Adult-FanFiction.org : YuYu Hakusho

Somethin' to talk about	By : chilli Category: Yuyu Hakusho > Yaoi - Male/Male > Yusuke/Kurama Views: 12297 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This author does not own the fandom, Yu Yu Hakusho. No profit shall be made or gained from the writing found hereafter

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Chapter 5
Kurama sighed and continued desultorily working on his thesis. Maybe it was due to the end of the school term or maybe it was something else, but it just seemed life was…boring. His eyes strayed towards his watch. His lip curled in disgust.
By all rights, the level of heat in his eyes should have liquefied the metal timepiece on his wrist. Damn. It was only ten minutes since I last checked, he thought with rising irritation.
Stubbornly he refused to contemplate the reason for his increasingly hostile mood. He was not, despite what Kuwabara hotly alleged, the first man to have the worst case of PMS in the history of mankind. The truth was, which Kuwabara took great pains to conceal from his friend, was his increasing concern over Kurama’s state of mind.   It wasn’t the human’s fault that he didn’t realize his fellow red head was subtly regressing back into his coldly remote yokai persona. After all, it wasn’t as if Kuwabara had been alive several hundred years ago. In fact, Kurama didn’t even notice his changing perception. However, what Kuwabara did know was that his awareness of Kurama was subtly…off.   It was such a vague, tenuous feeling that he had initially dismissed. Because, try as he might, it wasn’t a sensation he could pin down and triumphantly point to while exclaiming ‘Ah HA!’.   The only thing now he could sense was that something important was about to take place…something that involved Kurama.
There was only the clear impression that events must play out… For good or ill, it was unclear.
So he waited and watched, struggling to maintain his silence. Never one to remain silent when a good healthy screaming match would do, it was a decided strain on the human. Already stressed and pissed off by Yuusuke’s continuing absence, he added to his burden the strain of watching Kurama and remaining silent.
Unaware of his friend’s increasing troubled mind, Kurama continued desultorily studying. Turning a page of his textbook, he froze momentarily at the sight of a nut-brown child peering at him from the pages of his anthropology textbook.   Despite the intimidating frown on the pint-sized warrior, the huge, velvety brown eyes peering at the camera lens held a look of mischief. Inwardly Kurama flinched as another pair of devilish, brown eyes swam through his consciousness. Mood abruptly souring, he slammed the book close in an uncharacteristic display of violence. Determinedly, he cast the image out of his mind and instead turned his mind to nursing his grievance against Kuwabara.    Certainly Kuwabara didn’t think he was acting too uncaring a couple of months ago, he mentally snarled. He was referring to a time three months ago when they had hunted down a drug ring.   Mood improving, he smiled slightly and stretched lazily as memories of that fight played in his mind.
The look on Koenma’s face when he had called about the underground drug ring he had wanted them to investigate? Priceless.
Joined by several of Yomi and Mukuro’s people, they made short work of the factory that had been manufacturing a drug sweeping through the yokai now living in the human world. Kurama’s eyes slowly chilled. Unnoticed, he began leaking yokai energy.
In the far corner of his room sat a fern in a large decorative pot. Unstirred by wind, its leaves shook with a sibilant hiss. With a sharp, incisive movement the dozens green leaf shoots of its frond shifted closer together until each leaf resembled a large, serrated green blade. Then the plant began to grow, it green surface becoming darker even as the leaves. The soil in the pot began to churn upwards rapidly. Unnaturally thick roots rose out of the soil and gripped the side of the pot. Ambulatory, it used the large, thickened root to lever itself from the pot.
All this went unnoticed by Kurama, lost in his increasingly dark thoughts.
What a pity the human filth had died before the authorities had arrived, he mused silently. An inhumanly cruel smile curved one side of his mouth.
Not that he really gave a damn, but he could tell, despite the bluster and display of temper, Koenma knew the truth of what happened. Fortunately, the little godling knew when to look the other way. Eyes going half-lidded in remembered pleasure, he reminiscent on the horrified screams those humans had made when confronted with one of his ‘pets’. Truly had it not been for Kuwabara’s disapproving presence, he could have made their deaths a masterpiece.
The phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts.
And he was already in motion, rocketing out of his chair and drawing his signature weapon having sensed the air displacement. Something black and powerful neatly bisected the phone.
The abrupt cessation of sound was jarring.
With wide eyes, he gazed at the unnatural fusion of Makai and earth plantlife poised behind his chair.
“Dear god…” he whispered, eyes widening to their fullest extent. At that soft exclamation, he had an unmistakable sensation that the plant turned towards him and somehow recognized him. He was proven correct when threatening dark blade-like leaves were slowly lowered…only to snap back up at the soft ringing chime of his cell phone.   Moving slowly, Kurama reached into his pocket and removed the phone. He was uneasily aware the blade-like leaves were tracking his every movement. More rattled than he realized, it took him a minute to gather himself to manipulate his yokai energy to make the plant return to its previous and innocuous aspect. He glanced almost disinterestedly at the number appearing on the display then blinked slowly.
“Mother?”
“Kurama…?” Recalled to mind, he straightened from his slump, alerted by something in her voice.
“Mother….What’s wrong?” Already on his feet, tension began burning away the general disinterest he had been feeling.
There was some rustling in the background then a new voice spoke loudly into the phone. “Master Kurama…?”
Wincing, Kurama held the phone from his ear. “Ah, Hokushin…you don’t have to shout.” Some of the older yokai hadn’t quite mastered the subtle nuances of phones and other technology.
“Oh, your pardon,” the toushin said embarrassedly and lowered his voice. Slightly. “The Spring Equinox is in three months. I wished to ascertain your plans.”
Kurama frowned and regarded the phone dubiously. “Well, I had planned to attend the party that Lord Yomi usually holds,” he replied, projecting distance in his voice. Not for one second had he forgotten what the toushin had done. Grabbing his chair, he spun it around and sat down. He applied just enough energy to return the mutated fern back to its original, innocuous state.
“Ah…” That noncommittal sound had a silky, red brow rising in a show of confusion.
“Hokushin…is something wrong with Yuusuke?” Idly grabbing his pen, he began tapping it on the table.
“Master Kurama, wouldn’t I tell you if there was?” Hokushin replied reproachfully. There was a subtle note of reproof in the toushin’s smoothly modulated voice. Not if it went directly against what you considered commands, then you would smile and lie right to my face, Kurama thought coldly. Then he blinked. The idle movements of the pen stopped. The long, lean body sprawled in the chair slowly assumed a proper, yet rigid posture.
