Author's Note: Happy Birthday, Fawx! Hope you have a truly awesome one. See now Fawx, this might be your style, might not. I hope you like it regardless. And Osoimaru, you too.
Disclaimer: Yu Yu Hakusho is © Yoshihiro Togashi, Funimation, Shounen Jump, ADV Films, etc. I don't own Yu Yu, I just play around with the characters (and I'm not earning money by doing so).
Honor Among Thieves
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The straps that covered Kuronue's arms were all Youko could think about on lonely nights staking out a heist. In his mind's eye, the bat's muscles flexed under long strips of midnight silk and sturdy hide, tightening to stand out in hard bulges as he clawed at the dirt, at the grass he vindictively mangled as a personalized fuck you to Kurama, at the unforgiving rock he left long gouges in or the soft, rotting wood of the stump he tore chunks from as he was bent over it, worms and wood sprites fleeing from the demons' violence.
Youko fucked Kuronue regardless of willingness, regardless of surroundings, position, regardless of even distance. Kurama had passed many long evenings running a clawed fist over an impressive erection, thinking of those arms, like handles, or swinging a punch, and that hair, so easy to grab, and the tight, hard globes of Kuronue's ass. They'd fucked beside the rushing curves of rivers, bodies pounding feverishly together, the red on their skin amazing against the more normal alabaster flesh. They'd fucked under the overhangs of trees, Kuronue snarling as his leathers were undone and peeled off, his chest pressed flush into surface until he wheezed for breath.
They were demons—their sex was violent—and yet it was not always serenaded by curses or scuffling fights. In fact, it was not even usual for Youko to trick or force Kuronue—that was reserved for teaching a lesson, or for punishment. More often the two demons laughed and strained, and on those occasions it was Kuronue's back that was scraped and jarred against a rough surface, his front spread slickly against rippling muscle and skin, his hard cock manipulated by plants or hands, his lips and chin and neck nipped and sucked and claimed as Kuronue's claws dug into a broad back and hard ass, trying to force more of Kurama's amazing cock into him, always aching for a faster pace.
Kuronue had captured the Spirit Fox's mind as soon as he appeared, callow and young, passing by Youko with a jaunty requisition, which, once ignored, was replaced by snarled insults and an attempted fight. Forced to the ground by fanged and thorny plants, Kuronue's startlingly masculine beauty as he bled and grimaced in pain appealed to the Fox at once—as did his attitude, his fearlessness, his being itself. Youko felt the hands of fate upon him, and had pursued Kuronue as only a kitsune can, luring him out and breaking him down and seducing him with touches and whispers and promises of amazing exploits and pleasure.
Their relationship was heated, forced at times, frantic, like a dance for ancient gods that runs chaotic, feet stomping, heads swinging, sweat flying from the participants and dripping to the ground until the dancers reach their final collapse, falling to the floor with muscles trembling and minds reeling, unsure of what they'd done.
The orgies were nothing to Kuronue, they diluted the force of the Spirit Fox, pulled him in too many directions—a thirty-demon orgy was less erotic, less stimulating, than a simple fanged blowjob from Youko. Kuronue shuddered just thinking about his erection housed in the tightly sucking void, Youko using a thousand unknown tricks to make Kuronue babble and writhe, and ache, scream for more. Compared to that, the orgies were boring. Compared to that, everything was boring. Kuronue became swept up in Youko, unaware that Youko had simultaneously become swept up in him.
It was a hundred years until the end, and that end left Youko reeling. Still, there were the nights of banditry, evermore, where Youko tugged his cock, tasted his lips, trying to remember the feeling of passion.
Fin.