To Withstand the Force of Storms
WARNING: accidental drug use, purposeful alcohol use, lots of swearing, and a brief sexual encounter
Title Credit goes to the song of the same name by La Dispute. I thought it fit the mood and also I am shit at naming things.
To Yusuke Urameshi, normalcy was a novelty.
Still, he did find it particularly strange when, late one summer evening, three sharps raps on his front door interrupted his semi-nightly process of drinking himelf into a hazy stupor. After the end of his shift at the ramen stand that night, he'd picked up a twelve pack on the way home and had subsequently gotten about halfway through it.
Glancing at his wall clock—was it really almost midnight already?—the Mazoku lord stood, catching the leather arm of his worn living room sofa to steady his wobbly gait before stumbling towards the entryway, yanking the door open with a put-upon scowl dressing his face. He opened his mouth to begin cursing at his unwelcome guest, but it abruptly snapped shut of its own accord when a calm emerald gaze leveled his own.
"Yusuke," Kurama said by way of greeting, "I have a small favor to ask of you."
Gracefully, the redhead managed not to mention or otherwise express any indication that he noticed Yusuke's attire (or lack thereof). Not long after the man had hit the bottom of his first beer can, he had stripped away his work clothes and now stood at the door in only his favorite pair of pale green boxer shorts, clearly not anticipating midnight company.
And if Kurama at his doorstep at midnight asking for a favor wasn't strange enough, there was also the fact that he had a small, black-clad lump slung over his broad shoulder that could only be known as Hiei. Limp and quiet, the fire demon would have appeared to be napping blissfully if not for his ragged, uneven breathing.
"Uh, what's with him?" Asked the Mazoku, stepping deftly to the side to allow Kurama access into his humble abode. The fox tipped him a nod of thanks, toeing off his shoes by the door, before taking his load off, literally, by depositing Hiei carefully upon Yusuke's couch.
"Toad demon," said Kurama in his usual vague fashion that spawned more questions than it answered.
"Riiight," replied Yusuke, deciding not to push the subject. "What were you saying about a favor?"
Upon receiving no immediate response Yusuke inched closer to his demon friends, fascinated by the sudden sight of Kurama easily ripping apart the black fabric of Hiei's preferred cloak with his bare hands. Ribbon by ribbon slid to the floor until the fire demon laid bare-chested, unscathed save for multiple patches of dark, inky purple staining his tan flesh.
"Would you fetch me a wet cloth, Yusuke? Along with a basin of water, preferably warm," Kurama requested, although the other man had a sinking suspicion the fox hadn't trekked across the city to Yusuke's little cabin in the woods with Hiei on his back just to borrow a wet rag.
Nonetheless, being the great friend that he was, Yusuke obeyed the kitsune's instructions. His dark brows quirked in question when Kurama began to dab gently at the purple spots with the cloth; gingerly at first, then adding pressure. All the while Hiei stayed mostly still, only giving a small groan towards the tail end of the cleaning process after Kurama prodded him with a finger to the ribs.
"He seems stable enough, and I've already given him an antidote for the poison," muttered the kitsune seemingly to himself, lost in thought.
"Poison?"
"Yes. A low class demon made it through to the other side of the border," the redhead explained. "Hiei tracked it down and slayed it quickly. However, the creature's blood is a potent hallucinogenic poison."
Drunk as Yusuke had felt before, a cold, sobering clamminess crept up his spine at the combination of the words 'hallucinogenic' and 'poison.' Despite knowing little to nothing about both topics, Yusuke knew enough to feel justified about the little bells of alarm chiming off in the back of his mind.
"Is he gonna—" the Mazoku paused, swallowing down the hard lump of fear clogging up his airway, "—be okay? He's gonna live, right?" He had to live—Kurama wouldn't let anything else be the outcome, of this Yusuke optimistically tried to be certain.
Kurama placed a kind hand on his drunken friend's bare shoulder, smiling weakly. "Yes, he will live. The antidote should burn the poison out of his system within a few hours."
