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The first time Akaza noticed Kyojuro staring at his mouth, he was smug. There were words rolling off his tongue, something so inconsequential that he didn’t even remember what they were. But Kyojuro was watching his mouth, watching the way his lips and tongue moved around the nonsense leaving them. And Akaza was pleased, because for the first time, Kyojuro watched him with something other than disgust, hate or irritation. 

It faded quickly. With a subtle shake of his head, Kyojuro’s brows furrowed once again, the corner of his own mouth tilted downwards, his hands tightened on the hilt of his sword, and he turned down whatever Akaza said with his usual excitable and cheerful tone. The one that did not match the sullen expression on his face at all. 

It couldn’t take back the way he’d watched Akaza’s mouth. 

The second time Akaza noticed Kyojuro’s attention focused solely on his mouth, it was with a twinge of worry. 

Over the weeks, the months, things had changed between them. Kyojuro did not despise him, did not hate him, as he once did. A fondness had developed between them, and Akaza still could not quite believe that Kyojuro smiled a genuine smile when they met up now. Whatever had developed, he did not want to let it go, he did not want to go back to the way things were between them before. 

He did not know what he would do if that happened. 

However, he could not deny what he was. What they both were. A demon and a slayer. 

It was… going to cause issues eventually, wasn’t it? 

Kyojuro… Kyojuro was beautiful. Akaza had known that, had acknowledged that, since the night they met. He was fire, and warmth, and strength. At some point, a particular type of tension that Akaza did not know the name of had sprung up between them. He could not pry his eyes away from the way the slayer's hands held the hilt of his sword, the way his fingers curled and caressed it. Akaza found himself wondering what those hands might feel like around him. If they would be just as firm wrapped around his wrists, just as skilled as they pressed into his neck, just as sure as they traced the lines of his tattoos. He watched the sweat roll down Kyojuro’s neck when they sparred, stared as it trailed down the slope of his throat and disappeared beneath his collar. His own mouth slicked with saliva as Kyojuro panted for breath, his chest heaved with exertion, but there was a pleased smile on his face that came with the satisfaction of a good spar between them. 

It was… strange. These feelings, they were strange. Akaza did not think he understood them, but he could not stop dwelling on them. 

He wondered if Kyojuro’s eyes lingered on his body like that when Akaza was not paying attention, wondered if Kyojuro considered the weight of his hands, the curves of his bones, the glow of his eyes. 

Then… Then Akaza caught him one night. 

Well, perhaps caught was not the right word. Kyojuro was far from subtle. 

Akaza was not sure what happened, but they were sparring, and suddenly Kyojuro was on the ground, and Akaza was straddling his waist. He leaned to press the slayer’s wrists against the forest floor, and grinned. He opened his mouth, prepared to gloat about so easily pinning Kyojuro down, how he won, how he could feel Kyojuro beneath him—

Until Kyojuro’s breath hitched, and Akaza worried he’d genuinely hurt him. Had he not pulled a punch fast enough? Had he aggravated an old injury? 

But no… A faint blush dusted across Kyojuro’s cheeks as he stared up at Akaza, his hands twitched beneath Akaza’s, but he did not stare at the planes of his face, did not trail his gaze down Akaza’s neck and chest. No, his gaze lingered on his mouth. On the tongue curling against fangs that Akaza knew glinted in the moonlight. 

His grin fell, his lips closed around his teeth. 

Kyojuro cleared his throat, his blush deepened, and he quickly squirmed his way out from underneath Akaza. 

Akaza let him go, did not attempt to keep him in place. 

After all, how could he blame Kyojuro for getting hung up on his fangs, for staring at them as he was pinned beneath a demon? He was a slayer. He knew what those teeth could do, what they had done countless times before. 

Akaza did not blame him, could not blame him. How would that be fair? 

Even if… Even if he wanted—If he wished—

He kept his mouth closed. 

The third time Akaza noticed Kyojuro’s attention on his mouth, he worried he was going insane. 

Some nights, the long nights, when Kyojuro was tired from working, from visiting home, when he did not have the energy for sparring or playful arguments, they just… sat together. Akaza would find Kyojuro, would read the expression on his face, and know that tonight was not the night for anything intensive. 

Kyojuro ended up getting a room at an inn. That was nothing unusual when he traveled, especially once the weather had begun to cool down and it became too chilly to comfortably sleep outside for him. For a while, Akaza would follow Kyojuro to the inn, and just sit on the floor, or perhaps at the foot of his bed, if the slayer felt particularly generous towards him that evening. Then, at some point, Kyojuro began getting rooms with two beds. When Akaza asked why, he just said if Akaza was going to stay with him anyways, he might as well be comfortable, and rooms with two beds weren’t that much more expensive. It became something of a routine, for Akaza to stay at the inns with him, to get ready for bed together, as if Akaza was going to sleep, as if he was going to do anything except sit on his perfectly made bed and watch Kyojuro as he slept, relishing in the sound of his breaths and beat of his heart. 

Until that night, when Kyojuro got a room with only one bed again. 

Akaza frowned when he realized. After so long of getting two beds, why would he only get one? Had he decided he didn’t want Akaza around tonight? Did he want him to leave? 

He lingered in the open door of their room, and resisted the urge to bunch handfuls of his pants in his fists, just to give him something to do with his fingers as Kyojuro went about their routine, as if nothing was different, as if there wasn’t suddenly one bed. 

“Akaza?” Kyojuro tilted his head. “Aren’t you going to come in?” 

Akaza blinked. “There’s—There’s only one bed this time.” 

Kyojuro smiled, unabashedly genuine. “Yes, there is!” 

“But you’ve been getting us two,” Akaza said. “Do you… want to be alone tonight?” It was a disappointment, but Akaza would do his best to understand. He did not like being alone. He thought he did, after so many centuries, but Kyojuro had reminded him that wasn’t true in the least. Akaza hated the nights he was not able to visit the slayer, that he wasn’t allowed to bask in Kyojuro’s presence. He did not want to give one of those nights up, but if that was what Kyojuro wanted—

Kyojuro’s smile faded, and something akin to disappointment settled in his expression. “I can get us a room with two beds, if you’d prefer?” 

Akaza opened his mouth, and then closed it, unsure of what answer he should give, of what the right answer was. Of course he wanted a room with two beds. It was one of the signs of their companionship, that Kyojuro did not mind having him around. But on the other hand, if Kyojuro had made the decision to only get them a room with one bed, there had to be a reason, didn’t there? He got one bed, he smiled when Akaza pointed it out, he was upset over the idea that Akaza did not want a room with one bed. 

In that case, there was only one correct answer, wasn’t there? 

“One bed is fine,” he said as he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. He didn’t know why he had been downgraded to the floor once again, but Kyojuro must have had his reasons. Perhaps he’d very abruptly remembered what Akaza actually was. 

Kyojuro watched him with narrowed eyes as he shuffled around the room, and then awkwardly sat at the foot of the bed, just like he used to before he’d been allowed his own. 

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I can switch us to a room with two,” Kyojuro said once more as his brows furrowed in concern. 

Akaza shook his head. The floor of an inn was already far more comfortable than most places he slept. “This is fine.” 

Ever so slowly, Kyojuro’s smile returned. “Good!” 

He went about his nightly routine. He removed his haori, and delicately folded it up and placed it on the small desk in the corner of the room. He untied his hair, letting it fall down around his shoulders. He undid the buttons of his uniform jacket, and Akaza stared as his fingers worked every button delicately through the holes, before he folded it and placed it with his haori. 

None of this was unusual. Akaza watched Kyojuro go through this routine fairly often. Sometimes, it would be followed by him going to take a bath, or perhaps utilize a hot spring if they were given access to such a thing. Tonight, Akaza suspected he might just go straight to sleep though. He had been traveling far, but not so long that he was dirty enough to warrant a bath over sleeping. 

Then Kyojuro removed his undershirt. 

Saliva pooled in Akaza’s mouth, and he meant to turn his head away, but his body refused to obey him. His gaze stayed fixed to Kyojuro’s back, to the way his muscles shifted with his movements, his shoulders rolled. Harsh lines of scar tissue carved across his toned body. Claw marks, bite marks, stab wounds, tears. And Akaza wanted—he wanted—

His teeth itched, something deep and pervasive buried into every tooth in his mouth, burrowed into the very roots deep in his gums. 

Some of those scars Akaza had put there himself. He liked those. Those scars were good, were beautiful. They looked right at home on Kyojuro’s body. But others… 

Akaza’s lip curled up. He pressed his tongue against his teeth. He should do something about the others. He should—he should—

“Akaza?” Kyojuro sat down next to him, and carefully examined his face. His eyes lingered on Akaza’s lips, on his teeth. 

Akaza swallowed down a mouthful of saliva, and forced his jaw closed with a strangled noise. 

Kyojuro was watching him, was staring at his mouth. 

All while Akaza had wanted to… wanted to feel the press of Kyojuro against his teeth, wanted to use him to soothe the ache in his fangs, wanted to—

Kyojuro reached out a hesitant hand, like he wanted to cup Akaza’s cheek. “Are you okay?” 

Akaza jerked back with wide eyes. 

Kyojuro was worried. Kyojuro was staring at his teeth. Did he know where Akaza’s thoughts had been going? Had it been obvious from his expression? Or was the mere sight of his fangs enough to remind Kyojuro of what they were for? 

Kyojuro’s hand fell, and he moved back from Akaza, leaving nearly the entire length of the bed between them now. 

“I’m fine,” Akaza said. Because he was, wasn’t he? He did not know why his mind wandered the places it did, why he wanted to think with his teeth more than his head, but he was fine. And he did not want to worry Kyojuro. 

Kyojuro’s expression softened, and he nodded. “How about we just rest for a while?” 

Akaza tilted his head. “Was that not what we were always going to do?” 

Kyojuro blinked, seemingly taken aback, before he sighed. “Yes, of course.” 

Akaza hummed, and shifted from the foot of the bed to the floor. 

“What are you doing?” Kyojuro asked. 

“Getting comfortable,” Akaza answered. “This is what we did when you got rooms with one bed.” 

The slayer shook his head. “I thought we could share! But if you don’t want to, I can switch us to a room with two beds. I don’t want you to spend the night on the floor, Akaza!” 

Akaza frowned. Kyojuro… wanted to share a bed with him? 

It was not that Kyojuro went out of his way to keep from touching Akaza. They touched each other all the time when they sparred, and more recently, it had become common for Kyojuro to walk close enough for their shoulders to brush. 

Akaza knew he wanted to touch Kyojuro more. Not only that, he wanted Kyojuro to touch him more. He wanted to feel those hands against his flesh, wanted to nestle his face in the crook of Kyojuro’s neck, wanted to press his teeth—

“Come here.” Kyojuro leaned over, held his hand out, and when Akaza hesitantly took it, pulled him into the bed. He laid down, made himself comfortable, and encouraged Akaza to do the same with soft touches when still he hesitated. 

“Is this alright?” he asked. “If it’s not, then I can—” 

Akaza curled against Kyojuro’s side, relishing in the warmth of his skin pressed against his own. “It’s fine. It’s good.” 

It was so good. He did not quite understand why it was so good, but with each featherlight touch, he melted further into the Hashira’s hold. 

“Okay.” Kyojuro shifted one more time, the blankets rustling with the movement, and draped his arm over Akaza’s waist. “Are you okay if I sleep for a while?” 

“Of course,” Akaza assured him. 

It did not take Kyojuro long to drift off, but his hold on Akaza never loosened. 

Akaza spent most of the night trying not to imagine how the warmth of Kyojuro’s body would feel against his fangs. 

The fourth time Akaza noticed Kyojuro looking at his teeth, he wondered if he should say something. 

