusement, Bui bent enough to be able to take hold of Kurama’s chin with his unoccupied hand. The boy still wouldn’t look at him, his eyes were hooded, green eyes shielded with his long eyelashes, yet he could see the frustration in them. Past that he saw no agony or futility. The boy was merely biding his time, he saw. Bending under Karasu’s cruelty to remain alive until the moment for freedom presented itself.

Despite himself, Bui allowed his lips to curl into a slight smile. He’d pull agony into that expression. The boy would die as soon as he broke, sure, but Bui would help him gain the hatred to last as long as possible so Bui could have his slice to. Karasu was his friend, his old, beloved friend, a brother, yet the man needed to be reminded just who was the eldest at times, just who was in control.

Karasu reached past him with his long reach and ran the tips of two of his fingers over Kurama’s lips slowly, then forced them past lips and teeth until his long fingers dug deep in Kurama’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue. “He doesn’t bite,” Karasu purred into his ear. “He knows what happens if he does.”

The fingers shoved deep until they were buried up to the knuckle and Kurama gagged and tried to pull back, but Bui’s hand in his hair kept him steady. Eyes clenched, and thin eyebrows pulled down, Kurama’s throat worked against the urge to vomit and the need to breathe past the Karasu’s fingers. True to his word though, Kurama didn’t bite down or strike out. His hands only gripped at Bui’s thigh and shirt, clenching and pawing at his stomach desperately.

Letting him suffer for the moment, Bui released the catch on his leather pants and pulled down the zipper, his sash long since discarded he was awarded the freedom of releasing his cock and grasping it in hand. Flushed a pretty shade of red, his cock pulsed and leaked in his hand and he breathed in deeply against his own touch.

Letting his hips rock forward, he rubbed his cock along Kurama’s cheek, watched his precome smear along the perfect skin. Chuckling, Karasu let his fingers slip from Kurama’s mouth and the boy gasped and shuddered all at once, likely glad to breathe and repulsed all at once. Bui found it fascinating.

Karasu’s hands drifted along his sides until they gripped at his hips and he could feel the demon’s hardness as he pressed his hips into Bui’s ass and rocked into him, his head tipping back and he gave a low purr at the friction. Bui almost wanted to fist his hand in Karasu’s hair to and pull him down to his knees, make him perform for him just as Kurama would be, but not now.

Kurama opened his eyes and they went to the base of his cock, flying a little wider at the size of him. It gave Bui a secret little thrill to know that the thoughts whirling through Kurama’s mind were likely estimations of how much damage would be done to him when he forced that in him. Throat or ass, the boy would hurt either way. Shuddering a little himself, he ran the head of his cock over Kurama’s cheek again, down to his jaw and chin, then across to his other cheek. He slapped him with it, and almost laughed at the barely hidden flinch Kurama rewarded him with.

Finally, finally, he pressed his cock against those lips and pulled at Kurama’s hair until his head was back far enough for him to take him in. Watching his cock sink in past pink, swollen and bleeding lips, feeling the ever so light scrape of teeth and the utter heat and wetness made him groan a little. He pulled at the boy’s hair until he took him all the way in and he could feel his cock doing more than merely nudging again the back of his throat, it was forcing its way down it. He coughed and gagged, his throat tightening around him and his hands pawing at him once again. Karasu laughed and reached up to run his hands over Bui’s belly and chest, fingers like spindly little critters over his flesh.

He ground against the boy, then let him pull back and take a deep breath and pulled him back down again. A few more repeats of the same treatment and he seemed to get the idea, so Bui relaxed his hold in his hair slowly and allowed him to bob along his cock like a good little whore, watching with almost curious eyes as his cock disappeared into his mouth and his tongue wreaked havoc on the underside of his cock.

Tipping his head back, he turned his head a little towards Karasu and felt the press of lips against his cheek and the corner of his mouth. “See, I told you he was worth it. It’s one of his better skills; sucking cock. One day I’ll set him up to be used as a whore, maybe.”

