posted by ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blackwidow at 05:06pm on 19/12/2010 under kurama, kuronue, oneshot, possessed, r, yomi, yomi/kurama
blackwidow at 05:06pm on 19/12/2010 under kurama, kuronue, oneshot, possessed, r, yomi, yomi/kuramaTitle: Possessed
Rating: R
Pairing: Yomi/Kurama, Kuronue/Kurama
Warnings: Possession
Summary: Visitations, dreams, whispers on the wind. Kurama is on edge; tonight he comes to visit.
Notes: Forblueutopiah who needs some porn.
Kurama was tired today, exhausted, perhaps.
In the human world winter reigned, and curiously the Makai seemed to echo that in this region. Gandara, suffering from air thick with an electrical charge and the distant screams of the demons themselves celebrating the new season, was on edge. Something was coming, and it wasn’t just Solstice. The insects were silent, the skies hadn’t even graced them with a rumble or flash on lightening for a half hour now. Trees lay dead, silent and still.
Yes, something was coming.
Pushing open the door to his chambers in Yomi’s keep, Kurama’s expression refused to smooth out of its concerned state. Unbuckling the belt at his waist and slipping his jacket from his shoulders to drape it over one of the chairs in his anteroom, Kurama made his way to his bedroom.
Pushing the door open he paused at the sight of his old friend. Yomi was seated on his bed, one leg crossed over the other, fingers interlocked and clasped over his knee. His chin was raised, head tilted in the direction of the window as if he was admiring the soft glow of the city lights bellow. He couldn’t have been, even though his eyes were open, clouded with a film of white. Not his original eyes, so Kurama had been told.
“Yomi,” he greeted, locking his expression away, even though he knew the other man couldn’t have ever seen them. The demon knew so very much just from sound, associated expressions with the sounds of muscles stretching and variations in heartbeat, the scent of perspiration and nervous swallows. Little escaped his current employer.
The King didn’t turn his head in his direction, nor acknowledge him in the slightest. Merely kept staring.
Leaving him be for the moment, Kurama moved about his room. He pulled his long gloved off, set them on the dresser opposite the bed, watched Yomi’s unmoving form through the window. In the darkness with little but the glow of the lights, Kurama couldn’t see all that well. Not in his human body. Making his way to the bed, he reached for the lamp beside it. Flicked it on.
Flicking on, it buzzed for a moment, then flickered and died.
Yomi tilted his head a little.
Kurama froze.
Silence reigned for a long time, and there was a bonfire on the horizon, a flash of orange rising up. Kurama swallowed thickly and steadied his heart, moved around the bed to better see Yomi. Still facing forward, hands on his knees, chin high and regal. He wasn’t blinking, not that he had to.
“Yomi?” he called, soft, tentative. Far from anything but wary of the unexpected, Yomi was, after all, forcing him into working for him. Their relationship was greatly strained, teetering on the edge of violence.
The demon’s head tipped towards him and angled down. A wry smile spread across his lips.
The action itself was oddly familiar and Kurama frowned, eyes flicking to the lamp then back to Yomi. He swallowed thickly. “It’s not Yomi, is it...?”
Dark hair shifted in rivers as Yomi shook his head gently, mouthed a quiet, “No.”
Kurama moved back, leaned against the window so he could stand directly before Yomi. “Who, then?”
“Who else?”
His eyes narrowed. “Who would have the balls to take over a King’s body?”
He laughed. It was an old, tired laugh. “Yeah, and the strength to do so. And, you know, intimate knowledge of his mind in order to sneak in and throw a party. Boy’s got issues, you know.”
The way he spoke, the mannerisms... The tone, the voice was wrong, it was pure Yomi, but the words he spoke, the way he spoke—It couldn’t be.
Green eyes widened, and Kurama’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re dead.”
Even though he couldn’t see, or maybe he could and just not Yomi, Kuronue looked down at himself, then up at Kurama. “Duh,” he said, a grin spreading over Yomi’s lips.