“Hokushin, how are you in the Ningenkai without being summoned?” Gone was the cool detachment in Kurama’s tone. His words were crisp and delivered with the expectation of one who would be obeyed.
The toushin smiled inwardly. His lord had chosen wisely in his selection of friends. “Master Kurama, I am on official business,” he replied stiffly, affront clear in his voice. “As you well know, the Spring Equinox is the only event that gathers all toushins together. You are one of my Lord’s closest friends. I merely wished to question your attendance in this matter.”
There it was again, that off note. This time Kurama was sure of it.   “What have the others said? Will they be attending?” He forced his voice to calmness.
Clever kitsune, Hokushin thought approvingly. “I’m afraid that I must immediately return to the Makai, therefore I will not have sufficient time to question them,” he replied apologetically.
“Ah…then perhaps one of your assistants could remain for a short time and return with their answers.”
“Unfortunately I journeyed without my attendants,” Hokushin said with just the right note of tiredness in his voice.
“I…see.”
I’m sure you do, Hokushin thought approvingly. “Is there a message I should take back to the High Lord Urameshi?” His voice was at its most exquisitely polite.
“No. Why don’t I…surprise him?” Kurama replied slowly, his eyes distant.
“As you will, Master Kurama.” There was a quiet click as the phone was replaced.
Kurama stared unseeingly at his desk, homework forgotten. The distant look in his eyes was evidence that his thoughts were far away. It would take a maximum of three days, two days if he pushed it, to return to the Makai.

* * *

Two days later, a slim figure stepped through the portal.
Ragged and exhausted, Kurama looked warily around, his senses on high alert. Just because the Makai was in a time of peace didn’t mean some fool out to make a name for himself wouldn’t cheerfully slit his throat.   He felt exhaustion weighing heavily on him, having not slept since he had spoken with Hokushin. Caught by a strange sense of urgency, he had made some hasty excuses to his various professors and browbeat Koenma into letting him through.
Something was wrong with Yuusuke. Something that Hokushin was forbidden to speak…something that the elder toushin had deemed serious enough to skirt the edges of his lord’s command without outright disobeying it. But clearly it was important enough for Hokushin to journey to the Ningenkai without permission.   All which meant that somehow Yuusuke was unable to give permission. Hokushin was old school toushin. He was of sufficient rank that he only journeyed with minimum of two attendants.   For him to journey solo and without permission?
Unthinkable.
Settling the straps of his backpack more firmly, Kurama rolled his shoulders. While his rate of speed or endurance was nowhere near Hiei or Yuusuke’s, still he was able to travel at a great clip. Thankfully Koenma understood that he needed to get as close to the toushin territory as possible. The portal had opened on the outskirts of toushin territory. It would take him a minimum of fifteen hours to get there, Kurama calculated silently as he ran. Pray that I don’t run into trouble. His smile was a dark slash of anticipation. He would welcome the confrontation.
* * *
Breathing hard, Kurama paused just outside the towering mosaic edifice of Yuusuke’s Makai home. Dirty and blood splattered—from an annoyed group of bandits that objected to the fact that he wouldn’t stand still to be slaughter—Kurama abruptly decided that Yuusuke should not see him so travel worn. Without so much of a glance at the guards stationed in front of the door, Kurama strode forward. Well aware of the precarious state of Kurama’s mind, the silently stood aside for the gold-eyed kitsune.   In any case, they had their orders. With Kurama inside, their expressionless masks slipped. They glanced at one another, worry clear in their eyes.
Unaware of the guards’ concern, Kurama made his way directly to one of the lower rooms. A single look from jade eyes instantly cleared the room of the off-duty guards.   Uncaringly, he went to the water barrel. Taking off his pull-over shirt, he wet the material liberally and proceeded to remove the accumulated travel stains from his person. Pants and shoes were also discarded as he continued his impromptu bath. His hair, he devoted the most attention. With painstaking care, he made sure it was free of dirt and assorted flotsam before he devoted himself to brushing it. Under his single-minded focus, the red tresses began to crackle and snap.
Grooming completed, with critical eyes Kurama examined himself in the mirror. He was completely unconcerned for his nakedness.   More than one enemy held the misconception that a naked Yoko Kurama signaled helpless and defenseless.   Such assumption usually proved fatal.
Turning from his reflected image, Kurama knelt. Opening his backpack, he proceeded to removed clean clothes and began to dress. One last check in the mirror and he left the room. Not that he needed a mirror. He had always been able to judge his appearance in the unconsciously admiring eyes of others. Yuusuke’s toushins were no exception.
His carriage as graceful as sunlight on water, he made his way up to Yuusuke’s quarters. Already he knew there was a problem. The brooding, dispirited faces of the toushins on the floors below spoke volumes as did the worried eyes he felt on his back.
Without appearing to, his unhurried pace increased.
Kurama came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Hokushin and two guards outside Yuusuke’s suite. It wasn’t the guards that threw him, it was Hokushin’s appearance. Imperceptibly his eyes widened. A thick, puckered scar drew the left side of the toushin’s mouth upwards, giving the old toushin’s face a cruel smirk.
Hokushin bowed courteously, elaborately to his master’s friend. The two guards’ eyes widened then hardened. They had their orders. Their hands twitched in an aborted gesture of defense. A hard glare from Hokushin stilled their movements. Indecision was written on their faces. Without seeming to move, Hokushin’s hands lashed out. Both guards hit the floor and writhed silently, their ability to breath abruptly curtailed. Calmly Hokushin stepped over one writhing body and bowed Kurama towards Yuusuke’s door.
Clearly the guards were to keep everyone out. Well, if Yuusuke wanted him out, then Yuusuke would have to toss him out, Kurama thought coldly. One way of the other, I will see him. Kurama stole into Yuusuke’s suite and across the room. Then on silent feet he entered the bedroom. The room was dark, heavy with an oppressive atmosphere. A miasma hung in the room, a formless cloud of despair that tugged at the senses with an almost physical weight.
In the dim lighting, he could make out a lump in the vast bed. It was so still that he could barely make out the slow rise and fall.   Steps now hesitant, he crossed to the bed and settled gingerly on the edge. “Yuusuke…?” he said tentatively, daring to lay a gentle hand on the tuft of hair that protruded from beneath the covers.
So deep in a dark, emotional sinkhole, Yuusuke barely heard the call of his name. Misery nibbled at the edge of his mind. He just wanted to sleep. Sleep forever and ever.
