Adult-FanFiction.org : YuYu Hakusho

Risk of Conviction	By : Artemick Category: Yuyu Hakusho > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 4082 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own YYH characters/names/anything, or the songs and lyrics that were used to name the titles and are cited at the end of each section. I do not make any money out of their use and abuse.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
DOWN WITH CUPID

Koenma held the kiss so that our lips warmed to each other. My eyes fluttered open, embarrassed, but his lashes were shut. He was at peace.

When he pulled away, I appreciated his face, the joy he felt.

“I do like you. I think we have a problem.”

I nodded, unsure. I wondered if I should kiss him again, put my hands around his waist, whether I should take the lead or wait. Would it be too cold if I were to step back, tie up my hair and kneel to unzip his trousers? It was my first impulse. I just wanted it to be over, to obey the pressure of my expectations of his expectations. My body was liquid with want, a teenager touched with madness. Did I want to do any of it? Did my preferences matter anymore? The questions bound me.

“You are confused,” he ran his hand through my hair, playing with the snags.

I laughed, pushing my hands up his chest. He was hot underneath the wrinkling cloth. “It was a good kiss.”

“Was it?”

“Yes.” I said. “You’re warm.”

Koenma’s expression changed to something new as he watched me. I realized for the first time that I was in the company of an ancient, someone who had been watching humans a long time. We recalled, alone but in the same moments, the sudden illness of my mother, my descent into murderers’ company, my salvation on the rooftop, my mother’s breath, my own life given back…my damnation. My humiliation as I prostituted myself in a bribe to avoid hell was suddenly becoming, flying up the wheel of fate, yet another blessing.

Koenma’s hedonistic smile quirked. There was a sadness in him, a depth from experience, living too long. He realized a moment before I did that I was about to cry.

“The Goddess has endless light,” I whispered.

He touched my head gently. “Who wouldn’t, for you?”

Koenma held me to his chest, where my tears could sink into his garments, ignored and secret.

After a moment, I pushed back and gave him a ready smile. I brushed my eyes dry. My forced humor came out hard on my throat, but it sounded realistic. “So. Two days to lose my corporal virginity to a supernatural lover. With a nice body and heart. Let’s begin.”

Koenma snapped his fingers. A giant hour glass appeared behind him, running silently. “You’re in a good mood. I should take advantage of it.”

“Take advantage?” A small thrill tickled my mind; I was ready to play. I would go at this with all my force. “I don’t believe you could, Archangel. Let a demon take the descent, while you stand firm.”

“You would rather me play the virtuous rescuer of the fallen?”

I purred, “Virtue draws me like a moth.”

Koenma smothered some word. This was as close to Yoko as he would get. My kitsune side had unusual run of the fort. Shuichi was enthralled by the strange and useless fears. I pulled Koenma to the far door.

“So,” Koenma let me lead him. “You want to be the first, but you don’t know where you’re going?”

“I know.” I smelled food, oil, burning wax and headed down the hall toward it.

The wall opened as we approached. Beyond it, the room was full of yellow sunlight. In the center of the opposite wall, a phenomenal bed stood. It had four posts with drapes, carved of dark wood. The mattress was spread with soft white down comforters and pillows.

My hand tightened on the prince’s. I nearly cried out with relief at the familiarity of the room. It was so human room, not a dungeon or web of leather, just cotton laundry with square corners.

On either side of the bed was a giant window. They looked out on the same landscape: a short patio, long lawn and forest beyond it. However, one window was showing the warm gold light of summer on unbounded green, while the other showed a storm blackened wilderness, thrashed down with torrents of rain. I could sense the plants struggling on that side, humming on the other. But I could not reach them to interfere. There was something about the glass.

A servant in a dark kimono was retreating from a table at the foot, on which four dishes were set. She passed through a door in the right wall with a demeanor of disapproval that made me blush.

Koenma put his arm around my shoulders, pinning my hair uncomfortably. He raised his eyebrows, impressed I had found the place, but more impressed with himself for having arranged it. He moved inside so that he might watch me enter, observing my reactions with pride couched eyes.

I advanced slowly, judging the size. The dichotomy of the windows was eerie, and there was no door behind us once I passed through it, just the blank wall.

The whole room stank of interference.

Anything I saw here was touched with some kind of power, maybe concealment, maybe illusion. It didn’t look real, but indicated, like an idea of a bed, or a table. I might have been in a garage, for all truth I could tell.

A scratchy record was playing, crooning a blurred English singer, “Heaven…I’m in hea-a-ven.” The cadence was exquisite but disturbing.

But the scent of food was intoxicating.

“Please take a look,” Koenma said. “I did put effort into it.”