Bui felt the scrape of teeth against his cock at that and he jerked at the boy’s hair until he felt some of it give under his fist and a small weak cry of apology sounded at the head of his cock as Kurama lapped at it and seemed to suck at him as if he could draw more precome from him just like that. He shifted his hand to around the back of the boy’s neck and urged him forward again as he turned his head and met Karasu’s lips with his own.

It wasn’t a kind or romantic kiss at all. It was like a conversation between the both of them, Karasu eager and hungry and Bui blessed and even, taking from Karasu until he bent beneath him just as Kurama bent beneath Karasu and fought against his domination playfully, then more insolently. Karasu could never fully been controlled, hence why Bui had never imposed himself on the man he called his brother these days. They fucked and they fought and through it all they remained together, to death do they part. One would never be without the other. Kurama would learn this soon enough too.

Kurama did this wonderful thing where he choked and gagged around Bui’s cock all at once and he could feel the boys tears smearing on his cock as he sucked, his hands clawing at the back of his thigh and his body pressing against his leg as if to beg. Bui grunted into Karasu’s mouth and pulled away, leaving Karasu to pant against his neck and rock against him as they both went back to watching Kurama.

Feeling his balls tighten, Bui bared his teeth and fisted his hands in Kurama’s hair, held his head still while he simply thrust his hips forward and fucked the boy’s throat, panting and letting his eyes fall closed as Kurama struggled more desperately now, some of that spirit showing at last. The pleasure in his cock went right though him, making his balls tighten and his whole body shake as he came closer to his peak. Groaning he felt everything come to an end as the wave broke and he spilled himself into Kurama’s mouth, not giving a thought for the boy at all as he made him move through all of his climax until the boy was drooling his come and beginning to fall limp against him from lack of oxygen.

Panting, finally done, he pushed him back gently and watched his mouth slip from his cock. Kurama fell back, coughing and gasping, swallowing what come he’d been forced to take frantically in an effort to clear his airway. He remained on his back; too wary of what would happen if he tried to hide. Bui found it a purely arousing sight, and his cock didn’t take too long to begin to fight against its return to flaccid state. His come had spilled down to the boy’s neck and chest.

Regaining his breath, Bui cast a look over his shoulder to Karasu and raised an eyebrow. “You have good taste, as always,” he murmured, though he’d known it from the moment Karasu had set eyes on the boy, because he’d been watching him too. Kurama was, perhaps, too weak for their play though. A human? He’d only last a quarter of the time.

Karasu gave him a sly little smirk and shifted around to stand before him, pulling his shirt up and over his head. Bui complied, pulling at Karasu’s coat in kind to the soundtrack of Kurama erratic breathing and quiet moans. He leaned forward to catch Karasu’s mouth in another kiss, one hand going into long sable hair and the other reaching to grasp at the demon’s ass, pulling his hips against Bui’s own. Considerably more high strung than Bui, Karasu writhed against his and dug his nails into Bui’s shoulders and back, his neck and ass, in return, kissing him hungrily and needily in a frantic kind of way Bui refused to return, which only drove him into a higher state of frenzy.

Bui loved goading him on despite that fact he knew that, in the end, it would only make Karasu that more harsh against the boy watching them from the carpet. Bui wanted to see him put through his paces, Bui wanted to see Karasu in that delicious state he reached when he was at the peak of his violence and bloodlust. He wanted to know that Kurama was still alive in there, even if it was somehow difficult to watch the boy so blank and unaffected by it all. It wasn’t natural. Not for him.

Karasu arched against him and moaned lightly, his nails scraping along Bui’s skin. Eventually Bui had to force himself to stop before they both got distracted and began to ignore the pretty little thing at their feet. Breaking their kiss was as easy as pulling at Karasu’s hair, which he got snarled at for.

Licking his lips, Karasu glared at him lightly, curious in his own cunning and oh so dangerous way. Bui nodded down to Kurama and Karasu’s eyes lit up with all the more cruelty and excitement. If there was one thing Karasu loved more than his boys, it was demonstrating their uses to Bui. Occasionally it made Bui just a little sick, a little reluctant, and this one River danced on the line between interest and disgust with an ease that almost frightened him. The boy was endearing; it would be his downfall.