“Go away…”
“No…” Kurama said calmly. His eyes narrowed, his nose twitched at the stale odor that emanated from the bed. Coming to a decision, he grabbed the edge of the covers and gave a brisk yank, divesting Yuusuke of the covers. “Get up…”
This managed to penetrate the cloud of misery that seemed to haunt Yuusuke.   A spurt of rage ignited and he came boiling up with the sole intent to murder someone.   “I said get the fuck…” Getting a good look at the intruder, he froze. Jaw dropping, he gaped at a now thoroughly discomforted Kurama.
“Hi…” After that brief answer, Kurama did something inexplicable to both he and Yuusuke. Under that blank, unrelenting stare, he ducked his head. In an unconscious movement that showed the state of his nerves, he smoothed his tunic over his legs. His head shot up at a watery sniff he heard.   Green eyes rounded comically as tears spilled from huge brown.
“Nononononono….” Kurama’s hands fluttered in the air like startled butterflies.   He was even more caught off-guard, flinching even, when Yuusuke launched himself at him. Yet, obeying some heretofore unknown instinct, his arms closed about Yuusuke rangy body. Although unfamiliar in the art of soothing, he vaguely recalled that one must make some type of soothing noises and pat the other person’s back. He applied himself seriously to the task.
Because truthfully…? Yuusuke was freaking him the fuck out. And aside from that, what he found more alarming was the fact that, even though wetness spilled onto his tunic and Yuusuke’s shoulders shook with the force of his emotions, Yuusuke was completely silent.   To Kurama’s rising alarm, he felt his eyes sting then tears overflowed his eyes and spilled down his cheeks as grief filled his mind. It was all he could do not to howl out his pain and terrible grief assaulting his mind. He was astute enough to recognize the foreignness of the emotions and take appropriate action.   While it was hard to think, much less act with the alien emotions rioting through him, he managed to erect a barrier in his mind.
The outside influence temporarily blocked out, he felt his mind calm.
My god, he thought dazedly.   Despite the soaring emotions that vainly battered at the wall in his mind, he belatedly recognized the low hum in his mind.   How and why their previously broken bond had begun to repair itself, he couldn’t fathom nor could he quite care. What was more important was fixing whatever problem that currently was assailing Yuusuke. Unconsciously, his arms tightened protectively around the toushin.    “Whatever is wrong, we’ll fix it,” he murmured before pressing a gentle kiss on the crown of Yuusuke’s head.
All he knew and understood was that Yuusuke hurt…and he seemed to bleed.
Yuusuke mutely shook his head and burrowed deeper into Kurama’s arms. There was no way to fix this. Kurama held Yuusuke until his friend had cried himself into an exhaustive sleep. Moving carefully, he arranged the slumbering figure more comfortably. He stayed still, gently stroking Yuusuke’s hair, making sure his friend’s sleep was restful.
Then he looked up. All warmth drained from his eyes for the toushin that had stolen into the bedroom.
Stroking a hand over Yuusuke’s messy locks, Kurama simply looked at Hokushin. The gentle, idle motion of his hand was at odds with the cold, empty stare of a born predator.
Despite his tall, lean build, Hokushin had once been Raizen’s favorite sparring partner. He held the unique privilege of having put Raizen on his ass on more than one occasion.
Yet holding the gaze of that fell gaze, he felt the phantom grip of a clawed hand at his throat.   Swallowing hard, he backed out of the room.
Smoothing his hand in one final caress, Kurama rose and left the bedroom. He trailed several feet behind Hokushin as the toushin strode down the stairs.
Kurama caught up with him just outside Hokushin’s office. The gold staining Kurama’s eyes hinted at the rage held in check. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t rip your throat out.”
Hokushin merely blinked tiredly, his mask falling as they entered his office. “I can give you several but you will not like any of them,” he stated bleakly. Dropping heavily into his chair with a sigh, the old toushin covered his face with his hands.
For the first time, Kurama saw the fear and exhaustion that pulled at the usually stoic toushin’s face.
“I…accept full blame for the state my lord is in,” Hokushin said hoarsely. With an effort, he pulled all his defenses back in place. Kurama watched as the toushin visibly rebuilt his mask.   “When you helped my Lord excise the drug from his system there was an unforeseen consequence.”
“Oh, beyond your almost getting me killed?” Kurama interrupted bitingly. While he had forced himself to set his ill-will aside, it still was a sore point with him. “I imagine Yuusuke wasn’t too thrilled with your act of cleverness.”   Pointedly he allowed his eyes to rest on the thick, puckered scar on the toushin’s face.
Hokushin at first looked startled then amused. “This?” he said, gesturing his mutilated face. “You’re correct in your assumption that my lord was not impressed with my attempts to keep him alive. After a rather intense discussion,” he continued blandly without detailing the brutal beating he had endured, “my Lord offered me a choice: Leave his service or wear a visible sign of my betrayal. I chose this…” Voice becoming wry, he continued, “Unfortunately I… misinterpreted my lord’s meaning. He meant that, perhaps I should wear a badge of dishonor.”
Both he and Kurama shared equal looks of wry exasperation.   Then Kurama recalled himself, lips flattening in a thin line, he resumed his cold glare.
Hokushin sighed, his expression turning regretful. “He acts so much like a Makai bred toushin that I sometimes forget that humanity colors everything he says and do.” Turning his eyes to the silent Kurama, he continued gravely, “Several weeks after our return, I had noticed my lord acting a little…strange. I had chalked it up to the unusual circumstances he had endured.”
The old toushin looked away from frozen green eyes. “Please understand…had I known I would never have…” he broke off. The hand he raised to scrub distractedly at his face shook alarmingly. Kurama glimpsed the abject shame and grief written on Hokushin’s face.
Hokushin looked bleakly at his lord’s friend. Subtly he braced himself.
“How much do you know about how toushins reproduce?” he said abruptly. It took a few seconds from the words to filter through, but when they did, Kurama blanched. Face chalk white, there was a stunned look was on the kitsune’s face.
“Please tell me he’s not pregnant?” Kurama rasped out in a horrified voice.
Hokushin hesitated, his brow furrowed as he struggled to decipher the kitsune’s words. Understanding dawned on his face.
“Master Kurama, toushins do not get pregnant!” He looked indignant then his face sorrowed. “Let me explain….Though seemly outwardly mature, no toushin is capable of reproducing at Yuusuke’s age. It is not only physically impossible, but also biologically impossible. A toushin’s body, at that age, has not gone through the physiological and biological changes necessary.”
