Adult-FanFiction.org : YuYu Hakusho

Into the Gray	By : Dementian Category: Yuyu Hakusho > Yaoi - Male/Male > Kurama/Kuwabara Views: 2206 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho and make zero money off of it.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Being awoken from a drugged sleep to a sober consciousness was a strange experience and one that Kurama did not enjoy. His brain, warped by centuries of experience and awareness, was suddenly back to the common stages of infancy that asked for comfort and feared pain. He knew he was on a bed, he knew the room was lit, and voices were about him bubbly and bright. He could not fully remember the conversation that Shiori and Jiro had shared, but he knew that Yusuke had suffered and that his father was responsible. He knew that Shiori had been greatly upset by his condition, and that he needed to apologize to her promptly. When Kurama opened his eyes, though, he found Shiori was not even in the room. Instead he was surrounded by Kazuma, Yusuke, Keiko, Yukina, and even Shizuru who was still wearing her officer’s uniform. There were thick blankets atop his body, and tubes laid upon his chest, keeping him still with his head deeply nestled into a warm pillow. Machines on either side of him whirred with life; their beeps and hums proclaimed all was well, but there was a deep bone grinding ache in Kurama’s body that he knew was the result of surgery and being shot several times.
   It was daytime, and his friends were sharing ice cream. This was an odd delicacy to indulge in given the time of year, but Kurama could sense they’d bought it simply because they craved its comfort. It was soothing to eat ice cream, and seeing him in a hospital bed might have been putting them at a great unease. Kazuma certainly looked wane and pale, his expression drawn as he fingered the small cup of chocolate ice cream in his hands. The others were eating, but he was not, and instead had his hand upon Kurama’s. Their fingers were interlaced; Kazuma was running his thumb gently over the fleshy mound of Kurama’s palm.
   Kurama squeezed his hand.
   Kazuma looked over at once, eyes widening as he saw Kurama was awake, and Kurama tried to sit up only to have Kazuma stop him halfway. The others were watching now, observing how stiff and frail Kurama was as he relaxed back into his bed and simply smiled at them.
   He could see it; the fear.
   “I find it queer that I get shot, and you get ice cream.”
   Yusuke looked down at his half-finished cup, then looked back up with that playful smirk Kurama so enjoyed seeing. A sign of the normal Yusuke, who did not cry on the stairs or suffer a perverted adult’s sexual whims.
   “You snooze, you lose,” Yusuke teased. “Your boyfriend got you ice cream. You can thank him.”
   Kurama smiled at Kazuma, unsurprised to find that Kazuma had gotten him a cup of pistachio ice cream... his favorite kind. Kazuma noticed everything, of course he would have seen a carton of that particular flavor hiding in Kurama’s ice box when he’d been over at Kurama’s apartment. It was really wonderful, to love someone so intuitive and attentive.
   Kazuma couldn’t smile back.
   “I’m fine,” Kurama tried to soothe, but it was clear Kazuma did not believe it. “Really, I’m fine.”
   Kazuma looked away, hanging his head in great shame.
   “This isn’t your fault,” Kurama said. He wanted so badly to comfort Kazuma, to hold him and to explain that if this was anybody’s fault it was his own for telling Matsuri where he lived and making him think that he could come to him for money. He tried to sit up a second time, and this time Shizuru helped him so that as he sat up she propped his pillow behind his lower back. Now with the support he needed, Kurama could join the conversation fully, and not look frail upon his back.
   “If I had been there-“ Kazuma began, his voice deep and dark with bitter regret.
   “We would still have been facing ten armed assailants,” Kurama reminded him. Even if Kazuma had been there, it didn’t change the fact that they’d been grievously outnumbered and unable to use their spirit energy. Even now, Kurama was wondering if he was going to be facing charges from spirit world have hurling a knife into a mundane human’s eye. But the wounds on his stomach sharply reminded him that the human in question had been far from mundane. Kazuma still wasn’t looking at him.
   “Bro, you need to let this go,” Shizuru said, wise beyond her years. It was very strange to see her in a policeman’s uniform, with a radio on her shoulder and a gun at her hip. Yukina sat beside her, keeping their sherbets cold. She seemed very weary, as if she hadn’t slept much lately. She was hesitant to meet Kurama’s eyes, and Kurama could understand why. He had practically thrown Yukina down the stairs; he hoped she would forgive him for that. Keiko was likewise shaken, sitting on Yusuke’s lap for lack of another chair and sucking on her spoon. She gave Kurama a small smile, which warmed him greatly as he remembered how brave she’d been in the face of a smoking gun. Keiko was not a fighter, but she had put herself into grave danger by protecting Kurama. Before Yusuke and Kazuma had burst through that door, Keiko had almost taken a bullet for him.
   That was an odd feeling, to look at her and know the depth of their friendship.
   “How can I ever let this go?” Kazuma demanded angrily, glaring at his sister from across the bed. Shizuru rolled her eyes.
   “What do you want me to say?” Kurama asked. “That I hate you for not predicting the unpredictable?”
   “I want you to tell me I’m a sack of shit for letting you get hurt!” Kazuma snapped, his eyes fierce as they bore into Kurama’s own. There, past the rage, was a deeply hurting man.