Pulling away from him, Karasu turned on his heel and made his way over to Kurama. He crouched down by his side, long arms resting on his knees. Kurama seemed to make a point of looking away from him, never once turning his eyes in Karasu’s direction or meeting either of their gazes. Another concession to Karasu’s rules most likely.

“Sit up,” Karasu demanded.

Slowly Kurama did as he was ordered, raising himself onto his elbows and then palms. He knelt, bringing his legs around until he was kneeling and resting his ass on his heels.

Karasu reached for him, and then Bui saw the slight reaction in Kurama. It wasn’t a flinch or a shudder, but when Karasu ran his hands through Kurama’s hair lovingly those eyes narrowed a little. Making an amused sound Bui walked past them to one of the couches and seated himself on it, doing up his pants as he went. As he relaxed back on the plush leather and rested his ankle on his knee, he watched Karasu lean forward and nuzzle Kurama’s cheek for a moment before the demon’s dark hair slid to hide his view.

He couldn’t see as well here, but Karasu seemed to already know that. “Crawl over to the other couch,” he ordered as he stood, tugging at Kurama’s hair. Karasu followed him as Kurama lurched forward, almost eager to be out of Karasu’s hands. Bui enjoyed the boy’s grace even though he could almost smell his shame permeating the air, his frustration and desire for vengeance making a heady perfume that made Bui’s cock stir once again. His easy compliance still struck something in Bui though, made him want to frown at the reaction.

Kurama stopped by the empty couch opposite Bui, facing away from the both of them and yet not showing his back to either of them.

“You’re going to give Bui a little show for me, aren’t you?” Karasu asked, once again crouching beside Kurama, only this time he let himself slide forward onto his knees. He yanked Kurama’s head to the side with his hands fisted in his hair and licked up his neck.

“Yes, Sir,” Kurama replied, his tone even with just barely a whisper of dread.

“Hmm, good. Up.” Karasu gestured to the couch and swatted at Kurama’s ass when he didn’t move fast enough for his liking. A rough white blood remained on Kurama’s cheek for a moment before blood rushed into the skin again and Kurama was left with a delightful imprint of Karasu’s palm. The boy made barely a sound but for the jerk and the squeak of leather as he clutched at it tightly with white-knuckled grip.

Karasu stood and pushed Kurama’s forehead onto the back of the couch, then shifted the boy’s hands up to grip at the back with his arms as well. Like this, Bui and Karasu had a wonderful view of the boy’s ass and the bruises there. There was no fresh blood, but the darkness of those bruises already there were quite inspiring. Along his spine there were scraped and lines too, marks of whips and floggers, canes and crops.

Karasu licked his lips and hummed, running his hands down Kurama’s back, gliding over those marks almost possessively, dragging his nails over the delicate flesh with glee, smirking when Kurama arched a little in response to the pain.

“Stay,” Karasu ordered, smacking his ass once more.

Standing to his full height, Karasu flipped his hair over his shoulder and locked eyes with Bui for a moment, then smiled and moved over to the door to their right. It wasn’t the one they’d come in, but a much simpler one. Opening it, he disappeared inside for a moment.

Bui was left to stare at Kurama as he waited. The boy’s thighs were quivering lightly, his cock hanging limp between his legs. The bruises on his ass extended around to his hips too, down between his thighs and the sides of his waist as well. From Karasu’s tight grip, no doubt.

Karasu returned with a cane in hand.

He twirled it a little as he neared, smiling sadistically at Bui.

“Count for me, Kurama,” Karasu crooned and Bui watched the boy’s hands tighten on the back of the couch.

Bringing the cane up high first, Karasu brought it down on Kurama’s ass. Thwack, it sounded, the slap of wood on skin sharp and oddly arousing. “One,” Kurama gasped, his arms trembling now.

Eyes widening a little, Karasu wasted no time in doing it again.

And again. And again.

“Five.”

“Six...”
“Seven...”

“Ahh—Ei-eight!”

