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Kami no Kokoro I'd never even considered the idea that Koenma would HAVE a bedroom, much less what it would look like. I've seen plenty of it in the past few weeks, though, sleeping more nights in purple and claret curtained silk than in my own bed at home. I breathe easier around him. Keiko must know that something in me has changed, indelibly marking me as different than what she knew. She loves me and I love her, but I'm not a mortal anymore, and she's always been wiser than me. Demons and kami don't love like humans do. Figure out what you want, she said. Take what I can. So I am. He's asleep now, strange moonlight filtering in through the drawn curtains of his bed, painting indigo shadows under his cheek and in tempting darkness held between parted lips. Beautiful against the rose-darkness of the pillow, his hair fanned out around his head like a western angel's halo. I love his hair. Not as much as his eyes, now only black smudges of lash on his skin, the gold irises burning still in my memory. Teh. If it weren't for those eyes he could be ordinarily human, even with the admittedly silly JR mark on his forehead. But his eyes scare me, and there isn't much that scares Urameshi Yusuke. Juniors and pacifiers notwithstanding, he radiates something, in any form, that makes you think you aren't getting the whole margin, much less the whole picture. No matter how he weeps when I take him, he still cradles my fate in the hollow of his hand; the terrible paternal inheritance of judgement is still shadowed in the gold of his eyes. Power. Not like Kurama or Hiei or even me, certainly not like Kuwabra. It's quiet and gold and burning cold to the touch, I've seen it flare under the veneer of his-- pardon the term-- devil-may-care attitude. He's not a fighter, not by a LONG shot, but I'll be dammed if he isn't the most fucking dangerous one of us all. I would fall in love with a kami who hasn't even told me if he loves me back. Not in his words, anyway, and it's a good thing I know that there's more to Koenma than what he says aloud. He let me touch him after what Sensui did to him, and that's confession enough. For now. He stirs in the midst of whatever dreams gods may have, my name exhaled faintly. No nightmares now, not for many nights, they traumatized me more than him. Koenma is used to nightmares. He never clung to me afterwards, though I might pretend that's how it worked. I was the one holding him close. Koenma has spent close to 500 years making damn sure he doesn't need anyone and that all around him keep the wool securely over their eyes. It doesn't even occur to him to be clinging and demanding of me. There are times when he'll hold me while I'm getting my breath back, one arm encircling my shoulders from behind and his cheek pressed against my hair. I saw us once like that, in the mirror of his room when the curtains were pulled, and those gold eyes shone with such raw power and fierce love and possession that I knew there would be blood to pay if anyone tried to take me from him. It's a different kind of needing. He usually just seems pleasantly surprised when I answer his invitations, and happy that I give a damn. I'd give more than that, if he asked, and I'm glad he told me about Sensui. It made me realize what he meant, and what made me dizzy to be around him in this slender-hipped, velvet eyed adult form of his. I already knew I'd do anything he asked, I just didn't know why. Love. Not the schooshy pink-bubble kind in that junk Keiko and her friends read, not even in the tense needful way that Hiei and Kurama mold their bodies together. I don't know what it's like, but it makes me think of when I'm fighting and he's counting on me, of how good it feels to be depended on, to be thought worth something. To be desired for more than my body, but still hungry for the presence of it. To be Yusuke. Not Team Urameshi or that worthless shit that always skips class or the guy who won the dark tournament just Yusuke. The one who'd die for him and not ask questions. His Reikai Tantei. That phrase doesn't sound the same when it is directed at any of the others; when it is said to me it means just that- I am his. It doesn't matter that I would seem to be the dominant one, taking all the time, it's not near so simple. Strange and erotic to feel like his possession, I can't help but wonder if that will show soon in our sex. So far he'd been more than content to take me into him, demurring any kind of kink as long as he can see my eyes when I take him. An understandable condition, considering his past. I still wonder what he's like violent, remembering the tenseness of his voice and darkness of his eyes when he warred with the last man he loved, and letting chills creep up my spine. Not that I want to be blown to mars with his nuclear bauble, but maybe his voice would sound the same if... My hand drifts under the sheet, thoughts loosing their philosophical angle. This is usually what I thought about in philosophy class anyway: being tied down to those convenient posts on his bed, feeling him force his way into me and lay claim to me in the most powerful way possible. Like a god would. Maybe it's the demon in me that wants to see him like that, makes me so hot to think of me willingly violated by him. I bite my lip, watching his face for a moment before closing my eyes, just enjoying his oblivious nearness. Just thinking about him gets me so hard, makes me want to feel him come between us when I fuck him. He's so tight and so hot and perfect it makes me feel like a god to know he LETS me. I'm moving faster, needing it now and no longer imagining taking him, instead it's the pain of his penetration that I want to moan for, his nearness that makes me muffle it. I wonder if he can dream what I feel, if somewhere he knows I'm ready to come in my hands from thinking