The moon was dim, the stars covered by clouds, and Akaza smiled as he watched Kyojuro behead a demon. 

Kyojuro… Kyojuro paid the disintegrating demon no mind, his eyes locked on Akaza’s fangs. 

Akaza wondered if he looked like that dying monster in the slayer’s eyes. 

Given the things he imagined doing to Kyojuro with his teeth, he might as well be. 

The fifth time Kyojuro watched Akaza’s mouth, Akaza forced himself not to consider it. 

“You should be more careful,” he scolded. “You’re lucky the claws didn’t get very deep.” 

Kyojuro laughed, loud and unapologetic. “This is nowhere near the worst injury I’ve ever received courtesy of a demon, Akaza! I will be more than fine to make it to a doctor. I doubt this will even need stitches.” 

Akaza growled low in his throat, and tightened his hold on Kyojuro’s wrist. Blood dripped and pattered onto the forest floor as he examined the wounds. The slayer was right, they did not necessarily run deep. They were superficial surface wounds, but that didn’t mean they didn’t need to be treated. The flesh had torn, blood oozed, they needed to be cleaned and bandaged, even if Kyojuro did not want to pursue getting stitches. 

Akaza worked his jaw, and pressed his thumb against the edge of one of the claw marks. Those should not be there. The work of another demon, the evidence of one, should not be apparent on Kyojuro’s body. Something in Akaza’s chest writhed at the thought of it. Something old, and familiar. 

His tongue shifted against his mouth, ran along the back of his teeth, prodded at his fangs. His jaw ached to open, he wanted to lean down, and press his tongue to Kyojuro’s wound, let his spit and mouth clean them, soothe them, put him back together. Work his tongue beneath the folds of his flesh, scrape it against bone as he healed him, healed him, healed him. Sink his teeth in, not enough to hurt, never enough to harm, but to cover up the heinous marks that another demon left behind, to leave evidence of himself to decorate Kyojuro’s skin. 

“Akaza?” Kyojuro tilted his head, leaned a little closer. His warm breath ghosted over Akaza’s cheeks, his lips. 

He was so close. Why was he so close? 

Akaza wanted him to get closer. 

He swallowed the excess saliva that pooled in his mouth, and jerked back, letting Kyojuro’s injured wrist fall from his hands. 

He was not hungry. Or at least, Akaza did not think he was. He had not eaten in a while, he wanted to impress Kyojuro, wanted him to care, and he knew the slayer wouldn’t if he still ate humans. But despite that, his stomach did not cramp, did not churn, he had not thought about hunting in a while. 

But if he was not hungry, what were these feelings? Why did he want to sink his fangs into Kyojuro’s flesh, to run his tongue over him and taste him? 

He didn’t—He couldn’t—Akaza did not want to eat Kyojuro. Of course he didn’t. Kyojuro was wonderful, Kyojuro was warm, Kyojuro was the reason Akaza looked forward to sundown. 

But his teeth hurt, his stomach felt empty, and gods, gods when he looked at Kyojuro he wanted—he wanted— 

“Akaza,” Kyojuro repeated, his voice firmer, more absolute. 

Akaza blinked, his thoughts dragged back from delusions of hunger and desires for blood and touch. 

He didn’t want to eat Kyojuro. He couldn’t want to eat Kyojuro. 

What the hell was wrong with him…? 

“Even if you don’t get stitches, you need to clean and bandage them so they don’t get infected,” Akaza said with a vague gesture towards the slayer’s wrist. 

Kyojuro’s eyes narrowed, something harsh glinted in them, and Akaza resisted the urge to take a step back. 

Did he know? Could he sense it? Were Akaza’s disgusting and deplorable thoughts so evident? 

Did Kyojuro know that Akaza might want to eat him? 

But then his gaze softened, and he nodded. “I’ll do what I can to clean it tonight, and then find a doctor at some point tomorrow, alright?” 

“Okay.” What else could he say? It took every damn bit of his concentration not to look back at the wound on Kyojuro’s wrist, to not lick his lips and bare his teeth, to not take it and make it his. 

Kyojuro glanced down to Akaza’s mouth. 

Akaza’s blood boiled in his veins. 

The slayer sighed, dragged his focus back up to his eyes, and smiled. “Let’s find somewhere to rest.” 

Akaza said nothing else, resolving to keep his mouth closed, in the hope that maybe that would stave off thoughts of what he wanted to do with it, and followed after Kyojuro. 

The sixth time Kyojuro stared at Akaza’s mouth, he thought he might have well and truly fucked up. 

It was one of Kyojuro’s rare nights off. Normally, Akaza did not interact with him much on those nights. It was more common for the slayer to visit his family, catch up with his brother and father, or perhaps some of the other Hashira. The one that had retired, the Sound Hashira, was one he visited often. The Love Hashira was another common companion of his. 

Akaza did not really mind. Of course, if it were up to him, he would spend every night, every minute, every second by Kyojuro’s side. But he already spent so much time with him while he patrolled his region, while he worked himself to the bone. Despite not wanting to ever let him go, Akaza understood that he had other people in his life that warranted his time and attention. 

So he’d been more than surprised when Kyojuro asked him to accompany him to a local festival. Wasn’t that something he’d be more likely to do with friends and family? Why Akaza?  

But Akaza was also too selfish to bring that up, so he gleefully agreed to the proposition. Aside from finding a distant place with a clear view of any fireworks, he tended to avoid festivals. He was not fond of large gatherings of people, he did not necessarily enjoy making himself appear human. He didn’t and couldn’t eat any of the food, he had no interest in any of the activities. But if Kyojuro wanted to indulge in something like this with him, Akaza was more than happy to go along with it. 

How could he ever turn Kyojuro down, when he smiled at Akaza like he was something precious to him? When he wasn’t just the demon who had tried to kill him? 

So as soon as the sun had set, he’d donned human skin, and met up with Kyojuro. 

He still wasn’t fond of the crowds. The scents of so many people, so many foods, left him wanting to cover his nose with his hand. How Daki and Gyutaro ever lived in such crowded areas, that were like this all the time, Akaza would never understand. 

“Oh!” Kyojuro grinned, and pointed towards one of the stands, where something was being fried and stuck on a skewer. “I want to try that!” 

He had already eaten enough for two people, but apparently, he was determined to try just about anything edible offered here at least once. He practically had a demon’s appetite as it was! 

The first few times he’d stopped to buy something to snack on, he’d glanced over his shoulder to ask Akaza if he wanted any, perhaps out of habit. But after the first few times of turning him down, he’d started to catch himself. Kyojuro didn’t seem to mind, but it was a stark reminder of the divide between them, of what Akaza was. 

He could not share food with the slayer, despite how much he might want to. Akaza could not hunt for Kyojuro, could not catch and kill prey for him, and he could not eat anything that Kyojuro might provide, that he might offer. 

When he returned from the vendor’s stand, Kyojuro pressed close to Akaza’s side, leaving their arms and shoulders to brush. 

Akaza resisted the urge to lean into the warmth of him. The close proximity was likely due to the writhing crowd around them, wasn’t it? 

“You’re sure you don’t at least want to try it?” Kyojuro offered as he held the skewer in front of Akaza’s face. “It’s really good!” 

He shook his head. “It won’t be to me. It would be a waste.” 

Kyojuro hummed, and raised the skewer to his own lips. The edges of his teeth just barely sank into the meat, and he worked it from the stick. 

Akaza’s own mouth suddenly felt very wet. 

Kyojuro’s free hand bumped against Akaza’s. His pinkie curled around one of his fingers. 

Akaza’s focus dropped from the skewer down to their hands, just in time to watch Kyojuro fully take his hand in his. He interlocked their fingers, gave him a light squeeze and ran his thumb over Akaza’s knuckles. 

Akaza stared down at their hands with wide eyes. Why had Kyojuro done that? Why would he grab his hand like that? 

“Come on!” Kyojuro gestured towards the edge of town with his half-eaten skewer. “Let’s find a good spot to watch the fireworks.” 

Without giving Akaza the chance to reply, or to consider their intertwined fingers, he took off, leaving Akaza to trail after him, or risk losing the minimal contact. 

Oh, Kyojuro must have grabbed onto him to avoid losing him in the crowd. He was surprised the slayer trusted him around so many humans to begin with. Of course he wouldn’t want to risk Akaza melting into the crowd, wouldn’t want him to slip away and spend the night preying on innocent festival-goers. 

Not that he had any intention to do such a thing, but it was a fair suspicion for a Hashira to have. 

That didn’t change that some part of Akaza relished in the skin to skin contact. 

He finally tore his attention away from their hands to look at Kyojuro’s face again, and though he’d turned away, Akaza noticed a faint red dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

Odd. He didn’t think it was that chilly tonight. 

He let Kyojuro guide him through the crowd, apparently in search of the perfect place to watch fireworks together. He took another bite from the skewer. His smile brightened. He held Akaza’s hand tighter. He—

“Shit.” 

He twisted on his heel and jerked Akaza with him, nearly causing him to stumble. He yanked on his hand hard enough that he had no choice but to follow after him as he shoved his way through the crowd with a fervor he hadn’t had before. 

“What’s wrong?” Akaza asked as he craned his neck and glanced over his shoulder, searching for anything that might have worried him or set him off. 

It couldn’t be another demon. Akaza would have sensed them, and Kyojuro wouldn’t be rushing in the opposite direction if that were the case. 

Rather than providing him with an actual answer, having finally reached the edge of the crowd and a small gap between two buildings, he turned and pushed Akaza into the alley. 

“Hey—!” 

Kyojuro wedged himself into the alley next, and shoved his hand over Akaza’s mouth to cut him off. 

The protest died in Akaza’s throat with the palm pressed against his lips, fingers pressing into his cheek and jaw. 

The alley was scarcely large enough for one person to fit inside it, let alone two.  

He and Kyojuro were pressed chest to chest, he could feel each and every one of his breaths against him. The slayer’s leg pressed between Akaza’s, his free hand settled on his waist. 

Close. Close. They were so damn close.  

Even when they had shared a bed, they had not been pressed together quite like this.  

The pressure on his mouth lightened, and Akaza leaned forward, chasing it without thinking. Kyojuro’s hand was on his face, over his mouth, he couldn’t let it go. His lips parted, shapeshifting began to slip and fangs sharpened. He wanted to catch Kyojuro’s palm in his teeth, he needed to. He had to know. He had to know what his flesh felt like on the tips of his fangs, what he tasted like. 

Kyojuro fixed him with a heavy glare, and shoved his hand tighter against Akaza’s mouth, easily pushing his head back against the alley wall. 

A noise built deep in Akaza’s throat, something strangled and desperate. 

Bite. Bite, bite, bite. Bite down.  

“Hush,” Kyojuro commanded, his voice low and rumbling. He pressed harder, the full weight of him leaning against Akaza’s chest now. His leg shifted, leaving his knee to press up against Akaza’s inner thigh.

Saliva pooled back in Akaza’s mouth, thick around his molars. He worked his jaw, fought back the desperate moan. His hands were pressed against the rough, cool brick of the building he’d been shoved against, but for a moment he considered grabbing Kyojuro’s wrist, holding his hand in place should he try to pull back again. 

The tips of his fangs grazed Kyojuro’s palm. 

Kyojuro’s breath hitched. So close, Akaza heard his heart rate spike. 

With a miserable gasp, he attempted to pull away, but was trapped between the slayer and the wall. He closed his mouth, and swallowed a mouthful of spit. 