   Kurama could hear that man crying out, begging for redemption from an offense that he did not fully understand.
   “... could you give us a few minutes alone?” Kurama asked, his eyes falling on Yusuke first, though he looked at everyone else in turn. They were more than happy to oblige, taking their ice cream cups with them to eat outside as they left the room. Yusuke was the last out, and he closed the door behind him.
   Kazuma looked away from Kurama again. He even pulled his fingers free of Kurama’s grasp, setting the cup of ice cream aside to stare glumly into his lap.
   Kurama reached out with both hands, careful of his IV’s, and gently stroked Kazuma’s handsome face. “Look at me,” he said.
Kazuma was reluctant, but he finally did look at Kurama. The pain there was intense now, burning and bright with no one else in the room to distract or hide from.
   “... You saved my life,” Kurama whispered. “It was my fault that those men entered our home. Matsuri lied to me. He told me a very ... convincing story about his supposed goodness. I told him where we lived. When he came, I knew the truth, and I confronted him brusquely. He tried to intimidate Yusuke- that’s why Yusuke was crying upon the stairs.” Kurama broke off, shaking his head, “Matsuri...” Kurama looked at the door; he was unsure if people could hear him from the other side. He sat up a little better and put his face closer to Kazuma’s.
   “Matsuri was the one who forced himself upon Yusuke when he was young.” Kurama murmured. Kazuma’s eyes flickered wide, his nostrils flaring. Kurama put several fingers over his mouth, wanting to keep Kazuma calm and still until his temper was under control. “Yusuke was afraid of him, and I was very angry. Matsuri sent those men because I threatened to call the police. What happened was not your fault. It was mine... and I paid the price.” Kurama dropped his fingers from Kazuma’s mouth, his whisper finished.
   “... They were going to kill me, Kazuma,” Kurama said. “They were going to kill me and Keiko both.”
   Kazuma swallowed audibly. Kurama could only imagine the utter hell that Kazuma had been put through these past few days. How many nights had he sat here at Kurama’s side? How long had Kurama been in the hospital? He knew the answer was one in the same, that Kazuma had stayed with him endlessly as soon as Shiori had told the nurses he was allowed in the room. Poor Kazuma. Poor sweet Kazuma.
   “But when you came through the door, and I saw you above me, I knew I was saved,” Kurama said, and he smiled at the expression of tender surprise blossoming across Kazuma’s tense face. “I wondered if perhaps that red pinky string had helped you.”
   Kazuma snorted, remembering the words he’d spouted in his youth. “I don’t need that string to know you’re the one,” he said.
   It could very well have been the Dilaudid coursing through his system, but suddenly there were tears in Kurama’s eyes and he was beaming at Kazuma. It overwhelmed him, to know that he was so loved by someone who was so kind and strong. After the ugly mars of his past, he could now face the future with hope and joy, and he kissed Kazuma, unable to hide the small hiccups that burst from his mouth against Kazuma’s own. Kazuma ran a loving hand up and down the side of his face, those broad knuckles making him feel warm and safe.
He was in love with Kazuma, in love because he knew no other way. In love because Kazuma had injected within him a soft gray world that seeped into his skin and touched all things, bringing him comfort and peace.
   Kurama existed in the black and white, in the wrong and the right. In the persecutions of evil doers, and the reasoning that he himself was at times evil. But he lived, he thrived, in the gray. In Kazuma.
   “I love you,” Kurama whispered upon his lips, and he had never meant the words more.
   “I love you, too,” Kazuma replied, soft and low. When he looked down next, it was with a cheeky smile. “I got you ice cream.”
   “Can I have some?” Kurama asked with a smile, and Kazuma reached over to pick up the pistachio ice cream. Kurama was perfectly capable of feeding himself despite laying in a hospital bed, but still when Kazuma spooned a dollop into his mouth he did not object or resist. The ice cream was salty and sweet, cool upon his tongue, and as Kazuma dragged the spoon back out, Kurama could not help but reaching in for another kiss.
   “If you two are done being gay,” Yusuke drawled irritably from the door, “I wanna finish my goddamn ice cream.”
   Kazuma laughed, gesturing for them to all come back inside, and as Shizuru saw her brother smiling she smiled back. They retook their seats, and began eating again as Kurama joined in. It was utterly delightful, to eat ice cream from someone else’s spoon in front of his friends. Kurama almost felt like blushing, but every time he grew embarrassed, he’d feel that spoon in his mouth and his hunger would burn deep within him. Let them see, he did not care.
   “You two are so cute it hurts.” Yusuke made a fake retching noise. Kazuma kicked him underneath Kurama’s hospital bed.
   “I’d be jealous but you did make such a wonderful speech when you punched those assholes in the face,” Keiko teased him. Yusuke grinned, quite cocky as he stretched a little in his chair and allowed his hand to wrap around Keiko’s waist. She was wearing a short skirt with thick wool tights, and Yusuke’s fingers played idly upon them, stroking the soft flesh that was just beneath. He was insatiable, but Keiko took it in her stride, leaning in to put on a fake, gruff voice.
