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Rengoku Kyoujurou is a fool. He is a traitor. A pitiful excuse of a demon hunter.
Try as hard as he might to be the mantle of his family name, the beacon and the title, he looks up into crescent golden eyes and faces the brutality of the truth that he is only a man.
Rengoku Kyoujurou is as weak to temptation as any mortal soul.
And temptation smiles so sweetly at him.
He does not move as this- this thing climbs over him, graceful even on all fours. He does not reach for his sword when clawed hands plant themselves on either side of his head and knees encase his hips. He looks up from where he is sprawled on his bed and thinks that this creature has the most impeccable timing. For Akaza always manages to come when Rengoku is in turmoil.
(Or perhaps, he cannot allow himself to think, perhaps it is only because nowadays he is in such a state so frequently when left to his own devices.)
The smile splits open and fangs peer through plush lips as Akaza regards him. "Hello Kyoujurou," He lilts out Rengoku's given name in that effortlessly pleased way, voice like honey dripping off the tongue.
The sensation of Akaza's smooth tail is familiar enough at this point that Rengoku barely heeds the feel of it curling around one of his thighs. It is a possessive appendage, one that constantly touches and caresses whatever it can reach.
It is an odd comfort unto itself.
In truth, Rengoku does not know why this incubus has so attached itself to him. Akaza is a peculiar creature, one that delights in the bloodshed of their battles as much as he does their carnal feasts aligned with his nature.
Rengoku might think it is his ability to partake in both that draws in the demon, but there is always something in those otherworldly eyes that whispers of something more.
Something that terrifies him.
"Not talkative today?" Akaza cocks his head ever so slightly. His eyes wander down and the smile leaves them when they land on Rengoku's cheek.
Far too gently, a talon caresses under the bruised gash on it. Rengoku's eyes fall closed and his nostrils flare with a dead heave of breath. Akaza's hand is cool to the touch, something soft and tender and wretched.
He always treats Rengoku with too much care, as though he is something precious. It makes Rengoku want to scream.
He cannot bring himself to remove the hand.
"Who did this?" Akaza says quietly, violence in his voice.
"It doesn't matter," Rengoku utters.
Gently, so very gently, the talon peels the gash open. It draws a sting along his flesh and it's a welcome reprieve from the tenderness.
A dip in the air and Akaza's presence bends closer. Rengoku does not open his eyes when a quiet sniff pierces the air.
"It smells of liquor." Akaza states. His breath ghosts over the wound. And then he pulls back, "You carry that smell on your skin but not in your blood."
Rengoku knows. He knows. His brow pinches together as the ache of the night threatens to overwhelm.
There is a moment of blessed silence. It swells in the air and dances in the space between them just long enough for Rengoku to collect himself.
"What do you need, Kyoujurou?"
Finally, Rengoku's eyes peel open. His gaze latches onto those golden moon eyes. Firm and unbending, they hold him steady.
"I need nothing," He says.
But Akaza is undeterred.
"What do you want?"
Nothing, his mind offers him the correct answer. It's the one he should give, because he knows what this is. It's an offer, one he must refuse.
Akaza's touch on his cheek remains, a warmth without temperature.
His tongue holds still.
Unblinking and ever so patient, Akaza waits.
In truth, Rengoku does not know what he wants. What he wants doesn't matter, it never did. He is sworn to duty and duty does not care for desire.
But he is a man. And he is breaking.
At first it was not noticeable. And when the cracks began to weave into his periphery, he carried on. One moves forward because that is the only direction to move. One smiles because they cannot frown and one makes it through because there is no other option.
This is what he tells himself over and over. It must be done so he does it. Duty must be held so he holds it.
He is breaking. The cracks have not stopped, and carrying on has only spread them further faster.
He is breaking but he must continue forward.
He is breaking. He is wanting.
He looks at Akaza, feels the electric air that lays between them, charged with the unholy aura of a demonic being. He takes in the long pink lashes that frame his eyes so beautifully, the dip of his neck and the curve of his clavicle that rests under porcelain skin. The dark bands that brand his throat like a collar and the swell of his shapely chest and the strong definition of his shoulders.
