Scattered Pages and Blood-Ink

There was something endearing about human coffeehouses.

Kurama didn’t make a habit of going to them but he delighted in the mixtures of smell whenever he went by. As this was the weekend there was nothing in particular he had to do, and he didn’t expect Hiei to show up any time soon, he was left with free time.

He sat in the midst of quite a few people of one of the more crowded coffeehouses, quite happy to sit and watch and play games with the people around him--most of who seemed to be heavy smokers, but he’d gotten used to that a long time ago. There were too many people out today, far too many. It was a nice day for it though really, Kurama didn’t blame them, lately the rain had been unrelenting. The concrete of the city was stifling at times though, Kurama would have loved to be in Makai, if only to get rid of the odd home sickness that came over him at odd times.

He turned the sugar packet he’d stolen from the table with three women near the entrance over in his hand, staring at his hand as a whole rather than the object it held. Eventually he reached forward and slotted it in the holder along with the others. He didn’t use sugar anyway.

He transferred his gaze to his tea then tilted his head when thoughts of someone he knew a long time ago, who was quite good at divining through tea leaves, snuck into his mind. It was a disturbing train of thought, yet that was what he was here to do. To think be around humans, just for a bit. These were the people he and Hiei served now, rather than their own objectives.

He didn’t have much time to think on the matter, however.

Above the chatter around him, and the general sounds of people and the streets outside of the coffeehouse situated in a small back street though in a central area, the scrape of the chair sounded impossibly loud. It sounded somehow more important than the sounds of the others, the coffee machines, the cars and voices of people, sounds of radios and clatter of dishes and money. Maybe this was because he was meant to be sitting alone, thinking and organizing, and yet there was a person pulling out the chair across the table from him and filling the seat. Maybe it was because the people around him seemed to have quieted into nervous scattered chatter, looking over their shoulders and from behind hands in his direction timidly.

Kurama looked up, half expecting to see an enemy of some sort after a kind of reaction one would expect from the appearance of a yakuza, and hid the sudden violent shock that washed over him with the force of a powerful wave quite well when he realised who it actually was.

Sitting across from him, dressed in a revealing emerald and gold qipao, was a rather large breasted woman who could have been his sister, or maybe an extremely effeminate brother. His long crimson hair was pulled up into complicated knots and curls on his head, and still it trailed halfway down his back and framed his face. He was wearing sunglasses, but he could see his eyes behind them, and the black tattoo-like markings that flowed form them. There were markings on his chin too, swirling in odd patters from his lip down to the underside of his jaw, more black ink-like swirls and dots on his arms. His black lips smiled at him and he leant forward in the chair and crossed his legs, placing his chin on his palm and an elbow on the table.

Mother did look like a yakuza, all he was missing was a dragon.

“Ah, so you still live,” Mother spoke in a voice that was neither male nor female. It was husky and somewhere in between, though it had a drawl and an odd growl to it. He oozed smugness. “Perhaps I can indulge in my dream a little longer, then.”

His crimson hair fell from his shoulders to lay in swirls on the tabletop as he leant forward and chuckled, finding it horrifically amusing. Of course it was Mother. He—she? Mother looked more female this time—had said he would return once he ‘got his shit together’.

Things had taken quite a few unexpected turns since they had seen each other last.

He opened his eyes and stared at the white, marble table before him, and turned his cup with long delicate fingers, scraping the ceramic of the cup and the marble of the table together annoyingly. He thought of what to say to Mother that wouldn’t cause too much insult but at the moment he had nothing civil to say.

“You manipulated me,” he said after a while, looking up at his with a blank expression which turned cold and hard as he narrowed his eyes. He didn’t enjoy being manipulated. He’d been fully prepared to give up his life to the Mirror of Utter Dark, and yet by some strange stroke of luck, Yusuke appeared and changed everything.