   “Did you come in my house-?” Keiko repeated Yusuke’s line. He laughed. “Did you pull a gun at my wife? Did you shoot my friend?”
   “Every man has to make a choice about what he’ll put up with,” Kurama chimed in, quite enjoying making Yusuke blush.
   “And I’m puttin’ my foot down.” Keiko tapped her high heeled shoe upon the floor in mock imitation of Yusuke stamping his own boot, “Cause I ain’t puttin’ up with this!” And with that she kissed Yusuke.
   “Well...” Yusuke said, grinning blissfully as she kissed him again, softly near the ear. “I was pissed, what can I say?”
   “And rightfully so,” Kurama agreed.
   “Heck, he threw a guy out the window,” Yusuke added, gesturing to Kazuma. Kazuma wasn’t paying attention, he was still feeding Kurama ice cream. Kurama was listening though, and he suddenly pulled back to give Kazuma a wide smile.
   “My hero,” Kurama said, and he reached forward to kiss Kazuma upon the lips.
   Shizuru was sitting across from them, Yusuke was right next to them, and Kazuma tensed when Kurama’s lips pressed against his own, but Kurama soothed him with the sweetest of touches upon his hand. Yusuke jeered, but Keiko was snipping at him to hush and grow up.
   When Kurama pulled back, Kazuma was incredibly red, but wearing a tiny smile that betrayed his inner delight.
   Yusuke made another retching noise. Keiko retaliated, and smacked him hard in the groin.

~*~

   Kurama had to stay another three days at Sariashiki Hospital before he could convince his doctor that he was well enough to leave. Kazuma brought him a fresh change of clothes from home, and it felt brilliantly uplifting to slide into comfortable jeans and pull a sweater over his head. He was weak, and it was difficult to walk what with the throbbing pain in his legs and chest. His stab wounds were covered in thick pads of gauze, and pain medication made him feel nauseous, but Kazuma held him around the waist and so Kurama managed to walk out of the hospital without much difficulty and onto the bright snowy streets of the city.
   Shiori came to help him finish his paperwork, and Jiro agreed to drive them home (since Yusuke was at work and Kurama certainly didn’t need to be riding on a motorcycle). It was strange, having their parents sit in the front seat while they two sat in the back. It was almost like they were children again. Pulling up in front of their house, Kurama was relieved to see his shop was in one piece and had not been assaulted by another angry mob. It was closed and dark, with a sign taped to the front scrawled in Yusuke’s messy handwriting that said ‘Closed due to Family Emergency.’ Kurama was quite touched that Yusuke would consider his blunder and consequent injury a family emergency.
   The four of them made their way up the stairs, and when they opened the door Kurama found quite a lot had changed.
   When he’d last been in the apartment, the walls had not been finished, and they had had beige carpet in the living room. Now they had hard wood floors, and the walls were done. Their furniture was placed about, and their valuables were sitting upon shelves and in cabinets... it was almost as if they’d lived there for years, and not days. To finish the perfect picture, Eikichi was resting comfortably on the couch, curled into a fat calico ball and purring softly in the quiet. Poor Eikichi, she’d been in the bedroom when the entire affair had gone down; had the gunshots frightened her? She didn’t seem too troubled, but Kurama was determined to bring her a can of white fin tuna from the local market as soon as he was able.
   “Well damn, Shuichi,” Jiro said, looking about their finished home. “Did you get shot in here? Because I can’t tell!”
   Admittedly it didn’t appear to be a room where an attempted double homicide had occurred.
   “The minute I was able to, I changed everything,” Kazuma explained as Shiori shut the door behind them and looked about. She was eager to comb the place, touching the walls and peeking into the kitchen to see what amenities she offered... ever a mother despite Kurama being an adult. “It was terrifying when I first got back. There were bullet holes in the wall and blood was all over the carpet.’
   “Oh, but this is lovely,” Shiori murmured, sounding eager to avoid the topic of gunshots and blood when Kurama was still wearing his hospital bracelet. “And the wood matches the shop below.”
   “Yeah, I thought so too!” Kazuma said. Shiori walked over to the couch to scratch Eikichi fondly behind the ears, and rolled onto her back at once to offer Shiori her enlarged sensitive stomach. Jiro was too interested in checking out the renovations Kazuma had employed to pay Eikichi any mind; he’d lived with the cat for years, he was more than accustomed to her charms. “Wood is so warm and inviting.”
   “And it really makes this room open up.”
   Kurama would have greatly enjoyed staying and sharing in the conversation, but his strength was wearing out fast. Without access to his spirit energy, Kurama was weak and needed sleep after the drive from the hospital and the walk up the stairs. Shiori noticed this, and offered him her arm; he selfishly took it as she helped him into the bedroom.
   It was incredible, to see the California king bed that they had bought, made up and nestled in the corner like it had always been there. The thought that this was his bed, their bed, baffled Kurama even as Shiori helped him to lay down upon it. The sheets were cool and soft beneath his sweaty fingers, and as he slipped off his shoes he slid his feet under the covers. His head was very heavy upon the pillow, and though he was wearing a sweater he still felt oddly cold for a moment as he grew accustomed to the temperature.