His smirk widened into a grin and Bui half expected Karasu to throw the cane aside and launch himself at Kurama and fuck him right there. Kurama’s restraint quickly evaporated by nine and he began to squirm, arching when Karasu stuck on the backs of his thighs and screaming when he hit his already abused ass.

By the end Karasu was putting almost all of his force into the blows and Kurama was sobbing, the pain in his voice obvious as he counted, ten, fifteen, twenty... Blood began to slide down high thighs and pool at his knees.

“Stop!” he cried out, pulling his hands off the back of the couch and twisting to block the next strike with his arm. The dry tracks of tears marked Kurama’s cheeks, made his skin shine in the soft light of the room.

Bui’s breath hitched in his throat.

Karasu stood completely still for a moment, his hair settling against his neck and his breathing still heavy from the effort he’d been putting into his strikes. His eyes, wide and almost insane, widened even further as his lips pulled back in a snarl.

Kurama refused to shrink back, though Bui could tell he wanted to. He had to bring a hand up to cover his own mouth as he watched the fallout, almost feeling sorry for the kid.

Kurama shook, squirming on the couch and smearing blood over the leather. Then he gasped and tipped his head up, reached for the collar at his neck only to yank them away as a sharp hiss filled the room and the stench of burning flesh filled the room. Kurama screamed and arched his back, reaching again for the collar and enduring the burns as he tried to pull the metal from him.

It held tight.

“No!” he cried, repeating it over and over. “I’m sorry!”

“Come here,” Karasu demanded, tapping the cane on the carpet before him, not easing up on the heat of the collar at all. It had long since turned red, branding into Kurama’s flesh only just faster than Kurama’s healing could keep up with.

There was an almost tangible moment where the whole air about Kurama changed. Something broke and snapped and withered and died.

“I’m sorry, Sir! Please, Sir!” Kurama screamed so loud his voice broke, rolling off the couch and crawling to Karasu, crying as he clutched at Karasu’s pants and pressed up against him.

Bui closed his eyes. His arousal had fallen away, taken from him completely. There was no honour in this. It had been sucked away the moment Karasu remained reluctant to ease the boy’s pain after something in him had so obviously died. If he hadn’t been broken before, then he might as well have been now.

Kurama’s pleas seemed to ease a little and Bui opened an eye, watching warily as Karasu fisted a hand in that beloved hair of Kurama’s and forced him to stand.

Brutally, Karasu bent down to Kurama’s level and sealed his lips against the boy’s own. Obviously disgusted, Kurama shifted uneasily, as if unsure if he had the strength to resist him again and to endure the fallout from it. So he stood, hands hovering, accepting Karasu’s kiss as he raped his mouth and bit his lips until they bled too. The little flashes of tongue and teeth, of blood tainted saliva were almost obscene.

When it was over and Karasu broke away, licking his lips as Kurama stood with a kind of dazed expression on his face, flushed from pain rather than excitement and drooling a little. He pushed Kurama back to the couch, smacking his calves with the cane when he didn’t move fast enough.

“Over the arm,” he snarled, pushing Kurama’s head forward and reaching for the clasps of his pants all at once. It was like watching a train wreck. Fascinating and yet hideous all at once. Despite himself, now that Kurama’s oddly truly tortured moment had passed, Bui felt himself stirring again, and he was just too tired of it all to be disgusted with himself. He’d thrown away dignity a long time ago. All he had now was his honour.

Pants pushed down and cock released, Bui took a moment to fortify himself, his mind racing. The boy wouldn’t survive Karasu at this rate. The demon would tear him in two. This kind of rage took weeks to leave Karasu. No small amount of cruelness or depravity dissipated it easily.

Arching over the arm of the couch, Kurama buried his face in his arms as he crossed them over the arm of the couch and knelt with his knees wide, shaking a little as Karasu moved behind him, cock flushed and leaking. He fisted a hand in Kurama’s hair again, yanked his head back until Kurama made a beautiful little arch and cried out a little in pain at the tightness of his hand in his hair.

