Hello all! This is a Yomi/Kurama oneshot in response to an anonymous request. Not my OTP, so I thought I'd add my take on this coupling- if you can call it that.
I do not own YYH, if I did I would have serious problems keeping the yaoi to a minimum.
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He had been young at the time, foolish, driven by vulgar desires.
Looking back, he knew he had been at fault. In the other's position, he may have even done the same. He openly admitted this. Had it not been for his fall, he would never have risen again, something for which he was infinitely grateful. He had grown, both in body and mind, but what had not changed was his spirit. He still experienced the feelings that had driven him back then, just knew how to better interpret and control them. His desire had not died with his sight, only grown into something that could be aligned with a more viable goal.
There were times, mostly dark nights during which he could feel familiar candlelight on his face, that he missed the days in the camp. Things had been simpler then. There had been a clear leader, a trustworthy- if not unorthodox- system of hierarchy, a mutualistic goal, and there had been success. They had all been well on their way to becoming legends, taking territory by cunning thievery and maintaining it with their leader's brilliance. Even now, there were still innumerable lairs, caves and hidden grottos, which held the treasures that they had claimed as their own. Much of the territory they had taken remained untouched: most were aware of the traps and webs that would most certainly destroy them if they tried to step over such boundaries. No doubt there had been attempts on the treasure, but he knew well enough that the risks were not worth the vain glory to be achieved. Sometimes he sent out a small party, usually low level miscreants, to acquire one such treasure, but it was purely sentimental. There was something about holding a piece of their conquest in his hands that made the memories so much stronger.
He could still feel everything that had passed through him during those days: the fire that had driven him to fight, the ache to prove his leadership potential, the need to be seen as someone capable. Each of these had centered around one individual, and he had been fully aware of it even then. At first it had been the arrogance of the self-proclaimed leader that had instilled his desire for golden eyes to be on him; he had such a need to break through that barrier, and that itself was his arrogance. Then, after seeing just what silver hair and flowers were capable of, it became the challenge of being seen as comparable, to draw those eyes in recognition. Then came the competition. Just one man changed the entire game.
It had been more than just lust, pure and simple. It had been the frustration of it all, from the first stage, building and building until he realized just how insignificant he had been viewed. It had become almost a symbol of status to be taken by the leader as a lover, something that he had considered himself a potential candidate for. The other did not seem to agree, taking more reserved, more thought driven members of their little brigade now and again, leaving a bitter taste in the young one's mouth. He was certainly stronger than them, smarter, he thought, and much more willing to please.
He wanted to change that, to be seen as someone worthy of standing back to back with the other man. If he could not move his way up the ranks by the normal means he would have to prove himself as a threat, then establish a reason for trust. It was the only way he could think to capture the other's attention, and it was the move of a fool. His jealousy would leave him blindsided.
He didn't understand what the fox saw in the other. The black winged bandit came and went of his own volition, without so much as warning or permission. He sneaked through the shadows, blending in with the darkness, making him and some of the others in the camp uncomfortable. Dark eyes always watched behind the curtain of silky black hair, a glint of mischief in them. He had always felt that the mischief was directed toward him, though he never knew why. He hated how the bat never hid his laughter; it always seemed to be at his expense. Especially, he hated how sensuality seemed to drip from every inch of him, how his clothes only covered so much, how he was both powerful and sexual without trying to be either. He hated how he drew in golden eyes.
Neither the fox nor the bat seemed keen on keeping their affair private. Whenever the raven haired one would show up, the little band of thieves knew that no one would have any rest. They'd stay up scheming, going over plans for his approval and thoughts, all the while with the fox watching from the shadows. The two would play at chasings with their eyes, making slow, languid movements that mimicked a dance, as if measuring each other. At some point, the taller one would stand, leaving the circle of men by the fire and making his way over to the leader's den. The fox always left first, turning curtly with a swish of his silver tail, never seeing the toothy smile that it elicited from the other. They all knew the signal too well, and knew that there would be raised voices and breathy moans to follow. No one had ever seen their encounters, but they all knew that it would start off as an argument, something arbitrary no doubt, and progress into something much more… pleasurable.
That is, until that night.