Kurama looked confused. “But you said he wasn’t pregnant.”
The toushin shook his head. “You use words that have to do with females; I use words that deal exclusively to the toushin condition.”
He held up a hand when it looked as if Kurama would speak. “Please….When two mature toushins desires to have a child—for lack of a better word—they mate. The one that will bring a child into life journeys to his clan’s crèche. It is a protected, sacrosanct place. Every toushin born within their clan knows the secret ways to return. As it is an clan memory, I can only assume Yuusuke, as Raizen’s heir, knew the way to their family crèche.”
Clearly uncomfortable at discussing such a subject aloud, Hokushin hesitated before forcing himself to continue. “Within the crèche there are…” the faintest of color touched his thin cheeks, “round spheres. When he’s ready, the birther secretes a substance that will dissolve the rocky shell then ejaculates his mate’s sperm that he stored within his body into the cavity that forms.   He waits several hours before removing the pod that develops and puts it into a fleshy fold on his side. There the pod will attach itself, gradually migrating to the front of the body and proceed to grow. It will feed off the chemicals a mature toushin produces.”
Again, Hokushin rubbed a hand distractedly over his face.
“The first time Lord Urameshi came here, even after Raizen explained toushin reproduction, I reiterated the facts the second time he came here. I even showed him pictures.” The old toushin looked mightily aggrieved.
Knowing Yuusuke, Kurama thought heavily, he probably blew Hokushin off.
A sick look washed over Hokushin’s face. He looked down, blinking rapidly as tears filled his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at the kitsune and tell him what he had inadvertently done.
“My Lord had been complaining of a mild pain in his stomach. I gave him biztenroot to soothe him.” He looked pleadingly at Kurama. “Please…you must understand! Even if I had not given him it, it was still physically impossible for the child to grow to term.”
“Oh…my… God…” Softly whispered, Hokushin easily heard that absolute shock in the kitsune’s voice.
Bitzenroot was a plant used by many yokai for a varied of ailments. From head injuries to mild, discomfort it was highly effective plant. To a yokai with a relatively healthy bone structure, it was harmless.
However, to an embryo, with its soft, developing bones…it was death.
Hokushin flinched before his face stiffened. He stood, drawing on his cloak of impassivity. “Once again, I call upon you to help my lord through this time of trouble.”
Mind in a daze, Kurama stumbled from room. He felt an overpowering need to be with Yuusuke.
Once inside, he hesitated by the bed. With a titanic effort of will power, he forced aside his nascent grief. For him it was second hand news that he could put at a distance. However, for Yuusuke… the pain was still fresh.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he stripped off his clothes and slipped in under the covers. Easing as close as he dared, he held his breath as Yuusuke stirred restlessly.
For over seven months had slept in fits and starts, hounded by nipping and biting thoughts of what might have been. At best, he managed a mere three hours of sleep per week. That, more than anything, made him even more snappish and irritable. He had finally retreated to his bedroom to try to deal with his seesawing emotions. Then the bed and finally he burrowed under the covers one day and…simply stayed there.
Lethargic and feelings of unworthiness whispering seductively in his ear, Yuusuke had little defense against the thick cloud of darkness that was slowly taking over his mind.   For the first time in his life, he was on his own. No friends to bolster him when his spirit was low; no enemy to battle for the sheer zest of life.
Initially that stubborn, indomitable spirit that made him a force to be reckoned with had screamed and railed against the darkness. But pitted against his own self, that defiant voice began to fade until it became lost in the darkness.
For Yuusuke, that smothering darkness had become not the enemy but more like a familiar friend. It promised him an end to the shame and guilt. The feeling of inadequacy clawed at his mind. Feelings that coiled like vipers and struck with deadly accuracy.
It offered a blessed numbness.
Bombarded for months, and already fighting a losing battle, Yuusuke had been a hair’s breath from capitulating.   Tendrils of darkness had burrowed deep within, seeking his soul.
And all but smothered in darkness, his indomitable spirit—the shining light that once glowed as brightly as any sun—had been reduced to a tiny, faltering light.
Then it was as if that flickering light seemed to gain strength. It began to glow, radiating with a stubborn intensity.
The darkness slowly began to roil as if disturbed.   And far away, miles vanished under the graceful stride of a kitsune.
The moment Kurama had entered the stone edifice of Yuusuke’s Makai home there was a marked change in the smothering darkness.   Like stars on a moonless night, faint gleams of light bored its way through the roiling darkness.



*   *   *

Unaware of the discussion that had gone underway between the kitsune and Hokushin, Yuusuke sleep on.   Kurama stood over the bed looking down at Yuusuke. Eyes unseeing, his mind still caught by Hokushin’s words.   Yuusuke squirmed restlessly, his brows furrowing as a moan spilled. With that sound, Kurama’s attention focused.   There was a look of indecision in the startling green eyes. At the low whimper from below, Kurama experienced a mental snap.
Carefully Kurama eased into the bed with Yuusuke.   He spooned behind Yuusuke’s body. Deliberately he began tucking Yuusuke’s now frail body protectively into his own.
Seconds later, Yuusuke wiggled closer into the warmth on his back. The invisible tension that rode him seemed to dissipate. With nearly silent sigh, he went boneless.
Yet despite his harsh inner admonishments, a convulsive sob managed to escape him.   Of all the races of yokai, kitsunes treasured their young believing their kits were veritable gifts from their gods…gifts that would be withdrawn if not treated with the proper respect. As such, abuse was virtually unheard of in kitsune society. The very mention of such would inevitably draw the ire of an entire village.
However, among the pantheon of gods they believed in was also a god of discipline...adult kitsune were not idiots.
Eyes tortured, Kurama tightened his arm around Yuusuke at the toushin’s restless whimper. Pain naked on his face, his voice was soothing and calm as he gently shushed Yuusuke back to sleep.   It would be many hours more before both mental and physical exhaustion finally took their toll on his body.
Far away in the world of the humans, another pair of eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling. For hours, Kuwabara had laid tense and unmoving in his bed. His plain, honest face was unnaturally lax. His body supine in bed but his mind was clearly somewhere else.
In fact, he barely remembered coming upstairs. More than half the day had existed in a foggy daze. All he could remember clearly was that fearful, coiling tension in his head during dinner. The hairs on the back of his neck had stood upright. The only way his mind could make sense of it all was the image of something with sharp teeth and even sharper claws was standing behind him. Vaguely he remembered Shizuru helping him upstairs.