about him. So close-- that's right. Do it harder, you won't hurt me... unn... like that, so deep... nngod right THERE-- don't stop... make me do it-- "Koenma..." Does he really still think I'm asleep? How could I be, with his frantic breathing so close against my ear and the rustle of silk over his flexing thighs, calves brushing lightly against mine as he spreads his legs involuntarily. He's panting now, eyes shut so I can open mine to see what I've only been able to hear happening to him. Gates- he's always more incredible than I imagine him. The covers are gone now, dark hair loose and trembling with his motion, lips wet and parted for air, pelvic bone thrusting sharply into both his cupped hands. One word and I could be straddling him; it would be me that he was pushing into. But despite the hot pulse of need between my legs that I can't help but touch, I keep silent. I've never gotten to watch this. He can't quite bite down on his moan, freeing one hand and falling back against the piles of pillow as he slips it underneath him. His body tightens briefly, spine curving up and knees bending, choking slightly and then gasping as he pushes down harder. His hand speeds up on his sex as he fingers himself, tossing his head slightly and gritting his teeth in impatience. I want to do it for him, wondering what he feels with his body clasping around his hand, taking pleasure for himself. He manages my name during a frenetic series of thrusts, and understanding dawns, sending fire through my blood as I realize what he's imagining. As much as I may want to, I don't interfere just yet. I want to see. His eyes open wide, unseeing, closing them again as his jaw tenses and his ribcage heaves. His hips jerk upward, body arched in sudden stillness above the mattress. White spatters in a quiet flood over his hand and onto the tense lines of his abdomen, powerful and vulnerable in some sensual paradox. My name is just a ghost across his lips, face tilting towards me as if knowing I'm watching. He trembles with exertion before slumping down with a sated groan, pulling his hand out from under him and blinking dazedly at the canopy above my bed. He smiles softly to himself, removing his hand from his sex and smoothing wet over his skin, exhaling in relief. It only takes a moment before the flushed tinge in his cheeks pales slightly, his head turning towards me as he realizes I'm no longer asleep.
Slitted golden irises, glittering as they meet mine. He watched me, there's no doubt of that, hunger written in the set of his shoulders and the dangered edge of his smile. Suddenly my cold chill turns to a warm rush that must show in my face, pure instinct to grab for the tossed aside sheet to try and cover myself. Damn but Koenma is fast when he wants to be, my wrist stalled in mid-motion, long fingers just on the verge of too tight, preventing my move. The slow shake of his head spawns a convention of frantic butterflies in my stomach. He's never looked at me like that before. "Koe-" I don't get it out before his mouth is on mine, his bare body pressing me down into the feather mattress. He wants me, desperately, the heat of his sex hard against the wet skin of my stomach. My captured wrist is neatly pinned above my head, his kiss as wild as Kami hammering out creation. "Why didn't you tell me you wanted to be taken?" He makes it sound like a mild accusation, free hand combing through my hair, kiss migrating down my throat to the juncture of my shoulder and becoming a bite. I feel like I've been keeping something from him, and maybe in a way I have. Too conscious of him being used by Sensui, holding back on my intensity, trying to- "Protecting me?" He's gone perfectly still, lifting his head and smiling at me in an alarming way that either I want him to stop right now or I never want him to. The butterflies, no longer content to mingle and flit about in my stomach, decide to spontaneously start a mosh pit. "I-" the stammered beginning of a reply is stalled, both his hands trailing down my sides, my wrist firmly and inexplicably attached to his bed. "I'm a kami, Yusuke." He's nipping at my collarbone now, hands petting me between my legs, sex rubbing teasingly next to mine. "I don't need protecting." "Teh. Really." The last bit sounds weak, maybe because I growled it. His fingers flick out to one side, and one of the silk curtain cords snakes down and pins my right hand to my already free one. "I've had to--nn--protect you enough in the--" god he's got fabulous fingers- "--paassstt... " "And they say I never shut up." His mouth teases against one nipple, then slowly moves down my abdomen, lapping at the traces of my self-gratification as I writhe helplessly, enjoying the benefits of demon blood and accelerated recovery time. There is a warm slow motion against my sex, and soft brown hair whispering against my thighs. God I hope he does it-- he's never done it to me before, his lips are right there and I can feel the heat of his breath as his lips part and he- "Nnnkounnnnma..." Hot. Shit, how can his mouth be so hot like that? And he's never done this.. geeezzz-- how can he now how to suck it and--"don'tstopdon'tpleaseunngodfeelsso--" And he's gone, leaving me shaking like a virgin and hovering on the edge of intensity. "Tell me what you want," His tone is matter-of-fact, fingers tracing my lips. Something besides kami possessiveness is in his eyes, and now of all times it strikes me that his anonymous mother was probably a human. He wets his fingers in my mouth, strange triple-whorl of his prints intimate against my tongue, slicking himself against my stomach, using what I left behind to take me. His knees spread me wide, wet digits pressing against me and pushing inside as I stutter a gasp, squirming past clenched muscle and then moving in and out in time with my rapid breathing. "What were you imagining when you did this to