He hadn't done it on purpose. Not really, anyway. No one had ever spoken of their leader's repetitive tryst, so it wasn't as if they had been instructed not to disturb the two as they would have any other lover. It could easily be called an accident. Nothing at that point could keep him from doing it, no amount of logic- he was fearless to a fault. So when the rest of the camp had decided to sleep after another unexpected visit and a disappearance into the night, the young one had followed. Their energy was high that night; they were less than difficult to find. It had been then that he found a reason for the first of his mistakes, as he laid his eyes on a scene he did not truly expect.
One of the reasons that the demons in the camp followed the fox so readily was because of his dominance. The air around him was thick with it, screaming the danger in any attempt to assert power over him. He was no different, as far as anyone had seen or experienced, as a lover, taking everything and anything he wanted by forceful seduction. He could turn the strongest of men into writhing messes with the most delicately placed touches, forcing them into willing submission. It was something the young one had never witnessed before, such a power over another by sex from such a creature of unparalleled beauty. He had seen others taken by him, on the occasions that the fox wanted it seen, and had been taken aback by the contrast in his looks and his abilities in bed. He had grown used to such an image, the initial juxtaposition that seemed as natural as anything now. What he was not prepared for was the image of his leader pinned.
The bat had him against a tree, their bodies pressed together so closely that he couldn't tell if they both were breathing. One of the fox's hands was woven tightly in the mass of silky black, the other moving desperately against the skin that peeked out from the ridiculously short vest he insisted on wearing. Gold eyes were heavily lidded, almost closed, focused on the other's face as his tongue fought the other's in a sort of battle that made the young one swallow heavily. The bat had an arm wrapped around the other's waist, pulling him in closely so that their bodies were flush despite their constant motion. Silver hair was stuck in some of the tree's bark, a testament to how roughly he had apparently been pushed back against it. It was all the young one could do not to move from his hiding spot, keeping his energy masked as best he could as he watched.
What they were doing couldn't be called kissing. It was much too deep, much too much tongue and teeth and open eyes to be kissing. He had never seen anything quite like it before. Morbidly fascinated, he watched as the two danced, equally as fixated on the one he hated as much as the one he admired.
The bat tilted his head, making a long, sweeping motion with his tongue against the other. The young one's eyes widened as he registered the sound that came from his leader as a moan.
The winged one stepped back abruptly, his hand extended to maintain distance between the two. The silver haired one glared menacingly, but the smile on the bat's face clearly said that he didn't feel threatened. Stepping back seductively, he slowly lowered himself to the ground, leaning backwards against his hands for support as he got comfortable. The fox watched, then slowly walked around the other in a circle, as if stalking an unknowing prey. The raven haired demon only looked down, smile still in place as he was examined from every angle. As the silver one came back to his front, he crouched, weaving his head from left to right around the other like a dog, examining the sharp edges of his face. Both the young one and the black haired one's breath hitched as the fox's tongue darted out to lick a brief trail from the demon's jugular to his chin, and the recipient let out a husky sigh at the touch. Just as the fox seemed ready to repeat the motion, the bat tipped his head and nipped at the base of one of his ears, receiving an exquisite noise in response. The fox actually faltered, losing his balance and falling onto his knees, only to be caught by the demon in front of him. The bat pulled the other into his lap, earning another hissed noise when he sharply pulled their groins together. They both began to move, the silver one straddling the taller one, hands being dug into each other, curses on their breaths.
This was not like anything he had been allowed to see before. This was not the domineering sex that he had been witness to. This was not even something he could comprehend. It was a give and take. The two were engaged in the most equal exchange that the young one had ever seen pass between his leader and anyone else. There was nothing underlying; it was exactly as it looked with no pretense. If anything, the mastermind almost looked… submissive. No, that couldn't be right. He knew that the fox was one to take, it was his job after all. His eyes deceived him, yet something was building inside. Again, he swallowed. The first seed of temptation had been planted.
It was not long before the bat took another step in control, licking and nipping at the other's neck as he pulled his head back roughly by the hair. The fox mewed, scraping his nails into a hard chest as his hips were directed by the other hand, fingers occasionally teasing the fur at the base of his tail, which clearly was driving him to insanity. He could feel it with every ounce of his energy when the fox came, the bat biting gently behind his ear and rotating his hips at just the right angle. The silver one cried out, his deep voice cracking slightly in surprise. The young warrior grew angry at the grin the winged one wore- he was horribly smug.