   “You stay there,” Kazuma warned in good humor from the doorway.
   “I have no plans to move,” Kurama mumbled, eyes closing upon the tranquil scene. He felt his mother’s lips press soft and sweet onto his forehead.
   He heard the door close, and in the sudden quiet Kurama thought temporarily of going to sleep. He could hear Shiori and Jiro moving farther away, back towards the stairs. They no doubt would leave, thinking Kurama in Kazuma’s capable hands. If he so chose, he could sleep now and possibly recover with a more natural pace.
   But Kurama had grown impatient in his pain.
   Kurama sat up in bed, taking his wrist to his mouth in order to pull off the hospital band. With it gone, Kurama pulled his sweater up over his head. He was covered in gauze and bandages, and quickly set to pulling them off. The tape stung at his skin as he ripped it away; he paused every now and then to listen for Shiori. He could no longer hear her voice, and could sense her slipping farther away. She was leaving.
   It took Kurama around fifteen minutes before he had pulled off all his bandages, and he smiled as Kazuma opened the door to poke his head in the room. He saw Kurama, sitting up with a pile of gauze at his feet, and could not help but laugh.
   “I was going to tell you, they’re gone,” Kazuma said.
   “Good.” Kurama smiled at him. “This will be simple work. Give me about an hour or so and I should be fine.”
   “I’m going to get dinner started,” Kazuma told him, smiling as he left the room. The door remained open, and after a few minutes Eikichi came in to sit on the bed next to Kurama. Concentrating his energy in his hands, Kurama began to pour healing rays into each of his wounds, starting with the gun shots. It was an expanse of energy, and on an empty stomach it made him light headed, but he was eager to be done with the pain that lingered in his body. He could sense the wounds closing, could feel his muscles beginning to knit back together. Once or twice he had to stop to roll his neck and take a deep calming breath.
   The smell of pizza was beginning to tickle his nose; his aching body longed to eat, to gain nourishment and sleep, but he had other priorities first.
Finally, Kurama felt satisfied with his updated condition when he looked down at his body and saw that all the bruised and ugly cuts were now simply red and the tissue was pale pink in newly formed scars. Able to rise from the bed and dispose of his wasted gauze, he suddenly realized that he was standing in his house... that he was home and could relax fully for the first time in days. The breath that passed through his lips was soft and sweet as a tension began to melt from his shoulders down his spine. He’d removed his jeans and sweater in order to deal with his wounds, and now he was cold again; he quickly fished out a pair of jogging pants, and was suddenly inspired to pick up one of Kazuma’s larger sweat shirts from where it was cast over the back of a chair. He pulled it on, and felt encased in the scent of Kazuma’s warmth. The fabric smelt of him, of his sweat, and Kurama breathed it in deeply. It was a thick spice upon the air.
   Kurama left the bedroom and padded down the hall, enjoying the smooth feeling of newly installed wood beneath his feet. The lights were off in the living room, giving it a cool and quiet view in the soft afternoon light. Kazuma was in the kitchen, having just pulled a pizza out of the oven, and Kurama could not help but admire him for a moment while Kazuma did not know he was looking. It was hot in the kitchen from the oven being in use, and Kazuma had taken off his sweater so that only his undershirt remained. It was thin and white, allowing glimpses of the bulging muscles underneath; Kurama chewed his bottom lip, remembering the feel of those muscles beneath his fingers when Kazuma kissed him so deeply.
   Kurama longed to run his fingers over that supple flesh once again. To feel those powerful and smooth hands tight upon his own skin, dragging him down to a place without a name. Without an end.
   Kazuma looked over his shoulder and smiled. Kurama had been caught.
   “You wearin’ my sweatshirt now?” Kazuma’s voice was sweet like honey to Kurama’s ears.
   Kurama shrugged. “I find it agreeable.” Kurama toyed with the strings of the hoodie.
   He walked over to Kazuma, and kissed him, then. It was such an incredible feeling, to kiss this man in his house (in their house), and know that he had reached a place of shelter and safety. He could not imagine a feeling being duplicated anywhere else.
   “I think you just want pizza, so you’re trying to sweeten me up,” Kazuma toyed.

   “Maybe.” Kurama kissed Kazuma again, inwardly delighted when Kazuma let his hand begin to drift from Kurama’s back to his waist. Suddenly Kurama realized what he wanted, and why he wanted it, and felt awkwardly out of synch with his usual self as he pressed his hands against Kazuma’s broad barrel chest.
   It was not in his nature to truly seek out sex. He enjoyed when it was present, but he didn’t crave it as others did. Now, in Kazuma’s arms, he wanted to be held captive. To taste sweat upon his tongue and allow his power to unfurl around Kazuma. He supposed if the night went in that direction he would enjoy it, but he wondered if Kazuma had wanted it for longer, and held back patiently. Kazuma was not like Kurama; he cared tenderly for each embrace and moment of affection, wanting Kurama to feel transcended from the world in which they were forced to live. Kurama knew that Kazuma desired deeper affection because Kazuma was the embodiment of affection. Generosity, nourishment, adoration, and support... all these things poured from him, wrapping Kurama tight in an impenetrable net of joy. The very house that they stood in, the shop below it as well... all these things were because of Kazuma.