Kyojuro knew. He knew that Akaza wanted to bite him, wanted to taste him, wanted—wanted—

He wildly shook his head, and dislodged Kyojuro’s hand. “Kyojuro—” 

The slayer jerked his hand away, and leaned back as far as he could manage. “I’m sorry. I saw Mitsuri and Shinobu. I mentioned this festival to Mitsuri, but I didn’t think to consider that she might come too…” 

Akaza scarcely registered the explanation that left his mouth. He was too busy searching his face, hunting for a hint of disgust or revulsion or fear over the fact that Akaza’s fangs had touched him. That for a second, he had considered biting down. 

But there was only a vague disappointment. Perhaps concern. 

Akaza thought disappointment and concern might have been worse than disgust. 

He didn’t want to disappoint Kyojuro. He never wanted to do that. 

Kyojuro’s gaze flicked down to his mouth. 

Consequences be damned, Akaza squirmed his way out of the alley. He looked mostly human right now, and he could avoid the two Hashira women easily now that he was aware of them. 

They were too close. The touch was too much. 

No it wasn’t. It wasn’t enough. 

“Akaza, wait!” Kyojuro rushed after him, and reached a hand out to grab him. 

The warmth of Kyojuro’s touch lingered. On his face, on his chest, on his hip, on his thighs. Part of him wished he’d stayed pressed against him in that alley for as long as Kyojuro would allow. He wanted the touch back. He wanted his hand back on his mouth. 

But what if he didn’t stop himself next time…? 

What if he bit down? 

Kyojuro caught his wrist and squeezed him tight, halting him in his tracks. “We’ll just go the other way. We can find somewhere outside of town to watch the fireworks so we don’t risk running into them, okay?” 

The disappointment in Kyojuro’s eyes was replaced with worry, and his fingers continued to tighten, as if he were afraid Akaza was going to slip away. 

“Okay,” he managed. 

With a relieved breath, the tension in Kyojuro’s shoulders began to fade, and his smile returned. “Good! Let’s go, then!” His hand slipped down Akaza’s wrist, finding his fingers and once more intertwining them. 

Akaza did not understand why Kyojuro still wanted to touch him after what had just happened. 

But he would be grateful for it. 

The seventh time Kyojuro focused on Akaza’s mouth, he supposed it wasn’t that he actually watched it, but the thought of it most definitely crossed his mind. 

Blankets rustled as Kyojuro rolled over, still making himself comfortable after a long day and night. Akaza did his best to stay completely still; he wanted to give Kyojuro the space to spread out and sleep how he liked. So he laid on his back, arms straight at his sides, and stared at the ceiling, only listening to the shift of bedding and Kyojuro’s movements. 

When the slayer finally settled down, laying with his back to Akaza, a thick silence surrounded them. It wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but it wasn’t pleasant either. Akaza was not sure why. Ever since that first time Kyojuro had gotten them one bed, he’d continued doing that. Akaza hadn’t questioned it again. For some reason, Kyojuro decided he liked them sharing a bed, and he wasn’t going to complain. It was nice. 

And this was usually how they started the night. Akaza laid down on the very far edge of the bed, stiff straight and still getting used to the comfort of an actual bed, while the Hashira made himself cozy. After he did that, he often reached out to pull Akaza close. He nestled him against his chest, slotted them together. Sometimes he wrapped his arms around Akaza’s waist, sometimes he ran his fingers through his hair, sometimes he laid a hand on his hip. But no matter what, he held Akaza close, and touched him in as many places as possible. 

But tonight, Kyojuro left the inches of space between them. 

Akaza wasn’t sure why. Had he done something wrong? But what? And why would not touching be a punishment for doing something wrong? 

Why did Kyojuro touch him at all? 

Why did Akaza miss that touch? Why did he dislike that Kyojuro wasn’t touching him? 

But he couldn’t ask him to, couldn’t move closer, couldn’t try to initiate contact himself, despite how much his skin longed for the warmth, the press of Kyojuro against him. 

Every time he and Kyojuro touched, something deep inside of him longed for more. His jaw and teeth began to itch, his fingers curled with expectations. He wanted to taste and take and tear and—

And he couldn’t do that to Kyojuro. He wouldn’t.  

He suspected if he initiated contact, he would only be all the more tempted. 

So he would lay here, as still as possible as not to disturb Kyojuro or accidentally touch him, and try not to think about this for the rest of the night. 

“Akaza?” Kyojuro asked. 

Akaza fought the urge to roll over and look at him, instead tracing the grooves in the ceiling. “Hm?” 

“Do you dislike when I touch you?” 

Somehow, the tension in Akaza’s body managed to double. “I—No, I like it,” he managed to say. Because well… it was the truth. Akaza relished every single touch Kyojuro deigned to give him. He leaned into every press of his fingers, every caress of his palms, until his mind wandered and he caught himself, not wanting to make Kyojuro uncomfortable, fearing the slayer knew the monstrous places his thoughts wandered. 

What else could he say but that he liked it? Even if the reasons why confused him? 

Kyojuro hummed. “You’re sure?” 

Akaza sighed. Kyojuro did not ask trick questions. He did not say things he did not mean. If he was asking Akaza these questions, it wasn’t for ulterior reasons or because he expected a certain answer. He genuinely wanted to know. 

The least Akaza could do was be truthful, even if he worried that Kyojuro would dislike the answers. After all, what slayer would like to be told that a demon enjoyed their physical touch? 

But then… Kyojuro would never touch someone if it made them uncomfortable, demon or not. 

So why did he touch Akaza? Did he enjoy it? Surely not… Did he think Akaza enjoyed it? But why would he do something specifically to make him happy? 

“I’m sure,” he said, unable to make sense of the circles that his thoughts chased themselves in. 

“Okay!” Kyojuro chirped, and even without looking at him, Akaza could hear the bright smile in his words. 

The slayer rolled over, grabbed Akaza, and yanked him close. 

He grunted in shock, but supposed this was how most nights with Kyojuro went, so maybe he shouldn’t be surprised. 

Once he was apparently satisfied with their closeness, Kyojuro rolled onto his side with his back to Akaza once more, though he kept himself pressed flush against his chest. Then he twisted to grab Akaza’s limp arms to wrap them around his waist, making sure he was held tightly, adjusting both of them meticulously. Akaza let him do as he pleased, move his arms until Kyojuro was as comfortable as he could be in them. 

Akaza blinked. This was a mirror of how Kyojuro held him most nights, but he’d never been the one to hold the slayer. 

Why would Kyojuro want something like that from Akaza? Why, why, why? Why would he trust a demon so much? 

“I like being held like this,” Kyojuro murmured as he finished settling into Akaza’s perfectly constructed grasp. 

“Okay…” Akaza tightened his grip around him, sliding one arm up to hold his chest, and letting the other one move down to caress his hip. 

Who was he to deny Kyojuro something that he liked? He didn’t think he’d ever be capable of such a thing. 

Kyojuro hummed, and were he a demon, Akaza did not doubt there would be a purr rumbling from his chest, given the contented way he melted into his arms. 

How…? How could Kyojuro ever be so comfortable around him? How could he ever want this? Akaza was so certain he must have realized he wanted to sink his teeth in, slip his tongue into his wounds, but if Kyojuro could stand to be so close to him, if he relished in it, how could that be true? 

With a deep, shuddering breath, Akaza drank in the slayer’s scent, unable to resist indulging with them in such close proximity. Even beneath the faint tang of soap, he still smelled so unmistakably, achingly like Kyojuro. Something deep and smoky, like a fire had permanently made its home inside him with his Flame Breathing, but also something so obviously human.

Demons didn’t sweat, demons didn’t smell like anything except blood and whatever might be around them. Akaza knew he didn’t smell like anything that was genuinely alive. His body just existed; it did nothing to make itself known by scent. 

Even so soon after bathing, with his hair still mildly damp, Kyojuro smelled like himself. It was… comforting, in a way. 

Akaza found himself burying his nose in his hair. Despite Kyojuro being pressed close against him, literally held in his arms, he wasn’t close enough. Not close enough.  

He inhaled a deep breath of his scent, pressed his face into the crook of his neck, and Kyojuro sighed. 

The skin of his neck was warm against the demon’s face, against his lips, the man's heartbeat was slow and steady, and Akaza could feel the rhythm of his pulse against his mouth, feel his blood rushing through his veins. 

His hand tightened on Kyojuro’s hip. Saliva pooled around his molars. 

His mouth parted before he realized it. His teeth grazed against the warmth of Kyojuro’s neck. The tips of his fangs pressed against soft flesh. 

Kyojuro grunted, and his shoulders tensed. 

Akaza sucked in a sharp breath, pressed his mouth firmly closed, and swallowed down the saliva that had threatened to drip and pour onto Kyojuro’s neck. 

“Akaza,” Kyojuro whispered as the tension began to bleed out of his shoulders. 

Akaza shook his head. He should go. He should leave. He should stop touching Kyojuro. How dare he touch him with his fangs? With something the slayer surely despised? How could he have let his control slip? 

Why did he keep proving over and over again that a demon was a mindless monster? Was everything Kyojuro believed and insisted they were? 

Was he right…? 

Could Akaza ever truly cherish him, when he only seemed to want to sink his teeth in? When he kept wanting to taste him? 

He should go—

“Please don’t let go,” Kyojuro requested. 

Akaza froze. 

“You always pull away when we’re close. Please don’t do that.” 

“Kyojuro—” 

“If you are uncomfortable, I will do my best to understand. If you don’t want to do this, that’s fine. You just need to tell me. But if you stop because you think I don’t want you to touch me, because you think I dislike what you’re doing, I promise that that’s not the case,” he said. “So please. Don’t let go.” 

Akaza’s fingers curled against him. “Okay, Kyojuro.” 

He didn’t understand. How could he ever understand? Kyojuro had felt his fangs against his neck, and rather than shoving Akaza away, rather than going for his blade as any slayer in their right mind would have done, he requested that Akaza stay? 

He wanted to smile, he wanted to purr, he wanted to show all his appreciation with the indentation of fangs in flesh. 

But all he felt was as if missed something important. As if there were some deep disconnect, a miles wide chasm between him and Kyojuro, despite how their bodies touched. 

He didn’t understand… 

But Kyojuro asked him to stay. 

Kyojuro let out a soft, relieved breath, and it was not long before his breath evened out, the lulls of sleep catching up with him. 

Akaza held him throughout the night, and fought against everything in him whispering to press his teeth against his slayer once more. 

The eighth time Kyojuro gave Akaza’s mouth his full attention, it went beyond a few simple glances. In fact, Akaza didn’t know what to think about it at all. 

He followed Kyojuro to another inn. Nothing strange. In fact, it had become very common. The Hashira made a point of asking Akaza if he planned to stay the night with him every night they met up, and always appeared disappointed if Akaza turned him down. 

(Not that he ever wanted to turn Kyojuro down, but sometimes he had to. He had to. He had to search for the blue spider lily, and Muzan did not appreciate him lingering too long, be it in a specific area or around a specific person. It was getting harder and harder to turn Kyojuro down, though. Especially when his smile fell, and he asked Akaza when he thought he might be able to stay next with a soft voice). 

But not tonight. Tonight, after spending a couple weeks out in the wilds searching for that damned flower, Akaza was going to spend the next few nights with Kyojuro. He would travel with him, hover nearby as he investigated any potential demons, talked with other humans. Akaza would marvel as he killed any demons he found with expert precision and grace, and then they’d come to an inn. Kyojuro would get ready to bed, and Akaza would linger, and then Kyojuro would invite him into the bed, as had apparently become normal. 

And that was what they did. 

Until they made it to the inn, and Kyojuro asked if Akaza would like to join him in the hot springs. 

