AAND suddenly, we have lemon. Uh-huh. While I can somehow make it less explicit, this is necessary. This is my first time to write something like this so I apologize now if it fails to meet expectation.

Part 1

The smell of ramen was the nicest thing during the cold season, Kurama thought. The street was quiet and poorly lit, but the alleys surrounding the area were more sinister. The next functioning lamp post after the one by Yusuke's ramen stand was still about fifty meters away. The stand was almost near a dead end and no cars ever passed by. The number of bicycles and motorcycles that used the street daily could even be counted by the hands.

But it was a good spot. Even though Yusuke was not somebody to plan carefully, he intentionally chose the place. "Love at first sight!" He explained when Kurama asked him. "Besides, it wouldn't be too convincing if I were in the middle of a crowded spot." That was merely an afterthought.

"He-hey! Pretty boy is finally smiling!" Yusuke presented his best seller ramen proudly. "Only beer's on the house tonight, though. Hehe."

Kurama smiled wider. Indeed, his face was in a permanent scowl the whole day. Irrelevant inquiries had flooded his email. Most of it included asking about the days and times they could specifically expect him to be in the office. Some of it requested pictures of their orders' work-in-progress with him in it as proof they were legit. They'd ask him to meet them to talk about service, orders, and prices. And Kurama would gladly set a date… only if he were in charge of marketing and sales. Customer service wasn't even part of his job responsibility (the personnel took a week-long leave).

And the event yesterday was just troublesome. Yet, he couldn't even sleep properly.

"You've really mastered your craft." The meat was tender, the noodles were firm, and the soup was flavorful. Kurama wasn't even hungry, but he was eating faster than he intended.

"I know, right? If it's ramen, you can't go wrong choosing THE great Urameshii!"

He watched his friend wash the bowls used by the previous customers. Even though Yusuke wasn't exactly neat and organized, he managed to maintain his stand tidy at least. He was unexpectedly a responsible entrepreneur.

"I'll drop by your place soon, okay? My hair's gone pretty long. Can you cut them?"

"Mmm, sure." It was difficult to tell with the heavy gel, but Yusuke's stray bangs had already fallen past his eyebrows. The hairs on his back had grown noticeably as well.

"Thanks. I'll bring you ramen! Can I also sleep over?"

Kurama perked up. He couldn't explain it, but since last night he felt he'd get better sleep with a company nearby.

"You look tired, too. How have you been doing?"

"I feel okay, though. But I don't like the cold weather. And work is more stressful lately." And it probably explained the sleep paralysis last night. It was his first time to experience one (as human), and although he could easily tell he was half-dreaming, convincing his subconscious to calm down was challenging.

"You sure that's all?"

"Yep. Pretty sure that's all."

Part 2

The sky was clear and the moon was in its perfect form. It filled the room with soft and dreamy light; its ray gently caressed the sleeping figure before him.

He stared at the slightly parted lips. They were dry from the cold, and their color had somewhat faded, but they still looked supple. When moistened, he could imagine them as ripened and peeled carpels of mandarin oranges. Sweet. Soft. Very lightly, he traced their outline with his thumb. He held his breath. He would devour them later. It couldn't be now. A change in natural breathing would stir the consciousness. Slowly, he leaned over and smelled the hair. They reeked of human shampoo, but a subtle whiff of roses and earth met his nose. He kissed the forehead. He kissed the nose. He smiled when he felt the delicate breath. And carefully, very gently, he licked the side of the mouth, and the lips—they glistened, wet. Later, he reminded himself. Later…

The body beneath him remained still. The fingers trembled every now and then, but they were not threatening. He continued trailing kisses on the chin, then on the neck, then on the nape… pausing as his fingers touched the soft ear. He kissed it. It was cold. And gently, he nibbled on it—bites mixed with kisses. He smelled the nape. The added scent of sweat made him ecstatic. He nudged his nose on the frail skin, smelling and kissing. He bit on the jugular… licking, biting, careful not to wound it too much. He licked the blood, and sucked until it stopped bleeding.

All the while, his hands unbuttoned the flannel pajama top—feeling the smoothness of the skin against his calloused hand. It felt foreign. He got used to kneading mounds of flesh, but this time around it was flat. And firm. His fingers grazed the soft and cold nipples. His thumbs rested on their tips. He frowned.

He did not like this.

He wanted to hear moans and gasps. He wanted those fingers to tremble more, and move, and hold him. He wanted the body to respond, and to twitch in frenzy. He wanted to hear the voice moan, cry, and beg.

He sat up and stared at his handiwork beneath him—red strands spread on the pillow, disheveled and tangled, but he wanted them damp with sweat. The face was as still as it had been when he set foot inside the room. The lips he licked had already gone dry again. Only the wound on the neck that remained red and fragile satisfied him. He stared at the chest. It moved in steady breathing.

He leaned over again; this time planting kisses on the throat, then on the clavicle… his hands rubbing the sides of the waist, continuously moving upwards until they found the nipples again. He moved his mouth on one, licked it, enjoying the tiny movement of the lump of flesh against his tongue and his thumb. He continued sucking and raping it while his right hand pinched, tugged, and rubbed the other. He could feel the heat in his groin. His own breathing slowing becoming heavy and jagged. He growled. This wasn't enough.

At most, he could control the paralysis for half an hour. But it also meant that sex would be one-sided. He never liked to fuck a corpse no matter how beautiful it was. Normally, he led them to a more lucid state where they'd be more conscious of the act. However, it reduced his control and brought his victims sooner to a complete awakening.