The first dish was Vietnamese; rolls of vegetables, ginger duck and a nuoc cham dipping sauce. The second was a long plate of fruits, everything from apricots, peaches, mangos and figs to quince and pomegranates. A pot of honey and another pot of heated black chocolate marked either end. The third plate was an arrangement of fresh sushi; my nose prickled at the scent of fresh kill. The last was a bowl of ice cream, covered in sliced strawberries and walnuts. Glasses and bottles sat behind them; cold water, champagne, sake and chardonnay. The last had two small bottles next to it, reeking of cinnamon and mixed citrus. Then there was a pot of coffee.

It struck me: these were foods from places I had lived, as a fox and as a human. They were not my favorites. But it was considerate of him to notice.

I put his hand around my waist, only later realizing what an overly-affectionate child I was letting myself act. “What did you do - map out unsolved robberies?”

“Pulled your file. Saw you sew yourself an ao dai. Watched you wear a Fujinese coat all over urban Japan and get attacked by a gang of kids with a metal baseball bat for it. You don’t blend well.”

“No. I don’t.”

Whether the room and food were real or not was no longer a question. The scent was enough to weaken my knees. I was no glutton, but I loved the sensual. Before me was a collection of aphrodisiacs no torn and tangled bandit before had ever been privileged to taste, much less to be fed.

With little conscious intention, I went and knelt at the table, dragging Koenma with me.

“It’s impressive, Koenma. Thank you.”

Koenma took the advantage of my gratitude to turn me to him, our bodies pressing. A reminder that this kindness was not free. I let him lead, stone to my water: I flowed around him and made his desire easy.

He was not as dignified as I expected. His haste made me broken and hurt. I didn’t know why; I knew what he wanted. I suppose I didn’t know why he was being so terribly kind.

Smoothing his hands over my chest and waist, he waited for resistance. I gave none. I only held his arms and watched with a shy grin. He reached around me and ran his hands down my spine. His fingers crept hard over my ass, spread my thighs. He pulled me up over his knees, so that I straddled him, our groins pressed.

My demeanor was meant to speak clearly, to show there was no wall between us that he needed to crush or force through, and I was no wild monster that needed to be beaten, broken or tied. I didn’t want to be hurt. It was shameful, but necessary.

I put my head on his neck. His hand patted me, held on, flexed. I fidgeted. He murmured, “Don’t be nervous. Please, let me hold you.”

He slung me back so that I had to look at him. I told myself, he will love you if he thinks you trust him. So I let go of his neck and sat back. I looked into his eyes until he was satisfied that I was guileless.

“What do you want to eat first?”

I grinned, playing up a more rural accent. “You, would be the appropriate answer. But I’m sure you can tell that you’ve impressed a poor country fox with this spread. I can’t wait to get my teeth into that sushi.”

He shook his arm, flicked his sleeve up as he reached over the table. His wrist was smooth, naturally tanned. I felt like an aberration before his healthy beauty and asked, “You can’t possibly find me appealing enough to demand this welcome, this reverence.”

“It’s nothing.” He fed me a large knot of rice and unagi. His eyelids hooded his pupils; it read of the disinterest and sloth of the spoiled rich.

                It could have been all sense, only a dream, my tongue licking the air. But he spent the time to search for my tastes, to ask, to feed me. So I chewed carefully. He brought me a cup of sake, and I sipped. He gave me another piece of sushi and I gnawed his fingers, making the growl of an animal. I was hot with gratitude. Love, in the vague instinct.

                “Little fox,” he chided. I licked his palm and pretended not to understand. Below, behind fabric, he shivered.

He would have liked if I never spoke but only growled and keened in heat.

Knowing that cooled my mind. It was in my interests to drag out this early and tame flirtation, even though my nerves were begging me to put them out of their fear and lust with a single hot movement.

I let out a trembling breath, gripping his arms.

“Don’t control yourself,” he said.

Too much control. I thought of Hiei. What would they think of my agreeing to this? I grimaced. But Hiei would understand in many ways. He knew I was lonely, that I had many lovers before and was used to being used up and trashed. He would say that I choose to give my fate to another and so deserved to be hurt.

I wondered what his contract would say.

Sex with the difference in their frames would have killed him.

“What’s wrong, pet?”

“Sir?”

“Hm? Koenma, please.”

                “Koenma. What will the punishment be for the…the remaining one?”

                “Terrible.” He murmured, pulling a strand of my hair aside. “Not good bedroom conversation.”

                “You have him already. I know you’re hunting him. Please, it’s good as done. Just tell me.”

                “He hasn’t been brought here yet. But he isn’t as pretty as you.”