Those tears again, the ones that made Bui swallow thickly and Karasu growl a little as he rolled his hips forward and let his cock grind between Kurama’s cheeks, then forced himself in with a glide that was all too easy and made Kurama cry out in pain. That expression was what Bui wanted to see all along, but it only made him sick now. And Karasu’s pace, nothing short of brutal after that first initial push, made Kurama arch into an almost unnatural bend as he pulled him back against his cock.

The demon’s sable hair glided along Kurama’s abused flesh and obstructed Bui’s view a little, but oh if it wasn’t one of the most arousing sights to see Karasu’s cock force its way into Kurama again and again, accompanied with Kurama’s cries. Pain and pleasure, the two blurred until it sounded as if Kurama was enjoying it. Karasu delighted in the fact, tipping his head back and letting his hair fall from his face, the long length of his turning slightly wavy and a shade lighter, unable to transform any more due to the draw on his energy of the mansion itself.

There came a point though, where Karasu bent forward and his view of Kurama was obstructed and all he could hear was Kurama’s whimpers and Karasu’s low whispers as Karasu punctuated his thrusts with thrusts and slow grinds, tormenting the boy endlessly.

Something in Bui finally said enough. Enough to this torment.

Yet he could not betray his old friend.

Obeying the impulse, Bui stood and wondered at what the hell he was going to do. Instead, he did what his body told him.

Join in.

He unbuttoned his leather pants, pulled down the zip and shoved them down enough to free his cock and keep the buttery material from chaffing against him. The action caused relief and an odd kind of nervousness to pool in his gut all at once, which doubled as Karasu raised his head and stilled for a moment, turning to look at Bui as he ground his hips into Kurama and gave a small pleased sound.

A pink tongue ran across Karasu’s lips as his eyes closed just a little in pleasure. “Finally decided to join me, Bui?” he asked, thin eyebrows rising just a little.

He gave a wry smile. “There is only so much a man can take,” he murmured.

Karasu chuckled, but it trailed off and died in his throat as Bui raised a knee and placed it on the cushion of the couch by Karasu’s calf. Wide, infuriated violet eyes swung to him and sable hair flushed a lighter shade for a moment before returning to its solid black state once again. “What are you—”

“Joining in.” Bui swung his other leg over Karasu, resting his knee on the outside of Karasu’s until it sunk between the cushions of the couch as if it was slowly being sucked in. He reached out and yanked at Karasu’s pants with large hands, amused that, after all this time, his hands were still able to fit the curve of Karasu’s delicate little ass in the dip of his palm.

Karasu’s hips rocked a little despite his protest and Kurama mewled a little beneath him. It made Bui’s breath hitch. Did he want to fuck them both? Oh yes. Being able to do so all at once, to have them both at the same time, was almost enough to clear his conscience about this encounter. He gripped at Karasu’s ass and let his other hand trail across his cheek until he could run a finger, then two, down between Karasu’s legs to his balls.

When he curled his fingers around them lightly and pulled Karasu gave a choked cry that settled into something more like a moan, arching his back until it made a wonderful dip and Bui couldn’t see so many of his vertebrae beneath his skin along the line of his spine anymore. Only a graceful valley that reminded Bui of the blood line in some of his blades. His fingers wandered further, brushing along Karasu’s perineum until he could feel the hardness of his cock against the pads of his fingers. There was so much blood there, it was wet enough that his fingers slid to Kurama’s abused entrance without him meaning to do so.

He teased a little, running his nail along the base of Karasu’s cock and then following the vein into Kurama, making the boy whimper a little in pain and Karasu moan in response to that quiet little sound. Bui winced. Letting his finger slide out, he lifted his hand and stared at the blood that dribbled down his finger to pool in the creases of his palm.

“Bui,” Karasu called, tone sharp and pointed. A ‘hurry up’ if there ever was one, punctuated by an attempted movement. The demon pushed back against his palm but Bui held him still, keeping him from moving at all. Karasu cursed at him and wriggled his hips from side to side, humming a little as he did.

Kurama’s soft gasp broke Bui from his almost fixated stare at his hand, and he looked up. Karasu was watching him over his shoulder, lips twisted into a slight smirk.