Which was odd. Kyojuro had never invited Akaza to do such things with him before. He always just waited patiently in their room for the slayer to return, and their routine would continue on as normal. Akaza just didn’t see much of a point in things like hot springs. If he found himself dirty enough to warrant bathing, he would just find the nearest body of water and scrub himself down quickly and be done with it. Sitting and “relaxing” in warm water just sounded like a waste of time. Not to mention, most hot springs were occupied by humans, which he tended to avoid unless necessary.

But Kyojuro asked, and when Kyojuro asked, Akaza could never find it in himself to say no. So he donned his faux human skin, and followed him to the hot springs. 

The water was warm against his skin, and it was fine, but it couldn’t compare to the warmth of Kyojuro’s touch. It was late enough that no other humans were here, and Akaza began to let his shapeshifting slip, teeth sharpening and hair bleeding to pink as he settled fully into the water. He slid down into it, letting it wash over him as he slouched. He supposed it was nice… He just did not understand why Kyojuro had asked him to join him when he’d never done that before. 

But then… He’d never figured out why Kyojuro invited him to bed and admitted he liked when Akaza touched him. Perhaps he should stop trying to figure out what was going through Kyojuro’s head. 

He couldn’t even figure out what was going on in his own head. 

“This is nice, isn’t it, Akaza?” Kyojuro asked as he leaned over. He tilted his head, letting loose, fluffy hair fall into his face, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile. “You know, you don’t always have to wait for me to invite you or ask for you to do things! You’ve been welcome to join me long before now.” 

Akaza slowly and gently worked his jaw, confused about the tension building there as he fought to keep his eyes trained on Kyojuro’s face and not drift lower. Of course, Akaza had seen him without a shirt many times by now, but he wasn’t wearing anything currently. 

It didn’t mean anything. Akaza wasn’t wearing anything himself, because that was normal of these types of situations. He knew that. But—But—

His stomach twisted, but not like—it wasn’t—he wasn’t hungry . Not really. It wasn’t a painful twist, not exactly, but nor was it entirely pleasant. He pressed his hands flat to the stone beneath him, attempting to ground himself and focus on anything except the strange squirming sensation writhing through his abdomen. 

“Yeah,” he conceded, a moment too late as he realized Kyojuro was waiting for a genuine answer. “It’s… warm.” 

Kyojuro huffed out a quiet laugh, and shifted a little closer, leaving perhaps an arm’s length between them. 

He wasn’t that close, not comparatively to how close they were at other times, so why did he feel so close? 

Akaza stayed rooted to the spot, his eyes still refusing to leave Kyojuro’s face and look elsewhere. If he looked elsewhere, he might look down. Why did he want to? Was that strange? Why did he feel like he shouldn’t? The connotations— 

“Akaza,” Kyojuro said, and his voice had lost any of its cheery brightness, instead taking on a serious edge that the demon had not heard from him often as of late. 

“Hm?” 

“Are you truly alright with me touching you?” he asked. “I do not want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“I—” Akaza blinked in surprise. Why was he asking about this again? Hadn’t he already answered that question for him once? Why did he care so much about his comfort? “What?” 

“You do not often initiate touch yourself, and never if it’s intimate,” he said. “I worry you’re made uncomfortable by it, or simply not ready.” 

Akaza opened his mouth to say something, though he wasn’t sure what. 

“Which is fine!” Kyojuro said as he raised his hands and flashed Akaza a reassuring smile. “It’s just not something I expected, considering how… forward you’ve been before.” 

“You mean asking you to become a demon?” Akaza asked, unable to think of what else he might mean. He had certainly complained about his forwardness many times towards the beginning of their... friendship?

Kyojuro laughed, and Akaza began to relax once more as the slayer’s ease returned. “I suppose that is one way you were, yes! But you didn’t answer my question. Given your hesitancy, I thought we needed to have a conversation about it in more depth. You’ve said you’re okay with it, but I just wanted to ask again. Are you alright with it? Or would you prefer I not touch you, and wait for you to initiate things? Or perhaps always ask first?” 

“Of course I’m alright with it,” Akaza answered. “I like it when you touch me.” 

How could he say anything else? Any other answer would be a lie, and he did not want to lie to Kyojuro. He relished in each and every brush of skin, in every hand hold, in every press of shoulders, in every night spent wrapped in each other’s arms. Akaza cherished all of it, every second.  

But he was a demon, and demons were not good at resisting temptation, at practicing restraint. He feared one day his desires would win out, that Kyojuro would pull him close, and he would crumble, and his fangs would find their way into his body. If Akaza was the one to initiate that touch himself, if he let his mind think he was allowed to do such things, it was all the more likely, wasn’t it? 

And he did not want to harm Kyojuro, despite what his perverse desires whispered. 

Even still… he was desperate enough to not deny the indulgences, to tell Kyojuro he liked his touch. He could not bring himself to give it up, he could not lie to him. He wanted Kyojuro to touch him more, more, more. 

He was a demon through and through. 

He desired, he was hungry, and he could not deny his impulses, despite how hard he tried. 

Kyojuro didn’t know—he didn’t understand—

But surely he must, given the way he kept a focused eye on Akaza’s mouth more often than not, wary and waiting for the day those jaws finally turned on him. 

Kyojuro’s smile became more subdued, but no less genuine as he moved closer once more. Water shifted between them, and now only a few mere inches were between their bodies. If he pressed closer, if their bodies touched like this, with not even the barriers of clothing between them, skin on skin, Akaza was not certain how he would react. 

Gods, his teeth ached. 

He needed to sink them into the slayer, hold him in his jaws, feel blood and flesh caress them. 

That, or they needed to be wrenched out of his traitorous mouth. 

“I’m glad,” Kyojuro said. “Not just because I worried about making you uncomfortable or moving too quickly, but because I enjoy it as well. I’d find it difficult to give up. Also…” His gaze dropped, and a faint red bloomed on his cheeks. 

Akaza supposed the temperature was rather hot. 

Kyojuro moved again, effectively closing what distance remained between them. Even in the heat of the water, his body was so warm as he pressed against Akaza. Their hips bumped, shoulders brushed, and he resisted the urge to nestle himself as thoroughly as he could into Kyojuro’s side. 

The Hashira leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I admit, you do get harder and harder to resist.” 

Akaza’s eyes blew wide, and his entire body went rigid with the words and hot breath on his ear. 

Did he mean becoming a demon? What else about Akaza could he be resisting? But that didn’t make sense! Akaza knew him better than that by now. Kyojuro would never become a demon. He had even given up asking months ago! So what—

“Akaza,” Kyojuro said, his voice going low. “I’m going to try something, okay?” 

“Okay,” Akaza breathed, unsure of what else he could say. His mind could not catch up with the words coming out of the slayer’s mouth. He had yet to even process everywhere their bodies touched. 

Kyojuro moved, and for a second, Akaza thought he was getting up, thought he was going to lose the touch before he could properly appreciate it. 

Until the water splashed, and heat settled into his lap. 

Kyojuro straddled his waist, and squeezed Akaza’s hips in a gentle embrace with his thighs. One of his hands caressed his ribcage, the water shifting as it slipped beneath its surface to go lower. His other hand took Akaza’s jaw, and smoothly ran fingers along the curve of it. Something about Kyojuro’s smile was predatory as his half-lidded eyes examined his face with a reverence and intensity Akaza had been witness to only a rare few times before. 

He grunted in shock, and his hands shot out of the water, though he had no idea what to do with them, so he held them in the air on either side of Kyojuro’s body. 

His lap. His lap. Kyojuro was in—He was naked, and he was in—His ass against Akaza’s thighs, and his—his—! 

Kyojuro’s hand drifted back up to fully take Akaza’s face, ever so slightly tilting it. His thumb brushed against his lips, teased at them once, as if he wanted him to open his mouth. 

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t think, saliva pooled around his teeth and all he could focus on was the sensation of Kyojuro’s legs spread as he straddled him, how fucking good his thighs felt squeezing against him. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time now,” Kyojuro said. “But despite the way you look at me, you’ve never given me the opportunity.” 

“Do wha—” Akaza began to rasp, helplessly confused and almost afraid to speak lest the embarrassing amount of drool pour from his mouth. 

But Kyojuro did not let him finish, and leaned in to press their lips together. 

Akaza’s hands fell uselessly back into the water with a pathetic splash. 

Kyojuro’s lips worked against his, his tongue pushed against them, desperate for Akaza to part them, to open his mouth and let him—

Fuck, fuck. Kyojuro against his mouth, Kyojuro in his mouth. It was all he wanted, all he needed, how could he be this close and not take advantage? How could he have this opportunity and give up the chance to finally learn what it felt like to have Kyojuro inside his mouth? 

He let his mouth open, began to push back against Kyojuro, relishing in the moan that escaped him. 

Faint voices had him snapping his eyes open (when had he closed them?), and Kyojuro jerked back. 

A strand of saliva still connected them, and Akaza’s face burned. That was most definitely his… 

Footsteps and voices drew closer, and Kyojuro squeezed his eyes shut. A look of pure disgusted irritation overtook his face, and he pushed himself out of Akaza’s lap with a frustrated groan. “Goddammit.” 

Akaza bit back a whine at the loss of warmth and touch, and his hands itched to grab the slayer and yank him back into his lap. 

“I’m going back to our room,” Kyojuro declared as he stood up and got out of the hot spring. 

Akaza refrained from stealing any glances until he’d wrapped himself in his towel. Honestly, he didn’t think he could move even if he wanted to. 

What in hell? What the fuck? 

What just happened? 

He barely processed Kyojuro’s retreating footsteps, or the trio of men who had decided to utilize the hot spring and interrupted them. He didn’t even think to make sure his shapeshifting hadn’t slipped further considering the utter distraction of what had just happened, but given that none of them so much as spared him a glance as they conversed, he was probably fine. 

Not that it mattered to him. Nothing mattered to him. 

Kyojuro had just climbed into his lap and kissed him. 

Why would he do that? Why? 

Akaza’s fingers came up to brush against his lips, but they were nothing compared to the ecstasy of what Kyojuro had just done. 

Kyojuro kissed him. 

Did that mean he loved him? Akaza couldn’t believe that. How could a slayer, a Hashira, ever come to love a demon? 

But Kyojuro was earnest. So goddamn unbelievably earnest, and he would never have done something like that had he not meant it. 

Kyojuro kissed him. 

Kyojuro did more than tolerate him. 

Kyojuro kissed him. 

Kyojuro trusted Akaza enough to love him, and it was all Akaza could do to keep from wanting to devour him. 

How could he deserve the love of someone like Kyojuro…? How could he have ever earned something like that? 

The answer was simple; he hadn’t. 

But gods, did he want it. He wanted Kyojuro to love him, and he wanted to love him too. 

But he only knew how to love with teeth and blood and killing, and Kyojuro deserved so much more than that. 

He deserved better than Akaza’s teeth. 

But if Kyojuro cared about him enough to take that chance, to risk everything for Akaza, how could he ever turn him down? 

Especially when he didn’t even want to? 

His hands drifted down, and found their place on his hips. His fingers moved over the grooves of his pelvis, down to his upper thighs. Kyojuro… Kyojuro had been right here. His legs had been wrapped around Akaza. 

How far might he have gone if they hadn’t been interrupted…? 

He shook his head, attempting to scatter the thoughts. It was ridiculous! Kyojuro would never—Akaza hadn’t even—

Fuck, Akaza probably wouldn’t even be good at it if they did do anything, and he didn’t want to be a disappointment. 

Not that it mattered, because surely that kiss couldn’t have been real. 

And even if it was… Akaza did not deserve it. Because even as he started to kiss Kyojuro back, he could relish in it for what it was, but instead craved something more, something monstrous. Something only a demon could want. 

With a frustrated groan, Akaza slid further into the water until he’d been submerged all the way up to his nose. 