How exactly Mother had made it possible for him to live on, and force him into a position where he’d have to rely on his demonic heritage much more than he would if he were just defending himself and his territory from lesser demons, he didn’t know. Mother had wanted him to live on, so he could have a ‘son’ in the human world. He’d have to ask him about that later.

He knew Mother was angry, and that Kurama himself acted as his voice. As Earth’s voice. Kurama reminded people of just how dangerous thorns and roses could be, perhaps it was Mother’s revenge on those who treated Earth like a throw away toy.

He laughed at him. “What makes you think that I would let you die, Kurama? I wouldn’t go through all that trouble just to have you throw away your life, your body, for a sick human. No matter your emotions for her. You got what you wanted and I will get what I want soon enough.”

His eyes narrowed further, and he was aware of the people around them leaving their seats, attempting to be stealthy in their abandonment. Mother’s laugh was cold and empty, his teeth unnatural, he didn’t blame them for thinking the worst. There wasn’t anything he could say in reply to that that would be a worthy response, however. He was furious, Mother was pushing him in a direction he had previously not wanted to go in.

It was a petty pride matter, really, and Kurama had held grudges over such things in the past. He didn’t like being used by the people above him in power, he didn’t like acknowledging them either. But Yusuke had defeated him fair and square, and he’d accepted that but Mother had manipulated the tides until he stood here; bitter and holding on to worthless emotions and grudges for reasons that were frayed, feeble and childish.

“In time,” Mother said, sounding irritated now, “you will want to return to your silver haired self. You’ll thank me then when it saves your life. You won’t dare be so insolent towards my guiding hands.” To accentuate his point one of his hands slammed over one of Kurama’s wrists, and though Kurama couldn’t see anything past the black of the sunglasses, he still felt the heat of the glare that rivaled Hiei’s as his long talon-like nails scraped the underside of his wrist and pinched at his skin.

“I doubt it,” he said quietly. He’d made his decision to die and yet again Mother had pulled him out of it. He’d been prepared to die. He a ruthless demon, who had cared for nothing and no one, had intended that single act to be his sign of concession. “You cheated me out of my rightful death this time. I don’t want to return to that body.”

“You flicker from being selfish to selfless and then back again like a broken light,” Mother hissed. His fingers uncurled from his wrist and his hand retreated to rest against the table again while Kurama stared at the handprint he’d left on his skin. He wondered morbidly if it would bruise; his clutch had made his bones creak, but he’d locked the pain away behind the blank expression he wore like a noh mask.

His eyes flicked up to mother. Facing the setting sun, it made his eyes appear far more brilliant than they appeared in the dark of normal day. They appeared, in these moments, to have small flecks of light brown, almost gold pigments.

Mother crossed his hands over his chest and leant back in his seat, perhaps purposely drawing attention to his breasts. Kurama would have been insulted if he hadn’t understood the deep understanding of fertility behind the action. It seemed odd to have the knowledge that he was talking to Mother Nature, while he saw a woman who looked like a feminine yakuza version of himself. “I’ll keep you alive for as long as I have to, if that means divine intervention then so be it. I know what’s best for you, Kurama, I am the only one out of all your mothers that truly knows you in spirit and mind. So I will say this only once: you need this strength Kurama, you need to be able to support your new allies. They will become important.”

What a stubborn child he was being. He’d already accepted that he worked with Yusuke now, Koenma had already gave word that they would be needed again soon, something about the Saint Beats.

Kurama sat forward in his chair, rubbed a hand over his face and pinched at the bridge of his nose. A slow pounding in his head started up like a drum, arching through his mind and breathing pain into his skull.

He heard a sigh and the clack clack clack of Mother’s long fingernails tapping on the hard surface of the table. When had he become so in tune with society? From what he remembered he was an archaic, feudal creature, but now he was modern and impatient. He annoyingly mirrored Kurama’s own transformation from Youko Kurama to simply Kurama who used a well grown alias.

“Start thinking about others once again,” Mother added, his tone turning maternal and feminine. “Now is your chance to be one of the heroes instead of the villains.”