   They did not eat with grace or with manners; Kurama sat on the counter and ate alongside Kazuma; how queer that they owned a kitchen table but weren’t using it. There would days to come, years really, for them to do so. They did not even bother with plates, instead eating off paper towels. It was undignified and delightful at the same time. Tonight Kurama wanted to sit on the counter and stare about his home; to relish in it and truly appreciate its beauty. Kazuma had installed new lights and ceiling fans for when it would get hot in the summer. For now both were off, the light instead issuing from over the cold stove range. Kurama eyed his new sink windowsill with intrigue, imagining all the little plants he would soon keep there to bask in the sun.
   Kurama ate four slices of pizza, setting a new personal record for himself given that he rarely ate over two and certainly had never gone over three. He supposed after having nothing but barest food in the hospital, his stomach was eager for something solid and greasy.
   “You got sauce right there.” Kazuma reached up, taking Kurama’s chin in his hand and ever so gently licking at the corner of his mouth.
   “You are going to be the death of me,” Kurama whispered, smiling into the kisses he now received.
   “Good,” Kazuma murmured.
   After dinner Kurama and Kazuma set to unpacking their new home. While a great deal of things had already been put away, Kurama still wanted to organize his books as well as set his plants out. The few demonic plants that Kurama had were still dormant and barely active in his absence, something he’d been quick to warn Kazuma about and hide from Shiori or Jiro if they were to visit. Of course, Kurama had been in the hospital but Kazuma had been prepared, hiding the plants behind the couch where none could see them save for Eikichi (and she wasn’t talking). Now taking them back out, Kurama whispering soothing words of comfort and apologies, noting that they were giving him the cold shoulder after supposedly abandoning them.
   One plant in particular with tiny maple leaves of red, gold, and orange unfurled its little vines and wriggled with sudden delight as Kurama took it back into the bedroom and set in the corner near the vent where warm air would be able to nourish its frigid stalks. Kazuma watched it warily from the door, noting that it had several small mouths with sharp teeth.
   “Is that thing gonna strangle me in my sleep?” Kazuma asked.
   “No,” Kurama assured him at once, running his fingers over the leaves with care and infusing them with small bits of what little energy he could spare. The plant quaked underneath his touch, soaking up his aura as a child might a parent’s presence. “It’s a mirror plant. Incredibly dangerous and protective, it will kill anyone who invades upon our home for malicious reasons. Likewise those that give it affection will find it to be a charming house guest.”
   As if to prove his point, the plant made a soft crooning noise, barely audible save to Kurama who sat so close he could hear it.
   “So long as it doesn’t eat my cat,” Kazuma joked.
   Kurama looked around with a rueful grin, and stood back up to kiss Kazuma in the doorway. “I would never let a plant eat Eikichi,” he said.
   “Good.” Kazuma leaned over Kurama, pressing him against the door frame and running a hand absently through Kurama’s thick dark hair, “’Cause if you did, I might just have to leave you.”

   Kurama gasped, turning away from Kazuma’s touch with mock indignation. As Kazuma held his chin in his hand and stroked his hair, Kurama could feel the tension rising up inside him once more, could sense the line between them needing to be dissolved. Kazuma was looking at him as if Kurama held the universe between his lips and the key to heaven in his hands.
   “Kazuma…” The name rolled smooth on his tongue like honey as lifted his chin to meet Kazuma’s tender gaze. “Do you want to make love?”
   Kazuma bristled, his eyes widening for half a second as Kurama’s words sank in. “I mean--“ he scoffed, unable to express himself clearly in his embarrassment. “You just-- you just got out of the hospital.”
   “True,” Kurama agreed. “I needed an hour or so to recuperate, but I feel relatively fine now. I’ve suffered worse, as you know. I wouldn’t be strained to sleep with you.”
   Kazuma’s cheeks just kept getting redder as Kurama reached out and laid his hands gently upon Kazuma’s chest. How he loved feeling the skin there, sensing the heart pound just underneath.
   “I mean…“ Kazuma was looking away now, out across their bedroom to the windows where the city lay beyond, “I- I’ve never... I want to but, not unless I could give you the pleasure you so obviously deserve. I want to please you but... I don’t know if I can,” he whispered, looking down at where their bare feet stood side by side. “I might be horrible at it-“
   Yet he broke off as Kurama let go of his chest to bring his hands up to Kazuma’s upon his face. He interlaced their fingers, and slowly took Kazuma’s down to his backside, allowing Kazuma to take possession of the swell of flesh that lay there. Kazuma bristled at first, but he relaxed as Kurama wrapped his arms around Kazuma’s neck and brought their faces close. He could smell the ginger of Yukina’s soap upon his skin.
   That sweet spice - how it captivated him.

   “Try me,” Kurama said softly. Kazuma brought his head down to Kurama’s, nuzzling their noses and cheeks together as he squeezed and stroked the flesh beneath his hands. Kurama allowed the touch to stimulate him, his lips gentle as they trailed over Kazuma’s cheek.