In one long breath all of the air left Kurama and his legs were moving before he could stop himself. His long fingers grasped either side of Yomi’s head and he bent down, forced his lips against the other demon’s with a hungry kind of determination, crawled into his lap and sat there, elated, kissing the ever-loving shit out of him. Yomi’s hands released his knees, legs settled on the floor properly as his arms wound around Kurama’s waist, clutched at his shirt and hair as he returned the kiss quite greedily, his tongue more forceful than playful.
It was like the tension in the room had snapped, and everything had turned to pure chaos, lust and heat. Relief was there, nostalgia, old wounds opening and dribbling blood on their insides. Swelling. Kurama ignored it in favour of grasping at Yomi’s unfamiliar body and plucking at the belts and buttons to his uniformed jacket so similar to Kurama’s own. “How?” he breathed against reddened lips as he pushed the jacket off Yomi’s shoulders and Kuronue rolled them to help, then threw them off the side of the bed.
He leaned back, pulled Kurama on top of him as he did, legs winding around the human body too small, too odd to have been demonic, to have been the Kurama he remembered. “If you can break into Spiritworld, then I can break out of Netherworld,” he chided, lips curving into a smile and then parting in a moan as Kurama rocked down into him.
Kurama couldn’t help but laugh a little, delighted. Ducking down, his lips pressed against Yomi’s neck, tongue lashing over smooth skin, mouth hot and hungry.
“Nhhh...and I think...” Kuronue panted, staring up at the ceiling unseeingly, “that you deserve some time with the real me after that fuck up Yamato caused...”
Like a knife in his gut, old wounds twisted and bled worse. Kurama moaned a little, keened as hands settled on his ass and gripped, massaged at the cushiony flesh slowly. “Talk too much,” he growled, pulling at the belt on Yomi’s pants, slipping it from the loops, unbuttoning the clasps and pulling down the zipper.
Kuronue laughed, tugged at Kurama’s hair lightly. “Guess who is in charge of the roost now, baby,” he crooned, then moaned as Kurama’s hand wound around Yomi’s cock, stroked.
“Kuronue,” Kurama snapped, looking up at the curious expression on Yomi’s face and returning it with a glare and a squeeze of the thick and hard cock in his hand. “Shut up and fuck me.”
“Haven’t changed,” Kuronue grumbled, hands sliding up a little to work at Kurama’s pants, then growling a little—the sound was in effectual and odd when it came from Yomi’s throat—when the unfamiliar clasps kept him from doing so in a timely manner. Another growl and the material ripped, Kuronue pushed Kurama’s hips up and slid the material down until it folded over at the tops of his boots, rended the material in half so Kurama could move his legs freely.
Kurama, placing his hands on Yomi’s shoulders, pushed himself up and stared down at the other demon. It wasn’t Kuronue’s body, no, it was Yomi’s a body he’d never felt and seen like this before, but he was so very hungry for that cock. Purely because it was Kuronue’s at least for the moment. It was a nice, thick cock, after all.
Large hands lifted his hips up, moving him like a child, and Kurama squawked a little indignantly at the movement then, feeling the thick heat press against him, his breath caught in his throat and he moaned. “Still so slutty,” Kuronue breathed, and Yomi’s voice made it less of an eager growl than a sensual purr.
Shifting his hips a little, Kurama hummed and gripped at Yomi, forced himself down on his cock. Feeling his thick length pushing in, forcing him so wide and filling him so snug, made him whimper and tip his head back. He could feel the tips of his red hair brushing against his ass, the large hands trailing up his chest and tweaking hard little nipples. Flexing his thighs, biting his lip as his eyes glazed over, Kurama began to move, fucking himself on Yomi’s cock, forcing moans from Yomi’s throat that sounded less like his old lover and more like Yomi himself for the moment.
Pressing his head into the pillows, Yomi’s teeth clenched and he bucked up into Kurama, eyes half-open, watching the slutty thing bounce on his cock and scream in delight each time his cock filled him whole.