Frowning, Bui grasped Karasu’s hips in both of his hands and rocked his hips forward, let his cock slide between Karasu’s pert and bony cheeks, pressed forward all the more when the tip of his cock nudged at his entrance. It made his breathing catch in his throat again as the pleasure of it teased at him, promised oh so much more. He finally gave in and reached for his cock, held it until the tip forced its way into Karasu’s entrance and he gasped, not pausing for a moment at Karasu’s tightness or the heat of him.

There were cries of pleasure, but he couldn’t place them to a specific man. Karasu arched and hissed beneath him, panting and groaning. “Fuck me, you bastard,” he growled.

Bui complied, pulling back and forcing his way in again. And again. Slowly at first, and then gaining more and more speed until Karasu was moaning with each thrust of his hips and still spitting vicious words at him when he wouldn’t allow him to move at all. Eventually, though, when Kurama began to bore the brunt of Karasu’s need by way of the demon biting at nubile, delicate skin of Kurama’s shoulder and neck, he let him move.

Karasu’s hips rocked back on his cock eagerly and forward just as hard making Kurama make those delicious sounds of pain and reluctant pleasure all at once. Bui grunted and felt like he was drowning in Karasu’s own depravity as Karasu began to moan and sigh, breathing horrible words that made his stomach turn.

“Oh, Kurama, doesn’t it feel good? Being fucked by the both of us?” he breathed, head dropping a little only to rear back when Bui thrust forward particularly hard and he was caught between the both of them as he lost himself for the slightest moment, a groan preventing him from saying anything more for all of a few beats.

“Say yes,” he gasped, lust dripping from his lips. “Say yes, you little slut.”

“Y-yes, Sir,” came the choked reply, filled with pain that was almost like that of pleasure. There was no passion in it though, no heat of denial or reservation. Hate was like it was a foreign concept to the boy.

Bui shuddered and clenched his jaw at the rush of arousal that speared right up his cock and curled in his balls. He was disgusted in himself, somewhere in the back of his mind that was still operating as it should be, observing his own actions like it wasn’t really him in the driver’s seat of his body.

“Such a—”

“—fucking—”

“—tease!” Karasu growled, body arching and bucking beneath Bui, his hand gripping the arm of the chair beside Kurama’s as Bui fucked him and the force of his thrusts shoved Karasu deep into Kurama in a way that made Kurama cry out hoarsely.

Bui’s hand slipped and he jolted, the change in his angle making Karasu almost scream and grow all the more excited and finally Bui decided he’d had enough. He reached up, fisted his hand in Karasu’s long hair and tugged, pulled his head back until his back arched and the power was taken out of his thrusts. Only a little, but it was enough.

Hard and fast, Bui fucked him until everything began to blur together and Karasu’s cries became indistinguishable from Kurama’s and his own thoughts just kind of turned into a white static and the want, the rising tide of oh yes, fuck. Descending into an erratic rhythm as it built and built as his balls tightened and he hovered there, on the edge, for the longest and the shortest moment.

Everything fell apart in a split second and Bui’s eye flew wide as he arched forward and clenched at the well kept hair in his fist. Gasping, moaning, Bui came, spilling himself into Karasu and fucking him through that glorious rush of oh gods and nothing but bliss and utter perfection. He heard, felt, Karasu coming too, beneath him, the walls around him clenching around him like a fucking vice, pulling more come from him.

Panting heavily, Bui let himself slump forward, one arm flung over the back of the couch and the other gripping at Karasu’s side, feeling the demon gasp for air as well. They remained there for a long while, both catching their breath and revelling in their own states of languid ease. Their bodies sung to each other, together.

Then Bui heard the broken sound of pain.

His eyes shot open and he looked down at Karasu. His arm was bent and Bui could tell he was probably pawing at Kurama’s old bruises, pressing at the sensitive skin to make it ache and swell a little. Sickened, Bui pulled from Karasu with a grunt and a soft wet sound, fisted his hand in Karasu’s hair again and yanked him back and up against his chest.