He could have chuckled at that if it didn’t strike a cord in him. This body was a new start. He needed to leave the old him behind, the youko, and move forward still. He needed to let himself change, and trust Yusuke, trust Mother. He was on the other side now, going against the demons he’d once been so enamored with.

He sighed and dropped his hand into his lap, then looked up at her.

At some point, Mother had stood and now he extended a hand to him. Kurama stared at it blankly, then his gaze flicked up to Mother’s face again. “Come. We have more business to conduct and unless you’re an extreme exhibitionist, I’d rather we not do it here in the midst of a crowd.”

-

For humans he supposed it was a nice average house. Mother had seen better and grander and he knew Youko Kurama had lived in far more extravagant dwellings than this, however it seemed he was determined to live as a human and all that came along with it. He could have stolen plenty of priceless things in the human world, yet he didn’t. He subjected himself to suburbia for the love of the woman he also called ‘mother’, this Shiori whom Mother had chosen, many years ago, to be the surrogate for Youko Kurama’s soul.

Mother didn’t like it.

He waited in Kurama’s room while he conversed with his human mother and cared for her. She hadn’t been out of the hospital long now, and moments like these proved just how much the Kurama he had once known had changed, and yet remained his old, deadly self. The boy was intelligent, perhaps a little too intelligent. Mother wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up in a high position in the demonic world again.

If he had anything to do with it, Kurama would be dining with the Kings. But that would be cheating, and it wouldn’t be fun at all, he wanted to see just how far his favourite toy would go without the pushes he gave to send him the right way. Of course he’d intervene when it was dire, but he had faith in him. Mother suspected further intervention after this act wouldn’t be necessary, he’d sit back and allow Kurama to get on with his life without the weight of Mother Nature’s vendetta pressing down on him.

His motives had changed, and besides, revenge could be gotten in other cataclysmic ways. The humans would suffer dearly for their mistreatment.

Kurama would not be allowed to stay completely human for long, eventually he’d have to have full access, mind and body, to his silver demon body, rather than this feeble child’s body of his. He seemed to have gained a feeble mind along with his feeble body, thanks to Shiori. Perhaps Youko’s initial reaction of disgust had been right when Mother had relayed to him his desperate plan, had been better in foresight.

The contract Mother had made with Youko, long ago, when he was young and stupid—yet smart enough to win Mother’s affections by relating to him—needed to be renewed. Oh, Kurama could wield plants and ordinary garden variety grasses as if they were long swords quite easily in him red haired body, but if he wanted true power, he’d need his other body.

And that was why Mother was here.

He wouldn’t be able to change into his silver haired body without another push from an outside source (Mother was working on that) but his abilities would need to be unlocked in full. The biorhythms of a youkai would start again, rather than the diluted human kind.

Mother sighed silently, his eyes fixing on the rooftops and tips of trees that he could see while he waited. His image flickered as if he were a hologram and for a second he turned to pure shadow, but then he returned to flesh, looking as if nothing had changed, as if he hadn’t lost the thread which kept him corporeal on this plane. He tilted his head curiously, and looked at Kurama’s reflection in the window as he appeared in the doorway.

“You’re running out of time to stay in Ningenkai,” Kurama murmured, leaning against the doorframe.

Smart boy. “Youko Kurama, on his knees and begging to be fucked harder, used to wail and howl… I wonder if you still make delicious sounds like that.”

Kurama’s face remained blank, though he knew his words affected him. He stepped into the room and closed the door quietly. Mother tampered with the depth of Shiori’s sleep, just in case, and turned to look at Kurama over his shoulder with an eyebrow raised and top lip pulled up.

“You don’t want to talk about it?” Kurama pressed crossing his arms over his chest and taking a few steps into his room. He stood just by the end of his bed, near the door. He looked stern and calculating, but also gentle and cautious. Mother had gotten past the point of being sick of that always cautious look on his children’s faces. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t bothered to surface in so long.