They both descended into growls and desperate grasping as the end near, Yomi’s hands clutching at Kurama’s thighs and Kurama himself arching forward and whimpering, barely able to breathe as his eyes rolled back and mouth fell open. It was a beautiful sight, and Kuronue felt Yomi’s body follow soon after, gasping, crying out along with his old lover as their worlds exploded and turned something purely wonderful.
Collapsing on Yomi’s chest, Kurama panted and whimpered with the slight twinges of pleasure as Kuronue rolled Yomi’s hips every so often.
“Not that I...don’t mind,” Kurama began, raising his head and pushing sweat-slick hair from his eyes, “but why are you possessing Yomi?”
Kuronue chuckled, Yomi’s blind eyes turning kind and lips smiling gently. “He likes you, you know.”
Kurama stared. “Yes, he always has.”
“Like, really, really likes you.”
“So I gathered.”
“No I mean, really--”
Kurama gave him a dirty look, and Kuronue chuckled, then turned serious. He reached up and tucked Kurama’s hair behind his ears, ran his fingers through his hair to settle it. “All that’s keeping you from making a move on him is ‘what would Kuronue think’.”
Green eyes narrowed. “I do not—”
“KURAMA. You so do. I’m all knowing now, right? Let me do this for you.” Yomi’s eyebrows had pulled down, turned dangerous. “Stop trying to punish yourself.”
“I’m not...” He trailed off when Kuronue’s look intensified. He sighed. Nodded.
“Good.” Kuronue sounded entirely too pleased. “Now I’ve filled his body with a whole lot of alcohol so he won’t remember anything, which will give you a nice spring board to work of off. Hm?”
Kurama was shocked for a moment, didn’t know whether to chide Kuronue or thank him. Yomi’s body leaned up and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, taking the chance to respond from him.
“I’ll be watching.”
Kuronue gave a wink, and then Yomi’s body fell limp, his eyes closing, breathing returning to normal.
Sighing, frowning and giving a frustrated growl, Kurama pulled himself from Yomi’s cock and settled down beside the sleeping King.
Kuronue always had been too nosy for his own good.
Kurama smiled.
Rating: R
Pairing: Yomi/Kurama, Kuronue/Kurama
Warnings: Possession
Summary: Visitations, dreams, whispers on the wind. Kurama is on edge; tonight he comes to visit.
Notes: For
blueutopiah who needs some porn.-
Possessed
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Possessed
-
Kurama was tired today, exhausted, perhaps.
In the human world winter reigned, and curiously the Makai seemed to echo that in this region. Gandara, suffering from air thick with an electrical charge and the distant screams of the demons themselves celebrating the new season, was on edge. Something was coming, and it wasn’t just Solstice. The insects were silent, the skies hadn’t even graced them with a rumble or flash on lightening for a half hour now. Trees lay dead, silent and still.
Yes, something was coming.
Pushing open the door to his chambers in Yomi’s keep, Kurama’s expression refused to smooth out of its concerned state. Unbuckling the belt at his waist and slipping his jacket from his shoulders to drape it over one of the chairs in his anteroom, Kurama made his way to his bedroom.
Pushing the door open he paused at the sight of his old friend. Yomi was seated on his bed, one leg crossed over the other, fingers interlocked and clasped over his knee. His chin was raised, head tilted in the direction of the window as if he was admiring the soft glow of the city lights bellow. He couldn’t have been, even though his eyes were open, clouded with a film of white. Not his original eyes, so Kurama had been told.
“Yomi,” he greeted, locking his expression away, even though he knew the other man couldn’t have ever seen them. The demon knew so very much just from sound, associated expressions with the sounds of muscles stretching and variations in heartbeat, the scent of perspiration and nervous swallows. Little escaped his current employer.
The King didn’t turn his head in his direction, nor acknowledge him in the slightest. Merely kept staring.
