Scattered Pages and Blood-Ink

A muffled curse escaped his lips when the ground rushed up towards him, he flailed his arms and tried to stay upright, to continue running, to not fall and be captured. Fighting to not gasp for breath, he ran as fast as he could, hoping that he could make it to an area in which he could take flight soon. The trees here were too close together to allow him to fly, and he’d be wasting time by climbing trees, not to mention putting himself in all sorts of danger.

 

Because Youko Kurama was behind him, at the edge of his senses, slowly closing in. And he was angry, and frustrated. Malice jaded his yoki, more so than his usual, its hair raising intensity turning into something more, as if the very soil beneath his very feet thought him unwelcome. It was sinister, and enough so for Kuronue to panic into running away.

 

It was a simple reaction, and yet Kuronue knew that Youko had either been insulted by it, or saw Kuronue as a way to let out his frustration. But even so, Kuronue trusted his instincts, and ran, and ran still.

 

At least until the sense of impending doom sharpened, and seem to be all around him, so much so it stole what little was left of his breath, and shocked his tired body into the frantic reaction of turning, and throwing one of his sickles at the source responsible. He watched in silent dread as his sickle changed direction midair, not of his will, but of Youko’s. A silver form seemed to blur into existence, a clawed hand wrapping around the cord connecting Kuronue to the sicklee. Following the change momentum, and the change of direction via the flick and release of the youko’s wrist, his sickle came towards him again.

 

Plucking it from the air before he was stuck by his own blade, Kuronue allowed himself to note Youko’s status, and to gauge if he was capable of any sane thought at the moment. From the dark look in Youko’s eyes, he could tell that it would be best for him to start running again. Because of this quick evaluation he turned, and despite the tiredness in his limbs, started running again.

 

Only it was short lived. Before he had a chance to change tactics to lose the youko, he was knocked to the ground harshly, and the air left his lungs completely. Tumbling for a second, Kuronue tried to push the youko away, only to be clawed at in response, and to receive illegible growls when he attempted to kick him away. He managed to hit Youko reasonably well, on a pressure point, which gave him time to flip himself over and try to crawl away, then to bring a leg up and rise in an attempt to sprint away.

 

However a hand closed around his leg and he fell right back down towards the earth, face down, and he hissed and clawed at the earth when Youko moved atop him, his knee planting itself on his back achingly, a little below the base of his wings. Words, hissed in his ear, made his eyes widen, and he paused, as he held himself up on his elbows tentatively. “You do not turn your back on me.”

 

Then a hand came down, slapping his ass, and he yelped in surprise, trying to rise again, only to have his head forced down amongst the leaves and soil beneath him, and his body forced down harshly. His hair came loose from the simple action, or perhaps Youko had done that too, and his hat was forced off when his head was forced down, to stare at the dark earth below.

 

“You do not run from me.” It came again, spanking him. Viciously hard, and stinging through the thin layers of cloth he wore. He gasped this time, keeping his head down, wincing at the pain in his back as Youko’s knee bent him the wrong way.

 

“You do not deny me anything.” And again, harder this time. Clenching his eyes shut, Kuronue fought back whatever sounds threatened to escape him. Be it pain or anything else.

 

He made the mistake of turning his head and snarling at him, “I can do what I want.”

 

Although, with his head craned to look at Youko, who was kneeling beside him, he still could see the sudden deepening of darkness in his eyes, and in his face. What should have been a beautiful creature turned into a beast, as he snarled, and his knee lifted from Kuronue’s back.

 

Taking the opportunity, Kuronue tried to escape once more, only long fingers hooked inside his leathers, and fingernails tore at his skin, pulling him back, tearing his clothes from him. Kuronue, wide-eyed, knew what was coming, and he struggled again, grasping at the soil, and at Youko’s hands, trying to impede the process, only none of it worked.

 

He was forcibly stripped bare, and pulled up onto his hands and knees, his head forced down again with a growl when he tried to look behind him pleadingly. It didn’t stop him from crying out at the loud slap against his ass, it stung more sharply than the others, with his skin bare. And then again, and again, as Youko spanked him thoroughly, and without mercy.

 

Unable to take much more, he looked up once more begged for Youko to stop, reduced to a pile of mush under the strength of Youko’s vicious spanking, he wailed and dug his hands into the earth as each strike forced him forwards a little. Then there was a moment of silence, a small moment, and Kuronue caught his breath, biting his tongue in anxiety.

 

Then his eyebrows drew together, and a pained scream forced its way from him as Youko thrust inside him, pulling his hips back onto his cock, leaving Kuronue to whimper and shake as the pain spiked through him. Hands clawed at him, and tore his skin, leaving gashes and leaking blood.

