A/N: top wolf is best wolf (人◕ω◕)

Wolf.

It was the only word Genichiro remembered.

Wolf, Wolf, Wolf.

It was the only word on his mind when he sunk down on Wolf's cock. The only word that spilled forth from his lips when Wolf's hands clamped over his hips. His eyes fluttered shut at the feeling, the thick weight of Wolf's cock settling deep enough inside him to make his breath hitch.

He felt how Wolf's grip tightened, trying to somehow pull him closer, a silent plead for him to finally move. As much as Genichiro yearned to move, he remained where he was, his fingertips trailing over Wolf's torso instead. Out of the many things that were out of his control, this was not one of them; it was empowering in a way that war wasn't. Empowering in a way that death wasn't.

There were several scars that marred Wolf's body, but Genichiro focused on the few he knew the stories to. The faint outline that settled on Wolf's lower abdomen where Genichiro attempted to disembowel him. The puffy stretch of skin of a wound that healed badly just under his ribcage, received shortly before Genichiro took his arm. Stories engraved in his skin, as blatant as the trail of burnt skin on Genichiro's arms were.

Somehow, they weren't enough.

Wolf's prosthetic pressed against Genichiro's stomach. Frigid, open-palmed, trailing slowly upwards to curl around his throat. His hold was gentle, barely there, an encouraging gesture more than anything. It remained there as Genichiro leaned forward into a kiss. Slow, lips slotted together, his hips finally rolling against Wolf.

The ache of Wolf pressing bruises into his skin was remarkably intoxicating. He wanted more, always more, until he couldn't move the next morning without feeling something sting. Without feeling Wolf. And frantically, selfishly, he wanted Wolf to feel the same.

Wanted Wolf to ache like he did, bruise like he did, carry the same marks he did under his clothing. They would remain there until the next resurrection, as unsatisfying as that was, but Genichiro supposed it was better than nothing. He broke away to press open-mouthed kisses along Wolf's neck, pausing only to sink his teeth into the junction where his neck met his shoulder.

Genichiro felt the way Wolf twitched inside him, heard how he stifled a moan into his prosthetic. Wolf was soft, pliant, fragile - it never took much to mark him. Never took much pressure to leave indents in Wolf's skin, red and seething, glistening wetly in the candlelight. He left another on Wolf's chest, pleased with how Wolf shivered under him.

Fingers weaved into Genichiro's hair and wrenched him back upright. Wolf pulled him into another kiss, biting savagely at his lower lip, copper hot and slick on their tongues. His hips stuttered where they ground against Wolf, clenching hard around him, Wolf's breathy gasp melting into the kiss. It would take a while for his lip to heal, just as it would take a while for the bite marks on Wolf's skin to fade.

They were both marked in their own way, a shared pain that was exclusive to them. No one else would dare; there was only Wolf, shameless in how readily he marred Genichiro's skin, how easily he tugged on Genichiro's hair and led him where he wanted it most. It was a cruel sort of push and pull they fell into.

A give and take that made Genichiro's chest tighten. Ache.

Genichiro lifted himself before he pressed back down, the slick glide of Wolf's cock filling him once more an exquisite sensation. He leaned forwards, angling his hips just right, the next snap of Wolf's hips bucking up into him sending a splendid burst of pleasure lapping up his spine. The rhythm they fell into was rough, fervent, their breaths hot between them, the sounds that they didn't bother muffling delightfully obscene.

There were rare nights where Wolf was just as desperate as Genichiro was - nails digging into his Genichiro's skin, a blush high on his cheekbones, eyes hazy where they glanced downwards to watch where their hips met. He was strikingly needy, and for a short, excruciating while, Genichiro could convince himself that it was in the same way that he was needy.

Dawn would come in just a few hours, and with the daylight, they would walk in opposite directions, as if their meeting had never occured. Only they would know better; only they would have to keep this shared burden a secret. It had always been that way, but something in Genichiro still felt unfairly wounded by the distance. It wasn't his place to get attached; it was never his right to cling to Wolf, or Wolf to him.

But then again, Wolf never clung to him.

Never needed him in the same way.

"Wolf." Genichiro dug his nails into the bite mark on Wolf's chest, watched how Wolf jerked and whined. "Do you love me?"

For a fleeting moment, Wolf regarded him with a pained expression. Genichiro almost asked him again, almost demanded an answer, but he allowed Wolf to pull him back into a kiss. Allowed Wolf to remain silent in a way that he could not. Wolf hauled him to the side and switched their positions, slipping out of him in the process, slotting perfectly between Genichiro's legs before thrusting back in.

Genichiro hooked his knees over Wolf's waist, pulled him closer until he was satisfied, until every thrust rubbed his cock into Wolf's stomach. Something tore at him, but he couldn't explain what - there wasn't a single word he knew that could express the desolate sink in his chest. It burned, seared in the same way it did when Kusabimaru nestled in his ribcage, howled as strongly as it did when he later woke up in the castle's infirmary alone.

Alone. As alone as he was in the mornings. As alone as he was in the moment despite Wolf's cock inside him, Wolf's lips against his, Wolf's hands fisting into the sheets on either side of his head. Genichiro reached up and nudged at Wolf's hands, until his fingers slotted through the gaps between Wolf's own. He squeezed.

Wolf didn't respond.

Wolf's pace was merciless, a particularly rough thrust inching him upwards on the futon, and Genichiro loved it. Loved how it made his head spin, loved how Wolf's expression melted into something so lovely, so blissfully intense. He raked his nails down Wolf's back when he came, arching up into him, eyes fluttering shut.

The overstimulation was as divine as it was torturous - Genichiro's thighs quaked, nails leaving angry trails of red on Wolf's skin, the friction on his cock bordering on the sweet, excruciating edge of too much. Wolf's hips stuttered before they halted, pressing hard into him, an obscene groan melting into the crook of Genichiro's neck.

Genichiro held him close, clung to him when he shouldn't have. It was overwhelming, this frantic urge to keep Wolf there - to pin him down, hold him still, keep him close when the only thing Wolf knew was how to run. How to keep moving forwards when Genichiro could not.

He was full, so full, and yet he still felt astoundingly empty.

An undignified noise left Genichiro's lips when Wolf pulled out of him. Dazedly, he pushed himself up on his elbows, eyes following Wolf as he reached for his haori. Scratch marks stretched over his shoulder blades and back, no doubt stinging with each movement. His mouth felt dry at the enticing stretch of muscles in Wolf's back as he threw his haori over his shoulders.

Softly, Genichiro said, "Stay. Until dawn, at least."

Wolf paused. Breath baited, back straightened, before he shook his head and shrugged his haori back on. "I cannot."

There was no explanation, but Genichiro supposed he should have expected that; Wolf never bothered with them. It shouldn't have been so gut-wrenching, watching Wolf stand and retrieve his discarded hakama. Genichiro collected himself, as well, the hiss of the window panel sliding open behind him ringing in his ears like the sound of breaking glass.

He wondered if things could have possibly turned out differently, if the circumstances weren't as bleak as they were.