His head was splitting. Pressure swelling in his brain, confined by his skull.   It was intolerable.   He moaned, and panting harshly he slowly curled into a fetal position. Clutching his head as both pressure and pain grew.
And grew. It peaked, quivering and teetering on the edge. In the waning light, the big body glistened with sweat while muscle stood taut with tension. Then with a suddenness that almost made him scream, it was gone. Just like that, both pain and pressure dissipated. Kuwabara went limp, unashamed of the sobbing breaths he took in the stillness of the room.
Laying in his bed, it took several minutes for him to get his breathing under control. Then his mind, stirred to burgeoning curiosity, speculated on the cause. It was a rare occasion for him to use his abilities to actively look into the future.   In fact, he could count on one hand the number of times he did. For him, the future was a kaleidoscope of possibilities as it was constantly in a state of flux which made it all the more difficult to get a fix on anything specific. The times when he received unwanted glimpses it was generally because there were no other possibilities.
Still, there were certain tricks he could use…if he was willing to pay the price. That was the conundrum….He would never know what the price would be until it came due. And that was his gift and his curse, Genkai had told him one quiet day in which Yuusuke, yet again, blew off training.
For someone of his talent and powers, he could be a passive receiver, by which glimpses would come to him; or to be an aggressive seeker by which he would actively pierce the veil of the future.   To be passive required nothing of him; to be aggressive required…payment.
Kuwabara lay there, his breathing coming back under his control. There was a thoughtful look on his face. Then his eyes cleared. “Fuck that noise…” he snorted before turning his mind to sleep, he was unconscious within minutes.
Outside in the backyard, night sounds filled the air.   On the bench that Kuwabara had industriously built one summer, Shizuru took one last draw on her cigarette before stubbing it out. The invisible tension that had been riding her for months had finally been resolved.   Whisky brown eyes were trained on the darkened window of her brother’s room.   “Well done, little bro,” she murmured approvingly, “Well, done.”

In the bedroom of the ruling lord of the toushin, the dark aura that had had Kuwabara on edge for month began retreating from the kitsune as his mind turned to healing Yuusuke.
* * *

Several weeks later found Kurama and Yuusuke eating dinner with Kurama’s family.
Torn between leaving a clearly suffering Yuusuke in the Makai and returning back to the Ningenkai, Kurama saw little choice but to take the now withdrawn Yuusuke home with him.    However, in the few short weeks he had brought Yuusuke home he had found himself virtually helpless, fighting blind against something he could not see.
He feared he was losing.
At the table, Shiori tried to keep her curiosity and concern in check. But it was hard. The quiet, sad-eyed boy that sat at her table bore little resemblance to the voluble, fiery young man that had become well known for his brashness and boisterous nature.   What had happened?
And her son…she silently shook her head. He had always been the sole of courtesy, yet to see him being so tender and solicitous with Yuusuke struck her as beyond odd. The only thing she could pry out of her close-mouthed son was Yuusuke was going through a difficult, emotional time.
More than that, he refused to say.
Dinner over and goodbyes said, she could only watch helplessly as her son shepherd Yuusuke out the door.   There was something so poignant about the pair that tugged at her heartstrings. She was surprised to find her eyes wet.
Outside, Yuusuke put some distance between him and Kurama. “Why can’t you leave me alone?” he said dully. He shoved his hands in his pockets as they strolled towards the car.
After making sure Yuusuke was in the car and belted up, Kurama waited before responding as he got into the car. “You’re my friend, I can do no other.” His face was an inscrutable mask that effectively hid his worry and helpless fear that dodged his footsteps.
Yuusuke shrugged before looking out the window, losing interest in the entire subject. He could still hear the darkness whispering, creeping around the edges of his mind. Try as he might, he couldn’t fight it anymore and wondered why he even bothered in the first place.
It wasn’t like it was telling him something he didn’t know. He was a dumb, stupid asshole that couldn’t do anything right. Everybody would be better without him. It hurt, but he felt only a vague interest in escaping the thrashing pain because he felt it a just punishment for the sorry mess he had made of his life and by default, of Kurama’s. But it didn’t stop the pain; didn’t stop him from being the shivering hungry, little boy curled up in the dark alley because mommy forgot to buy food, pay the electric and the landlord.
Waiting for someone to love him.
Slowly his hand clenched on his knee.
Sharp green eyes flickered towards Yuusuke then away. Kurama’s mouth tightened then his voice, harsh and clipped, echoed in the closed confines of the car. “I won’t give up on you, Yuusuke. You saved my life multiple times…I can do no less for you.”
Though brave and encouraging, Kurama had the dismal feeling they simply fell into a black hole within Yuusuke.   In spite of what he said, there were times where he felt like giving up. Just…letting Yuusuke go.   There had even been some nights he had to flee the apartment and simply run.
Run to escape the guilt and pain of loss.
Kurama’s mouth twisted. I’m still grieving over an impossibility he thought mute astonishment. I’m grieving over a stone egg that could have never grown. Yet despite his inner chiding, it didn’t negate the feelings of loss.
And it had to be worse for Yuusuke, he thought somberly. For him, it was secondhand information, but an all too physical reality for Yuusuke. Kurama could feel Yuusuke sinking deeper into miasma, becoming lost in his own despair.
He wondered if or when his friend would ever return. Or if Yuusuke could ever forgive him.

* * *

The weeks passed. By dint of extraordinary effort, Kurama had finally managed to sever the bond between them. Assailed by outside forces, his usually clever mind had been slow to recognize the insidious danger.   Even then he had agonized over the act for days, wondering how it would affect Yuusuke if he was successful, but with his inner defenses crumbling under the unrelenting assault from his friend’s mind, he found he had little choice.
To his relief, there were no visible adverse effects.
The unrelenting assault on his mind had slowed Kurama’s clever mind to the point where certain conclusions slipped unnoticed past him.   Had he thought about the consequences of breaking the bond between he and Yuusuke, extrapolated all the data at hand, he would have reasoned his way to at least several possible conclusions. All of which would have concluded in an end result.
But he didn’t.
By month three Kurama was at the end of his tether. He never thought he would miss the incessant sound of Yuusuke’s annoyingly chatter or that cocky voice and irreverent attitude.