The sun was setting, and it turned the room a burnt orange colour. Kurama’s hair turned brighter and his eyes turned cold and empty. His long black shadow cast over the bed and reached for the door.

Mother’s irritation flared.

“It is not something you should be concerned with.”

He turned and pulled the sunglasses from his eyes and let them slip from his fingertips to fall on the carpet by his feet with a soft, almost inaudible sound. The windows behind him froze over, and the glass turned smoky.

Kurama nodded, aware of the sudden influx of odd scent in the room. It was strange, like he could taste something on the tip of his tongue that was familiar and his senses welcomed. That was the only vague notion that spoke of Mother’s presence; it was somehow different in this world. Ningenkai affected spirits differently though Mother wasn’t quite a spirit. “Alright. I have one question first though.”

Mother tilted his head and smiled. It would have been warm had his sharp teeth not been glaringly obvious, and the way he walked towards Kurama seemed to be more reminiscent of a leopard stalking prey than a mother indulging her child. “What would you like to know?”

“What business are we conducting?” He kept his voice empty and hard as stone. His eyes trailed after Mother as he took a step to the side once he reached Kurama, and then tilted his head to whisper as his lips brushed against his ear. A shudder crept down Kurama’s spine at Mother’s hot breath, coupled with his hot words.

“When I first fucked you,” he whispered, trailing the tips of his naturally black nails along Kurama’s bared collarbone then falling down to pressed against his chest through the fabric of his shirt. “I granted you greater use of me, of Earth. I am going to do the same to this body.”

Kurama stared at the window over Mother’s satin clothed shoulder and gritted his teeth. He vaguely wondered how much of his abilities could be attributed to mother, and how much of it was his own hard work.

Oh, the majority of it is yours. Don’t worry about useless things like that.

His breath caught in his throat and a sudden spike of anticipation shot through him and coiled in his belly. Before he'd met Mother, he’d never known the possible affects of the earth's own unique brand of speech before. It was unique and registered as his own thoughts, though louder and with auspicious effects.

His eyes felt heavy quite suddenly, his knees weak when Mother only continued to murmur to him at length about nothing. The assault was sweet, hot seduction. It turned his eyes glazed, and made his underwear feel suddenly too tight, too constricting.

“On your knees, that’s it. You’re a good boy.”

Mother watched with gleaming eyes as Kurama sunk to his knees before him, and he played with his crimson hair quite fondly, running the shorter forelocks through his fingers and pulling it back away from his face, forcing him to look up at him while one hand anchored in his hair and his other pulling up his chin so that he could look at Kurama without having to bend down.

“I enjoyed fucking you in your old body. Sadly I missed the chance to be your first in this body too, I find it a shame that such a gift was wasted on the fire demon.”

Kurama’s lips parted, and he breathed in a deep breath of air, then his eyes closed and he frowned as if he was trying to concentrate. “It was not wasted…” his slurred words were quiet and feeble.

You let the fire demon fuck you before me? Have you no loyalty? Do you remember what happened the last time you pissed me off, I reminded you, gently, of who you belonged to. I have half a mind to do worse this time, and again and again until you realise. You’re mine Kurama. No one else will ever posses you as much as I do.

Kurama’s eyes closed and he tilted his head back. Mother caressed his cheekbone with the tips of his fingers as his lips parted with an unrestrained moan.

“Now that you’re more compliant, Kurama, I’ll tell you what you’re going to do.” He waited for an objection, but none was given. Mother’s lips pulled up, in this body and perhaps this mindset as well, Kurama was much more malleable.

If Mother had forgotten himself, he would have purred and coiled around Kurama, holding him close until he was torn from his arms. But he had to settle with distancing himself and letting Kurama continue on his own from here. This last meeting could be all business, or it could be fun too. Another lesson to remind him just whose body that actually was, and in whose image he was made in.

“Take your clothes off.”

