Kurama thought of Yusuke when his vision swam back after a fist like a battering ram finished its work, and exhausted, he could no longer hold the form of a Youko.
Shuuichi Minamino tried pitifully to hoist himself up from the charred dirt of the practice ring, barely making it to his elbows. Like an animal, he froze, listening to Toguro shed what little clothing remained on his massive, misshapen body.
He thought of Yusuke's back broken in half by this monster, and knew he was getting off lightly. Three years since Yusuke's defeat and the human world's enslavement, and he could boast no better victory than having, this once, managed to force Toguro to 100%.
Like every defeat since then, too, the sins of his failure would be ground into his flesh.
Toguro pulled on Kurama's pants, eyes piercing and grim within the inhuman muscle. They tore like paper, the rent stitches leaving raw marks on Kurama's thighs, red as his hair.
Toguro took him by the scruff of his neck and turned him, kneeling on the ground with a skewed grin and holding him close, feeling Kurama's limp form shiver like a kitten. Nails scraped Kurama's scalp and then turned his swollen face up for a kiss, devouring him. Blood dribbled from Kurama's split lip.
The kiss broke with a lush smack. Wretchedly, Kurama—feeling the strength of the cock below him, and the danger of the man's unbelievable, repulsive mass—leaned up and laid his blood- and spit-sodden lips against the side of Toguro's mouth. Toguro had taught him this demeaning form of begging, but it was one of few that the giant took seriously.
He lolled his head back. "Lubricant," he slurred, pleading. Toguro hadn't lowered his body to a lesser percentile, and Kurama was terrified of more agony being poured into his already overwhelming supply. "Please, please, lubrication."
Toguro looked down at his own handiwork—sickening yellow bruises and the black eye—and nodded.
"Grow it, Kurama," Toguro consented. He masturbated himself against Kurama's ass, and Kurama's trembling increased as he felt the rigid flesh, as unforgiving as the rest of Toguro's body.
It took Kurama a few tries to grow a plant containing the right kind of mucus with the feeble youki he had left. Toguro slicked himself up backhanded, watching Kurama cringe.
Toguro tugged his cock at a leisurely pace, thinking. Then he slapped Kurama's shank, pinched his ass, and pulled him into his arms like a lover, face-to-face, the young man appealingly timid and soft, too weary to rail or fight. He hefted Kurama and knocked apart his shuddering thighs.
It reminded Toguro of the night he'd taken the boy's virginity, and that induced a gentleness that was ill-suited to his colossal strength.
Kurama's bloody lips parted and his voice leaked out, cracking, when he was lowered onto Toguro's fat cock.
Toguro clenched a hand on his thigh and let go when Kurama let out a pained hiss, taking away his hand to show bruises in the shapes of Toguro's fingers.
Togurohe sunk down to a lower percent and bounced Kurama in his lap like a doll, beginning to thrust with controlled strength. Kurama whimpered.
Kurama's head lolled forward, without the energy to hold it up. His hair rippled and his breaths came in moans. He teetered on the edge of unconsciousness.
Toguro grunted, loving Kurama's tight, hot sheath. He raped the boy without fanfare, the heat building to a crescendo until the pleased shivers going up his spine overwhelmed him and he ground into Kurama, watching how he shielded his face. Kurama had begun to weep without either of them realizing it.
"Kurama," Toguro chided, and then pulled his wrists away and kissed and gnawed stained, coppery lips. Kurama's hands fisted, one against Toguro's chest, pushing weakly.
"Kurama," Toguro said again, the name melting in his mouth as his lust solidified.
Toguro growled, and pressed his face into that ambrosial neck, tipped over the edge by his luscious scent. Blood, sweat, sex and roses overcame Toguro, and then, body shaking, he'd spilled over the threshold, his seed dribbling down his balls as he fucked Kurama through the last of his orgasm.
The sat like that until Kurama let out a single, wretched sob, pulling Toguro back.
Looking over that quivering body, Toguro took pity on the boy's state and hefted him in his arms, stalking back to the mansion through the long evening shadows of the trees.
The boy had done well. He'd be given the week off.
It was Karasu's turn next.