The fox slumped down in the other's lap, and to the youngling's surprise was working on unfastening the belts the other wore. The darker one laughed, a deplorable sound as far as he was concerned. He was silenced with the placement of a talented tongue in his mouth while the trousers were gently pulled from their place on his hips. He then sunk back down and earned a gasp from the other as his mouth slid over the demon's desire with sinful skill. The bat slipped down, his legs spreading to give the other better access and his arms bent at the elbows holding him up. His hair had fallen over his face and chest in a disturbingly sensual way; as much as the watching demon hated him he also found him excruciatingly eye catching. The fox was taking his time in savoring the experience, lapping lazily from bottom to top, pulling at sensitive skin with his teeth, hands seeking out hard abs to caress as he worked. The dark haired one was breathing heavily, his eyes closing as he began to relax, head sinking back so that his hair pooled on the ground and around his wings. The fox watched him intently, as if waiting. Then, after taking a long moment to suckle the tightening circles at his base, the expert tongue flicked out again against his entrance.
The young one nearly leapt from his hiding spot as he saw the movement, but refrained by some miracle. The fox had been instantly flipped onto his back, one hand pinning his hands above his head and the other encircling his neck. There was a sharp growl, and it seemed no one knew which of the two it came from. The fox was baring his teeth, eyes fiery as the other held him pinned. He easily freed his hands, reaching up to paw at the other, scratching the side of his face and his arms. The bat didn't seem to care; he was too busy ripping the bottom of the other's robes to shreds, giving himself the opening he wanted. His grip on the other's neck tightened as he pushed the pale legs beneath him apart and positioned himself against the fox, as if about to penetrate him. Claws lashed out again, but they set themselves into fists against the dirt as he squeezed, earning a choked growl.
"Youko." It was the first thing that had been said between the two and it startled the onlooker, somehow forgetting that words could be involved in such an exchange. "Say it."
The fox thrashed for a moment, like a child having a tantrum, but to no avail. The demon on top of him stretched his wings, a sign of agitation. They did nothing but stare at each other for a moment before the bat nudged forward, grinding himself against the other lightly. The fox tensed.
"Please." Rage bubbled over. The bat had made his leader beg. Nothing existed but disbelief and hate.
The taller demon leaned over and kissed the fox tenderly, who lay unresponsive. It was then that the young one realized that the hand which was holding him hostage had released him and had moved on to stroke the side of his face and neck softly. The bat moved from the other's lips to his eyes, forcing them to close as he kissed the eyelids and the fox released a held breath as the hips positioned against him moved off. He was then turned onto his side and pulled into a lover-like embrace, earning a smile from his counterpart.
The young demon could only see the fox's back, but had full view of the other from his position, which only managed to irritate him further. How dare he look so happy in the situation. He didn't understand. The plant wielder could have easily overpowered him, at least enough to save his ass. Why had he given in, conceded when he could have fought back? Something was being lost in translation and he did not like one bit of it.
Long fingers were combing through soft silver strands as the two lay together. The motion was horribly gentle for either of them, yet the bat was still smiling like an idiot. The fox shifted, moving in so that his head rested in the crook of the other's neck, his face buried against the warm skin. An arm encircled his waist and they rocked slightly as they settled against each other. They began to speak again; it was a lucky happenstance that the young one's hearing had been as good as it was before his accident.
"However angry you may make me, you know I will never force you." It was said quietly, with a softness where his voice usually had an edge. The silver one buried his neck deeper.
"Then why do you insist on playing such games?" He was met with a chuckle.
"To remind you of how I want you. Besides," he said, the twinkle in his eye, "you started it." The fox pulled back, presumably to look him in the eye. The black wings twitched; his expression must have said something frightening.
"You do understand what you're asking?" It was said in the same voice that gave a warning or a death sentence. He was met with another mischievous smile.
"I understand exactly what it would mean, yes." The darker one closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads together, hands clutching at the other. "I won't know I'm different from the others until you let me." He paused, his eyes open, searching. "I don't want there to be others." It was almost a growl.
The fox lay unmoving before pushing against the other to lie on his back, staring up at the sky in avoidance.
"You expect me to be satisfied only by you?" The other rolled on top of him, flicking his hips over the other and eliciting a small noise.
"I expect you to be satisfied by me only." The bat bit him, and the fox couldn't help but to wriggle. Then, suddenly, the fox was on top again, holding down the other's arms by the wrist.
"What a fanciful dream," he mused, sliding himself down the other, who was growing against him once more.