He stood back and watched as Kurama obeyed. He cooed useless things in his mind, just enough to keep Kurama’s mind fogged and wanton.

The button up shirt went first, then the dark undershirt. Mother smiled perversely as his skin was bared and he itched to touch that pale soft human skin. Kurama was intoxicating. He moved with grace and sly purpose even when his mind was forcefully pushed below layers of forced arousal and hot words.

Kurama’s hands paused at the buttons of his jeans, and his head lowered, hair hanging to cover his face. Mother tilted his head and placed a hand on his hip.

“Keep going.”

There was silence, and for a long time Kurama didn’t move or speak. There was just the setting sun and the odd coloured light it cast into the room, Mother’s tall figure and Kurama’s seemingly submissive form kneeling with his hands at the fastenings of his jeans.

Outside somewhere outside a bird sung.

“I can’t…”

Mothers eyes narrowed in a furious glare. “Why not? I don’t think you have a choice in this Kurama. I’ll fuck you no matter what excuses you come up with, it’s for your own good.” He screamed the same words in Kurama’s head, loud enough to cause dual pain and pleasure.

“…Hiei—”

Kurama’s violent struggles were useless against Mother’s sudden assault. He pushed at Mother’s hands, kicked and twisted violently, clawed at his bed and the corner of his desk for some sort of support or at least leverage but Mother handled him as if his strength was nothing. Normally he would have reached for his seeds but considering his opponent such weapons were rendered useless.

Mother forced him to kneel before the bed and pulled his arms up. He felt the slither of vines before he sensed them, circling around his neck and holding his wrists to the nape of his neck. He turned his head to the side so he could breathe and strands of his fair fell in his face.

“You’re not playing very nicely Kurama. You haven’t changed a bit.”

He felt Mother’s hands at his waistband and he growled despite the want and need inside him. He tried to pull himself up—which required a little more effort than usual because of the lack of ability to use his hands—but one of Mother’s hands slipped from his waist and shoved him back down again, violently.

He huffed angrily and glared, feeling the old sensation of rebellion creeping up. With Hiei it was never like this, if it was it was under different mind frames, he submitted himself willingly. This was not what could be considered a totally consensual encounter.

A hand caressed his cock through his jeans, palm pressing down on him, teasing him through the worn fabric. Mother’s lips brushed against his bared shoulder as his other hand tightened in his hair and held him bent over the bed, face pressed into the mattress.

He bit his lips when the coolness of the air caressed his skin after Mother yanked his jeans down and left them to pool at his knees while he laid a hand on the inside of Kurama’s thighs and manipulated him into a position where his knees were spread as far as the jeans allowed him and he may as well have been on all fours. His ass was bared, presented like a gift, to Mother.

His breathing stuttered as Mother yanked at his hair, sending sharp twinges of annoying pain through him, and a hand cared one of the globes of his ass, groping and massaging delectably.

“Nothing to say now, Kurama? Are you still thinking about Hiei even while I force you to submit to me, where your rightful place is.”

“You have no authority over who I chose to fuck,” he hissed and clenched his eyes closed, then grit his teeth when Mothers hand slid from his ass to around the inside of his thigh. He felt his weight pressing down on his back, and the scratch of the patterned quipao against his skin.

He wouldn’t ask, he wouldn’t beg, he’d hold his cries and moans in, he’d refuse to bend to Mother’s will.

Mother retraced the scars on the inside of his thigh that ran dangerously close to his femoral artery. Those were the scars he’d received from Mother the last time he’d managed to annoy him, though that had been in a different body.

Oh, I think I do.

Kurama clenched his eyes closed and his cock jumped with the sudden spike of lust that rammed through him. In such an open and vulnerable position, he couldn’t help but feel exited and Mother’s words in his head didn’t help.

He moaned and arched his back as much as he could, fidgeting with his restrained hands until he interlaced them together and clutched at each hand tightly. He wouldn’t ask, he wouldn’t beg, he’d hold his cries and moans in, he’d refuse to bend to Mother’s will

“I transferred this scar so that you would remember me, always. But you forgot. You forgot me.”

