Sweat covered his body, cooling his flesh even as his muscles burned from exhaustion. His hair was matted to his face and laid heavily against his shoulders. He wanted to move it away, to allow the sweat on his neck to cool his head, but with his arms still bound there was little he could do.

At least he wasn't on his stomach anymore, and his eyes were starting to adjust to the seemingly pitch black of the room. He couldn't make out specifics yet, but at least he could see the darker silhouette of Yomi as he entered the room quietly.

He didn't fight against Yomi as the demon silently tied his ankles to either side of the bed, he didn't question what was coming next when a rolled up blanket was placed under his hips. The position was slightly uncomfortable, forcing his pelvis up and taking the pressure off his bound hands and wrists. Pins and needles assaulted his arms and fingers as the blood rushed back into those parts of his body.

He felt the demon's tongue trail up the inside of his leg. He couldn't waste energy trying to hold his head up to see things that were more clearly felt. He took a deep breath and tried to block out the sensation of the warm, wet tongue that assailed him so delicately. It found the sensitive places of his legs, the side of his knee, the tender line of his calf, and the weak inner muscle of his thigh.

Kurama could feel himself hardening, he couldn't escape as well as he would have liked.

"Why… Yomi?" Kurama inquired, trying to focus his thoughts enough to force the yokai to answer him and halt his attack for at least a moment. "Why are you so set on this?"

"We've been over this Kurama," Yomi replied quietly digging his nails deep into the back of Kurama's thighs, eliciting a hiss of pain from the red head. "You've always kept a calm control of things. Always planning steps ahead of your adversaries. Never once have you needed to beg for release or reprieve, and even if it meant your life on the battlefield you would never stoop so low."

Yomi smiled as he pinched and twisted the tender flesh by Kurama's stiff length, pulling a growl of pain from his captive. "Just once I'd like the mighty Yoko Kurama kneel."

The painful assault was quickly replaced by the tight, wet, warmth of Yomi's mouth around his flesh. Even as the pain lingered in his flesh the pleasure flooded over it. Yomi's nailed shallowly pierced random places on Kurama's body as his mouth worked wonders that the trapped fox was almost certain Yomi'd seen him use in the past.

He was certain he could hold out, he'd gotten his second wind. But when something hard and wet pressed against the tight muscles of his ass he wasn't so sure of himself. There were a lot of things he could shut out of his mind, but this was a violation he'd never endured - in his past or present lives.

"No, Yomi," he gasped, desperation replacing the understanding that he should have kept his mouth shut. His words had been barely audible, practically mouthed into the darkness, but Yomi's hearing caught the musical gasp easily.

"Fear not, old friend, this won't hurt at all," Yomi purred.

The hard object wasn't cold, but wasn't warm enough to be alive, which was an odd relief in the back of Kurama's mind. It twisted and pressed, twirled and slid against his entrance, leaving slickness in its wake and sending strange sensations through his body. He was disgusted, but at the same time - like Yomi's oral ministrations - he couldn't deny the pleasure that was building from it.

Control was what Yomi wanted to take from him, and all it did was make his desire to maintain it all that much stronger. The object threatened to penetrate him, threatened to bring him pleasures he had never experienced and therefore had little ability to defend against.

The assault doubled. Yomi's mouth wrapped around his flesh again, as the object seemed to try with even more fervor to entice his muscles to relax and allow it gentle passage into his body. Kurama couldn't fight it any longer. He wouldn't beg, he refused, but he couldn't struggle against the pleasure. He couldn't block it out and he was too tired to struggle anymore.

He relaxed his body, melting into place bound to the bed as he was. Pleasure washed over him, and this time he allowed himself to enjoy it, to soak it all in. The object slid past his entrance and began to massage itself inside him. It hit a bundle of nerves he didn't even know existed and caused him to let a strangled cry of pleasure pass his lips.

Sensations roiled in the pit of his stomach, reaching out their hands to all other parts of his body. He didn't think about finishing he didn't concern himself with the prospect of release, he simply enjoyed the pleasure that he was being bathed in.

His cries of pleasure were nothing coherent, nothing with any solid meaning. He let his mind mingle the pleasure into situations more comfortable to him. Like, being back home on Earth, and perhaps just having one of this exotic girlfriends he'd heard his classmates mention. It wasn't something he imagined himself actually stepping into, but the illusion of it at least being somewhat voluntary eased the disgust.

Pleasure was ripped from him like a part of his soul. The searing pain that started at his groin and spread through his body tightened all his muscles, and pulled a scream from him of almost inhuman proportions. His body pulled at his bindings so viscously, that small trails of blood slid along his skin.

As the pain subsided, Kurama slumped into the bedding, panting and shuddering against the lingering pain. The source of the electricity was a mystery to him, and his vision was far to spotty to even make out Yomi's form in the room. He was almost delirious, frantically trying to access enough of his spiritual energy to keep from succumbing to pain.

His mind didn't register whatever Yomi had said to him. He didn't fully grasp that he'd been left alone in that room with only the pain to keep him company. He wanted to curl into a ball, to weep like a child against such persistent suffering, but his will was stronger than that. He lay motionless on the mattress, the only sign of life was the slow even movement of his chest as he drew breath.

Someway, somehow, he'd survived another hour. Yomi would let him rest enough that the pain would evaporate. But the fatigue, the soreness of his body, would still be there when the demon returned.

A small voice in the back of his mind questioned: Was this worth it? Wouldn't it be simpler to just acquiesce and release his pleasure from his body?

After all, his plan was to keep Yomi from bringing his visions of Demon World Unification about. He could at least give his old comrade one pleasure before pulling his life long ambition out from under him.