The fox bent his head over the demon's hips, tasting him with his tongue. As he worked his way down, he turned his head for a better angle, opening his eyes. The demon below him moaned while the one in the trees froze. They had locked eyes, him and his leader, and suddenly the world went cold. The fox did not take his eyes off of the young one as he worked his lover, bobbing and sucking from his new position so the onlooker had full view.
It was the look he was given that frightened him, the look that clearly said I knew you were here from the start. It was that look which sent the young one bolting back towards the camp. He ran as fast as he could, emotions suddenly free to surface in a way that they hadn't before.
Frustration. He was totally and utterly at a loss for what could relieve the ache that had built inside him. No matter how hard he worked, he was not worth acknowledging, not even as a fly on the wall of an intimate moment. The frustration burned, in his soul and in the arousal that he dared not admit.
Rage. The complete fury that filled him at the sight of the two had taken him by surprise. Of course he knew they were involved, the entire camp and then some knew that. But something in their exchange had made him furious. Something had pushed him past the point of rational thought.
Jealousy. As he made it back to the flickering firelight that lit the edge of the camp, he realized it. He was insanely jealous- of their intimacy, of the fox's subtle but there submission, at the arrogance of the other demon in thinking that he deserved any of it. He was the one who was trying to develop his skills rather than slinking off after a not so secret rendezvous. For every time the bat had disappeared before dawn, he had been there, ready and awaiting commands. He had been the one to collect the most kills, to raid the biggest enclosures. He should have been the one to dominate the beautiful fox. He should have been the one to sink his teeth into that white neck. It should have been him who pushed into that trembling body.
In that one moment, all rationality was lost. It was then that he decided to break from the group. In the early hours of the morning, he rallied the small number of followers he could manage to follow through with a half formulated plan he had been keen on executing. This would show him that he was capable. This would prove that he was more worthy than the fool who had let his opportunity to take the beautiful beast slip by. This would be enough for him to take his enemy's place.
Ultimately, the plan was one of the most miserable failures of his life. He was the only one that the fox managed to save in the end; the entire band he had put together perished within the first few movements they tried to perform. He had been punished severely, although a part of him had wanted this before witnessing the act between the other two. It was not unusual for the fox to use sex equally as punishment and reward. For those who did well, they were taken into his bed and pleasured immensely, although he never gave up the dominant role. For those who had truly disgraced themselves, well, it was lucky that he even let them live. They were strewn out in front of the camp, fucked violently for all to see, then left to pick themselves up and shake off the humiliation. It had only happened a couple of times, when the planets aligned in such a way as to catch the leader in a particular mood and one of the bandits in a particular mistake. Only then would such a punishment be given, and it always ended bloody and one sided.
This was no different. The young one had actually tried to fight it; as if what he had seen happen in the woods meant he knew of a weakness that his leader had. That only infuriated the silver one, causing him to be even less merciful than usual when he overpowered his subordinate, which he did in no time flat. It was demeaning to be so easily overtaken by someone who had nearly let himself be fucked by another just the night before, but it was as if a certain part of him screamed for it. Despite the unusual violence bestowed upon him, the lack of anything resembling gentleness as he was taken, the younger one still found himself crying out in ecstasy as the other sought his release within him, pulling his hair and ripping his flesh and burying his face in the dirt. To add to his disgrace, he was the first to come, which only made his tormenter violate him further, pushing him to the brink of death before finally spilling himself inside. That moment was the only one in which the noise which escaped the fox was not one of hateful warning, the smallest of moans slipping from lips which were wet with blood.
What was horrid was the small victory the young one felt when the bat showed up, right at the end of it all. His face had been blank, but his eyes betrayed him. In them were anger and disgust. Mostly, though, was hurt. Lying there on the ground, bloody and exhausted, the young one smiled twistedly at him. The other demon had turned and left without so much as a word, not even bothering to visit his lover's den beforehand. That, in some sick way, was progress. He had managed to fracture their trust, at least a small amount. That was his victory.
It was only a handful of days later when he put his second attempt into action, taking another small group to an even better protected fortress with even rarer spoils. He didn't understand in the first place why the fox refused to seek out the treasures himself, having heard the rumors of their splendor and shaking them off as if they were empty words. Upon seeing the enclosure, the young one knew that the other had been a fool to pass up the opportunity. It was in the same moment of his smugness that wings descended from the sky, the same wings which would steal his light.