A beam of sunshine broke through the dark cloud brewing within the Mazoku. It quickly dimmed, however, when he realized that some information had obviously been withheld from him. Eyes narrowing into accusatory slits, Yusuke said, "and you just happened to be there when he went all sword-happy on the damned thing? What, do you guys stalk each other 'r have secret embarrassing sleepovers or something?"
The redhead returned his look, equally unamused. "He had enough sense to come to me before he lost consciousness."
Which did, admittedly, make sense. Kurama knew more about poisons than Yusuke could ever hope to know about anything. Yet still, something didn't quite sit right with the Mazoku. He wasn't shy about making that known either, all stern expression and hands on hips.
"All right, so, I get that. He went to you because you know your shit, right?" Yusuke didn't wait for confirmation, barreling into his next sentence before the wily fox could sneak a word in edgewise. "Right. But here's what I'm not getting; why did you bring him here? You can't be telling me you ran all the way over here in your fuckin' silky-ass pajamas just to use my couch, 'cos even I'm not stupid enough to believe that."
The enigmatic fox smiled his mysterious smile.
"Correct; I did not. So now we've come to my favor—would you please house him for the night? I can't keep him at my apartment, I'm afraid; Suichi has claimed my couch as his unofficial home away from home for the weekend."
And it wasn't so much that Yusuke had any real argument against that; after all, Hiei, despite all his protests, was his friend. Something just didn't add up, was all. Surely Kurama could have left him safe and sound in the woods somewhere. Surely he could have even returned the fire youkai to Alaric, Mukuro's lair. Instead, the fox had picked probably the strangest place in all three worlds, besides Kuwabara's flat, to dump him off at.
Letting out a huff of air to indicate he was thinking it over, the Mazoku glanced around the palely lit living room he called part of his home. Nothing about it as a whole was particularly spacious, but it was cozy—just enough room for Yusuke to feel like he had a spot to call his own. The cabin itself had come cheap, being on the outskirts of the city, and Yusuke had furnished it minimally—besides his bed and dresser, his assets mainly included the brown leather sofa Hiei was laid out on, an antique coffee table taken from his mother's place, and (his favorite possession) a rather expensive stereo system. The kitchen had been fully equipped when he'd moved in, courtesy of the previous owners, and he had only needed to buy utensils.
After glaring mindlessly at the shading on his tan living room carpet in the light of the lamp beside the couch, warm brown eyes finally flickered back over to Kurama, who had, politely as ever, stood quietly while Yusuke 'deliberated' an answer.
"There's a catch," said the Mazoku flatly, "I just know it. Fess up."
Shrugging helplessly, the redhead caved. "While the antidote will rid his blood of the poison, it may amplify some of its hallucinogenic properties. He will be weak and disoriented, no doubt, but it would be wise to keep your guard up if he wakes. There's no telling what he'll do."
Cringing, the ex-detective snuck a glance at the sleeping demon. He seemed relatively peaceful now, and his breathing had evened out, but the kitsune's words had Yusuke's muscles tense and alert. "How high are we talking here?"
"Pardon?"
"The innocent thing isn't cute tonight," grumbled the dark-haired man, ignoring Kurama's answering smirk. "I'm asking how fucked up he's gonna be, scale of one to ten. One being a little wonky, ten being tripping so hard that the walls look like they're melting."
A slight tilt to Kurama's pretty little red head might have been a bit cute, but probably that was just the alcohol muddling Yusuke's brain. "Why Yusuke, you sound like you have personal experience with hallucinogens," he said, somehow managing to sound chastising and teasing and gentle all at once.
Yusuke glared. "I'm gonna take that as a ten, since you conveniently side-stepped the question."
As per usual, of course. Another vague smile from the fox did nothing to confirm or deny his accusations, so Yusuke shook his head and sighed.
"Fine," he went on without further prompting, "he can stay. But if he slits my throat because you left him here with me, I'm coming back from Spirit World to choke you the fuck out Kurama, I swear."
Chuckling, the redhead gracefully stepped beside the Mazoku and touched his shoulder again, once. "No worries my friend, his sword remains in my possession for the time being. You may wish to temporarily lose your kitchenware, however."