Leaving him be for the moment, Kurama moved about his room. He pulled his long gloved off, set them on the dresser opposite the bed, watched Yomi’s unmoving form through the window. In the darkness with little but the glow of the lights, Kurama couldn’t see all that well. Not in his human body. Making his way to the bed, he reached for the lamp beside it. Flicked it on.
Flicking on, it buzzed for a moment, then flickered and died.
Yomi tilted his head a little.
Kurama froze.
Silence reigned for a long time, and there was a bonfire on the horizon, a flash of orange rising up. Kurama swallowed thickly and steadied his heart, moved around the bed to better see Yomi. Still facing forward, hands on his knees, chin high and regal. He wasn’t blinking, not that he had to.
“Yomi?” he called, soft, tentative. Far from anything but wary of the unexpected, Yomi was, after all, forcing him into working for him. Their relationship was greatly strained, teetering on the edge of violence.
The demon’s head tipped towards him and angled down. A wry smile spread across his lips.
The action itself was oddly familiar and Kurama frowned, eyes flicking to the lamp then back to Yomi. He swallowed thickly. “It’s not Yomi, is it...?”
Dark hair shifted in rivers as Yomi shook his head gently, mouthed a quiet, “No.”
Kurama moved back, leaned against the window so he could stand directly before Yomi. “Who, then?”
“Who else?”
His eyes narrowed. “Who would have the balls to take over a King’s body?”
He laughed. It was an old, tired laugh. “Yeah, and the strength to do so. And, you know, intimate knowledge of his mind in order to sneak in and throw a party. Boy’s got issues, you know.”
The way he spoke, the mannerisms... The tone, the voice was wrong, it was pure Yomi, but the words he spoke, the way he spoke—It couldn’t be.
Green eyes widened, and Kurama’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re dead.”
Even though he couldn’t see, or maybe he could and just not Yomi, Kuronue looked down at himself, then up at Kurama. “Duh,” he said, a grin spreading over Yomi’s lips.
In one long breath all of the air left Kurama and his legs were moving before he could stop himself. His long fingers grasped either side of Yomi’s head and he bent down, forced his lips against the other demon’s with a hungry kind of determination, crawled into his lap and sat there, elated, kissing the ever-loving shit out of him. Yomi’s hands released his knees, legs settled on the floor properly as his arms wound around Kurama’s waist, clutched at his shirt and hair as he returned the kiss quite greedily, his tongue more forceful than playful.
It was like the tension in the room had snapped, and everything had turned to pure chaos, lust and heat. Relief was there, nostalgia, old wounds opening and dribbling blood on their insides. Swelling. Kurama ignored it in favour of grasping at Yomi’s unfamiliar body and plucking at the belts and buttons to his uniformed jacket so similar to Kurama’s own. “How?” he breathed against reddened lips as he pushed the jacket off Yomi’s shoulders and Kuronue rolled them to help, then threw them off the side of the bed.
He leaned back, pulled Kurama on top of him as he did, legs winding around the human body too small, too odd to have been demonic, to have been the Kurama he remembered. “If you can break into Spiritworld, then I can break out of Netherworld,” he chided, lips curving into a smile and then parting in a moan as Kurama rocked down into him.
Kurama couldn’t help but laugh a little, delighted. Ducking down, his lips pressed against Yomi’s neck, tongue lashing over smooth skin, mouth hot and hungry.
“Nhhh...and I think...” Kuronue panted, staring up at the ceiling unseeingly, “that you deserve some time with the real me after that fuck up Yamato caused...”
Like a knife in his gut, old wounds twisted and bled worse. Kurama moaned a little, keened as hands settled on his ass and gripped, massaged at the cushiony flesh slowly. “Talk too much,” he growled, pulling at the belt on Yomi’s pants, slipping it from the loops, unbuttoning the clasps and pulling down the zipper.
Kuronue laughed, tugged at Kurama’s hair lightly. “Guess who is in charge of the roost now, baby,” he crooned, then moaned as Kurama’s hand wound around Yomi’s cock, stroked.
