To my mysterious anon, who I suspect has been leaving me kind remarks from near the beginning: I hope you like this, and I'm terribly sorry it took so long. I have a lot of trouble with Yomi/Kurama, but I've tried to give you something. Your patience with me has been appreciated, really.

I want to give a thank you to my reviews in general; you're all wonderful. Honestly, your feedback is what's keeping me going, and I really love you for it, especially those who keep doing it. So, thanks!

Disclaimer: I do not own YYH, nor do I own any imps, homicidal magicians, or diva aliens (yes! All have been featured in Togashi's works!)

Hiei had been caught, simple as that.

Of all the possible outcomes of all the possible situations, this was not one he'd anticipated. He hadn't even expected to see the fire demon until the beginning of the tournament, and it was not guaranteed that they'd interact. They weren't exactly on speaking terms, but they weren't exactly not either. It was quite the surprise to hear that the other had chosen to pay him a visit, let alone one so risky. Let alone be caught.

The royal guard had not been disbanded, despite the king's claim in agreement with Yusuke's "every demon for himself" ploy. Yomi, in his infinite wisdom and inborn innocence, claimed that it was merely a matter of time, that old alliances were just as difficult to dissolve as old feuds. That hadn't stopped him from using them to capture the dark haired intruder, or from using him as leverage.

He had called Kurama into what the kitsune privately labeled the "throne room," which as far as he was concerned was an entire space devoted to the blind king's vanity. It was just as cold and unfeeling as the rest of Gandara, lacking semblance of organic light and life. It made him shiver at the thought; he had no power there. Not against the realm's king, anyway.

Yomi had told him the news as if reciting the weather forecast, but it was clear he was intent on drawing a reaction from the kitsune. The result was subtle, the increase of his heart rate, the small beading of sweat on the back of his neck but his expression stayed the same, the tension in his muscles no more than usual. It seemed to be enough, though, to amuse the seated ruler, a small smile playing at his lips as he uttered the state of his captive.

"It's a pity, really," he said, looking past the redhead with eyes blind to his harsh gaze, "that he crossed into our lines bearing no affiliation. I'd have need to spare him if he was still Mukuro's retainer." Green eyes narrowed, ready to point out the flaw in his logic.

"Isn't it a paradox to claim that when you've chosen to dissolve your kingdom as well?" Yomi's smile grew, though not very.

"And I will. But I cannot guarantee his safety until then, I'm afraid. You know my men, Kurama. Their allegiances are strong and until a new leader has been chosen there would be no way to discipline them if they took matters into their own hands." The fox took a step forward, bristling at the arrogance hidden in the other's even voice. This ploy was not unfamiliar to him. It had been something he would have done, in his past life. A life he wished to forsake.

"What is it that you want, Yomi?" The voice was cold, low, reminiscent of a silver haired beast. The blind king cocked his head to the side, finally showing an interest in the man across from him. It was still for a moment, the silence interrupted only by the buzzing of ambient machinery, a necessity in the mechanical prison he called a kingdom.

"What I've wanted all along, Kurama," he said calmly. "You."

The kitsune did his best not to retort, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back a jibe that had been almost too good to take. He had been so close, so close to escaping the other's service with both his life and his pride. It seemed that one of them would belong to the former bandit after all.

"I'm afraid you must be more specific, old friend. I need to know if what I'm trading is worth what I'm receiving in turn." His tone was terrifyingly civil, another trick from the old days. Back when they had spent their time together. The ruler of Gandara didn't bother to suppress the grin that it drew.

"I would think so. In fact, I'm feeling generous. You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Kurama?" He snickered, light bouncing off of his pristine, human-eating teeth.

He couldn't help but think back to their days in the camp, when they fought side by side, before Yomi had become a liability. They had been thieves, but their renown had gone further than that. In their time they were gods, gluttons for pleasures of all kinds, of the material world and of the flesh. They had drowned themselves, at times, in elegant furs, in diamonds, in the mouths of others. They constantly reeked of pheromones, constantly sought out more, always had a sheen of sweat either from battle or bed on their porcelain skin. And if they were particularly successful, the reigning deity would allow the other, the younger, to take him between his lips and bring him to bliss. This was his ultimate generosity.

He knew what the once-was ruler meant as soon as the words were spoken. Up until then it had never been reciprocated, a one sided ploy to ensure that not only was he desired, but he was in control of that desire. This, what was being asked, was different. This was a reversal of that, a challenge to see how far the mighty had fallen, and how low he could further sink.

"On your knees." That seemed to answer that.

The kitsune followed the order, dropping down to one knee in a princely manner, but he kept his eyes up, refusing to lower his head. Yomi let the leg that he had crossed fall, sinking into his metal throne comfortably as he stared toward the floor, smirk still in place. Kurama did not move, awaiting further instruction. He would do what he was told: nothing more. The had-been king must have sensed this, for again he spoke.

"At your own pace, then."