He was not quite sure how long he stayed there, letting his thoughts cannibalize themselves. 

Long enough for the men who had unwittingly interrupted them to leave, and then some. An hour? Two? 

How could he go back and face Kyojuro when the slayer had done something to show such obvious love and affection, and all Akaza had done was wish to devour him during it? 

But… he could not hide from Kyojuro forever, and maybe they should have a conversation about what had just happened. 

So finally, he dragged himself from the hot spring, dried off, dressed himself, and crept back to their room. 

He lingered outside the door, just for a moment, before hesitantly opening it and stepping inside. “Kyojuro…?” 

Darkness greeted him. Not a single light was on, nor even a candle lit. Not that it hindered Akaza’s ability to see, but Kyojuro only turned off all the lights when he intended to go to sleep. Which… to be fair, it was rather late by now, but surely after what had just transpired, he would stay awake to speak with Akaza, wouldn’t he? 

He laid with his back to Akaza, beneath the blankets and head resting on the pillow. The position of his body and looseness of his muscles was almost enough to convince Akaza that he was asleep, but the way he breathed, the beat of his heart, gave him away. 

Still, he did not respond to the soft call of his name. 

Akaza swallowed, his mouth and throat suddenly too dry, as if he had not been struggling to contain his ungodly amount of drool earlier. 

“Kyojuro, I…” 

The words died in his throat. Perhaps because Akaza had no idea what he should say. 

I’m sorry? I’m sorry for being a demon, for only wanting to devour and hurt you, because that’s all I’m fucking good for? 

But an apology would mean explaining, and he did not think he could handle the disgust and disdain Kyojuro would surely offer him if he were to do so. 

To ask for explanations? Yes, he would like one. He just couldn’t fathom why Kyojuro would be interested in him in such a way, how he could ever come to love a creature like Akaza. But he did not feel he had a right to question such things, when he could not make sense of his own feelings on the matter. 

Not that it did matter, because Kyojuro still did not respond. 

Akaza let out a shaky breath, and closed the door behind him. He took a few hesitant steps toward the bed, hoping Kyojuro would roll over, would smile at him, laugh and explain away the whole situation. 

Maybe pull him down and kiss him again… Give Akaza another wonderful opportunity to brush his teeth against him. 

But he didn’t. 

Kyojuro laid on the edge of the bed, leaving Akaza with plenty of room to curl up with him, as had become normal as of late. 

But he never got into bed without a direct invitation. He didn’t want to overstep, didn’t want to push too hard, didn’t want the slayer to harbor any type of negative feelings for him over such things. 

And Kyojuro… Kyojuro obviously did not want to talk to him right now. 

Had he done something wrong…? 

Well, of course he had. The real question was, had Kyojuro realized it when they kissed? When Akaza’s mouth filled with too-much saliva, and he pushed against him, desperate to feel his teeth against him, had Kyojuro discovered his true desires? 

Akaza sighed, and sat on the floor. 

Surely Kyojuro did not want to touch him now. 

Kyojuro’s breathing hitched, ever so slightly, and the blankets rustled with a small movement, but there was no more reaction to his presence. 

Why…? Why could Akaza not admire and care and feel as a human might? As Kyojuro wanted and deserved? 

Why was his love found in his teeth? Why did he want to devour that which he cherished? 

He pulled his knees to his chest, and pressed his forehead against them. 

He stayed, silent and unsure and ashamed until an hour before sunrise. 

He left without a word, and Kyojuro did not stop him. 

The ninth time Kyojuro gave Akaza’s mouth his attention, he finally understood why. 

It had been three days since the… hot springs incident. Demons did not get headaches, could not get headaches. Akaza really only remembered what headaches were after Kyojuro had complained of one once, but he thought he might be well on his way to giving himself one with how hard he thought about what had transpired in those hot springs. 

The following night, he did not go find the slayer. If he wasn’t going to spend the time with Kyojuro, perhaps he should have at least searched for the blue spider lily, but he hadn’t done that either. No, he spent the entire night pacing and letting his thoughts chase themselves in circles. 

He didn’t figure that Kyojuro would want to see him regardless. 

Why would he want to, when Akaza had reacted to a show of his love and affection like that? 

But the second night, he couldn’t keep himself away. How pathetic was that? Akaza could not stop himself from seeing the slayer. He needed to, he had to. He hated going even a single night without having Kyojuro in his grasp. 

Because demons were selfish, coveting things, weren’t they? 

He found Kyojuro, through scent and fighting spirit, just as he always did. He trailed him like a shadow as he stalked a demon throughout the night, watched from afar as he slayed the demon with a beautiful and deadly ease, just like always. 

But Akaza did not go to speak to him. He hoped watching him was enough to scratch the itch, was enough to convince his mind to leave it alone. 

However, Kyojuro had grown more than attuned to Akaza’s presence at this point. He glanced over his shoulder throughout the night, tensed and sighed when Akaza crept too close, and it made Akaza desperate to reveal himself. He wanted to run up to the slayer, greet him with a smile, fall into step beside him, as had become normal in recent months. 

He stopped himself, and convinced himself to be content watching him and nothing else. He shouldn’t get too close. He shouldn’t let his desires be known. Giving in, even an inch, meant his teeth on Kyojuro’s body, and he was not sure he would be able to keep his jaws from clamping down should he ever be in such a position again. 

He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk Kyojuro. 

But demons never were good at resisting temptation, at walking away from something they wanted, were they? And Akaza was a demon through and through. 

He greeted Kyojuro on the third night with a smile and pretty pleasantries, like nothing was amiss, like nothing at all had happened. 

Kyojuro stared at him for a moment, his expression horrifically blank, before a familiar, if not strained, smile appeared. “Good evening, Akaza. Where have you been the past two nights?” 

It was a pointless question. Sure, Akaza might have vanished for one night, but Kyojuro knew damn well where he’d been the second. 

“Busy,” he answered, falling back on an old, vague answer he used to give Kyojuro when he’d vanished for a while to carry out his duties for Muzan. 

Kyojuro hummed and turned away, his smile falling. 

A stifling and uncomfortable silence sprang up between them, and Akaza could not help but retreat a step backwards. 

Why…? Why had he done this? Mere nights ago, Kyojuro had been smiling and laughing in his presence, had climbed into his lap and kissed him, and Akaza had ruined it. He ruined it so absolutely and so thoroughly with his enraging hunger and demonic impulses. 

“Akaza—” Kyojuro began. 

“So! Are you hunting a specific demon tonight?” Akaza quickly interrupted, desperate for things to go back to the way they were. Even if he would give anything to feel Kyojuro’s lips on his own again, it was probably best for both of them if they tried to get back into their old routine, wasn’t it? Kyojuro shouldn’t love something like him… Something that would inevitably turn on him. “Or just traveling?” 

Kyojuro sighed, the breath drawn out and disappointed, ashamed. “Just traveling,” he said. “There are reports of a demon several towns over. I don’t think I will make it there tonight, but I want to by tomorrow.” 

Akaza nodded, and fell into step beside him. “Lead the way, then.” 

Kyojuro obliged without so much as a word. 

Where there had once been amicable conversation, miserable silence now followed them throughout the night. 

It was, perhaps, worse than the nights just after they had met, when the silence was born of hatred and distaste on Kyojuro’s side of things. 

Akaza did not know what this silence meant. Guilt ate him up from the inside out, burrowed deep inside his chest, crawled up his throat. He did this. This was his fault. He ruined it. 

The one person… The one person who had come to care about him… 

How foolish was Akaza to think it would last? To think that a slayer would not realize what he wanted to do with him? Would continue to ignore it as if it were nothing? 

When Kyojuro chose an inn that night, he got a room with two beds. 

Akaza thought he had done something wrong when Kyojuro switched to a room with one bed, but he hadn’t known what. 

He knew exactly what he’d done this time. He knew it was a punishment now, a lost privilege. 

He barely made it into the room before Kyojuro was slamming the door shut and reaching for Akaza, like he wanted to grab his arm, before he halted, and let his hand fall away. Like he just suddenly remembered they should not touch. 

“Akaza, I want to apologize,” he said. 

Akaza blinked. He had thought he couldn’t possibly be anymore confused, but apparently that was untrue. 

Why was Kyojuro apologizing? What in hell could he possibly have to apologize for? 

If anyone should apologize, it should be Akaza. He should get down on his hands and knees, press his forehead to the floor, and beg forgiveness for what he wanted to do to Kyojuro with his teeth. 

“I clearly did more than you were comfortable with!” Kyojuro continued. “I had noticed that physical touch did not seem to be something you were ready for, but despite that I kept pushing. And for that, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I should not have kissed you without your explicit consent, and I certainly shouldn’t have—” He hung his head, a shameful blush spreading across his face. “I admit, a relationship like this is a new experience for me. I’ve only had a handful of partners in the past, and it wasn’t like this. It was just—It was nothing serious, just casual sex. We both knew what we wanted and what was expected, and I—That doesn’t matter, these are just excuses. I never should have assumed what you were okay with and what you wanted yourself. Akaza, I’m sorry.” 

“Relationship…?” Akaza rasped. His mind was moving too quickly, just trying to process everything that had just come out of Kyojuro’s mouth. 

Kiss. Consent. Relationship. Sex. 

Akaza’s fingers twitched, searching for something to hold, something that could ground him. 

“Relationship?” he repeated as he took a step back, and his foot collided with the door behind him. 

“Yes, our relationship…” Kyojuro confirmed, before his eyes widened and he stumbled back himself. “Oh my gods.” 

A relationship. Relationship… Relationship. 

“You didn’t know,” Kyojuro said, his voice ringing with embarrassed horror. “You thought we were just friends. You didn’t realize—Oh my gods, Akaza, I am so sorry.” 

Akaza helplessly shook his head. He didn’t understand. He didn’t get it. Kyojuro didn’t just kiss him… He thought they were in a relationship, he had been viewing and treating Akaza as one treated someone they had given thought to marry. 

How could that be right…? 

“You kept shying away because you thought I was making careless advances, didn’t you?” Kyojuro pressed a hand to his face with a groan. “You thought I was just—” 

“No!” Akaza yelped. 

Kyojuro couldn’t think that he disliked him, that he disliked the idea of this. Because that just wasn’t true. He hadn’t pushed him away and failed to reciprocate because he didn’t want Kyojuro that way. 

Kyojuro let his hand fall back to his side. “No?” 

“I never thought that!” Akaza shouted. “I never thought that at all! I never thought—I never realized that’s what you meant! That that was what you wanted! Kyojuro!” He reached out, his hands desperate to touch the slayer, but halted just before he could. “Why?” he demanded. “Why would you ever want that with me? I-I don’t understand. I’m a demon.” 

Kyojuro stiffened, seemingly taken aback by the statement. “Yes, I know you are, Akaza. Of course I know that. But I’ve come to care for you, and I’ve decided what you are doesn’t matter to me. I just wish I had been more clear with my intentions and what I thought was happening between us.” 

“No, you don’t get it!” Akaza shouted, shame and panic creeping into his voice. 

This made it worse. This made it all so much worse. It had never been about careless touch for Kyojuro, it had never been anything except pure and genuine affection. While he had been trying to love Akaza, had thought that Akaza loved him back, all he had done was fantasize about devouring him. 

Kyojuro’s embarrassment morphed to worry, and he hesitantly reached out to take Akaza’s shoulders. “Akaza, please calm down. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I’ve put you in this position. Please don’t think you have to go along with any of this for me. I—!” 

“No!” Akaza wrenched out of his hold, and Kyojuro was quick to jerk his hands back. “I’m sorry!” 