“Kuronue,” Kurama snapped, looking up at the curious expression on Yomi’s face and returning it with a glare and a squeeze of the thick and hard cock in his hand. “Shut up and fuck me.”
“Haven’t changed,” Kuronue grumbled, hands sliding up a little to work at Kurama’s pants, then growling a little—the sound was in effectual and odd when it came from Yomi’s throat—when the unfamiliar clasps kept him from doing so in a timely manner. Another growl and the material ripped, Kuronue pushed Kurama’s hips up and slid the material down until it folded over at the tops of his boots, rended the material in half so Kurama could move his legs freely.
Kurama, placing his hands on Yomi’s shoulders, pushed himself up and stared down at the other demon. It wasn’t Kuronue’s body, no, it was Yomi’s a body he’d never felt and seen like this before, but he was so very hungry for that cock. Purely because it was Kuronue’s at least for the moment. It was a nice, thick cock, after all.
Large hands lifted his hips up, moving him like a child, and Kurama squawked a little indignantly at the movement then, feeling the thick heat press against him, his breath caught in his throat and he moaned. “Still so slutty,” Kuronue breathed, and Yomi’s voice made it less of an eager growl than a sensual purr.
Shifting his hips a little, Kurama hummed and gripped at Yomi, forced himself down on his cock. Feeling his thick length pushing in, forcing him so wide and filling him so snug, made him whimper and tip his head back. He could feel the tips of his red hair brushing against his ass, the large hands trailing up his chest and tweaking hard little nipples. Flexing his thighs, biting his lip as his eyes glazed over, Kurama began to move, fucking himself on Yomi’s cock, forcing moans from Yomi’s throat that sounded less like his old lover and more like Yomi himself for the moment.
Pressing his head into the pillows, Yomi’s teeth clenched and he bucked up into Kurama, eyes half-open, watching the slutty thing bounce on his cock and scream in delight each time his cock filled him whole.
They both descended into growls and desperate grasping as the end near, Yomi’s hands clutching at Kurama’s thighs and Kurama himself arching forward and whimpering, barely able to breathe as his eyes rolled back and mouth fell open. It was a beautiful sight, and Kuronue felt Yomi’s body follow soon after, gasping, crying out along with his old lover as their worlds exploded and turned something purely wonderful.
Collapsing on Yomi’s chest, Kurama panted and whimpered with the slight twinges of pleasure as Kuronue rolled Yomi’s hips every so often.
“Not that I...don’t mind,” Kurama began, raising his head and pushing sweat-slick hair from his eyes, “but why are you possessing Yomi?”
Kuronue chuckled, Yomi’s blind eyes turning kind and lips smiling gently. “He likes you, you know.”
Kurama stared. “Yes, he always has.”
“Like, really, really likes you.”
“So I gathered.”
“No I mean, really--”
Kurama gave him a dirty look, and Kuronue chuckled, then turned serious. He reached up and tucked Kurama’s hair behind his ears, ran his fingers through his hair to settle it. “All that’s keeping you from making a move on him is ‘what would Kuronue think’.”
Green eyes narrowed. “I do not—”
“KURAMA. You so do. I’m all knowing now, right? Let me do this for you.” Yomi’s eyebrows had pulled down, turned dangerous. “Stop trying to punish yourself.”
“I’m not...” He trailed off when Kuronue’s look intensified. He sighed. Nodded.
“Good.” Kuronue sounded entirely too pleased. “Now I’ve filled his body with a whole lot of alcohol so he won’t remember anything, which will give you a nice spring board to work of off. Hm?”
Kurama was shocked for a moment, didn’t know whether to chide Kuronue or thank him. Yomi’s body leaned up and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, taking the chance to respond from him.
“I’ll be watching.”
Kuronue gave a wink, and then Yomi’s body fell limp, his eyes closing, breathing returning to normal.
Sighing, frowning and giving a frustrated growl, Kurama pulled himself from Yomi’s cock and settled down beside the sleeping King.
Kuronue always had been too nosy for his own good.
Kurama smiled.