And his cracking, breaking self yearns for the feel of a body, a life against his. He wants, he realizes with a sickening hitch, the artificial comfort this creature so effortlessly gives.
Fake as it is, he is too weak to fend off temptation.
Kyoujurou reaches up.
He rests a callused hand on Akaza's cheek and the other he curls under the side of his jaw. Akaza's eyes fall shut with a hum and he leans into Rengoku's touch. It is a nearly animal movement, like a cat asking for pets.
He ignores the throb in his chest and pulls Akaza down. The incubus practically melts into the silent command, shifting and melding his body so perfectly against Kyoujurou's.
"Don't worry," Akaza murmurs against Kyoujurou's lips before he can bring them into a kiss, "I'll take care of you."
His heart thuds a heavy note and Kyoujurou cannot take it anymore. He yanks Akaza into a frantic kiss.
It's a dance they've done time and time again. Despite his better judgement and his vows that each time will be the last, Rengoku cannot refuse this being.
Something dark and cavernous blooms within his ribs. His chest caves in as flesh molds to flesh and suddenly Rengoku is awash in a lifetime of loneliness.
Every denial of intimacy, every scrap of love withheld from him and every poisonous word cast upon him claws at the rotting within himself and collapses his heart in a yawning emptiness.
And he yearns. He wants.
Rengoku Kyoujurou needs.
He fists the back of Akaza's petal soft hair and pulls him closer, closer, closer. Their tongues meet and he is eager to deepen the kiss. To swallow this togetherness into his being.
Like a drowning man, Kyoujurou breathes Akaza in like heaves of blessed air.
Akaza takes this sudden desperation in stride. He responds in kind, meeting the fevered kiss with a molten hunger. Shifting himself even closer, his body glides against Kyoujurou in an electrifying way. The small movements of breathing and a heart beating against him are an intoxicating poison and Rengoku drinks of it heavily.
He doesn't flinch when those claws move and scrape along his body, and doesn't try to stop Akaza when he pulls off Rengoku's nightshirt.
Ravenous, Akaza presses their bare torsos together, all but pushing his entire weight onto Rengoku. And Rengoku meets this eagerness head on. He bites Akaza's lip and moves a hand across his back, past shoulder blades and devil's wings into the dip of his spine. There he presses down, closer, closer, closer and arches up into the incubus.
A beautiful sound escapes Akaza's lips, swallowed like nectar down Rengoku's throat.
Akaza breaks from his lips, tongue lingering for not a second before he pulls away, "You taste so good, Kyoujurou." He breathes. And then he dives back down, capturing Rengoku's mouth with an even greater fervor.
There is something desperate to the way Akaza moves against him, something starved and needy. He sucks on Rengoku's tongue with enthusiasm and his body begins a small elegant gyrating that is nothing short of erotic.
It lights a fire in him. One so different from the usual flame that feeds his heart. It's one that's always effortlessly unearthed by the creature above him, one he knows well by now.
And unthinking, Rengoku meets the motions of the incubus with his own. It's a filthy act, like the clothed humping of a desperate couple or an inexperienced man in a whorehouse. Rengoku knows this, but it doesn't feel like it.
The sensation is divine, so wretchedly heavenly and helplessly human. It always feels this way with Akaza, like something beyond the dirtiness of a simple fuck.
It makes Rengoku's mind empty itself. Until all that exists is the need in his chest cavity for more, more, closer.
And were he with anyone else, he would be much more considerate. He would be nicer. He'd be a perfect gentleman and give his everything.
But he is not.
He is with a demon. He is with Akaza. And the need demands.
So unthinking, he hooks a leg around Akaza and flips them over.
Akaza manages to land gracefully, no doubt used to rough treatment considering what he is and how he feasts. His wings do not get caught on themselves like they sometimes do. Instead they splay wide across the bed, twitching in the same excitement that lights his eyes.
He stares fever bright up at Rengoku, his mouth parted and revealing the tips of fangs. With a heaving chest and a blush sweetening his face, he smiles.
Something hot and terrible twists up in that cavernous emptiness and Rengoku cannot take it. He surges forward, hands ripping at Akaza's loose white pants.