He did not think as he fell to his knees, as he bowed his head. He had wronged Kyojuro, he had made him upset, he had desecrated something as wonderful as his love with his own demented desires. And when Akaza failed, when he wronged someone, when he needed to wait for punishment for his transgressions—

He was meant to be on his knees. 

“I’m sorry!” he cried. “Kyojuro…” 

“Akaza, what are you—” The slayer leaned down to grab his shoulders, an attempt to pull him back to his feet. “You have nothing to apologize for! This is my fault!” 

Akaza vehemently shook his head, and refused to let Kyojuro help him stand back up. Instead, he clutched a handful of his hakama, and fought past the shame threatening to burn him up from the inside out. “You don’t understand. You don’t get it. While you’ve been touching me, holding me, attempting to court me—While you’ve thought I was doing the same, I—I—” He couldn’t look him in the eye, he couldn’t bear to see the disgust and hurt and anger over what he was about to admit. 

But Kyojuro deserved to know. He needed to know. 

Akaza could not be allowed to love him if this was what his love looked like. 

“Kyojuro, I want to eat you,” Akaza cried. 

The admission was sickly sweet on his tongue. Part of Akaza wanted to purr alongside the confession, as one of his deepest desires was finally voiced aloud. He wanted to rejoice in the words, wanted to beg Kyojuro to let him do so, let him run his tongue along his body, pierce it with his fangs. 

But a larger part was disgusted with what he wanted to do. He wanted to rip his tongue out and pry his teeth from his jaw. Maybe if they were gone, the desires would fade, and he wouldn’t have to admit such horrendous things to Kyojuro. 

Kyojuro’s hands slowly pulled back from Akaza’s shoulders as he stood back to his full height. Shock flashed across his face, but not disgust, not hate, not fear. 

Did he not understand what Akaza had just said…? 

“Every time we touch…” Akaza squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed at Kyojuro’s leg. Even now, he couldn’t bring himself to let go of him. “When you touch me, when you let me touch you, I want to—It’s all I can think about. I want to know what you’ll feel like in my mouth, I want to know what your flesh will feel like against my fangs. I want to taste you, and keep you, b-but it— I can’t stop, I can’t make myself stop, and I’m sorry!” 

There was a weighted silence before a warm, heavy hand landed on top of his head, and gently combed through his hair. “Akaza… Do you want to hurt me?” 

“No!” Akaza held his leg tighter. “No, of course I don’t! I want to protect you! I want to keep you safe!” 

Another pause, every second that ticked by felt agonizingly slow in the dead silence. 

Then, “Akaza, look at me,” Kyojuro requested. 

He shook his head. He didn’t think he could handle the way that the Hashira was surely looking at him. 

Kyojuro’s fingers shifted from the top of his head, trailing down the side of his face and his jaw. He halted at his chin, and gently tilted his head up. “Akaza.” 

Hesitantly, he opened his eyes and stared up at Kyojuro. 

There was nothing but a fond smile on his face, if not a bit exasperated. 

“I’m sorry,” Akaza whispered. “I-I don’t really want to eat you. I don’t. But it’s all I can think about sometimes, and when we’re touching, it gets worse, and I’m scared… I don’t want to hurt you, but what if I do…? And I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you deserve better!”

Akaza’s eyes flickered away, then down, ashamed. “If I really cared about you, I would never even think— But I can’t help myself. I want to bite down, I want to keep you safe, and you’ll be safe in my teeth.” 

He knew how he sounded. He sounded fucking crazy. But he needed Kyojuro to understand. Not just understand how dangerous Akaza was, how he didn’t deserve his love and affection, but that Akaza did care about him too. It just—It just—

He didn’t know how to articulate any of it! 

“You don’t trust yourself,” Kyojuro said. “You don’t trust yourself with me.” 

“No,” Akaza murmured, feeling more and more pathetic by the second. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked. 

The demon moved his gaze back to Kyojuro’s face. “Of course I do.” 

Kyojuro took a deep breath, and pressed his thumb against Akaza’s lips. 

Akaza’s breath hitched. What was Kyojuro doing…? Did he not listen to a single thing he had just said? Akaza had to fight the temptation to eat him. Why would he risk putting his hands against his mouth? Risk putting them anywhere near his teeth? 

“You care about me?” he asked. 

Akaza managed a shaky nod, but he didn’t dare to open his mouth, not with Kyojuro’s thumb pressed against him. 

“Trust me to trust you, then.” 

“I want to,” Akaza breathed against his thumb. He wanted to so badly. But he just didn’t think Kyojuro understood. He might be a slayer, he might think he had a grasp on the hunger of a demon, how consuming and maddening it was, but he just could not fathom it. 

“Open your mouth,” Kyojuro said, his voice firm. 

“Kyo—” 

The second Akaza parted his mouth to speak, Kyojuro hooked his thumb beneath his lip. 

Akaza gasped, his entire body going rigid as Kyojuro pressed his thumb against his upper gums, running it with gentle precision over the grooves and ridges. 

Afraid to so much as breathe, Akaza squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on quite literally anything other than Kyojuro’s thumb in his mouth. The heat of him pressing against his gums, the pressure of his touch. 

Saliva began to pool back in his jaw, collecting around his lower molars, and he fought back a miserable whimper. 

Why was Kyojuro doing this? Why would he risk himself like this? Couldn’t he tell how close Akaza was to snapping? How close he was to losing pieces of himself? 

“I trust you,” Kyojuro said, and he moved his thumb down to trace Akaza’s incisor. “And so I trust your teeth.” 

The first warm rivulet of drool slipped from the corner of Akaza’s mouth and slid down his chin. 

You shouldn’t, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t attempt to speak. The more he moved, his jaw, his tongue, the more he risked biting down on Kyojuro’s hand. 

The more likely his hungry desires were to win out. 

Kyojuro’s hand shifted against his jaw, and he replaced his thumb with his index and middle finger. He pushed them back into the far corner of Akaza’s mouth, pressed them against his lower set of molars, putting them in the perfect position to be severed and ground into bony, bloody pulp should Akaza clamp his jaws closed. 

“Your teeth are beautiful,” Kyojuro said as he ran his fingers all over the tooth, feeling every divot and point he could. “I’ve always thought so!” 

Akaza’s eyes snapped open. 

Kyojuro looked down at him, and something sharp glinted in his eyes, something hungry. “I bet they’ll feel just as good against me as I’ve imagined.” 

More drool poured from Akaza’s mouth as he sucked in a deep breath. It dripped down his chin, his neck. It dripped onto the floor with soft splatters, and his face burned with horrified embarrassment. He let go of Kyojuro’s leg to clumsily try and catch it. Holding his hands just beneath his chin to prevent the inhuman amount of saliva from landing on the floor with audible sounds. 

Or gods forbid, soak Kyojuro’s feet. 

He didn’t even realize a pathetic whine had built in his throat, something befitting a begging dog rather than a man. 

“Akaza…” Kyojuro ran his fingers along each and every tooth, as if he were mapping them, memorizing them. He touched them with a reverence reserved for something holy, as if these teeth didn’t exist to brand Akaza as an abomination. “Don’t you see? If you are not biting me now, like this, then you are not going to bite me at all. You have far more restraint than you seem to believe. In fact, I think you might have too much.” 

A puddle of drool formed in Akaza’s cupped hands, and his breath began to come out in frantic pants. He felt—He felt— 

His stomach writhed and twisted with a desperate hunger. No. No, not hunger. Yes. No. Hungry, hungry, bite down— No! It wasn’t hunger, it didn’t feel like when he needed to eat, but he needed something.  

He needed something to fill him up inside. 

He needed to bite down.  

His jaw began to tremble as he opened his mouth wider. Fear and exhilaration coursed through his entire body. 

Satisfied with his lower teeth, Kyojuro twisted his fingers to the top and largest set of fangs. He pressed the pad of his index finger against the point. 

Akaza’s eyes blew wide as he realized what Kyojuro was about to do, and a panicked growl of protest escaped him. 

He wouldn’t be able to resist. If Kyojuro bled in his mouth, there was no way in hell he would be able to resist taking a bite. 

Kyojuro fixed him with a stern glare at the noise, but his voice was deceptively gentle as he said, “It’s okay, Akaza. You trust me, and I trust you. You won’t bite down yet, because I haven’t told you you can.” 

He pricked the pad of his finger against Akaza’s fang. 

The skin barely broke, the point of his tooth scarcely sank into him, but Akaza moaned at the sensation. 

Finally, finally, his teeth against Kyojuro’s flesh, his blood dripping from the tips of his fangs. 

Kyojuro once more began tracing his teeth, leaving behind a thin coating of blood. 

Painting them red. 

Saliva splashed against the floor as Akaza’s hands shot down to grip handfuls of his pants. Trying to control his drool was a useless endeavor, and he needed something to grab. Restless energy built in him, and he shifted his legs with a whine. 

Fuck. Fuck. He felt— 

Kyojuro’s finger hooked on the inside of his cheek, and the heady flavor of his blood finally, tortuously began to soak into his taste buds. Delicious was not a strong enough word to describe the taste. Not metallic, nor sweet. It was—It was—

The writhing heat in Akaza’s stomach shot down. He could feel—Between his legs—Oh, oh. 

He was achingly hard. 

“Are you understanding it now?” Kyojuro asked, and he pricked his other finger against Akaza’s fang. 

Drool began to stick his clothing to his body. Whines and moans accompanied every desperate pant he managed. 

He shook his head. 

“You really can’t tell the difference, can you?” Kyojuro asked, and he smiled. 

Akaza did not think it was a smile that belonged to a human. 

“Are you hungry, Akaza?” 

Akaza nodded, absolutely frantic. He was so hungry, starving. That had to be what was happening to his body, why he felt this way. Right? Right? 

Were Kyojuro’s fingers not in his mouth, Akaza knew he would be begging. 

But begging for what…? 

“Do you still want to eat me?” 

Akaza nodded, then shook his head with a feverish whine. No. No. Oh, he was nodding again. Yes. No.  

Gods, he wanted to devour Kyojuro. He couldn’t do that. He could never do that. Yes. No. Yes, yes, yes! No! Holy gods, yes! 

“Hm…” Kyojuro moved his fingers away from the inside of Akaza’s cheek to let them hover over his neglected tongue. 

Please. Please, please, please, please, please, please! 

Burning tears dripped from the corners of Akaza’s eyes, quickly joining the slick trails of saliva pouring down his neck and chest. 

“I have to admit, I never imagined that this is what would happen between us,” Kyojuro said. “But you do look very attractive like this!” 

Like what? Kneeling, drooling, crying, desperate? 

Touch. Akaza needed to touch. Bodies on bodies, skin on skin, he needed it. It wasn’t just his teeth on Kyojuro now, that wasn’t enough, he needed it all. 

Shaking hands reached for Kyojuro. They hovered just over his hips, and Akaza stared up at him, his visage blurred through tears, waiting for permission. 

“You can touch me,” Kyojuro said. “It’s alright, Akaza.” 

With a desperate moan, Akaza gripped Kyojuro’s hips. He let his fingers dig into him, and he growled at the layers of fabric that prevented him from touching skin. Even still, Kyojuro was warm, and it was easy to grip him with fervor, feeling the curves of his hips and planes of his muscle. 

He shifted his legs again, subtly twitched his hips. He needed to move them against something, needed friction there. He needed it, needed it. 

But Kyojuro’s fingers were still in his mouth. He had to prove the trust was not misplaced. He could not move, could not stop kneeling, until he’d been told it was okay. 

Until he’d been told he could bite down. 

With his free hand, Kyojuro offered a few gentle pets to Akaza’s hair. “You’re being so good,” he praised. “You really were worried for nothing. I’m bleeding into your mouth, and you still have yet to try devouring me.” 