The protests came immediately. Karasu arched and made an indignant noise, reached up to claw at Bui’s hand. “What are you doing, Bui!?”

Eyes were no doubt flashing a feint red, but he didn’t care. He felt wonderful for the moment and the annoying nagging of his conscience about Kurama disturbed him. He wanted it to be over, he wanted the boy gone. He wanted Karasu to himself again, just for a while.

He reached past the struggling demon and placed a large hand on Kurama’s side. The poor thing didn’t even flinch, instead merely curled away from him hand and made a small sound. Since Bui’s hand covered most of the boy’s side it took little effort to pull and push at Kurama until he rolled off the couch and flopped down onto the carpet with not even the smallest protest. Likely concentrating on trying not to make sounds of pain than preserve his dignity in other more useless ways. Bui and Karasu saw all, and Bui knew for a fact Karasu took absolute pleasure in teasing new ones about his being able to see them no matter how much they tried to hide. It did horrible things to their minds, made them break all the more quicker.

Bui turned, looked down at Kurama as he lay crawled on the floor like a broken thing, blood smeared between his thighs and pooling at the backs of his knees, dribbling down the crease of oh so sensitive skin. But then he realised he was wrong. The boy wasn’t concentrating on making sounds at all. He’d given up, simply withdrawn into his head. He stared, dazed, up at the ceiling.

“You broke him...” Bui said, ignoring the odd sensation of wrongness in his chest. Karasu broke toys all the time, and yet somehow Bui felt all the more attached to this one.

Karasu was still squirming against him, dignity refusing to die beneath Bui’s restraint. Kurama would suffer Karasu’s frustrations, he knew, and yet he couldn’t help but stir his demon partner up a little. He was often, at times, Bui’s antithesis, and yet, curiously, they had simply always been together and never imagined anything different. Had they souls, one would have described them as soul-partners, birds of a feather in a previous life.

Karasu snorted and reared against him, nails scraping against Bui’s stomach in a way that made him grunt and curl forward to take his wrist in hand. Karasu still struggled, like a wildcat in a bag, hissing in indignation. Bui held him until he eventually stilled, panting and flushed against him.

“No, he does that after every time...” Karasu panted, swallowing thickly.

Bui wondered.

“Come now, Bui, let go...” A different tactic, it seemed. Karasu looked over his shoulder at Bui, raising violet eyes up at him and watching him from behind long eyelashes. “Are you feeling neglected?” he asked, one thin eyebrow raising.

Bui had. He said, “Kurama has been getting more attention that our current business, not to mention me.” He threw the demon a stern look. Yes, Karasu had been slacking in his work. All for the pretty fuck.

But honestly, Bui would give his left nut to bet that anyone else would as well.

“Come to my quarters,” Bui said, finally releasing Karasu and backing away quickly before Karasu’s immediate attack could manage to mark him.

Karasu gave him a prudish look as he pulled his pants back up, tucked himself back in, and zipped up his fly. “After I have had my fun.”

Bui looked down to Kurama, broken and torn. On his back with his knees bent just enough so he could see the backs of his legs where blood was streaking from the welts the cane caused and his hips, his wrists and his neck were burnt, bruised. He looked truly like a broken and lifeless thing, without will, without purpose.

Bui wondered when Karasu had begun to enjoy playing with his food.

“Do you love him yet?” He asked, looking up to Karasu as he righted himself on the couch and ran his fingers through long, slightly disarrayed hair.

“No,” the demon said simply, looking down at Kurama and lifting a foot to press the ball of his foot against Kurama’s limp cock. “I don’t think I ever will. I can’t think of a more fitting death for him though, to be worn out each time until he finally just gives up and the life in him goes. The heartbeat stops.” He shrugged thin and slightly bony shoulders.

Violet eyes looked up to Bui. Karasu smiled, wicked and sinful.

Bui couldn’t help but smile back, and yet his heart ached for the boy. Perhaps he’d been around Karasu for too long though, because now he was strangely looking forward to the boy’s death as much as dreading it, and that Karasu’s permanent state, was it not?

Curious, to be sure.

Bui turned on his heel and left.