"Ah, careful Kyoujurou," Akaza says with a windchime laugh. He moves to untie the pants, "I do need to wear something when I leave."
Rengoku barely has enough patience to let Akaza finish with the knot -- all of it bled out and dried by the day. He redirects the need to do something into shucking down his own pants.
After kicking off the last of his clothes, he returns his attention to Akaza and is met with his naked form.
It is the nature of an incubus to be beautiful. It is nothing special for Akaza to be so. Rengoku feels, stupidly, that this understanding should somehow negate the effect of his beauty.
It doesn't, of course. The sight of Akaza bare and unfurled below him ignites a hunger in him, beastly and visceral.
Maybe it's always resting there, curled up asleep under his skin, but it's only ever to Akaza that this hunger rises. Always -- ever since Akaza first came to him when he was two years younger and virginal.
Rengoku does not like to think about it, how Akaza holds such power over him in the carnal aspects of his life.
So instead he focuses on the now. Searches again for that unthinking blankness he had fallen into. Looks down at the sinew and curve of Akaza's body and traces a rough hand over the shape of a strong thigh and up to the complex dip and rise of his lower torso.
Akaza shifts under him, a small noise escaping his throat as his hips lift in a silent plea. It draws Rengoku's eyes to his half hard cock -- as beautiful as the rest of him -- but he is not merciful.
Not here, not to a demon.
"Oil," He demands.
"Ah," Akaza spreads his legs.
And underneath his cock are the fat lips of a pretty cunt. A clawed hand winds down his pelvis and spreads them enticingly, revealing pink folds and a small wet hole. "No need."
Rengoku's eyes dart to Akaza's. His heart beats wildly against his ribs.
The smile that graces Akaza's lips both impish and coy, "Since you're impatient today, I thought we could skip the stretching."
Fuck.
Akaza has commented on his ability to shapeshift before, but he's only displayed it a handful of times, and never when coupling with Kyoujurou. And here he is, altering his body for Rengoku's convenience. He cannot stand it.
Rengoku cannot stand it.
This damned sweetness. This strange sort of affection, of consideration.
It makes that yawning emptiness twist on itself, makes the heat and hunger and beastly flame rise forth. Makes him need.
He surges forward.
Kyoujurou fists a hand in Akaza's hair and yanks his head back, exposing the slope of his neck. He bites down on it with abandon, tasting the salt of blood.
Akaza jerks underneath him, another honey sound on his lips.
With his other hand, Kyoujurou grabs a thigh and pushes his leg up and out.
He slots their naked bodies together as he sucks a mark deep into Akaza's flesh. And in response that tail finds his thigh again. It coils around it, smooth and cool and rubbing back and forth in a slow rhythmic motion. Wings flutter, lighting up Kyoujurou's ears as they flap against the bedsheets. And Akaza's arms wrap around him, a hand sliding into his hair and the other curling over his shoulder.
Every movement of Akaza's is sensual. Everything about him lights Kyoujurou on fire. And he is helpless to the way he groans into skin and rocks their bodies together.
His cock slides sweetly next to Akaza's, pressing between the movement of their bodies. And his jaw unhooks, taking to mouthing and biting along the rest of Akaza's neck and his hand squeezes a firm thigh.
Akaza grinds against him with ease. His free leg hooks over Rengoku's hip and the hand in his hair scratches at his scalp, igniting a tingling pleasure.
And maybe at one point he might've been content with this level of skinship. But right now it only speaks of potential. Of incompleteness.
It roils inside of him. And not a minute into this new position, Rengoku is consumed in the sensation of not enough.
So he shifts and pushes Akaza's leg into his torso and reaches back to stroke his own cock to fullness.
Leaning down, he bites the swell of Akaza's nipple and pushes the head of his member to the wetness of Akaza's cunt.
And that pulls a sweet, sweet noise from Akaza's chest. So Kyoujurou licks the pink nub and bites again and runs his cock through soft folds.
"Kyoujurou," Akaza lilts like a man in prayer, "Oh, Kyoujurou."
The inferno rages. And if this is what waits for him in hell, then Kyoujurou would gladly burn.