“Mother,” he moaned into the no longer straight sheets of his bed. Precome dribbled in a long, teasingly cool line down the underside of his cock, and Kurama struggled to calm his breathing.

His chuckle filled the whole room, but Kurama felt his lips against his knuckles, and his long odd tongue tracing over each of his fingers, then down to between his shoulders blades, tracing down his spine kissing and licking a wet line. He nipped at Kurama’s skin with his sharp teeth just above the crevice of his ass, and Kurama bolted his eyes closed.

He wouldn’t ask… he wouldn’t beg, he’d hold his cries and moans in, he’d refuse to bend to Mother’s will. But oh…how he wanted a cock in his ass, fucking him out of his mind and leaving his spent and exhausted.

Hiei would be furious, Inari help him if Mother and he ever met face to face.

Fingers caressed his ass and he heard Mother’s breathless chuckle once more as the globes of his ass were parted—he wouldn’t beg!—and he felt the hot slick slide of Mother’s tongue against his puckered hole.

His mantra was forgotten, he released a cry and shuddered, pressing back against Mother as he licked and teased at his hole. He pulled at the binds around his wrists, but it only made the smooth leather-like vine around his neck tighten uncomfortably.

He bit his lower lip, stifling further cries as the tongue pulled and then came back, slick with saliva once again and dipped inside him, drawing in and out slowly at a depth a human’s tongue could never had reached. Then it curled and sent a violent shock of pure bliss though him.

“Nnhaaa!” He shuddered and writhed, pulling at his hands once again and unintentionally silencing himself as the vine around his neck pulled tight.

He gasped for air, his mouth fell open and his spine arched when Mother’s tongue hit that spot once again. He pushed back against him as much as he could, and pressed his cheek into the mattress, wanting more. Face flushed, panting and needy he moaned loudly and then mewled when Mother’s tongue disappeared from him once again.

“Seeing you like this again makes me very hard Kurama.” Mother’s voice was husky and thick, more masculine than feminine. He heard the rustle of material, felt the displacement of cool air behind him, and then the touch of a warm hand on his hip, holding him still.

Something thick, blunt, wet and hot pressed against the crevice of his ass and pushed sliding between the round globes of his ass, back and forth, barely pressing against his balls before sliding back again. Mother’s sizable cock.

Kurama shuddered and pressed back against him, the hand on his lip allowed him the movement and he sighed gratefully as he pressed his check into the mattress.

There were wet sounds and something cool dribbled down his thigh, thick and sap-like, he knew it had to be Mother’s amber saliva. Thicker and sweeter than most, mimicking the insides of the sap trees and watery fluids that ran through alive bark and roots.

Mother was sucking on his fingers.

“Mother…” he breathed, the anticipation and need far greater than self preservation. “Just—don’t need anymore…”

More fluid dribbled down his thigh, and the liquid trailed down his leg slowly, curving in a line and loosing itself in the material of his jeans at his bent knees. Mother laughed loudly, and his long fingernails gripped at his hip, digging into his skin. The teasing wet slide of his cock disappeared and the considerably thinner wet heat of his nails replaced it, focusing on his hole.

Careful of his long sharp nails, Mother slipped his fingers inside Kurama’s ass and watched with delight as the hole swallowed one then two of his fingers, bit by greedy bit. He watched the awkward arch of Kurama’s back, and lowered himself to look at his engorged cock from between his legs.

Kurama cried out in agonized pleasure when his tongue licked and caressed his balls carefully, gently, while his fingers pumped in him with agonizing slowness, scissoring and adding a third finger, pointedly ignoring the spot that would send pleasure ricocheting right through him.

Kurama’s teeth dug a whole in his lower lip and he writhed and furrowed his brow, unsure of whether to push back into the tormenting fingers or forward down towards Mother’s waiting mouth.