With those last words of advice, the fox took his leave, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Leaving Yusuke with an unconscious fire demon hogging up a good portion of his couch.
"Perfect," the man grunted, moving to occupy the remaining section of couch Hiei left untouched. Vaguely, Yusuke noted ribbons of black cloak littering his carpet and made quite a show of doing nothing to pick them up, leaning back against the cushions with a sigh and swinging his feet up to rest on the coffee table.
The television was on some game show channel, and the Mazoku trained his eyes on that once he'd grabbed a fresh beer from the cooler next to the couch. Lazy as it was, it was especially convenient not to have to get up and risk disturbing the drugged up demon sleeping next to him.
Only apparently, when cracking open said beer can, Yusuke disturbed him anyway.
In an instant the can went flying somewhere across the room—Hiei barreled into him, hard, tackling him to the floor with a searing hot hand curled around the base of his throat and a leg on either side of Yusuke's waist. In the dim lighting Yusuke couldn't see too well, but well enough to notice that Hiei's pupils were blown out so wide that only a ring of red sparkled around them, the color of freshly spilled blood.
"Hiei..." Yusuke began, struggling to fill his lungs with air against the tightening grip on his throat, "…'s me. Yusuke...Let. Go." As slowly as he could so not to startle the demon, the Mazoku reached up to wrap his fingers around his thin wrist and yank.
The small demon recoiled from his touch as though stung, snarling through his teeth and raising a fist, posed to strike. He seemed feral, unhinged, trembling and glaring murderously-and for a moment Yusuke wondered feebly if he did something to piss off Kurama that merited a slow and painful death at the hands of their mutual friend.
Then, slowly, the fire youkai stilled.
His glare softened a fraction as he lowered his arm uselessly to the side of his half-naked body. "Yusuke," he murmured, the name rolling off his tongue more softly than Yusuke had ever heard it before. "I thought—you smelled different. Dangerous. I didn't recognize you."
Cautiously, Yusuke righted himself on the floor, attempting to ignore the way Hiei was still straddling his lap, half clinging to him now rather than coiling away. His shoulders rolled in a little shrug and he had to bite down a snicker, amused when the movement made the fire demon startle.
"Blood alcohol content is probably pretty high," the Mazoku admitted. "Probably not as high as you, though. How ya feeling?"
Hiei blinked slowly, allowing Yusuke an up-close and personal view of long, dark lashes fluttering against tan cheeks. The demon did this cute little lip-smack thing too, as if tasting the whatever words he was about to speak. It turned out to be only one, "strange," lips pursing into something that would be called a pout on anyone else.
"Do you remember what happened?" asked Yusuke.
"Blood," Hiei replied succinctly. "Purple. Kurama." The chuckle of breath Yusuke let out seemed to bring attention to their proximity; the demon's small nose wrinkled in obvious distaste. "You smell terrible."
Yusuke heaved an especially heavy sigh, enjoying the unusual expressiveness of Hiei's otherwise stoic visage in reaction to his beer breath. "You're not smelling like daisies and sunshine either, pal. You know how to work a shower? I can teach you if you don't; might be a good idea after the poisoning and all."
The prominent grimace that overtook Hiei's face did little to answer the question. Probably the demon hadn't even heard him; his glazed eyes were fixed on some odd corner of the room behind the Mazoku's head. Tense and wary, the demon's hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. He didn't take any violent action however, which was probably nothing short of a miracle, so Yusuke kept his voice low and gentle when he spoke.
"Hey, whatever you're seeing isn't real. Okay? It's fine."
Hiei did not look his way.
"There's nothing here, Hiei," he tried again. "It's just you and me."
Unconvinced, the demon shifted in the bigger man's lap. "The wall—it moved," he whispered. "It's rippling like water."
Sensing Hiei's unwillingness to look away from the illusion, Yusuke reached up both hands to cup the small demon's cheeks between them. Startled, brilliant red ensnared brown, yet he did not pull away like he normally would. It was no secret, after all, that the diminutive demon had nothing but minimal tolerance for flesh on flesh touch.