And now he wasn't even against a human. Beneath him was a thousand-year old demon who had probably encountered a number of incubi in his lifetime.

He smirked.

Not that it mattered anyway.

Part 3

His eyes were barely opened, but he could make out a hazy dark shadow beside him. He felt it on his face and on his chest. Kurama he knew this was all an illusion. He knew that he was alone. He knew that whatever he was feeling and seeing were merely an effect of sleep paralysis. He knew it, and believed it, but his body wouldn't follow him. His body was scared. It wanted to wake up and escape from that shadow.

He tried to move his feet. He could feel them, but he couldn't connect with them. He inhaled deeply. He knew he was asleep and whatever action he had been doing—the breathing, the restrained movement—all of it simply wasn't happening. He had to wake himself.

He tried to speak, but all he managed was silent screaming. He tried to move his fingers. He tried to move his hands. Lifting them up was taking a toll on his breathing. It felt like he was raising them, but no. They remained lying idly on his sides. He wouldn't wake up at all. He tried collecting his calm once again.

The shadow moved again. He knew it hovered on top of him, but he couldn't see it. He felt the bed sank. And then he felt its weight on his hips. Heavy. "Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" He chanted silently. But he remained still. He wanted to see the shadow, but his barely focused vision kept avoiding it. He was afraid. He knew he shouldn't be afraid. He knew this was all a dream. But he couldn't even scream.

Calm down, he chided. If you calm down, this will pass and you will naturally come awake. Calm down…

But the shadow continued moving. It lay down on his chest, heavy and warm. Suddenly, he felt something warm and wet on his skin. Kurama gasped.

Part 4

He smirked. Now he liked it more. He reduced his control; hence he had to finish quicker. But it would be more satisfying. Besides, he never did it slow anyway. Not once with anyone, and definitely not tonight with his redhead.

He resumed crouching, hungrily sucking and nibbling on the nipples—one hand continuously kneading and rubbing the chest, amassing the fats and muscles, while the other hand rubbing its way down to the waist, and hips. He slid his body down, and settled himself in between the thighs. He felt the gartered pajama and slid it down—slowly exposing the thighs to the cold air. When his prey let out a sharp sigh, he chuckled. He continued trailing wet kisses from the stomach, to the navel… a little more below it. He immediately noticed the fingers moved and grasped the sheets. He grinned.

Sitting up, he completely peeled off the trousers. Now laying only half his body on the bed, he held the thighs up and propped the legs on his shoulder. He continued kissing the groin, and licking the crotch, the gradually hardened member grazing his face. He sucked on it, grinning, and then growling, he sucked and licked it, and chuckled as he heard a moan from his captive who was now panting and gasping, and biting the back of his hand in a mechanical show of restraint.

"Let it stay this way," he said, rubbing the thighs as he pulled himself up, holding one thigh on his shoulder as he sucked on his fingers and spit on his palm. His captive's eyes were shut closed. The serenity his face reflected earlier was completely gone. The hair and the nape were glistening with sweat. He slid his middle finger in.

"Nnnngn…" His captive twitched.

Part 5

This is just a dream! Kurama shouted in his head. But, no... He tried to think, but whatever hazy composure he had was blown away as he felt another finger pierced him. He felt his hand on his mouth, and remembered he was biting it. His hips were raised, and another finger entered him, moving inside him in a circle—fast, then slow, then fast—and all the while a mouth went about sucking his throat.

"N..no…" He heard himself cry. He intended it to be a shout, an order. But his voice ended up weak. The mouth grinned.

And then both his legs were suddenly thrown upward, strong hands supported the back of his knees, and a thicker and firmer meat thrust inside him in a quick but fluid motion. "Ah!" The pain was piercing. His back throbbed in pain. Suddenly, he didn't know what to do with his hands. One hand grasped the sheets tighter, while he bit deeper on the other. He wanted them to push away his assailant, but he barely had strength to even open his eyes. He could envision the shadow, the window, and the moonlight. But why did everything still feel surreal. Even the loud and rhythmic creaking of his bed as a throbbing cock kept being rammed inside him. He could even feel the contact of the skin on his skin—the sweat, the warmth of the hands, the wetness of the kisses.

It felt so good…

But every time he opened his mouth in a moan, he hated himself and wanted even more to wake up.

Please wake up. Please wake up!

He heard heavy panting, as the thrust kept growing faster and faster and faster! He wanted to curse and shove the shadow away, but he could only cry and gasp and moan. "Haah! Aah! Nnnngn!" With every creak of the bed, and slap of skin, and moving of the cock inside him, his stifled cry increasingly got louder until he heard the man groan and hot liquid invaded his insides.

Let this end. It's over. Wake up. He nagged himself.

"Mmmn!" But then his assailant devoured his mouth—exploring every crevice and flesh, sucking on his tongue, and biting his lips. And just as soon as he felt extremely suffocated, his eyes flew open.

He was alone.

And naked.

...to be continued

I'm not sure if I described sleep paralysis (SP) accurately. I've experienced it many time before (and it's scary as hell), but I don't know how I look or act on the outside. Of course, because I'm sleeping. And I'm not particularly fond of taking a video of me sleeping. And it's not like I can induce SP whenever I want. I tried to research a bit, but more or less they're from personal experience. Part 4 onwards is purely my imagination.