                “But you’re so kind.” I stroked his mouth with my fingertips. “Pl – “

                He held his index finger in front of my face. “Don’t beg for him.”

I knocked his hand away. “Hiei is motivated to protect himself. It was only the soul eater you needed to fear.”

“Kurama.” Prince Koenma’s voice was stern. “Laying with me won’t give you any say in the trials or verdicts I preside over. Your friend will be facing his judgment alone, as you did.”

“And catching me on my back won’t make me abandon my allies to the whims of an uninformed and arbitrary law counsel. Hiei is a worthwhile ally, I promise.”

“Aren’t you verbose. Your loyalty cannot lessen his crime, nor the severe consequences he will receive.”

I waited. “Is that all? My soul fled to a boy with an arousing phenotype and a person with power was attracted, so my punishment is rape instead of fire, while my friend will burn?”

He pulled me in and kissed me. He said sternly, “This isn’t rape.”

                “That wasn’t a consent form I signed.”

                “You’re free to appeal.”

                “To what court?”

                Koenma smiled. He indicated himself.

“Wh…” I cut myself off, laughing.

“Oh, trust me, I’m quite impartial.”

                “There is a difference between the moral and legal definition of consent and rape anyway.”

“You would prefer fire.” He opened his hand. Flames appeared in the center.

I was not afraid, but I was silenced. The fire had the heat of molten rock and I felt it sting my face.

He moved his hand toward me, smiling through the blur of the flames. “Answer.”

“No, I would not.” I whispered.

He blew it out and rubbed his fingertips. He wiped them over my skin, singeing my shoulder. “Don’t do that again.”

The record died out with a scratch. In the silence, the far window where the storm raged trembled with thunder and plugging rain. In the other, sparrows and catbirds racketed.

Koenma made a short gesture towards the record player, which began squirting out a foreign torchsong of the same maudlin vintage. It was not Japanese, English, or anything I spoke.

“You speak French?” He asked me. “Of course not. But it’s a language that turns shit to silk. It could even soften you. I speak all languages.”

“You can’t scare me and then act like you’re some sort of arts patron.”

He put his hand on my throat, as though he would choke me, and grit his teeth. “Behave, Kurama.”

“Wouldn’t you prefer me to act naturally?” I said, playing off his desire that this be consensual. “Or should I pretend I’m some kind of fantasy doll for you?”

“If you don’t like fire, how did you stand your partner?”

The thought had never occurred to me. “Hiei never turned his hand on me, even in practice. He had his honor.”

“That’s intriguing. Our analysts identified you as the leader, from the tapes, because he showed deference.”

“He is stronger than me. We have different skills, but I do not lead him.”

Koenma rubbed his fingers together and they sparked. “But neither does he lead you.”

I drew away, afraid. I could not answer; it would incriminate one of us. Thoughts spun through me: The prince liked the fire, liked my reaction, and he could do as he pleased. Would he burn me soon, or wait till after fornicating?

To hold embers that hot was no bureaucrat’s trick. He was strong and had practiced long hours. Though he liked my face, he liked more to make others admire him. He was bringing me to leap like a fawning dog, dancing for a treat and shying from a raised hand. I had chosen a too direct road, assuming he was a good natured pervert.

I reached for a bowl of fruit and entreated, “May I?”

He leaned back on his hands, pressing his lips together, eyes sparkling. I chased his mouth down with an apricot, leaning my body over his, each muscle catching against another in a torrent of warmth and friction. Putting the fruit between his teeth, I followed it with my own mouth, sucking the corner of the apricot back before releasing it inside a kiss. He embraced me, moaning. I put my arm around his back and held us that way for a moment.

                “Very good.” Koenma groaned.

I reached for another, since he seemed amused. It was a good trick; he approved.

But Koenma grabbed my arm to still me and cleared his throat. “Why don’t we change clothes? There’s a robe for each of us on the bed.”

“O – of course.”

I stood, clumsily and went to the side he indicated. A girl’s juban lay on the bed. It was printed with the vines. The fabric was soft but unexpectedly cheap when I touched it. Disposable – the word came to mind, unwanted. Destroyed on whim, without consequence.

I undressed. He didn’t watch. We’re like an old married couple, sick of looking at each other, I thought. I left my shorts on until I had the robe hanging over my shoulders and slid them off without a fuss. I wasn’t terribly proud of my body.

Schoolgirls fantasize about androgynous boyfriends, but when men in the subway began to paw at me, I realized that in Shuuichi’s culture I would always be seen as something less than a man. It was a loss, like when a human realizes that it will never be young again. No adult woman would look to me for protection. I would never be seen as a strong husband, even if I was. I was honored my mother gave me the respect she did, as the oldest son.