"Just look at me, all right?" Yusuke replied, gently. "Everything is fine. Nothing is moving that shouldn't be."
The soft drone of the television filled the room where otherwise silence would have consumed them.
Hiei stared at him openly, eyes wide and searching, colored with the faintest tinge of disbelief. They mapped every inch of Yusuke's visible skin, perhaps looking for telltale signs of an imposter. At this point, Yusuke had no idea what could possibly be going through the fire demon's head; only that he had to keep up and stay comforting.
"Are you real? Hiei asked suddenly in a quiet, almost small voice.
Yusuke swept his palms down the sides of the fire demon's neck, guiltily relishing the little shiver Hiei's body rewarded him with.
"Yeah, I'm real. Why? Do I look different? Any extra eyes? Horns?
The small demon's eyebrows knitted together, perplexed. "No, but—your eyes. They're brown."
Unable to resist, the Mazoku smirked. "As someone with three of 'em, you're sure observant," he teased, earning himself a scowl paired with a surprisingly gentle smack to his side.
"I've noticed before, idiot," Hiei hissed. "I only meant to say that...they aren't boring. They almost...glow."
A peculiar flutter of emotions tickled Yusuke's gut, coloring his cheeks an embarrassing shade of pink. Suddenly their sitting arrangement didn't feel like such a great idea, what with the closeness and the way Hiei's eyelids had begun to droop, dark with something that wasn't anger or disdain, or even malice. Yusuke was hard-pressed to name the exact shade of emotions that those red eyes had darkened with, but he had a pretty fair guess.
"It's the drug," he asserted aloud, somewhat to Hiei but mostly to himself. "That's why you're seeing shit all weird. The toad's blood was loaded with it, according to Kurama." And the fox hadn't exactly been wrong when he'd accused Yusuke of dabbling in psychedelics before: once, he'd taken a hit of acid and spent about nine hours regretting it.
On that level, at least, he understood Hiei's actions—the closeness probably felt secure, safe; perhaps the brush of flesh against flesh was electric, because for Yusuke even it almost was. They never touched like this, and the sensation had warmth dancing through his bloodstream.
Hiei, as though captivated, gave no indication that he'd even heard the other man. Much like Yusuke, he seemed caught up in their intimate position—calloused hands from years of swordsmanship darted up to trace the blush of pigment still staining Yusuke's burning cheeks; horrified, Yusuke turned his face away.
But the demon did not stop. Like a curious child he let his fingertips card through dark hair slicked back with gel before moving downward to thumb at thick brows. Yusuke, weakly, reminded himself that this was part of the drug, that everything probably felt very strange to the fire demon, and so he tried not to flinch away any further during the demon's bizarre exploration—even when rough fingerpads dragged across his bottom lip.
When Hiei's hands attempted to travel lower, however, Yusuke caught them by their wrists. He admired them silently for a brief moment—powerful hands, no doubt, but also graceful; scarred, and yet undeniably beautiful—then spoke, and where he had meant to say 'quit it, weirdo' what came out was "you have nice hands, kinda."
A mirthless chuckle soured the electric air between them. "They're the hands of a killer," the demon said matter-of-factly. "What is 'nice' about that?"
Frowning, the Mazoku brushed his thumb against the inside of Hiei's left wrist where skin could meet skin instead of wards. "You're not just a killer, Hiei."
"Oh no? Do elaborate, detective. What other purpose do I serve?" Any joke Yusuke had wanted to make about things Hiei was (short, mainly) died on his tongue as Hiei's tone came at him like a knife at his throat; sharp, jagged, and questioning.
And it was strange how those words did cut him in a way, a jab of hurt lancing straight through his silent heart. He pushed the words out anyway, throat thick with unexplainable emotion: "You're my friend. You're Kurama's friend. Hell, even Kuwabara cares about you. Don't give me that 'all I am is a killer' bullshit, Hiei—you're a friend."
"No," countered the swift-tongued fire demon, "I am useful to you."
With hazardous force, Hiei wrenched away his wrists from the Mazoku's grasp, nearly tipping himself over in the process. He righted himself before Yusuke could intervene however, heating the space between them with a fiery glare. "Don't mistake mutual usefulness for friendship, Yusuke."