He lines his cock up. In one thrust he buries himself inside Akaza to the hilt.
"Ah!" Akaza arches into him, chest and hips and spine. His heel digs into the meat of his ass and his leg thrashes. "Oh fuck!"
The feeling of Akaza is nothing short of divine. He is tight and wet and soft in a delicate heat that wraps and pulses around every inch of Kyoujurou. It's an intimate embrace. A visceral compounding of sensation that sets alight all of his nerves. And it is exactly what he needs.
Closer, closer, closer.
Kyoujurou is a slave to the animal in him.
He moves without meaning to. Without higher thought. Back and forth, in and out, rough, quick strokes -- it's the most natural thing to do.
And everything bursts forth. Every desperation, every ache and loneliness and yawning need explodes within him and moves his body rougher, harder, deeper.
Akaza keens underneath him. The tail squeezes and the claws at his shoulder dig furrows up his back. The pain is white hot against the pleasure that cascades throughout Rengoku's bones.
"Oh god," Akaza moans. His head tosses back into the pillows, "Kyoujurou, Kyoujurou, Kyoujurou ! It's so much! Full, so full, fuck I forgot how good a cunt feels!"
That beastly thing within Kyoujurou snarls and he lunges forward, capturing Akaza's lips with his own. Their teeth clack together in fervor before their mouths properly meld and Kyoujurou's tongue bleeds from an errant fang, but it's perfect. It's a nectar God himself must covet.
Akaza throws his arms around Kyoujurou's neck and with a surge of inhuman strength, he pulls them together as close as possible.
And Akaza is warm and solid, flushed with heat in a way that only occurs during sex. There's a sheen of sweat across his body that eases the way they move together.
They drink each other in frenetically, starved and ravenous.
Closer, closer, closer.
It's everything. Akaza is under him, but he's everywhere. He's wrapped around him, enveloping him, consuming him. Just as Kyoujurou consumes him.
And finally, Rengoku must pull away for air. He pants into Akaza's open mouth and lets out a groan from his chest.
Akaza stares up at him in utter reverence. As though he were looking upon God himself. Brows drawn up in a rough furrow and golden eyes fallen into glowing crescents, he is the most beautiful thing Kyoujurou has ever seen.
Kyoujurou's thrusts pick up. And it is almost as though his body is not his own, but that of the beast within him, of the empty cavernous thing within him that must take and take and take.
That thing steals the last vestiges of his control and makes his hands push both of Akaza's legs to rest on either side of his head, lifting his hips off the bed, and he buries himself deep into him.
He all but hammers into Akaza and it feels so good -- snapping like a broken rubber band. Letting go and thrusting deep into that wet, tight, heat.
Akaza cries out, rough and torn. And on the tail of that sound is a chanting of Kyoujurou's name.
Closer, closer, closer.
Time blurs into something nonexistent. Wings snap against the bed and the tail squeezes around Kyoujurou's thigh in a death grip. He doesn't care. God, he doesn't care about anything.
Not here, not now.
Not when Akaza is pulsing around him so sweetly and his face is twisting up in agonizing pleasure. Not when scorches of ecstasy run deep through the marrow of his bones.
Kyoujurou pants heavily. Sweat collects on his brow as he moves in great powerful motions and he loses himself in Akaza.
The chants of his name are hymnal praise. And everything about this is a sin, but never has Kyoujurou felt so holy then here and now.
And the world ceases to exist.
This. This is what he needs. This vast bliss, this utter closeness with another. It breaks him down and builds him up; lets him pretend that everything is right and good and whole.
Lets him fall.
Rengoku chases the very last of the pleasure like a dying man. Until nothing but Akaza exists. Until he's drowning in nirvana and spilling himself into the warm body beneath him.
Kyoujurou stills as he comes, muscles tensing as he's consumed in ecstasy. He cries out into Akaza's neck and one of the hands around him twists hard into his hair.
"Oh, oh," Akaza jerks against him, " Hahnn," He whines long and low and the walls of his cunt squeeze around Kyoujurou wildly.
The sensation almost drags him into overstimulation. He twitches hard deep inside as he's milked thoroughly.
