100 Pure
The first time I realised Kurogane held a secret love for chocolate was when I first kissed him. He opened his mouth against mine, all hot air and sharp teeth, and his tongue tasted like chocolate. The kind that's so dark it's not even sweet anymore; it's bitter and strong and intoxicating.
I couldn't get enough.
Even sweet things started to lose their appeal compared to the addictive taste that was now Kurogane. Sometimes I would watch him eat the confectionary, popping it in his mouth and letting it melt against his palate. And then I would smirk at him and twirl over and straddle his hips, threading fingers in dark hair and lick every last trace of chocolate from his mouth. I would grip his thigh with my hand and feel him growl against my chest, deep and rumbling like thunder. I would push myself against him and trail his collar bone with my fingers and just to piss him off, instead of calling out his name, I would moan, Oh, Kuro-chocolat against parted lips. Through half-lidded eyes I would see the flash of his fangs, that grin that melted, feral and wild and mine.
Who the hell needed a cup of hot cocoa when you have Kurogane to warm the day?