Nothing he did made a dent in the opaque armor surrounding Yuusuke.   He could see and touch—he just couldn’t reach where he knew Yuusuke was hiding. And he was convinced Yuusuke was in hiding…somewhere in his mind.
He wanted so badly to call the others, let them share in the burden of watching Yuusuke, but something inside found the thought abhorrent. The only person he allowed in was Kuwabara. He had found the young human surprisingly stubborn, in fact had arrived home one day to find Kuwabara cheerfully making dinner.   Mouth opened to make a cutting remark that would effectively send the human stammering and blushing from his home, he had paused at the look that had gelled in the usually mild-mannered Kuwabara’s eyes. He had swallowed his pride and gritted his teeth and accepted the human’s help with strict instructions as to discretion.   Even with Kuwabara’s help, it was a daily struggle.
His lack of concentration was reflected in his grades and in his poor performance at his job.   For the first time in his life, he wasn’t making stellar grades and his boss was giving him questioning looks.
Worse of all Yuusuke…wasn’t getting better.   Kurama felt his patience slowly being eroded. Juggling so many things, consumed by worry and fear, he was stretched too far. It was inevitable he would break.
It was a beautiful, sunny day when he imploded.

* * *

“Yuusuke…?” he called, entering the kitchen. He forced cheer into his voice even knowing there would be no answer…there hadn’t been a response to his conversational gambits in weeks.
“You need any…” Glass shattering in the sink drew his startled attention.
From Yuusuke there was only silence as a thin trickle of blood wound down his face, cut by the flying shards of glass. From his hand, blood oozed, thick and rich, from around a piece of glass. Expressionless brown eyes stared in puzzled contemplation as blood began to drip.
The drops hitting the stainless steel sounded obscenely loud in the spreading silence.
Kurama fancied he could hear the veritable snap as something inside him broke. Roughly he hustled Yuusuke into the bedroom, making a brief stop for the First Aid kit, all the while he raged in a hoarse, choked voice at his friend.
Pushing Yuusuke down on the bed, he began cleaning the silent toushin. His touch light and tender was at odds with the angry, invective diatribe that spilled from his lips.   After bandaging the wound on Yuusuke’s hand, he looked up and meeting the blank, unconcerned look he just…gave up.
“I’m sorry!” he screamed. Face pale and strained from the long weeks of worrying, tears ran unchecked down his face. “Is that what you want to hear? I’m fuckin’ sorry! I’m sorry you had to go through this alone! I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you…I didn’t know! Gods above, Yuusuke! I’m sorry for not just talking to you when you wanted to talk to me! I’m sorry you lost the egg you were carrying! I’m sorry. I’m so fucking, fucking sorry…” Head bowed into Yuusuke’s lap, tears blurred his vision as he finally gave up.
“O…kay.”
Though raspy and low, it was enough to capture Kurama’s attention. His head jerked up in disbelief. A pair of shadowed brown eyes stared down at him. A glint of alertness and amusement flickered in their depths.
“All…you had…t’do was say…you were sor…ry.” Weak at first, Yuusuke voice gained strength.
When Kurama had severed their bond, it had had a direct effect on Yuusuke.   The shock of the breaking had reverberated through Yuusuke’s psyche much like windstorm or a hurricane.    It had swept through him, momentarily uprooting almost everything in his mind…most especially the foul, despair that had clung so tenaciously to his soul.
Unbeknownst to Kurama, Yuusuke had been listening. With the miasma temporarily gone, the kitsune’s words had resonated through the toushin, gaining strength without the dark cloud around to muffle it. Inevitable it returned, settling around his soul with contemptuous familiarity. However, Yuusuke had not been unbusy in its absence. Patiently he gathered the fragmented pieces of himself and began to clumsily to rebuild. It had been enough to wage a savage internal war against the darkness.
He had won a respite and had begun the laborious prospect of shoring up his defenses as he was not stupid enough to believe he had won the war. He had a long road ahead of himself. But he believed with the help of his friends, he would and could overcome the darkness.
Still he was able to look into worried green eyes and smile. With a gasping sound of relief, Kurama surged up and spilled Yuusuke onto the bed.
“You fucking asshole…” he said in a choked voice, coiling against Yuusuke’s body. He couldn’t stand not to be close, as if were they separate this time Yuusuke would physically disappear. He rested his weary head on the much thinned chest. His eyes fluttered closed when a hand began gently carding through his hair.   He didn’t demand an explanation as demands never worked with Yuusuke. However, Yuusuke was not fooled by the kitsune’s lack of questions. Kurama’s simple act of patience created its own form of demand.
“I…” Yuusuke cleared his throat, tears prickling his eyes. “I’m sorry. I got…kinda lost. I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. After Hokushin took me to the Makai, I…I snuck back here. It was kinda weirding me out to be surrounded by nothing but guys. I was freaking out, imagining they all knew what me and you had did and were totally checking me out.”   His cheeks burned at the look Kurama gave him.
“I’m sorry, okay!” he snapped with a resurgence of his old self. There was a dark scowl etched on his face. Kurama didn’t protest as he was more than thrilled to see that old familiar fire dancing in Yuusuke’s eyes.
Pulling Kurama back onto his chest, cause damned if he was gonna say this shit with those green eyes that saw too fucking much looking at him. “I, uhm, went home. Call me stupid, but I kinda thought my own mother woulda been worried about me,” he said sarcastically.
Sarcasm had always been Yuusuke’s refuge from painful emotions. Kurama heard the undertone of pain.
“There was some sort of gang initiation ceremony going on and apparently my mom was the party-favor.” His tone was a masterpiece of cool indifference. Like it was no big deal to see your mother happily taking it up the ass, deep-throating a second and enthusiastically riding a third dick.   Kurama didn’t need to see the sick, bleak look in Yuusuke’s eyes to know how badly it had damaged his friend.   “She stopped sucking dick long enough to yell at me to get the fuck out. So I did.” Yuusuke shrugged, struggling for cool and unaffected.   Kindly, Kurama did not point out how completely Yuusuke failed. “I high-tailed it back to the Makai.”
Kurama’s mouth tightened. He didn’t feel it was his place at this juncture to call Yuusuke’s mother a bitch and a whore. Actually calling her either of the names raised her up to that level. Hooded eyes glittered with a chilling promise.
By dent of judicious wiggling and squirming, he managed to rearrange them on the bed. Then curled up again along Yuusuke’s side, he began gently soothing the rigidness from Yuusuke’s long, rangy body. He deemed it a success when Yuusuke curved into him.