Again, all of his men- those who would have been his- died in a bloody heap. This time, he was not as lucky. Lashing out, screaming, he tried to take his victory by force. He was left with a single image, a nightmare before him as blood clouded his vision and then was lost to him altogether. He had always questioned why he had been left alive after that, but now he knew that it was his punishment. For most, disability in the Makai was synonymous with a death sentence, and his blindness had nearly been just that. It was only with the two sensations that he had been left with that he found a way to continue: the burning image of his attacker and the feel of the fox's eyes on him as he cried out in pain, helpless.
To live, he was forced to adapt. His strength was nothing without his sight and it had nearly killed him time again after his great fall as he learned how to compensate. His body changed as he grew stronger, making up for the difference physically, but it was his mind that made the greatest turnabout. With a second near fatal mistake came a desperate need to amend his personal philosophy. Bitterly, he had turned to the only model for behavior he had.
His empire had been built on the foundational rules, both said and unspoken, that the fox had put in place for himself and his band of followers. He had ruled successfully for centuries, even coming dangerously close to overtaking the other two kings when the time came. He had laid in place a plan, a plan which included his old master.
When he summoned the fox, he wasn't sure how exactly the reunion would turn out. He had followed his reappearance, surprised that his old leader was alive and working on a team: with humans no less. The name of the team had struck a chord with him- it was unlike the bandit, in his arrogance and vanity, to let another lead let alone have the namesake of the group. He supposed something had changed upon Kuronue's death, but what that was still evaded him. He wasn't even fully aware of the change in the nature of the fox until a being of another sort entirely showed up at his summons.
He was taken aback by the difference in character when they finally met again. Yes, he was the same man, in a way, but the now king was sure that his consciousness had been altered by his human heart. It would have been amusing, if it wasn't so puzzling, that the half-demon refused to succumb and revert to the form which a part of the king still feared, but he supposed that would have been giving him exactly what he wanted. In truth, it was one of the only reasons why he refrained from taking his revenge when the opportunity presented itself: his advice was only good for so much.
Before his fight with Shigure, the king had cornered the fox, a last attempt to understand his decision to live as a human. He had reached out, with both his hands and his consciousness, trying to feel out the other. He felt his energy, noting the difference, trying to grasp just how human he had become. He had slid his hands over the shockingly small body which now housed the fox's soul, holding in a smirk as it tensed at his touch. The redhead, knowingly, made no attempt to escape from the movement, allowing the questioning hands to explore. The king lifted a bundle of his hair, bringing it to his face.
"Everything is different now." The statement hid a smile- why he felt amused by this was baffling.
"That is truer than you know." The fox's tone held something that the king had never heard in him before: demure agreement with a touch of compassionate acknowledgement. The king let the strands slip from his hands, falling back into their natural place. They moved, facing each other, unspoken questions burning them both but neither of them ready to ask.
The fox turned on his heel, marching forward toward a battle that would better explain to the other than he could with words. It was horribly reminiscent of the days in the camp- the king could feel the swish of energy that mimicked his lost tail as he walked.
The battle ensued, bewildering the king, who had been convinced that the fox's refusal to revert would be thwarted in desperation. It was only in the moments when the fox faced death head on, Shigure's blade mere inches from his nose, that the king understood. There were more in those green eyes, more in his shaky and weakened energy, more in the way he let himself be carried by truer friends than he had ever had before than the king had ever seen in him in all their years together. As he was carried from the battlefield, the ruler smiled, now understanding.
This time, it was the fox's turn to grow. He too had been young, even with centuries of life, and he too had been blind. Something in his short span as a human was teaching him, just as the king was teaching his son. The fox's existence still had yet to be fully defined, but he was going to shape it as well as he could with his newfound life. The king watched, with his mind, as the fox hung on the edge of consciousness, desperate to see his companion's battle, concern clearly woven through his features. Nothing was the same- and that was good. They had both moved on, leaving the past behind them.
The king wandered away, leaving the redhead, an open smile on his face. Revenge was not necessary when atonement was being made in its own way. He almost laughed, the sheer impossibility of their new situations warming him. His former leader had lost much, but was gaining something infinitely more precious. He had transformed, no longer a creature of fear and carnality. He was now simply beautiful. The smile refused to fade as he walked, finding his son in the crowd and ushering him along.
He had once been infatuated by the fox, but this new feeling was closer to love.
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