Please. Please. Please. 

Kyojuro pressed his bleeding fingers to Akaza’s tongue. 

Blood burst over his tongue, warm and wet and perfect. 

He threw his head back with a harsh whine, his fingers tightened around Kyojuro’s hips. White-hot pleasure shot through his entire body as he finally closed his mouth around Kyojuro’s fingers and prodded at the wounds with his tongue, suckled and coaxed as much blood as he could from them. His eyes rolled back, he jerked his hips. Something soaked into his pants. 

Oh. 

Akaza thought he should be ashamed, but he could not focus enough to be. Could not focus on the fact that he just came in his pants. 

Was this what sex was supposed to feel like…? 

Akaza’s hands slipped from Kyojuro’s hips, and his entire body began to tremble. 

“Are you starting to understand, Akaza?” Kyojuro asked once more as he finally slipped his fingers from his mouth, thick strands of saliva coming with them. 

Akaza whined desperately at the loss. He wanted them back. He wanted Kyojuro back in his mouth. Needed him back. He still hadn’t been allowed to genuinely sink his teeth into him! 

“I do not think you are hungry, or that you want to eat me. Or perhaps that’s not true…” Kyojuro pressed his index finger to his thumb, then lifted them apart, watching with fascination as strings of bloodied saliva stretched. “Maybe there really is no difference for a demon. But no matter, that doesn’t change the fact that arousal and sexual desire is what you are feeling. Whether you are confusing it for hunger, or they’re so intertwined you truly can’t differentiate between them, that does seem to be the case.”  

“Kyojuro…” Akaza purred. “Please… Please…” 

“Please what?” Kyojuro innocently tilted his head. “I need you to tell me what you want, Akaza. I’m not going to make any more assumptions.” 

What he wanted…? 

What did Akaza want? 

“I don’t—I can’t—” He leaned forward, and pressed his forehead against Kyojuro’s thigh. “I want you,” he gasped. 

He couldn’t differentiate between his feelings, between the sensations coursing through his body, but he knew that.  

“Food, or sex?” Kyojuro asked. 

Akaza shook his head, and dug his fingers harder into his hips. “Don’t know. I don’t know.” 

His stomach twisted, writhing with hunger. His hips twitched, and he fought the urge to grind them against Kyojuro’s leg. 

“Do you want to eat me, or do you want to fuck me?” 

“Yes,” Akaza moaned. “Yes, yes, gods, please.” 

Kyojuro pried Akaza’s hands from his hips, and kneeled down before he could protest the loss of touch. “Okay, Akaza.” The slayer cupped his face once again, and rubbed his thumb against the slick lines of spit. “You’ve never done anything like this before, have you?” 

“Sex?” he murmured. 

“Yes.” 

He shook his head. “I never—I didn’t—” 

“It’s alright, you don’t have to explain,” Kyojuro interrupted. “I’m just asking, because if you’ve been alive for as long as you have, and have never done this before, I want to know with absolute certainty that you are okay with this, that you want to.” 

Akaza tried desperately to get his thoughts in order, to actually focus on the conversation Kyojuro was trying to have with him, rather than the desperate adrenaline racing through him, or the fantasies flitting through his mind. “I want to!” He grabbed at Kyojuro’s jacket, and practically climbed into his lap so he could finally grind his hips against his body. “Please! Let me—let me—” 

“Akaza.” Kyojuro’s grip on his face tightened, and Akaza halted his frantic movements. “Focus. Do you want to do this? I’m not making the same mistakes again.” 

Akaza attempted to take a deep breath, trying to ground himself for a moment. “Yes. Yes, I do. I do. I promise I do.” 

Kyojuro smiled, and brushed his thumb from the corner of Akaza’s mouth up his cheek, leaving behind a smudge of saliva. “Good. I’m going to kiss you, okay? No interruptions this time.” 

Akaza whimpered, “Please.” 

Kyojuro laughed. “You’re being so polite now! If I knew this was all it took to get you to stop being so demanding, I’d have done it a long time ago.” 

A twinge of indignation nearly caused Akaza to protest, but he stopped himself. He didn’t want to. He wanted Kyojuro to tell him what to do again, he wanted to listen. He wanted to prove he was good and the trust Kyojuro placed in him was earned. 

So all he did was repeat, “Please?” 

“I could never turn down such a tempting request,” Kyojuro said. He leaned in, pressed his lips against Akaza’s, and saliva smeared. 

Heat flushed across Akaza’s face once more, and he regretted not trying to wipe the drool from his face before this. How could Kyojuro be okay with something so disgusting? 

But he barely had time to consider it before Kyojuro prodded at his lips with his tongue, attempting to coax them apart. His hand curled against Akaza’s jaw, and his other came up to cradle the back of his head. He nudged, applying pressure with his fingers, a clear indication that Akaza needed to tilt his head. 

He obeyed. He turned his head. He opened his mouth. 

Kyojuro’s tongue slid into his mouth. 

With a desperate growl, Akaza shoved his entire body against Kyojuro’s, awkwardly working his hips against him, seeking friction against his dick that was already half-hard again. 

Kyojuro pulled back, just enough to breathe, “Easy, easy,” into Akaza’s mouth. “Slow down.” 

Akaza froze, but forced himself to nod. 

Kyojuro knew best, and Akaza wanted to do right by him, make him feel good. 

Maybe if he did, he would be allowed to take a bite, allowed to satisfy his aching stomach. 

“Good.” Kyojuro resumed the kiss, and worked his mouth against Akaza’s. He attempted to follow the movements, to move his lips in the same way, and replicate the motion of his tongue. Kyojuro’s mouth was so hot, so wet, it felt so good. Akaza could only hope his felt the same to the slayer. 

Kyojuro’s hand trailed down Akaza’s neck, down his back. He slid it down to cup his ass and give it a gentle squeeze. 

Akaza gasped and jerked at the touch, but a pleased purr rumbled from his chest.

Kyojuro’s hand moved to his thigh next, nudged and pushed, a request for Akaza to adjust his position. Even with the slayer’s tongue in his mouth, he did his best to listen, tried to remember how Kyojuro had wrapped his legs around Akaza and settled in his lap in the hotspring, because damn that had felt nice. 

With Kyojuro’s guidance, Akaza settled into his lap, his legs spread, easily allowing his waist to slot between them, allowing Akaza the opportunity to rut against him. 

More saliva dripped from Akaza’s mouth. Kyojuro’s tongue in his mouth, pressing it against his teeth, fuck he couldn’t stop it! 

Satisfied with his position, Kyojuro’s hands came up to work the vest from Akaza’s shoulders. It took a bit of coaxing, as it clung to his skin due to his own fucking drool, but Akaza eagerly work his arms out of it. As soon as he was free from it, he clutched at the fabric of Kyojuro’s jacket. 

This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair! He wanted to feel his skin, wanted his clothes gone. If he weren’t trying so damn hard to be good for Kyojuro, he thought he might have ripped his clothes off his body. 

Akaza bit down on Kyojuro’s tongue in his desperation. Not hard enough to bleed, he caught himself in time, but his eyes snapped open and he jerked back all the same, expecting to be reprimanded. 

“It’s okay,” Kyojuro assured him. His lips glistened with Akaza’s spit, and it only caused his heart to beat faster, harder. “You can bite, just not hard enough to bleed.” 

Akaza couldn’t help the petulant whine that escaped him. 

“Not yet,” Kyojuro said. 

“I can bite?” Akaza asked, awe ringing in his voice. 

He could press his teeth against Kyojuro’s skin? Graze his fangs over his body? Memorize how he felt in his mouth? 

Akaza still did not think he trusted himself. He did not know if he would be able to restrain himself from burying his teeth in Kyojuro’s flesh all the way up to the gum. 

But if he trusted Kyojuro… He would do what he was told, what he was allowed.

If Kyojuro trusted him to indulge himself, of course he would. 

“Not hard enough to bleed,” Kyojuro reiterated. 

“I won’t, I won’t,” Akaza swore. He barely got the words out before he buried his face in the crook of Kyojuro’s neck, huffing in irritation at the fabric that still separated them. Right there. Right there in the junction of his neck and shoulder would be perfect but his damn clothes were still in the way. 

Trembling fingers scrabbled for the buttons of Kyojuro’s jacket. “Can I…? Please…?” 

“Yes.” 

Akaza only managed to work one button through the hole before desperate excitement got the better of him and he ripped at the second one with so much fervor the fabric tore. 

His face reddened, and Akaza ducked his head in shame. Fuck. Fuck, he was so bad at this. Too over eager, too feverish. 

Kyojuro chuckled and quickly unbuttoned his jacket, deftly working against Akaza’s body. He slipped it off, and carelessly tossed it across the room. He didn’t even manage to undo the top half of his undershirt before Akaza was nosing at his neck again with a pleased growl. 

He felt the shift of Kyojuro’s shoulders as he finished removing the shirt against his chin, the roll of his muscles. He opened his mouth, gently pressed the tips of his fangs against warm flesh, and let out a guttural moan. His body—Kyojuro’s body—against his teeth, in his mouth—

His hips jerked again, Kyojuro’s hands gripped his back, his nails indenting the skin. Kyojuro gasped, needy and high, with the pressure of Akaza’s teeth. 

Yes, yes, yes, yes! Fangs trailed down his neck, to his shoulder, to his collarbone. In his mouth, Kyojuro was in his mouth. He felt perfect, even like this. How would he feel once he’d finally allowed Akaza to sink his teeth in fully? 

And not just that, Kyojuro liked it. 

Kyojuro liked—Kyojuro wanted—

Akaza’s teeth. 

He pushed harder against the slayer’s body, with his hips, his hands, his teeth. He could feel how hard Kyojuro was between his legs, and quiet moans had begun to escape him. This felt so good, felt so fucking great, and Kyojuro felt good too! Akaza was pleasuring him! 

He wanted to do more. He wanted to give him more. 

He wanted Kyojuro to feel as good as Akaza had with his fingers in his mouth. 

“Kyo,” Akaza moaned against him. “Kyojuro, can I—I want to—” His teeth pushed harder, and his hand drifted down to grab at his belt. 

“You want to what?” Kyojuro asked. “You still haven’t actually told me. Do you want to eat me, or fuck me?” 

Akaza whined, shook his head, nodded. 

He wanted to bite out and swallow pieces of Kyojuro. He wanted to be inside him. He wanted both— he wanted—! 

“Bed,” Kyojuro said. “Let’s move to one of the beds. It will be more comfortable than the floor.” 

Akaza did not want to move, did not want to give up this closeness, this position, but his desire of Kyojuro to be comfortable won out, and he pulled back with a dejected groan. “Okay.” 

Kyojuro smiled and pet his hair, but pulled his hand away as soon as Akaza leaned into the touch, and pushed him out of his lap to get to his feet. 

Akaza resisted the urge to grab for his hips again, to hold him in place. Instead, he watched with wide eyes as Kyojuro undid his belt buckle. 

When Akaza made no move to get up, the slayer nudged him with his foot, and nodded towards the bed. “Come on.” 

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Akaza scrambled to his feet, fumbling with the tassels holding his pants up. 

“Here.” Kyojuro dropped his belt to the floor, though he still hadn’t removed his hakama yet, and took Akaza’s hips in his hands. He caressed them gently, slid his hands up the curve of them to settle on his waist, before dropping them back down. “Let me. Gods, your hips and waist, Akaza. Do you realize how good your body looks? I want to see…” He slipped his fingers into his pants, tugged at the hem, and teased them down. 

Akaza stood deathly still, and decided to let Kyojuro do as he pleased with him. He wanted to feel his hands on his body, wanted him to touch his hips again, his ass, his legs, with nothing in between them, not even thin layers of fabric. 