“All I remember thinking was ‘If I had a kid, I would never treat ‘em like shit. I would love them, protect them and they would love me back’.” Yuusuke glanced wryly at the dawning comprehension in the huge green eyes. “Anybody offer you drugs…just say No. Those things will fuck you up, man.   Next thing I know, I was in the nest chamber jacking off on one of the stone eggs. Which just goes to prove that every time I think my life can’t get any more fucked up…” Falling silent, he ruefully shook his head.
“As crazy as it was, I knew there was no fuckin’ way it’d grow. But, man, it was like my body got hijacked by some really strange shit. I was all like, ‘The fuck you doin’, man?’ It was after that when I really started trippin’.” He shuddered in remembrance.
His voice slowed, becoming emotionless. “When I lost…it,” he stumbled then recovered, “it was like there was two of me. One totally bummed out, all emo- sad and shit; and the other was screaming and flat out having fits.   Guess which one was in the driver’s seat?” He cast a sardonic look at Kurama before looking away.
“And everybody, they were just givin’ me all these ‘poor, poor, Yuusuke…he’s lost his egg’.” He shuddered. “It was crazy, man. Fuckin’ ass crazy,” he added with another shudder. Then he hesitated. His eyes shifted, focused on some imaginary distant point. Twin spots of color burned in his cheeks. “Then you came. And even as fucked up as I was, I knew you weren’t gonna leave me there.”
Kurama’s slow smile started in his eyes before spreading to his lips. “Why did no one help?” he asked, neatly drawing the focus away from Yuusuke.
Yuusuke felt some of his inner tension ease. It was funny how, after everything that happened between them, he still felt…comfortable around Kurama. He shrugged, looking monumentally annoyed.
“They got some kinda fuckin’ asswipe idea that when we lose an egg, we’re supposed t’go on some kinda inner fuckin’ journey for some punk-ass discovery. You know… that mystical, mumbo-jumble bullshit.   I’m, like, the fuck, man? If mutherfuckers don’t know who the fuck they are by now—and some of them is pretty damn old—then I’m guessing they ain’t gonna trip over some shitty piece of themselves and go ‘Hey George, look what I found! I’ve been looking all over for this mutherfucker!’”
Kurama’s mouth twitched. Manfully he refrained from laughing.
“Now you know I ain’t one to believe in all that psycho mumbo-jumbo crap, but if somebody gets that fucked up in the head and can’t get out, then I think it’s time to send in the Rescue Dogs, ya know!” Honest indignation was written all over Yuusuke’s face.
“I…don’t think it works quite that way.” Kurama’s voice was diplomacy at its best. He struggled to hide his amusement.
His efforts were in vain. Yuusuke scowled before childishly sticking his tongue out at Kurama.   Kurama buried his laughter in Yuusuke’s shoulder.
They rested against one another. A cozy feeling seemed to settle over them as the sun poured warm, golden rays of benediction over them.   It increased their contented state. Neither felt the urge to break the silence. Kurama was simply enjoying the soothing movement of Yuusuke’s hand in his hair. As long as Yuusuke wasn’t making any protests, he felt disinclined to move.
“Your hair’s really soft.” The words just slipped out. Mentally Yuusuke slapped himself. He needed to get a hold of himself. He had a sinking feeling something had subtly changed in the easy friendship that had always seemed to exist between them.   Then again, there was always something about Kurama that always seemed to cause him to spew dumbass shit.
“You want to borrow my shampoo?” Kurama inquired disinterestedly. He frowned, vaguely annoyed when Yuusuke laughed. “Be still…” He swatted gently at Yuusuke’s chest.
“Yes, master,” Yuusuke replied with mock cringing servility.
“And don’t you forget it.” Kurama tried for stern, but wasn’t able to fake it. He allowed quiet contentment to wrap around them. Still he was not sanguine to think it would last. Long minutes passed. The hand in his hair never ceased its pleasant petting.
He relished this moment yet was surprised by the bitterness he felt. He thought he was past the stage of believing in hope and dreams. The life of a yokai was not that of peace and tranquility.
Yuusuke was possibly the most exasperating, annoyingly, infuriating being he ever met.
And the sweetest.
There were times he wanted to wrap his hands around Yuusuke’s throat and just…squeeze. Slam that stubborn, hard head against a wall until something approaching commonsense filled that seemingly empty head.
Yet when Yuusuke risked his life to save someone else, or did something brave and fearless…he felt all warm and gooey. A glow would suffuse him.
He was so proud of Yuusuke that it secretly terrified him.
The best and worst of yokai…the best and worst of humankind. All bundled in one rude, brash and impulsive package.
Only in the past couple of years had he felt the urge to pull Yuusuke to him and devour that sullen, potty-mouth.   Which, he had decided, would cause an instant and possibly violent reaction.
Namely against himself.
He had wanted Yuusuke in the worst possible way. It wasn’t love, of that he had been pretty much certain. It had been more like, urgent lust.
Typically when he got that urgent lustful feeling for an individual, one of two things could happen. Either he made his intentions know and indulged himself with the object of his feelings, or if the time wasn’t convenient, he ignored the stirrings of lust until it went away.
And it always went away.
Until now.
When he had developed feelings for Yuusuke, he ignored the feelings because he had learned his lesson long ago about fucking people he associated with. However, the feelings of lust for Yuusuke’s body never quite went away. It was like the tide, it ebbed and flowed ceaselessly. To be frank, Yuusuke wasn’t usually the type of individual he had ever been attracted to.
While both Yomi and Yuusuke were both rebellious, there was not one trace of biddable bone in Yuusuke’s body.
It was only in the past year, after that disastrous way they had initially came together, that some of the fog began clearing. The cheerful way Yuusuke made fun of himself, the honest self-assessment mirrored in his eyes—hell, he even missed the loud braying, no-holds barred, laugh that spilled effortlessly from Yuusuke’s lips.
Being the clever kitsune that he was reputed to be and still was, he decided, quite calmly, in the interest of fairness, Yuusuke should be his. Because it simply wasn’t enough having Yuusuke like this. He wanted it all—friend, companion and lover.
Besides, after all the worrying and stressing that Yuusuke had put him through over the years, it was fitting that he should reap the rewards. He felt a murderous fury at the thought of someone else with Yuusuke.
“Yuusuke…you know that I’m not a nice person, right?”