His hands felt like lead as he lifted them, bringing them up to the other's knees before sliding forward, taking in alien warmth under the cloth that covered the ruler's legs. He paused at his waistband, stealing a moment. Other options were not forthcoming, and as humiliating as it may have been, the fire demon's safety had to be considered first and foremost. Of all things, this he could do. With bitter thoughts on his tongue, the kitsune pulled away the fabric and swallowed the other whole.

There were a few seconds where Kurama feared that something was wrong. The blind king didn't so much as move, his heartbeat unchanged, still flaccid against the kitsune's tongue. Kurama even began to pull back, unsure, but then his teeth grazed against sensitive skin. With the harsher contact Yomi sighed, his body suddenly coming to life, hot and hard and ready. That was all the signal the fox needed to continue.

There was a distinct lack of grace in the kitsune's movements, but he retained his skill, keeping his eyes trained all the while on the face of the one he closed his lips around. He plunged forward with a singular goal in mind, his efforts on the other's quick release rather than his pleasure. He bobbed his head at a barbaric pace, hands held behind his back: something he would have had the other do if he was displeased. It happened almost out of reflex, as if he had been in this position before in the stead of the other. However, he had not, and the display only coaxed his captor on further, the grin on his face taking a wicked turn.

Though he couldn't see it, he could sense it: the other's facial expression, the position, the symbolism that he returned. There were other senses, though, which he depended on to see what his eyes could not: the tenseness in the fox's back, the heat coming off of his face and neck in rage no doubt, the urge to kill in his aura being bit back only by his practiced logic. Part of Yomi wanted to challenge that, to heighten his rage to a point where he wouldn't care, where he would risk it all just to try to hurt him. Then, of course, they would have to fight, and undoubtedly Kurama would lose. Part of him wanted to see him beaten and broken, to steal his light, to watch as he crawled around on all fours like the animal he remembered him as. But the rest of him knew that none of those were options, and that he would have to suffice with a more psychological revenge. Surely, this would be enough.

And if it wasn't like everything he'd imagined. The silver haired fox had treated his encounters with Yomi as one-sided. It had been particularly frustrating; the bastard's renown as a lover had come from his ability to give pleasure, yet he only allowed the other to be the provider. Never had he seen him as an equal, not in war and not in love, but this. This put all of the rumors and whispers of the great Youko Kurama to shame. Then again, nothing was as pleasurable as watching him willingly submit, even if it was for the sake of another. Perhaps the power was getting to his head.

The blind king groaned, head falling back a bit as the kitsune abandoned his positioning in favor of using his hands, bringing one up to massage the skin under where he was working. When another hand wrapped around him tightly, the king bucked, earning a choking noise from below. Yomi licked his lips, enjoying the first sound that the kitsune had made and mimicking the movement. Kurama tried his best not to cry out as he was gagged, unwilling to give the other the satisfaction, but he couldn't help the whimper that escaped as the king hit the back of his throat roughly, leaving him with a burning sensation inside. Yomi's breathing was becoming ragged, and as the fox looked up at him again after having faltered he was met with a sight he hadn't seen in years.

The blind king was staring down at him, mouth agape, sweat beginning to form on his skin. He looked younger, a shadow of his past self, and for a moment their positions switched. For just a moment, Kurama returned to the time when it was that face gazing up at him, mouth wrapped around his cock, and being brought to similar ecstasy. And in that moment, it was him who felt a spark of pleasure.

As if he could read his mind, the once-ruler's hands left their rests, reaching down to grab fistfuls of red. Kurama's eyes dilated as he was choked, the hands in his hair pushing him down to the other's base without warning, swallowing around him to avoid the reflex to regurgitate. He held him there for what seemed like an eternity, and then Yomi was shooting, pulling from the other's mouth only as he grew soft. The kitsune fell back against his shins, coughing violently as he tried to regain his equilibrium, the world spinning ever so slightly around him from the sudden lack of oxygen and kick of adrenaline. He glared up at the former bandit, but the king was already composed, neat and tidily tucked away under his robes. If not for his aura, and the obvious smell of sex in the room, no one would have known what transpired.

"It seems you can take orders, after all," Yomi mused, his voice ever so off from its normal tone. Kurama clenched his fists and closed his eyes, letting his head hang as he tried to regain his calm along with whatever dignity he could muster. "You've done well."

He had no plans to speak. Instead, the kitsune pulled himself to his feet, as if lifted by a marionette's strings, and turned to saunter out the door. There were only two places Hiei could be, only two cells strong enough to hold him. He was sure that by the time he made it to either of them Yomi would have informed his keepers to let them go undisturbed. There was no question of him keeping his word, even if his motives had been underhanded to begin with. If there had been, the Kurama would have killed him at the start. Or at least tried.

A hand on his arm stopped him, whirling him around so he was nose to nose with the once king. He tensed, the speed at which the other had moved catching him off guard and eliciting the response, so utterly human. When he spoke, it was husked just above a whisper, the king moving so that his lips brushed the kitsune's ear. Without his say so, a shudder ran down his spine.

"Take great care with him, when you find him, Kurama. And be sure to kiss your lover with those lips: those lips that taste of me."

The fox stormed out, unsure of what was more frightening: that Hiei's value had been known all along, or that the fact made him aroused.

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