I pulled at my sleeves.

“You don’t like it?”

                “I look like a dragonfly.” I held out my arms. Weak. Easily snapped.

                He looked luscious, draped like the dark violet of a Roman emperor. He crawled over the bed and lay down, smiling mischievously at me. “Come here, I have a secret to tell you.”

                I climbed onto the bed, my knees pulling at the fabric.

                He lay his head on the pillow, catching my arm and pulling me down next to him. I tried to be still, but I was feeling sick to death with apprehension.

                “What haven’t you heard before from other lovers? I could say you had hair like bloody silk, that your skin is spun sugar, that your eyes are green as fine dark ink,” he touched my cheek; I twitched back. “I could tell say your body is a crime to leave in the human world.”

                “Please…let’s not talk about that.” My voice came out weak and he spoke over it.

                “But I’m sure you’ve heard it all. Cold?” He rubbed my arm and a warm breeze began to curl by us. I was shivering, but it was vulnerability.

                “I’m fine. Thank you for your kind words.”

                “It was an honest question. I’m no fox. Tell me something you’d like to hear. Something you haven’t heard before.”

                You’re free to go? But I didn’t want to start a fight. I thought a moment. “I don’t listen to words, Koenma. I just see whether I am taken care of.” I pulled his hand to my heart and stroked it, pressing it in massage and raising the plump heel of his palm to my lips to kiss. “I met a young king who found the best foods for me and served them all at once. He showed me gentle consideration, worried when I was cold and thought of my comfort when I was a prisoner. I was expecting a dungeon and landed in a dream.”

                The prince leaned close to me, eyes shut. I moved my lips to his at the cue. The kiss was firm. He was generous with his effort and energy. But I was so eager to run that I ended it too quickly.

                “What in Infinite Kingdoms is wrong with you?” he huffed. Then, smiling, he clapped his hands on my shoulders. “Hey. Look at me.”

                My eyes flinched away. A feeling jerked me to honesty, not his, but my old instinct. “I am so afraid you will over use me, and I will bleed and weep – “

He was touching my hair. “Child. Be at peace.”

“Child?” How dare he overlook what he was asking of me.

“I apologize; you look so innocent in your honesty. Please keep talking, tell me about the nightmare.”

“No.” My voice was a scratch. “Let me keep that in my heart.”

“I can’t help you avoid that path if you don’t mention it.”

“Neither can you lead me down it.”

“I wouldn’t.” His eyes were shocked, as though he were beholding an alien thing. But he pulled my body into his chest. “After all this…we can take as long as you need. You won’t bleed. You’ll like it, I promise.”

But I would still have to do it. Starting now.

I shook him off, sat a short distance away, and knotted my hair back as he watched. Then I leaned down and took his foot. I kissed the top, looking at him as my hands traveled up, squeezing his leg and angling it aside. He laughed and held me up, saying, “Sweet one, you’re leading again.”

I touched the tip of my nose, trying a coy grin. “I know the way.”

                He may be a deity but he had the musk of a human man. I smoothed my cheek against the inside of his knee and ran my hand up inside his robe. His legs have the same toned bronze skin and a more wiry hair.

                My stomach growled and I laughed, covering my face and sitting up. “I’m sorry!”

                “Here,” he offered, getting off the bed.

I couldn’t lift my head and he was too kind, pretending that he hadn’t become achingly hard. To hold and pet me so long, and still have so much control…the prince had the power to pin me down or knock me into position, but he chose to lay out treats and blessings and lure me into the sleeping circle of his arms. Koenma was a good man.

Perhaps I was the dangerous one, thinking badly of him because my own life was duplicitous.

                “Come here.” Koenma grabbed my ankle and pulled, slipping me off the bed and into his arms. My robe pulled high over my thighs, but he ignored it. I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging.

He clapped his hand over my ass cheek, squeezed the thick muscle, then slapped again. He rolled his hips into mine. It thrilled me. I shivered, erect, longing to pound against him as he grasped me.

                He shook his head. “Adorable. Lay down.”

                Feeling small and watched, I sat on the edge of the bed and let myself lean down until I was flat on my back. My hands fisted and smoothed the sheets in turns.

                Koenma picked up the huge bowl of ice cream, melted to soup. He knocked my legs open with two playful slaps. “Pull that up.”

                I grasped my groin, then slowly dragged up the tails of the robe.

                “Redhead.”

                I turned away, ashamed, knees bowing in.

                He pushed caught one with his hand. “I like to see the color. Shaving looks…nubile. I don’t bed children.”