   “Let me make love to you,” Kurama whispered in his ear.
   “But-“ Kazuma’s voice was so soft, barely upon the air. Kurama could feel the very last of Kazuma’s resolve slipping away as Kurama pressed kiss after kiss onto his cheek.
   “You want this... and I want this,” Kurama assured him. “I want you.” He brought his lips down to kiss Kazuma soundly upon the mouth. He teased Kazuma’s lip between his teeth, kissing the abused flesh sweetly as Kazuma’s breath caught. “Allow me to pleasure you.”
   Kurama slipped a hand down Kazuma’ chest, his fingers finding the hardening flesh of Kazuma’s loins beneath his jeans. He squeezed with purpose, letting his fingers convey the attention he wished to give, and Kazuma gave a low throaty moan at the stimulation as he held even tighter to Kurama’s backside.
   “God, yes...” Kazuma said to no one in particular.
   He kissed Kurama deeply, his hands moving up only to slip beneath the thin cotton of Kurama’s elastic waist band. With no barriers left, he squeezed Kurama’s flesh as hard as he dared, rubbing small circles with his broad thumbs. Kurama could not help but groan, the direct touch filling him up. Kazuma kissed down his neck, finding that place upon Kurama’s neck that made his pulse race wildly. He sucked at the skin, biting and dragging his teeth across till Kurama’s breath came in short but soft pants. Emboldened, Kurama reached for the zipper of Kazuma’s jeans, dragging it down to reach inside and seek the hot flesh that he found there. He squeezed gently, feeling Kazuma’s breath hitch even as he sucked sweetly upon Kurama’s pulse point. Kurama fisted Kazuma’s manhood, dragging his hand repeatedly upon the rigid muscle till the head of his arousal was wet with desire.

   Kazuma was laughing into Kurama’s neck. “You’re crazy,” he whispered.
   “Mmm.” Kurama looked over at the bed, making the bold move to pull his hands and body away from Kazuma only to reach out and fist his shirt in order to drag him along. Step by step they neared the edge of the bed; when they finally bumped into the mattress, Kurama was the first to sit down.
   Kazuma was suddenly nervous again, his hands shaking slightly as they came to entwine in Kurama’s lovely hair.
   Kurama reached to the waist band of Kazuma’s jeans and pushed down, once again with his hand upon Kazuma’s length. He listened to the soft gasps that came from Kazuma’s lips, leaning forward to taste Kazuma’s flesh. He was rewarded with a low moan, and Kurama closed his eyes for a moment as he focused on worshiping Kazuma with his tongue, allowing the salty fluid to pool in his mouth; the taste urged him to keep pushing Kazuma’s jeans down... to expose that well-toned body fully in order to attend to it better.
But Kazuma was urging him back; Kurama went with the tug of his hands, content to let Kazuma move him any way that he chose. Kazuma was pulling off his own sweatshirt over Kurama’s head, Kurama’s bare skin suddenly cold in the darkening light of afternoon. Kazuma reached out to stroke each of the scars upon Kurama’s chest; a strange emotion crossed his face.
   “Don’t,” Kurama whispered.
   Kazuma met his eyes, and Kurama shook his head again in slightest warning. There would be no emotional pain felt upon this bed, no trauma to endure when they were in each other’s arms. This was law, in Kurama’s world, and one that he would obey fully.
   Kurama pushed Kazuma’s shirt up, but sitting upon the bed put him at a disadvantage. Kazuma helped him, taking his shirt in his own hands and pulling it off over his head. Kurama urged him onto the bed, sliding into Kazuma’s lap as he continued to gently run his hands over Kazuma’s hot and needy flesh.
   Once again, he was stopped. Kazuma was turning him in his lap. Kurama was unable to disobey, Kazuma’s grip firm upon his hips, and as Kazuma silently bade him to rise up on his knees, Kurama did so with the full knowledge of what was to come next. He looked over his shoulder, dark hair spilling down his back as he kissed Kazuma sweetly. Kazuma was pushing his jogging pants down, and Kurama let him. It was cold in the bedroom, but with Kazuma’s hard body pressed against his back he was warm. Still, he shuddered as his pants slipped lower and lower. The proof of his own arousal lay between his thighs, and Kazuma ran a hand lovingly upon Kurama’s own flesh as Kurama swiftly kicked his jogging pants away. They fell over the edge of the bed, no longer to be seen as Kurama kissed Kazuma deeper. Kazuma’s tongue slid into his mouth, locking him in a wet embrace as he stroked Kurama’s flesh again and again. Kurama moaned into Kazuma’s mouth, his hands reaching around to grab his firm cheeks. He needed an anchor of some type... he was going under. He was going under and, oh, how good it felt.

   One of Kazuma’s hands was trailing up Kurama’s chest; as it brushed the firm pebble of his nipple Kurama hitched a breath. That hand was in his hair now, but Kurama shook his head, grabbing the hand with one of his own to pull it back down to mouth. He sucked the digit, his tongue slaving away over the rough pad of Kazuma’s finger as Kazuma moaned softly in his ear. Kurama could feel the hot, sticky swell of Kazuma’s erection pressing into his backside; he knew what he wanted. He knew what they needed, and so as he let go of Kazuma’s finger he guided it down to the supple swell of his backside.