 

But he was hard, hard from all of it. He screamed and tucked his head down when Youko leaned over him, between his wings, and scored his shoulder with his protruding canines. Youko fucked him, he fucked him hard and mostly wordlessly, as his hands drifted to rub against Kuronue’s nipples, to pull, twist and torment.

 

Panting, hard and hot, Kuronue shoved back against Youko’s cock, impaling himself again and again, ignoring the trail of wetness running down his thigh, and the sharp pain in his hips and in his sides from the gashes dealt by Youko’s claws. He didn’t mind the blood that smeared his body, nor the smell of it, which seemed to arouse him even more.

 

Youko too judging by the way he was growling and tracing over the cuts as he pounded into Kuronue relentlessly, then brought his slicked fingers up and forced him into Kuronue mouth, having him lick his own blood from his fingers, as he shuddered and got closer, and closer towards the end.

 

Quivering and moaning now, enjoying the pain and pleasure, the forced submission and the overbearing complete dominance of Youko, Kuronue let go completely, loosing himself in Youko’s touch. No longer able to play the frightened, timid demon, Kuronue growled and forced himself back to meet Youko’s thrusts, gritting his teeth when Youko wrenched his head back, with a hand fisted in his hair, and began to kiss the nape of his neck, and to drift down between his shoulder blades, biting at his skin every so often.

 

“Ah, oh yes…Yes…this is perfect…nnhhh…” Closing his eyes, he focused on the push and pull of the tide, and shivered and moaned beneath the current. He yelped when Youko slapped his ass once more, using his demonic strength to put meaning into it. Kuronue’s ass would be flushed, red, and sore, both inside and out, when Youko was done with him.

 

“You do not talk back to me,” was purred in his ear, soft and sensual, the cock inside him slowing agonizingly, and fingers pulling harshly at his nipples, his stubbornly untouched cock weeping desperately.

 

Kuronue’s response was to whimper, and curse, then cry out at the sudden loss of the cock inside him, and stare dazedly up at the wicked smirk plastered on Youko’s lips once he was flipped carefully over onto his back, his wings obediently helpful in making it an easy transition. With Youko between his legs, Kuronue opened his mouth to say something, purely because he knew what would happen if he did, and wanted it. He was struck, and his head grasped by his loose hair tightly and wrenched back, exposing his throat to a sinful tongue.

 

He rocked his hips up, grinding his slick, hard cock against Youko’s, enticing him to loose patience, and to fuck him until he couldn’t breath, or see, or scream.

 

Being the inherent sexual creatures that all youko’s were, Youko did nothing but growl and wind his fingers tighter, pulling at Kuronue’s hair, threatening to tear it from his scalp. He had the patience and control to drag this out much longer, and so he rose onto his knees, sitting on his heels, and bent to lick at Kuronue’s sternum slowly, taking his time. He kept Kuronue’s ass in his lap, holding his lower body up and tilting him backwards.

 

Impatient of waiting, and with free hands, Kuronue reached around and positioned Youko, then brought his legs up and forced Youko inside him again, dictating the youko’s movements with the contractions of his powerful legs. Youko was as pleased with the result as he was, and, finally giving in, he placed his hands at Kuronue’s hips, and bent him over properly, and began to fuck him properly. His hips snapping foward with no great rhythm, and their moans and wails blurring into a slur of obscene threats and illegible cries of ecstasy, they sauntered, closer and closer to the end.

 

This was what their acting led to, this was where they would fall apart together, and enjoy in the rift in space and time which seemed to pass right through them. Like this, things became easier. Perhaps, also more interesting. But now they could drop everything and simply exist like this. Two demons fucking. Nothing else.

 

When they came together, it was like a moment of reprieve, of happiness.

 

And when they lay afterwards, panting and catching their breath, giddy with the deep effects still lurking silently throughout them, it was like nothing other. It was satisfaction.

 

And then Youko sat up, pulled his clothes on and kicked Kuronue none too lightly, saying, “Come on, we’re leaving at sunset.”

 

Rolling over onto his side, naked, bleeding, and well and truly fucked, Kuronue stared at Youko’s shoes for a while, blinking every so often. Then he sighed and sat up, ignoring the angry twinge in his ass as he did so, and the itch-like irritation of his other gashes and claw marks.

 

To become addicted to that perfect moment, to want it to last forever… was something akin to – perhaps - something more than partnership.

 

Kuronue did not want to walk down that road.

 

Saying nothing he pulled on what was still wearable of his clothes, and trailed after Youko.


The End