For a brief, dumbstruck moment, Yusuke could only gape. The lance of pain from before had split into a thousand tiny daggers puncturing his insides so that he shook with every single breath. It didn't make any damn sense to be hurt, he thought, because Hiei had never truly acknowledged their friendship (denied it, more accurately)—but to act as though Yusuke considered him only a tool? A powerful pawn to be used, who in turn used him for power as well?
Yes, it could be said that Hiei was useful. As an ally, Hiei had saved his skin on more than one occasion—had helped to save them all, in fact. Hiei was a warrior, a survivor, and—yes—a killer, but Yusuke had never held that against him. He was a friend.
They were supposed to be friends.
"You're so full of shit," spat the Mazoku, weakly, shoving the demon off of his lap with poorly contained force. Hiei fell flat on his back with a low groan of pain, having hit his head at the edge of the coffee table on his way down. Lurching forward immediately, Yusuke hovered over him with worried eyes.
"Damn it, are you okay?"
Glazed red fixed on him after a few slow blinks, then—a curt nod.
Yusuke sucked a breath of relief through his teeth just in time for the blow to his gut to steal it all away again. It came out in a whoosed curse as he doubled over, holding his middle with one arm and the couch with the other. Hiei left him no time to catch his breath, however, shoving him onto his back and climbing on top of him in the speed of two blinks.
"They're going to come for me eventually," the demon said, peering down at the confused as hell descendant of the great Raizen, who'd just been sucker punched and was still pretty pissed about it.
Said descendant heaved a full breath of wonderful oxygen, then said, agitatedly, "what in the hell are you talking about? Did you really hit your head that hard?"
Curiously enough, Hiei didn't answer him. He stared off into the ether for a long, quiet moment, and Yusuke felt stupidly aware of their position all the while: Hiei, on top of him, hands curled on his chest like a lover's touch, and Yusuke, below, whose own hands had mysteriously caught the demon's waist in the whole process and now refused to let go. He did have a nice waist, actually—narrow but sturdy. He didn't even want to consider how nice Hiei's ass might be; his hands might consider that a command without his permission and migrate.
"Hiei," he tried, if only for the sake of something else to focus on, "what are you seeing now?"
Overall the demon's countenance did not change, aside from the subtle twitch of his left eye. "Purple dragons of my own flame," the fire youkai answered. "They're mocking me."
"I keep telling you, this shit ain't rea—ahhh! What the hell!" Yusuke screeched, mortified because the demon had dipped down unexpectedly to nip at the lobe of Yusuke's ear with his teeth (and he'd fuckin' moaned over it), "don't do that!"
He set his palms flat against the flesh of Hiei's shoulders to shove him away again when the demon froze him solid by murmuring, "I don't have much time left, Yusuke; let me enjoy this. Just once."
And probably the strangest thing of the night by far was not those words, but in the way that they were spoken. Hiei had just sounded like a dying man whispering his final wish to a shooting star, wistfully and mournfully, in the hopes that the heavens would hear it before it was his turn to shoot across the sky to beyond.
Yusuke's demon heart thudded suddenly and painfully in his chest—once, twice, three times—until he found the mind he thought he'd just lost and could speak actual words again instead of staring in abject horror.
"What are you even—Hiei, Kurama said you'd live. He said—"
Hiei cut him off with a kiss so wild it was painful, all teeth and tongue and unyielding heat. And damn if his body didn't ignite like a firework underneath the demon; Hiei consumed him like a fire consumed gasoline, burning through his nerves and muscles and tendons until he couldn't breathe anymore, until he was shaking and whimpering when Hiei finally pulled back. Yusuke clawed at his shoulders like an animal in heat, wanting their mouths pressed back together more than anything else in the whole world.