yourself? Was it this?" "Yes-" He flutters his fingers inside and it's as if I never gave myself pleasure before, need making me thrash against my bonds, wanting more than one slender finger probing inside me. "Take me. Do it..." "Harder than you do me?" Damn that smug purr of his, right against my navel. I struggle to lift my head and see as he takes me in his mouth again, gold almond-shaped eyes raising and lowering locked intently on my face. "Koenma.. please...yes, fuck me for all you're worth just don't keep me like this..." My hips are raised to him in offering, his arms wrap around my thighs, hooking my knees over his elbows. I'm practically folded double, the warning nudge of his sex pressed hard against me. "Yeh, like that. C'mon...do me...nn!" It hurts but this is what I wanted, slick with my own come and boring me open, heavy and burning as he enters and my body yields, spasming open and clutching him greedily. He fills me completely, pushing in with a soft helpless cry and I remember that I'm the first one he's ever taken, my involuntary noise of pain mingling with his of pleasure and he freezes, achingly tight inside me. "Yusuke?" He waits till I look at him, eyes like dawn-lit fog. There it is, the god who loves a demon, who even in dominance stops to question my pain. Gods, I love him. "Yeah." I flash him a quick grin, nodding so he knows I'm okay. "This is what I was thinking about." He smiles back at me, almost uncertainly, and withdraws slightly to move in again. I watch his face as new sensations flicker over it like leaves on a frozen pond, my name a tight moan from his throat. I clench around him to watch him falter, rocking up to meet each desperate thrust he gives, relishing the quickening rise and fall of his chest. He keeps enough composure to reach between us, but a small burst of you-ki on the curtain cord and one wrist is free, still adorned with braided blood-red silk. "Nuh-uh." I push his fingers away. "You like to watch? Watch this." I wrap my own hand around my aching sex, moaning for him, watching his eyes widen in startled arousal. "Mm...watch me...see what you make me do." His grip tightens on my thighs as I stroke myself, jolting me so hard now that the canopy above him ripples like a crimson sea, hangings trembling like Kurama's deadly rose petals. My abandon is not just for his viewing anymore, tensing with the approaching explosion. He leans over me, folding me nearly in half, flushed cheek warm against mine. The angle changes and I nearly scream, each swift motion of his hips prodding that perfect spot deep inside me. "Yusuke." His hair is clinging to my damp skin, tongue touching my earlobe. "Yusuke. Come for me. Let me feel it." My body jerks, unprepared for the added effect of his words. His velvet voice trembles against my ear as he repeats his request. "I-iku..." I can't help but obey. Pleasure hits me like a blow, my whole world contracting and he's saying my name over and over, flooding me, sobbing against my cheek. Perfect, too perfect, and it's like dying all over again, like the rush of victory, like ki, like love. "Yusuke-Yusuke Yusuke..." He chokes on it, shuddering. There is a pause of his stillness as he finishes and then gold light sears eyelids I did not realize I had squeezed shut. I'm too limp to lift my head, but I can't even see him if I squint. He's glowing, and still inside me, and despite my eyes tearing I force myself to look at him. Painfully beautiful, so dazzling that for a moment it is hard to realize what about him is different. The mark on his forehead is now in some strange glowing script; the short honey colored hair a tumbling riot over his shoulders, ends brushing my chest. Age is impossible to tell, but it is still Koenma, the gold of his eyes the same in any form. Belated realization hits that there is something ancient blooded and beyond me still nestled in my body, slowly lowering my legs and wrapping his arms around me. ~Don't be scared.~ I feel it whisper down my spine and suddenly I am, awed to the point of fear, no doubt like a deer in headlights. "You're... Koenma, you..." I realize I can't talk, and am only making sounds I wish were words. True form. The phrase ripples through me, he must have sent it. I try not to cringe as his chest touches mine, feeling very small and very undivine and very covered in my own sweat and sex. Then I feel it. Slow and steady, thrumming from a ribcage that previously was as silent as mine has been since the change, beating so strongly against me that I could believe it mine. A heartbeat. ~Do you feel it?~ "Koenma..." Beautiful as it beats, my bonds gone and forgotten as I dare slide my arms around him, into the glorious locks of hair that would put Kurama to shame. ~A gift from my mother. I am the only Kami that has one, and only like this.~ He smiles at me, radiantly, and I am weeping as he kisses me. ~I want you to have it.~ "What?" Startled and unclear against his mouth spoiling the kiss. I try to sit up but I'm still too wasted for such action. I can only shake my head in unworthiness as his heartbeat speeds up, and a pooling of warmth like almost too-hot water spills from his chest to mine. "Koenma, you can't... I don't-" ~Hush, Yusuke.~ The glow flares, then ebbs, leaving me with a familiar motion under my breastbone, and an exhausted and once again appearing merely mortal Koenma sprawled across me, smiling with his ear against my ribs. "I didn't mean to frighten you." "Koenma, how could you..." I blink back the heat trying to seep from my eyes. "Why would you give me anything so precious?" He smiles sleepily at me, as if I am stupid. "Because you already had it. Now do be quiet." Koenma nestles against me, groping for the discarded blanket to fling around us. "I always wanted to fall asleep to the sound of your heart." ~owari~ by Tenshi
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