“See.” Hot breath ghosted along his cock and Kurama chocked on a whimper. “If you’re good to me, I give you what you want. I don’t like him though, Kurama, he’s not like the other one you had, yet you seem to care for this one a great deal more.”

Oh, why did Mother force him to think about Hiei when he was in such an open, vulnerable state?

“I would have included him in this if you hadn’t been so stubborn. He’d be fucking your mouth while I fucked you, just like last time. Or perhaps we’d both be in you, stretching you to the limit, and we’d both be clawing at you and moaning your name. I’m always willing to compromise, provided you’re a good little vixen.”

It was degrading, the way he called him a vixen and put images in his head between long, languid lucks at his cock and sudden hard thrusts of his fingers in his ass. He whimpered loudly, and repeated to himself that he wouldn’t beg for this, he wouldn’t he had his pride and his morals and he wouldn’t bend them anymore than he already had.

“Mother,” he gasped and coughed, lacing his fingers back together behind his head again when the vine pulled tight again.

“Ask nicely and I’ll consider it. Who knows, if you do well enough I might even let you keep him.”

His tongue and fingers disappeared, his whole presence left Kurama and he panted, his cock achingly hard and his mind clouded with need.

“Mother, fuck me. Please, ah, I want…”

That same chuckle again, mocking him. Hands grasped his hips and pulled him back until his forehead rested on the edge of the bed and he could see his own knees, coiled in the legs of his jeans, and Mother’s knees between his. The green material of the qipao was absent.

The blunt head of Mother’s cock pressed against him, and slid, up and down, between the globes of his ass once again. Taunting him.

“Again.”

Kurama’s eyes flew wide at that unexpected voice. His breath hitched. He would have tried to move if it wasn’t for his bonds and the awkward position that make him ache after waiting so long.

“Hi-Hiei...!”

“Again, fox.”

Mother’s hands were on his hips, and his cock was nudging at his hole, but still there was the touch of another hand on his shoulder, and the sudden appearance of a black boot in his limited field of vision.

“Oh, Inari,” Kurama rasped. He thought he might pass out if this got to his head any more than it already had. He felt as if he’d come just from hearing Hiei’s voice and knowing the implications of his presence. “You bastards.”

Mother’s hands tightened on his hips and his cock pressed against his entrance. His voice was thick and distracted. The torment, the shock of Hiei’s presence—how long had he been there?—and his own craving to be fucked and used into oblivion finally caught up with him. “Kurama, if you want something you have to ask for it.”

All resistance fell apart.

“Please fuck me, please! Mother…Hiei!”

Mother finally granted him his wish, and his thick cock slid into his ass, all the way, forcing Kurama wide and filling him wonderfully. He gasped and writhed as he pressed back against Mother to meet his cock, then halted his actions when the mattress dipped under the weight of a body. He worried he’d slip from the edge if he moved too much.

Hiei sat beside him, hands to himself, watching Mother’s cock slide unhindered, in and out of Kurama’s ass, and delighting in the guttural moans it caused in the both of them.

Kurama was distraught, but oh so pleased with the constant swells of pleasure that filled him and made him cry out with every deep slow thrust. He wanted to look up at Hiei, wanted to question, but the bonds kept him as still as surely as the pleasure did.

He was entranced by the rock of Mother’s hips and the burst of pleasure that cleared his mind of all else. He’d been close to orgasm before, now it was lay tantalizingly just out of his grasp. Mother’s slow even thrusts weren’t enough, he wanted, needed more.

He writhed and gasped, his face flushed, eyes shut tight, mouth open, forehead pressing against the very corner of the mattress and his fingers interlaced at the back of his head. His hair flowed down either side of him and stuck to his sweat slicked skin.

“Kkhhnnn… make me come…I want…please…”

Obligingly, Mother reached under, and traced his hand along the scars on his inner thigh pointedly before reaching for his cock and wrapping his fingers around him. His fingers toyed with Kurama’s weeping cock like it was a toy, and existed solely for his enjoyment.