The fire demon, still pressed tightly against him, whispered Yusuke's name into the column of his neck like a breathless prayer. And it didn't make sense—any of it. Not the awkward maybe-flirting or the kissing; not the way it almost sounded like "I love you" when Hiei spoke his name like that; not the way his heart hurt in a way that it only had when he thought Kuwabara had died and when Genkai actually had—and Yusuke decided then, that maybe it didn't matter. It didn't matter that Hiei was high and that he was still a little drunk; it didn't matter that Keiko was still in his life and would be crushed if she found out; it didn't matter that nothing made any fucking sense anymore because Hiei was here, now, wanting him. Hiei wanted him.
And Yusuke, despite never expecting it in a million years, wanted him too.
"If we do this," he drawled, threading his fingers through that wild shock of black hair, "will you tell me what's really going on? I know there's something you aren't telling me."
Hiei tasted the crease of his neck with a hot tongue before he dragged it up to Yusuke's ear, nipping with gentle teeth at the lobe. "And why," he whispered, "should I? There's nothing you can do to alter the past, Yusuke. This moment is far more important."
Before the Mazoku had any opportunity to respond, their lips had met again. Hiei stoked the building fire within him with skilled hands—they slid down to his hips and back up again, electrifying every inch of flesh they touched. Calloused thumbs circled his nipples once so that he moaned, twice so that he whined, three times so that as their lips parted Yusuke begged for more, drunk off more than the alcohol he had consumed that evening.
He was drunk off of Hiei instead—the way the demon gasped when Yusuke's brain caught up and he sprung to life, tracing wild patterns down the rippling muscles of Hiei's back with his fingertips; the feel of those beautiful, powerful hands sliding down his skin; the taste of Hiei's pointed tongue, spicy and sweet like cinnamon in his mouth. It was rough the way they kissed, almost violent, but nothing had felt more right than this. Nothing would ever feel better than Hiei's taut body flush against his, burning him alive from the outside in.
At least until the fire demon slid one hand up the loose fabric of Yusuke's boxer shorts and grasped him in one fluid motion. Yusuke instintively rutted up into the grip, urging Hiei to begin pumping him in slow, teasing strokes. They both seemed to be stuck somewhere in between in a hurry and taking their time, so while Yusuke allowed the demon to enjoy leisurely stroking his cock, he attempted with shaking fingers to undo the milk white belts encircling Hiei's waist.
"Having trouble?" The demon asked, amused when he fumbled his grip for the third time.
"Shut the hell up and take your pants off," Yusuke settled on saying, just barely containing the moan lodged in his throat when a thumb ran over the sensitive head of his dick. He lifted his own hips then, a silent indication for Hiei to remove his boxer shorts. Hiei, surprisingly, complied, abandoning his grip on Yusuke's sex to do as much and then hastily work open his belts.
Yusuke, lying on his dirty living room carpet completely naked beneath one of his very best friends, was silently enjoying the view. True to his stature the demon's frame was tight and compact, muscles distinct but not bulging, and his face was all soft, boyish angles save for the hard line of his jaw. Despite having seen him half-naked several times before this, Yusuke's brown eyes drank Hiei in with a new appreciation—especially when the belts were all removed, and the Mazoku could reach out to yank the demon's pants out of the way.
"Damn," breathed the Mazoku, ogling the fire youkai's semi-erect penis. "That's not what I expected."
Hiei, above him, snorted.
"Let me guess, you assumed I was 'as small as the rest of me is,' right?" the demon mocked (or was it teased?), leaning down to mold their lips together again before Yusuke could come up with any smartass remarks.
Hiei's hand returned to it's previous position, wrapped around Yusuke's cock and jerking him slow and steady, like there was nothing else he'd rather be doing. Yusuke could almost agree, except with one simple modification to the scenario.
"Fuck me," he whispered against Hiei's lips, inhaling the answering gasp and savoring the spicy-sweet tang of Hiei's breath. "I want you to, Hiei. Come on, fuck me."
Yusuke took the opportunity Hiei's surprise provided him with and reached down between them with one hand, snaking his fingers around the demon's length and pumping nice and slow, just like Hiei had done to him. The demon shuddered, moaned, bucked into his hand—"Yusuke," he groaned, and Yusuke didn't need to ask to know that it was an affirmation; he paused in his hand motions long enough to reach up with his other to feel around on the coffee table for the bottle of lotion that he knew he left there often enough, considering his only television to watch porn on was in the living room they now occupied.
