(Standard disclaimer: You know I don't own YYH or its characters; they are the sole property of Yoshihiro Togashi, Shonen Jump Comics Weekly, Studio Pierrot and Fuji Television.)
A/N: One-shot. PWP with a bit of angst at the end.
Enjoy!
Warm, supple lips press against my own. A tongue darts out, demanding entrance. My mouth opens willingly, allowing that tongue which tastes of fire, to slip inside and begin mapping the contours of my mouth. Of its own volition, my tongue joins the intimate dance, entwining with his as the kiss deepens.
My arms wrap around his neck. Hands and slender fingers twine in ebony hair as soft and as black as the raven's wing as I draw him closer still. The kiss intensifies until we are both left breathless. It is only then that we draw apart from one another. My breaths are harsh, panting as my body struggles to take oxygen into my starved lungs.
He, of course, suffers no such affliction and simply smirks at my human body's need before he begins trailing feather-soft kisses from the corner of my mouth to my cheek and then along my jaw-line until he reaches my ear.
Again I feel warm, moist heat as his tongue gently traces along my lobe then upwards, outlining the ear's shape. Quickly it darts inward – just for a moment – then retreats and begins its downward trek once more.
Lips press against my jaw and the tongue follows. As he continues on, now at my neck, I feel small, sharp teeth graze my skin. He stops, lips latching onto a single patch of pale flesh, and I angle my head to allow him better access. He begins sucking gently, and I can't help but to smile. For some reason, known only to himself, he enjoys marking me, leaving my skin littered with hickeys. Not that I object in the least. They say what he will not even though they'll have faded into nothing by morning's first light.
He draws back for a moment to admire his handiwork. His hands, which have not been idle during this time, part the shirt his nimble fingers had unbuttoned as he sucked at my neck. He leans down again, his mouth continuing its journey across my pale, heated flesh.
Again his mouth pauses, this time hovering just about my left nipple. I feel warm breath ghost across my flesh before he dips his head lower, his tongue flicking out to touch just the tip of the areole. My reaction is almost instantaneous as the tiny bud hardens. His tongue begins circling, stroking the nipple in lazy circles until his lips touch my skin.
I gasp, arching my back as he draws the now hardened flesh into his mouth. Teeth graze flesh as his tongue laves, gently teasing the little nub held captive between them.
His hand comes up and splayed fingers gently glide across my right nipple, eliciting the same instantaneous response as the bud hardens beneath his touch. I feel him smile around the nipple in his mouth as his fingers begin to pinch and stroke the right. Again my body arches up, seeking more of that pleasurable torture.
He knows – Inari! does he know just how to play me! In his hands, I am the Stradivarius and he the virtuoso plucking my strings.
He continues suckling, drawing out my pleasure. Small, sharp teeth occasionally graze the flesh, and a long, low moan escapes my lips. He prolongs this delightful torment for several moments longer before I feel his mouth gently withdraw and feather-soft kisses pepper the nipple and the surrounding skin. Those kisses continue across my chest until his mouth settles over my right nipple where he proceeds to lavish the same attention on it as he had its twin.
His hands caress, fingers lightly stroking pale flesh as they roam across my chest and down my sternum then move outward to caress my sides. They continue their downward trek moving inward to ghost over my abdomen before they finally come to a stop at the waistband of my pants.
His lips, tongue and mouth follow his hands and fingers – kissing, licking, and nipping – leaving tiny love bites in their wake as they chart the familiar lines of my body. My hands fist the satin sheets beneath me as I arch into his touch. My breath hitches as I feel the hot, moist heat of his tongue circle my navel. Lazily he laves the divot for several moments before dipping his tongue in and swirling it around the tiny space.
At the same time, I feel deft fingers glide gently across the top of my waistband. They pause momentarily in the center before they ease the button of my pants free and carefully lower the zipper. Those same fingers slip inside, teasing the already aroused flesh within. Soft kisses pepper my stomach as small hands gently slide the pants down and off of my body. Carelessly, he tosses them to the floor and our eyes lock – vermillion meeting viridian before he lowers his head and takes my arousal into his m…..
"Kurama? Kurama? Hey… earth to Foxboy?!"
And with that rather abrasive shout, my delightful daydream abruptly ends. My comfortable bedroom fades into the all too familiar surroundings of Genkai's forest, and I am thrust once again into reality.
Stifling my sigh, I open my eyes and address the owner of the rough voice that has pulled me from my reverie. "Yes, Yusuke?"
"That musta' been some daydream," he replies with a smirk. "I've been shoutin' at ya' for the last five minutes. You're up, man… you and Short Stack here."
'You have no idea, Yusuke!' I think, though aloud I simply ask, "And what makes you think that I was daydreaming?" as I climb to my feet.
Before he can answer, another voice intervenes. "Hn, stupid fox! Dreams are nothing more than a stupid waste of time," the voice belonging to the one that haunts those very daydreams sneers. "You'd do well to remember that and utilize the energy you would otherwise expend on such a useless activity for something constructive… such as training to increase your power!" he finishes, unsheathing his katana and adopting an offensive posture.
I don't answer, for I have none to give him. Dreams are a reflection of what is in our hearts, and I cannot ever tell him what is in mine. I must be content with my daydreams, and so I smile, remove the rose from my hair and prepare for the battle that is to come.