Kurama wailed and writhed, he bucked and choked himself unintentionally. The strain of the position which seemed so simple was taxing, and he needed to come. He was so close that that preverbal cliff and could feel the slow approach that would sent him over. His cock ached, his arms ached his back screamed, his ass delighted in the sordid constant filling.

He felt Mother arch down over him, felt his teeth at his shoulder blades, nipping and his breasts at his back. Hiei reach over and fisted a hand in his hair and yanked his head up, it hurt because he was pulling the rest of him up too.

Kurama forced himself to open his eyes and look at Hiei, gasping for air, flushed and so very close to coming.

“Come.”

Hiei’s crimson eyes were hard and the line of his mouth stern yet there was adoration in his manner. That glimpse of Hiei, past the hardness of his exterior, was what made him come.

Hard.

He screamed and lost himself. His fingers unlocked and the vine at his neck tightened, turning his cries into desperate gasps for air. But it was beautiful and all he could see and feel was the pure white colour of bliss and Hiei’s watchful eyes.

His come dribbled from Mother’s hand as he still worked Kurama’s cock, his uneven thrusts in Kurama’s ass slowing as he too came, pulled along by the exquisite pull of Kurama’s walls, the sounds of his child’s cries, and the watchful carnelian eyes of Hiei.

When the world came back after a moment of utter loss and sudden emptiness he found himself free of his bonds and in mid air, suddenly pressed into Hiei’s arms by an extra pair of hands as Hiei leant against the wall, seated on the bed still.

Hiei’s arms wrapped around his waist and pulled his still reeling form further onto the bed, where he slumped like a limp doll against the smaller demon’s hard body, fucked and exhausted.

Mother pulled his jeans off the rest of the way and stroked the calf of one of his legs with fondness, looking up at them both, flickering like he was the bad reception on a TV screen and then turning into pure shadow.

At some point it had turned night, and the moonlight passed through his form like light through water. Kurama shifted against Hiei, pulling his knees up either side of Hiei’s hips so that he could rest his head against the smaller demon’s shoulder.

The oddness of Mother’s voice was the only sound in the room, other than Kurama’s harsh breathing.

“It is done. You’ll do great things in this body, Kurama.”

He closed his eyes, his hands resting down by his own knees, and sighed. Ganged up on by Mother and Hiei, he had no choice but to accept his fate.

With his parting words said, Mother’s shadows dispersed and leaked into the air like wisps of spent smoke. His departure left the room feeling suddenly empty, and that taste of recognition left Kurama’s tongue. The window began to drip water as the ice melted, and light glinted of the black sunglasses left in the middle of the room.

There was silence for a long time, where Kurama rested against Hiei and caught his breath, and Hiei stayed silent and unmoving, his hands warm against the bare skin of his lower back. Kurama winced as he felt Mother’s come leek from his ass slide down his thigh.

“Hiei?”

Kurama turned his head into Hiei’s neck and looked up at him.

Hiei’s lips tugged up just slightly, and his crimson eyes glimmered a brilliant shade of carnelian in the moonlight. His hold on Kurama shifted and Kurama squirmed a little as Hiei’s finger slipped between the crevices of his ass and toyed with his leaking hole, rubbing Mother’s come into his skin.

“I won’t fuck you tonight,” Hiei murmured. “Let the contract settle.”

Kurama frowned and pushed himself back to look at Hiei properly, who looked back at him with a blank expression that turned sly and amused with a single quirk of an eyebrow. His hands fell to Kurama’s hips.

“How long were you watching?”

“Now is your chance to be a hero, fox.” Hiei’s voice was tinged with his own kind of dry mocking. His eyes looked heavy, as if it was he that had been fucked within an inch of his life and now had to deal with the lethargy.

Kurama snorted and rested his head against Hiei’s shoulder again. “If I wasn’t so worn out I’d teach you a lesson.”

“Or we could revise on the one you just had.”