As his fingerpads grazed the cool tube of lotion, Yusuke considered mentioning that he did in fact have a bed to use, rather than going at it on the floor like animals. Hiei chose that moment to begin kissing from his neck to his nipple, gently scraping sharp teeth against the pebbled bud until Yusuke forgot how to think altogether. Yet it wasn't enough to satiate the ravenous mouth of the fire youkai; a searing tongue circled the Mazoku's navel before suddenly his cock was enveloped in wet, hot suction. Yusuke cried out, dropping the bottle of lotion to take hold of Hiei's locks as though his soul would vacate his body otherwise. Hiei didn't seem to mind either way; his mouth worked up and down Yusuke's swelling cock, pausing at the head only long enough to lap away salty fluid.
It went on this way for what seemed like endless minutes, endless moans—Yusuke probably sounded like a fifty cent whore, at this rate—until finally, at his wits end, the ex detective yanked Hiei up by the hair on the back of his neck and collided with him, lips first. His free hand wasted no time in reattaching itself to Hiei's cock, surprised to find him already so hard that he throbbed in Yusuke's palm.
"Fuck, Hiei, just fuck me already," the younger of the two whined once their kiss broke, eyes warm and dark and wide with awe as the fire youkai thrusted into Yusuke's hand unabashedly. Beyond the point of reason or logic Hiei grunted in agreement, swatting away the detective's hand and spitting in his own to lube up his cock, shivering when Yusuke mewled at the sound of skin being slicked. Sweaty skin softly aglow, legs spread wide, writhing and panting beneath him—Hiei took one, final second to fully commit this moment to memory, letting it burn into his retinas and imprint its mark on his mind. He would hang onto his moment until the second he drew in his last breath.
And then, so carefully, so slowly, he pushed in.
Yusuke, only slightly pained (mostly numbed from the alcohol, or perhaps the overwhelming heat ofHiei's dick felt too good to hurt), arched his spine as he clawed at the carpet, desperate to feel more, to feel fuller, to push his body against Hiei's so that he was buried all the way in—
Yet Hiei held back, grasping the Mazoku's hips with firm hands to hold him still. While Yusuke seemed to desire a quick, dirty fuck, Hiei wished to savor every second of their coupling to it's fullest. He sank in as slowly as he could manage, head tilting back further with every pulse of that tight, hot tunnel of muscle constricting around his length that practically begged him for more until he was fully sheathed within. Only then did he feel complete.
Only now he could have no regrets.
"Move, damn it," Yusuke moaned, drawing back the fire demon's full attention when he yanked him down for another fierce battle between their tongues. Hiei, agitated by the Mazoku's impatience, obliged with a sharp snap of the hips and all holding back was over from there on out.
They seemed to fuck like they fought; neither held back with their bodies or their words, though most noises that escaped them were curses or moans or goads on Yusuke's part. He wanted it faster so Hiei's hips rolled faster; he wanted it harder so Hiei pushed harder; he wanted to come so hard he saw stars so Hiei wrapped his searing hand around the Mazoku's cock and pumped him in time to their frenzied thrusts until finally Yusuke threw his head back with a shouted curse and spilled his load between them.
Hiei, between shallow thrusts and the way Yusuke kept repeating his name as through under some sort of spell, followed not long after. He collapsed on top of the larger man, panted and sated, and hardly noticed that Yusuke had wrapped his arms around him.
He almost thought they'd fall asleep that way until, groggily, the ex-detective whispered, "why did you say you didn't have much time left, Hiei? You got someone coming after you?"
"Yes. The SDF will no doubt locate me eventually."
Silence. Then, through clenched teeth, "Why?"
"Because, Yusuke," Hiei whispered, placing one final kiss against the sweaty line of the Mazoku's jaw, "I killed a human tonight."
A/N
Hey all you readers! I've been working on this little story forever, lemme tell you. It's only gonna be a two shot and I still have to write the other half so I hope you guys will be patient with me! In the meantime, let me know what you think so far! Until next time!