   “If you want me to stop,” Kazuma whispered, “You have to tell me now.”
   “Don’t stop.” Kurama shook his head.

   Kazuma was turning him again, kissing him fully upon the mouth; their tongues battled against one another as Kurama threaded his fingers through Kazuma’s hair. Kazuma was laying them back upon the bed; Kurama was suddenly nestled upon their many shared pillows as Kazuma kissed him again and again. The feel of Kazuma completely bared against him, nude and wanting, was unbelievable to Kurama. He wrapped his legs around Kazuma’s thighs, urging him silently forward as Kazuma reached between Kurama’s legs.
   Kazuma bent his head down, gently beginning to bite, suck, and blow at Kurama’s nipples. Kurama groaned, reaching again for Kazuma’s manhood.
   He had expected this to be a game; for him to be the master and to show Kazuma along. The game, however, was turning on him as he felt Kazuma’s slicked finger suddenly pressing to the very core of his being. Kurama held a breath, but could not keep himself still or quiet as Kazuma continued to bite and suck upon his chest. That finger was pushing deeper and deeper, pulling him under with its warm burn. His mouth stretched into a silent ‘o’ as that finger moved within him, caressing him in the sweetest of ways. He’d almost lost concentration of his hand upon Kazuma’s length, and suddenly resumed his stroking with vigor as Kazuma moaned into Kurama’s chest.
   Kazuma was pushing deeper now, a second finger sliding to join the first. Kurama reveled in the burn, groaning aloud as he threw back his head.
   “Rougher,“ Kurama urged, “Make me bleed-“
   But Kazuma’s mouth was blocking his own from forming words, kissing him over and over again with peppered sweetness. “No,” Kazuma murmured between kisses. “Never.”
   Kazuma’s fingers were leaving him, and Kurama suddenly looked up to gaze deeply into Kazuma’s eyes, wanting to see what he might find there.
   Love, pure and deep. Blackened love, full of lust and longing as Kazuma braced himself above Kurama. Kurama could feel his length pressed against Kurama’s entrance, waiting.
   He was waiting for permission, like a gentlemen. Kurama could not help but admire his gentility as he kissed Kazuma, nodding. He said nothing; no words were needed.
   Suddenly, there... Kurama’s head fell back against the pillows as an inarticulate moan slipped past his stretched lips. The burn was incredible, a firm reminder that he would have to invest in lubricant if they were to be sexually active, but Kurama did not care. He needed that burn. He needed that thick girth within him. He needed the punishment; to feel human and susceptible to loss and damage.
   He could not exist without this now. He was dependent forever upon it, upon this burn and this pleasure that Kazuma gave to him so willingly... so fucking willingly.
   Kurama reached forward and held him tenderly with his mouth; his lips, his chin, his neck, his shoulder... Kurama kissed them all in turn as he wrapped his arms tightly about Kazuma’s back. He wanted to press them together, to merge them until nothing remained of their prior halves.
   “God, K’rama--”
   They were moving together now, utterly lost in one another. Suddenly Kazuma’s humanity and Kurama’s wisdom were in the same body. The presence they created was powerful, human and yet wild as Kurama felt his energy expanding from his soul. His eyes rolled up into his head as Kazuma’s hand suddenly found his length. With each sweet rocking movement, Kurama went deeper and deeper into the dark, tossing and turning inside himself as pleasure pushed him to relax, to let go, to simply be.
   Kurama could not take it. He had wished to pleasure Kazuma, but even now, he was the one that was being nurtured. Suddenly it was the ache within his own chest that was being filled as Kazuma moved deeper within him. Ever tender, ever loving, each thrust could have been painful but wasn’t as Kazuma stroked Kurama in tandem-
   But Kazuma was not satisfied.
   He grabbed Kurama about the waist, pulling him upward off the bed. With nowhere else to go but towards Kazuma, Kurama went and was suddenly riding Kazuma in his lap. Their chests, slick with sweat, rubbed together in glorious friction... Kurama kissed Kazuma, unable to concentrate as something deep within him was sparked from Kazuma’s touch.
   His eyes grew wide, each thrust hitting that spot within him again and again- Kurama shook his head, knowing that if it continued he would not be able to control himself; Kazuma did not seem to care, or perhaps it had been his intention all along to make Kurama lose control as he sucked at his neck and urged him on, breathless and sweet.
   “I’m a fast learner,” Kazuma whispered into Kurama’s ear, and Kurama suddenly realized just who was between his thighs- a man of incredible fortitude and skill. Kurama had thought he was in control, but he would learn.
   He would learn, and Kazuma would teach him.
   Kurama let go of all pretenses, riding Kazuma with abandon now as he threw his head back and allowed his dark hair to fall in long flowing tendrils down his back. Kazuma’s hands were upon his waist, anchoring him tight, and Kurama rocked against them.
   Noises were escaping him, soft and keening, that burning pleasure beneath him like a fire that only grew hotter and higher as Kurama allowed himself to experience all of it. To be human, and to ache with want.