“D’uh is still an answer, right?” Yuusuke replied absently. He didn’t bother opening his eyes, but obligingly grunted when Kurama thumped his chest in retaliation. Concentrating on the soothing feel of Kurama’s hair under his other hand, the silky texture feathering over his hand, he found a way to ignore the ache that pulsed in time with his blood. He sank into the pleasant lassitude that settled over the room.
He felt lazy and totally unwilling to stir himself. He was comfortable, laying here in easy companionship with Kurama. The low level buzz that danced just under his skin was something he had learned to ignore over the years.
The anxious feeling along with a nervous clenching in his stomach was the usual sensation. He used to be so aware of Kurama that he probably could have said exactly how close his friend was to him and be short by one or two inches. Hell, even that sharp, musky smell—an odor he had come to associate exclusively with Kurama—used to have him on point like a fucking guard dog.
Thankfully it got better. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when it faded into the background, but gradually it did.
Or he just got better at ignoring the strange feeling.
Whatever.
It was funny how he bonded more with Kurama than with Hiei. In a weird way, he trusted Hiei more than he trusted Kurama. Hiei had no hidden depths. What you saw was what you got…a pissed off short dude with a definite talent for beating the shit out of people.
Kurama on the other hand had depths. Depths and more depths. Places that probably had never seen the light of day. And whenever you thought you figured him out, hello! more hidden places.
Which was kinda fun, Yuusuke privately admitted. Couldn’t say being around Kurama was ever dull.
“Asshole…”
Yuusuke smirked. His smile faded when Kurama started speaking again.
There it was again.
Sometimes you had to listen real hard to what Kurama wasn’t saying to understand him.

“You know that I’m a manipulative bastard and I have a bit of a cruel side.” Kurama held himself still, keeping his inner tension to himself. It wouldn’t do to spook Yuusuke.
Not now.
He smiled into Yuusuke’s chest. He didn’t mind that pursuing Yuusuke would be difficult and challenging.
It would add a little extra spice when he finally ran Yuusuke to the ground.
Yuusuke relaxed. Nothing was wrong…just Kurama acting all weird.
He squirmed as nimble fingers traced aimless patterns on his bare skin. Reflexively he spoke, “Hey…you perving on me?” In the time it took Kurama to answer, Yuusuke’s brain deciphered the strangeness and just how the hell did Kurama’s hand get under his shirt?
The reply had his eyes snapping open in shock. “Yes…”
Kurama surged up Yuusuke’s body and took the surprised, parted lips with all the considerable skill at his command.   Yuusuke’s squawk was swallowed by Kurama’s lips.
Just that fast, they entered into a new stage of their relationship.
As Yuusuke wasn’t putting up a fight, Kurama explored the sweet, wet interior at his leisure.   His singular talents didn’t rely on brute force. Sleight of hand, misdirection and sneakiness were his forte. And he wasn’t shy about using them to win his objection.
In this case, it just happened to be Yuusuke’s heart.
Within seconds, Yuusuke’s felt his defenses crumbling under the sensual assault. Between the stroking hands that generated their own brand of heat to the frankly erotic, deeply carnal nature of Kurama’s kisses, he didn’t have a chance. He felt himself sinking fast, drowning in pool of sultry, sexual heat. It was a fire that called an answering fire from deep within.   For all that Kurama held him captive - luscious moments that he felt Kurama’s fierce need as his mouth was plundered – he silently conceded that he had never been more willing.
With a moaning sigh—his sparse experience little match for Kurama’s seductive skill—Yuusuke surrendered to the fire that burned. Clutching fistfuls of hair, he arched, angling for more of the deep kisses. Feeling the tacit surrender, Kurama shifted until he covered the lean, writhing body. Hands and mouth never ceasing to stroke the heady fire ever higher, he continued to arouse the lithe body in his arms.
He was determined to offer himself on a platter, show Yuusuke all that could be his for the taking.
Yuusuke writhed, arching beneath him with rough, sobbing breaths. His skin felt too tight, too sensitive to the burning ache that pulsed in his groin. Lean muscles and golden skin flexed and tightened under the kitsune’s skillful caresses.
Then slowly Kurama brought them back from the edge. Tucking Yuusuke against his side, he buried his face in the boy’s hair and smiled.
He had primed the trap and the bait had been taken.
Days after that first exploratory kiss, Yuusuke felt that Kurama was single-handedly trying to drive him insane.
Several times a day, That Damn Kitsune, as Yuusuke had taken to calling Kurama, jumped him. Jumped him, kissing him until he was moaning and about to come in his pants.
Then…he backed away. Just backed the fuck off, leaving Yuusuke with his pants tented and hard as a fuckin’ rock. He was forced to take several showers or retreated to the privacy of his bedroom to deal with the matter at hand.
Kurama simply smiled and went about his business. He was making damn certain to keep Yuusuke’s mind and body focused on one thing.

Watching television, more often than not, would usually wind up with them making out on the sofa.
Kurama found himself caught in the sticky trap he had fashioned for Yuusuke. He couldn’t keep his hands –or his lips—off Yuusuke.   He loved touching Yuusuke. He loved watching that beautiful, stubborn, healthy body become loose and pliant to his touch.   He especially loved the heady flush of arousal that colored Yuusuke’s cheeks or how the huge, brown eyes would grow soft and melting.
Despite his silent admonishments to take things slow, Kurama often found himself straddling his beautiful, sensual toushin and seeking that hard, snarling mouth. Taming it to soft pliancy…spilling breathless moans.   Hand fisted in silky, black locks, he would teach Yuusuke another way of sparring as his mouth slanted hungrily against Yuusuke and their tongues dueled for dominancy.
Yuusuke always won.
On the couch they would writhe in counterpart to each other in one long, perfectly fused column as pleasure rose, scorching along their nerves.
And then Kurama would draw back.
Kiss his frustrated, snarling Yuusuke on the cheek before sauntering to his own empty, lonely bed.
Not exactly stupid, Yuusuke knew he was being played. His indignant mind was all for getting up and leaving (he had given up on the ‘gay defense’ in lieu of the wild pleasure that rushed through his body at Kurama’s touch) but his body whispered ‘Stay’ in hopes that maybe next time, Kurama would follow through.
Body painfully hard, Yuusuke would stagger to his bedroom. There in his bed, he muffled his rough, hoarse cries in the pillow as he brought himself to a painfully, unsatisfying release.
Each night, it got worse and worse.
Every day, the sensual tension between them became stronger and heavier.   Yet, Yuusuke knew his sexual frustration was coming to a close. The only problem, he didn’t know whether to be glad or run away.
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