Stars dance across his vision until nothing in his sight registers. Hot stripes of electricity traverse and collide within him and he's helpless to the noises that cascade from his throat.
Until the orgasm fades and the bliss turns sharply into too much and he must pull out.
Akaza keens at the loss. And even as Kyoujurou collapses on top of him, the noise spurs him on to lift a heavy hand and bury three fingers into his ravenous partner.
Kyoujurou curls his fingers, searching for his prostate for far too long before remembering that he's prodding a vagina, not an ass. But he must have found something because Akaza arches into him all the same and cries out in shaking, heaving trembles.
A burst of slick coats his hand and he can feel the hot spurts of cum where his belly is pressed against Akaza's pretty cock.
Akaza is always beautiful when he comes. There's a delight to his utter bliss that makes him look as seraphic as it does obscene. And he writhes near gracefully in climax.
Even unrecovered from his own orgasm. Kyoujurou cannot help but drink in the sight and feel of him.
When they both finally come down from their high, neither moves. Kyoujurou removes his hand from Akaza's cunt and wipes it on the sheets, but other than that, they remain.
Akaza had commented once that he likes the way Kyoujurou feels when he lays on him, so Rengoku sees no need to get off of him. And Akaza himself seems content to lay in his mess and run his hands through Rengoku's long hair.
Despite their nature as enemies, Kyoujurou cannot help but fall into the calm blooming around them. Every now and then nails scratch at his scalp and Kyoujurou's chest releases a sigh as all the vestiges of tenseness leave him.
Unthinking, he buries his face into Akaza's neck, breathing in his sweet, crisp scent.
He doesn't know how long they stay like that. Akaza is never quick to leave, and Kyoujurou cannot bring himself to make him. But the peaceful silence is eventually broken by a soft sigh that caresses the top of his head.
Akaza rests his chin on the crown of Rengoku's hair, "Will you tell me what happened?" He says in a voice far softer than a murderous demon should ever have, "I promise I won't hurt them if you don't want me to."
His words drag out a sigh of Kyoujurou's own. And mind still blank, body still heavy with the tails of bliss, he relents, "It was an accident." He speaks it into the bruised skin surrounding the dark bands on Akaza's throat, "My father was drunk and he threw a bottle. He didn't mean to hit me."
It's not a lie, so why does it feel as oily as one?
Akaza is quiet for a few blessed moments. His hand pets Kyoujurou's hair absently, "But it still hit you."
"He didn't mean to."
"It still hurt." It is a statement of fact, as though Akaza peeled him open and is reading what rests behind his ribs.
And the pain in his chest blooms again. Rengoku frowns.
It is not as great as before but it is a wretched reminder of the great world that exists outside this bed. A wonderful, beautiful world, but a terrible one as well.
He huffs. "I do not wish to speak about it further."
Akaza hums low, displeased. But he drops it. As needling as he can be, he is always much more agreeable after sex.
"Hmm, I'm surprised you're not worried about getting me pregnant."
Kyoujurou jolts up, eyes wide, " Can you get pregnant?" He asks with urgency.
Akaza has the gall to laugh. "Only if I want to. And as much as I would love to bear your children, I don't think you would forgive me if I went ahead and did it without your permission."
He wants to bear-- There are so many different implications in those words that Rengoku is too tired to unpack. So his fuzzy mind falls to the ire that has so familiarized itself with Akaza, "Why did you mention it then?!"
Akaza merely smiles. He rests a gentle hand of Rengoku's cheek, "I was just curious about why you weren't worried."
And oh.
The realization hits too late. Akaza is teasing him.
And all the fight leaves him. Rengoku falls back to lay on Akaza with another huff. "You are a menace," He mutters against his throat.
"I am," Akaza giggles. His hands return to Kyoujurou's hair.
The cum between their stomachs is drying and the mess of sweat and slick is starting to feel unpleasant, but Kyoujurou stalls cleaning up.
If just for a little longer, the selfish animal in him wants to stay in this delicate pocket of pretend, away from the world.
He is a breaking man, after all. And through those cracks within him peers that ugly beat within, and it is a wanting, wanting thing.
And if this unholy sin is the only respite he will have, then he wants it.
He needs it.