                “I’m fifteen – “

                “You’re not fifteen.” His voice was a dark, amused warning. I was not a human minor; I would certainly not be treated like one.

Channeling Pollock, he dipped his free hand into the bowl and slung a handful of the melted vanilla ice cream over me. It was cold, wet, even heavy. I curled up with a yelp.

Koenma pointed at the sheets, then me.

The corners of the cloth lifted. They fluttered as if they were on a clothesline. Then they shot inward. The cloth, animated with his powers, twisted around my limbs and pulled me open – wrists and ankles.

I bucked, trying to sit up. “Koenma, stop!”

“Hush, you’re alright.”

I started to whimper, trying to close my thighs. My muscles trembled.

Koenma flicked drops of ice cream off his fingertips at me, like a blessing. He reached down, smoothing the length of my penis and pulling it upright, to wrap his wet palm around it. He stroked and stroked.

Lightning went up my spine with each swoop of his hand. I found myself calling out, thrusting my hips up, ass clenching. “Ko-…Koenma, that’s good -”

He thrilled the head with his fingertips. I cried out, gasping.

The melted ice cream was growing thicker, turning to sticky syrup with the heat and friction. He doused his hand again. Coating me with the cool drippings, he leaned down with an open mouth. I screamed.

Gulping, he shut his lips two inches down and pulled back. My flesh showed up, red as any strawberry and streaked with spit and cream. He smacked his lips, eyes on me, tasting my eager compliance.

“Good boy,” he cracked, grinning.

“I’m not a dog,” I gasped, looking at my wrists, wrapped in the sheets. Being immobile was made me near phobic, despite the pleasure that shook me. “I don’t need a leash!”

Koenma made a disgusted expression. He put the bowl down on his hip and motioned. The sheets retreated and tucked themselves into neat hospital corners.

I sat up on my elbows. “Thank you.”

The prince clamped a hand on the edge of the bowl. In a quick motion, he flung it forward, stopping with a jolt and jerking out a wave of melted ice cream that splattered up my body and straight into my face, masking me.

My shoulders crimped in at the cold. I opened my mouth in a quick gasp and blew the air through my nose. My eyes fluttered open a crack. I saw white spatters over my chest, a reverse trail up from my groin, and felt it on my throat.

I licked my lips. I did not understand the insult. But it reminded me of students bullied in hallways, food tossed on their faces and clothes. I had never seen those same pairs of attacker and victim with one pinned against a wall and molested. But I understood it was meant to be degrading. As if I were trash.

“There.” He tossed the bowl aside and took my face in his hands. His palms smoothed up my cheeks, wiping the cream over across my ears and into my hair. “Yoko Kurama.”

He kissed me. It was more mature this time. He supped on me. Slurping my lip up between his teeth, he sucked on me and groaned. His knees settled beside my thighs, bending the mattress.

He chewed me, backed off, licked, touched my hair and looked in my eyes, then kissed again. Now he was kissing like he must always kiss, a sort of unaware fingerprint of lust. He was messy. It felt good.

“You look like someone…fed you well,” he said.

“I dislike this,” I said, quiet. The sticky mess itched, running down my chin, but I did not touch it for the same reason that one would not touch another’s wet canvas.

“It’s like I came all over your face,” he said, smoothing my bangs carefully off my brow. He made a sound effect, miming his fantasy.

I faked a laugh, choking. “You think this is sexy?”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” He pushed the heel off his hand onto the top of his bobbing erection, trying to keep it down. He couldn’t. “Lay down,” he said, pushing my chest back. He walked up on the bed with his knees, straddling my body.

“Wait – “ I put my hands on his thighs. He pushed against them, ringing his cock with his forefinger and thumb, and began jerking off quickly.

The stained head of his cock stank with precum, shaking over my face. He made a motion with his hand to encourage me. “Lick it. Now.”

I tried to catch the moving thing with my tongue. He put one hand behind my head to support it and the other he used to keep on tugging, bobbling the turgid tip inside my mouth. I tried to keep my teeth off it. His salty muck spread over my tongue.

“Suck,” he ordered, surprised to have to explain. “Close your mouth and pull.”

I put my lips around the shaft and was struck by the memory of how I felt when he did it. I pressed the flat of my tongue over the slit, firm. He spurted in anticipation. It was not ambrosia, but plain salt.

Before he’d finished he pulled back out of my tight lips and gasped, sighing through a grin.

“Shut your eyes,” he said, pulling away. “But try and look surprised.”

“Koenma – “ I winced away as he came, feeling the line spray my cheek. He grabbed the top of my scalp and turned my face back. I yelled. He tagged my face with his scribbled graffiti.
- 7
- 8
- 9
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Risk of Conviction