   Kazuma brought their foreheads together, kissing Kurama so sweetly upon the mouth and cheek, his lips ghosting over Kurama’s face. Kurama could tell Kazuma was close to letting go, that it was all too much and too raw for either of them to handle.

   Kurama heard his own name upon Kazuma’s lips as he pushed deeper and deeper--
   A heat exploded low in Kurama’s belly, pooling within him; it was all too much, and he let go of his own ecstasy. Their stomachs were coated in Kurama’s release, the pair of them falling in a tangle of sweaty and trembling limbs.
   Kazuma was kissing him upon the neck and cheek; Kurama could not keep from panting. His strength had been robbed from him by this impossibly brave man and his entire existence, which ought not be possible in such a cruel and ugly world. Kazuma held him, his breathing slowly returning to a moderate pace as he looked down upon Kurama.
   Kurama smiled, unaware of the lingering burn between this thighs as a euphoric bliss crept over his face.
   “... Go team,” he whispered. Kazuma snorted, laughing into Kurama’s neck. Kurama held him there, unwilling to let him go.
   He could feel a deep warm hum nagging at him, making his eyes slip closed as Kazuma’s weight settled in beside him. His usually alert and piercing mind was lulled to sleep by the knowledge that he was safe in Kazuma’s embrace. In his lover’s embrace.
   Kurama had never known such a concept before. It both frightened him and fulfilled him.
   The pair of them drifted off, mindless of the fact that Kurama’s once wilted and feeble plant was suddenly blooming and fragrant; large white flowers swayed in the warm heat of the air vent, dispelling their lovely scent across the room.
   Kazuma caught sight of it as he feel asleep.
   “... Weird...” he whispered softly into Kurama’s hair.
~*~
   Kurama woke up somewhere near dawn, and was surprised when he found Kazuma staring down at him. He had been watching him sleep. Kurama smiled absently as Kazuma pressed a gentle kiss onto his sleepy brow.
   For a long while, they stayed there, simply content to be awake and in each other’s arms. Somewhere in the night, Kazuma must have pulled the covers over them for they were now beneath the blankets instead of on top of them where they had started last night. The warm weight soothed Kurama’s fresh scars, and as Kazuma kept himself pressed tight against Kurama, Kurama allowed himself to feel-
   But his sense were alerting him to a weird noise outside the bedroom.

   Kurama sat up, eyes narrowing as he listened intently with a finger pressed upon his lips for silence from Kazuma. Kazuma said nothing, barely moving as he listened too. The footsteps were lithe and subtle, the stride of a battle prone warrior, but the plant at the foot of their bed was not alarmed (though it had bloomed, much to Kurama’s satisfaction). If the plant was not preparing for an attack, then Kurama knew that whoever was visiting them was an ally and not a foe. Yet it was barely dawn- who would visit him at such a...
   Kurama pressed a hand over his mouth, desperate to keep his laugh down. He suddenly knew exactly who was on the other side of the door, and as he laid back down upon his pillow he caught Kazuma’s curious expression. Kurama kept pressing a finger over his lips, yet he could not resist- he reached out to take Kazuma’s face in his own to kiss him lovingly upon the lips.
   It would be a good day to teach Hiei to learn to knock, in any event.
   Kurama knew the door had opened when he heard it creak, and Kazuma whipped his head around at once to see who had entered their room.
   Hiei stood in the doorway, his expression completely devoid of emotion; his face was pale, his eyes wide upon Kurama and Kazuma entwined naked in bed-
   “Hi,” Kurama greeted him, beneath Kazuma and with an uncontrollable grin upon his face.

   Hiei backtracked at once, flying away from the door to start screaming curses in the living room. Kurama laughed aloud now, unable to keep it in. It was a joyous and rare day when Hiei got his just desserts. Kazuma was mortified, burying his face into the pillows with a loud groan as Kurama wrapped his hands around him.
   “Oh my god, oh my god-“ came Kazuma’s muffled voice.

   Hiei expressed similar sentiments outside.
   “What the fuck-! Just-! What the fucking fuck!? What the fuck did I just-!? What-?! How-!? How!?”
   “Hey, Hiei,” Kazuma growled in nasty greeting from his pillow, “Nice to see you too.”
   Hiei seemed to have kicked their bedroom door closed, for it slammed shut loudly.
   Kurama just shook his head, wrapping his arms around Kazuma lovingly. Poor Hiei must have gone to his old apartment and found it vacant; he had no doubt searched through the night to find him here in a new location... and Kazuma’s arms. What an interesting way to start off the day.
   “You need to learn to knock, Hiei,” Kurama teased, sitting up in bed to pick Kazuma’s sweatshirt off the floor. He pulled it over his head, fishing his mass of hair out from beneath the hoodie as he fetched a rubber band from their bedside table. The sight of Kurama putting his hair up was endearing to Kazuma; he kissed Kurama’s cheek. Kurama turned and sought his lips.
   “If you fucking think-“ Hiei snarled, yanking the door of the bedroom open only to see them kissing languidly. “Oh, for the love of God, Kurama! No!”
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Into the Gray