He tried not to wince at the mess in his pants, but Kyojuro didn’t seem to mind. 

Finally worked below his hips, his pants fell. 

Kyojuro blinked. “Do you… not wear anything beneath these?” 

Akaza shrugged. Why bother? 

Kyojuro shook his head, seemingly exasperated but fond, and pressed his hand against Akaza’s bare thigh, murmuring to himself. “So the tattoos do go all the way down.” 

Akaza looked down at himself. He’d never thought too much about it, but… Yes, he supposed his tattoos did map across his entire body. 

Kyojuro leaned in to press a quick and chaste kiss against Akaza’s lips, then pushed him back and down onto the bed. 

Akaza let himself fall, and land among the blankets with a soft oof. On his back, staring up at the ceiling, still unable to fully process the sensations running through his body, he missed Kyojuro removing the rest of his clothes until he was in the bed next to him. He laid on his side, close enough to rest his cheek against Akaza’s shoulder. He ran his hand across Akaza’s chest, turned his head to press a gentle kiss to his collarbone. 

Akaza’s fingers twitched, and he stared at Kyojuro with pleading eyes. He rolled over, reached out his hand. He didn’t know how much longer he could wait, how much longer he could do this. His hunger—no, no, his arousal? He still didn’t fucking understand, but somehow, someway, he needed to be sated. 

The hunger of a newborn demon could not compare to this. Akaza feared he would lose his sanity if the few drops of blood from Kyojuro’s fingers were all he was granted tonight. 

“Kyojuro… please,” he begged. “Please, let me—I want to—” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Please!” Akaza jerked his hips, unable to take the lack of friction against his dick any longer. 

“Okay.” Kyojuro grabbed Akaza, pulled him on top of him. He helped him adjust his legs, move his body, shift his weight, so that they were both comfortable. Skin on skin, arms and legs, already, they were so intertwined, so close. 

Akaza’s stomach panged. His cock ached. 

One more touch, and he thought he might cum again. 

“You are going to have to prepare me!” Kyojuro said. “Do you have any idea how to do that?” 

Akaza’s breath stuttered out of him. “My fingers…?” Just because he had never done this before, didn’t mean he was clueless. He’d heard conversations, he’d thought about it, and come to obvious conclusions. But he wanted to be sure. Kyojuro knew best right now, and he wanted to make him feel good. He had to make sure he did everything right. 

If he did, maybe Kyojuro would reward him. Maybe he would finally be allowed a bite. 

“Mmhm.” Kyojuro took Akaza’s wrist, and guided his hand down. “Just start with one. 

Akaza blinked, nodded, scrabbled desperately for his thoughts. He dug up anything he had ever heard about sex before in his life. At least for a few seconds, he needed to replace thoughts of food and blood and biting with logic. “Do we need something to—to help?” 

Kyojuro opened his mouth to answer, but Akaza interrupted him with a gasp, “My spit!” Saliva was still pooling in his mouth, and he had just enough self control to not swallow it down. “It would help?” 

He wanted to be good. He wanted to do this right. He wanted to do whatever he could to make this pleasurable for Kyojuro. 

Kyojuro’s brows furrowed. “I supposed it is thick… and slick.” 

Akaza nodded vigorously, opened his mouth, held his hand to it, and let the saliva drip onto his fingers. 

Was Kyojuro not disgusted by this…? By him? Was he truly okay with this? 

It was warm as it coated his fingers, wet. 

“Akaza…” Kyojuro twitched beneath him. “How much longer are you going to make me wait?” 

Akaza’s eyes went wide, and he frantically shook his head. He didn’t want to wait at all, and he certainly didn’t want to make Kyojuro wait! 

Kyojuro beneath him… Kyojuro waiting for Akaza to make him feel good… 

Pressing one reverent hand against Kyojuro’s abdomen, he worked his finger inside him. 

The slayer gasped, a soft, breathy noise, and Akaza purred in response. 

What other noises could he get Kyojuro to make? Akaza knew some rather obscene sounds had come from his own mouth tonight. Could he make Kyojuro whine like that? 

“You have to move it, Akaza.” Kyojuro stayed still beneath him, and watched Akaza with piercing eyes. 

Right. Right. This was up to Akaza. It was his job to make Kyojuro feel good. Aside from giving him instructions, the slayer shouldn’t have to do anything. 

Akaza worked his finger further inside him, and watched with fascination as Kyojuro’s body began to twitch beneath him. He felt the tensing of his muscles beneath his other hand. He couldn’t help but trail his eyes up and down Kyojuro’s entire body. He had always admired it, always thought it was beautiful. How could it not be, when it allowed Kyojuro to fight the way he did? And then… And then he had begun to wonder how it would taste, how it would feel pressed against the molars in the back of his jaw. But like this… 

His body was beautiful for no other reason than that it belonged to Kyojuro. He wanted to touch every inch of it, use this opportunity to run his fingers along every part. 

And his scars… Akaza’s eyes slitted in bliss and he purred louder as he examined the scars he put on Kyojuro. He left those there. He left behind a permanent mark. Something of him would always be with Kyojuro due to those scars. 

As his eyes caught on other old wounds, injuries left behind by other demons, his jaw began to ache once more, fierce and pervasive. He should cover those with marks of his own. His teeth could remove them, could replace them with something of his. Every bite, slash, tear, burn, stab. 

Akaza wanted that skin to belong to him, not them. 

“Second finger,” Kyojuro requested, though his voice was no longer as controlled. It came out shaky with anticipation, with pleasure. 

Prying himself from his reverie, Akaza obeyed. He shifted his hand against Kyojuro’s stomach, listening to his soft moan as he worked his fingers, as he learned to move them the correct way. 

He wanted to ask, wanted to make sure, he did this right, that it felt good, when Kyojuro reached out to grab him. He took the wrist of Akaza’s free hand, squeezed it. His eyes slid shut, and he let his body relax into the bed. His mouth opened and closed, with small, aborted noises that Akaza wished he would let out. 

He wanted to hear him, wanted to hear him moan and whine and cry out. Did he have to earn that too…?

Oh, he wanted to earn it. 

When Kyojuro told him to add a third finger, he obeyed. The sensations and desires running through his own body began to fade; he only wanted to make Kyojuro feel good, he wanted to do what he was told. 

He wanted to perform well enough that he was given a reward. 

Should he give Kyojuro’s cock some attention? That would feel good, right? But he hadn’t told him to. Akaza didn’t want to do anything until he was told. 

“Kyojuro…” he murmured. His tongue was restless in his mouth, his teeth itched. “My mouth—It—I need to—” 

“Go ahead,” Kyojuro gasped. 

Akaza rumbled in excitement and leaned down to swipe his tongue up Kyojuro’s abdomen. He pressed his tongue against him, unable to stop the moan as it touched warm skin. He could taste him! He could finally taste Kyojuro! Feel him move and twitch and writhe beneath his tongue. He ran it along the divot of a scar, relishing in the rise and dip of rough tissue. Angling his head, he grazed his teeth along Kyojuro’s hip, catching them on the slope of it. 

A full, desperate moan finally escaped Kyojuro, and his hand shot out to grab a handful of Akaza’s hair. 

Akaza sighed into Kyojuro’s warm skin, relished in the fingers gripping his hair and tugging. 

The points of his fangs pressed against Kyojuro’s hip; his fingers worked inside him. Fuck. Fuck. 

He needed his cock inside him. He needed his teeth inside. 

Kyojuro tugged Akaza’s head over, his tongue and teeth trailing as he went, positioned him between his legs. “Either use your mouth here, or actually fuck me.” 

Any train of logical thought vanished. Fuck Kyojuro. Put him in his mouth. Fuck Kyojuro. Put him in his mouth. 

How was Akaza ever supposed to choose one? They were—They were the same, he wanted both—! 

When he hesitated too long for Kyojuro’s liking, the slayer yanked him by the hair again, nearly causing Akaza to lose precarious balance and topple on top of him. 

“I see. You need more clear instructions, don’t you?” Kyojuro asked. “You still can’t figure out what it is you want to do.” 

Akaza swallowed down a pathetic whine and nodded. 

“Then fuck me,” Kyojuro said. “I want to feel you inside me.” 

“Yes, yes!” Akaza’s nodding turned frantic. He wanted that too! He wanted it so desperately he could feel the need coursing through his entire body, spreading out from the pit of his stomach. 

“Come on, then,” Kyojuro coaxed. 

Akaza pulled his fingers from Kyojuro’s hole, and let the slayer guide him into a good position once more. A slight adjustment of his hips, his legs, murmurs and whispers of encouragement from him as he went. 

“You’re going to be so good, Akaza. Position yourself like this, it will make thrusting your hips easier.” He spread his legs further, and offered Akaza a small smile. 

Akaza’s entire body trembled, his hands shook as he gripped Kyojuro’s waist. 

Slowly, as gently as he could manage, he pushed himself into Kyojuro. 

Kyojuro arched beneath him with a low moan, reached out to grab Akaza with frantic hands, and settled them on his hips. 

Akaza was inside him. He was inside him. Kyojuro was hot and tight and Akaza was inside him. 

His mouth fell open with a pathetic, high-pitched whimper. The same, overwhelming pleasure from when Kyojuro touched his fingers to his tongue overtook his body. Drool slipped from his mouth and landed on Kyojuro in little drips. He—He—

“Did you just—?” Kyojuro jerked beneath him, his eyes going wide and incredulous. 

Akaza held Kyojuro with a desperate fervor as he rode out the high of the orgasm, unable to believe how amazing this felt, how wonderful Kyojuro felt! 

He barely finished cumming for the second time before Kyojuro rolled his hips, moved them down, thrusting onto his cock, the movement and friction and tightness already snapping his dick back to attention. 

He could have fucking cried as he yelped, unable to handle the unending bliss and stimulation. 

But he hadn’t made Kyojuro feel good yet. He had to do that. This wasn’t over until then. It wasn’t fair for him to have gotten off twice, while Kyojuro hadn’t at all. 

Akaza wanted to be better than that! 

“You’re lucky you’re a demon,” Kyojuro grunted. “That your stamina extends to this.” 

“Sorry.” Akaza squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Sorry, sorry! You just—You feel—You feel so good, Kyo!” He jerked his hips, attempting to thrust into him, wanting to return the favor. He had to. He had to! 

But Kyojuro stopped him, pushed against his hips with his hands. “Easy, easy. It’s—It’s alright…” His words were breathless, his body was trembling, and Akaza realized with utter relief that Kyojuro already felt pretty damn good himself, that he was being pleasured more than he had let on. 

“Move like this.” Kyojuro gently pushed at his hips, helped Akaza set a steady pace. He nudged and pulled and guided, and Akaza listened. 

He bit his lip, harsh enough to bleed, at the sensation of his cock moving inside Kyojuro, of his body all around him. It was too much—so much—His hands shifted to press down on the slayer’s chest and curled his fingers against him. 

Kyojuro’s instructions devolved into a series of gasping moans, though he did not let his hands fall away from Akaza’s hips, still pushing and pulling with their movements. 

“Please,” Akaza begged. “Please, Kyojuro, please! A bite—let me have a bite— please!” 

If this night ended without his teeth buried up to the gum in Kyojuro’s body, he thought he might just fucking die. 

Kyojuro was so beautiful beneath him. His control finally began to slip and he writhed in the sheets as he grasped at Akaza with needy hands. “‘Kaza,” he moaned. “Akaza— ’Kaza!” He arched his back, his nails ripped into Akaza’s waist without care. Thin, hot lines of blood dripped from the tears, trailed down his thighs. 

His golden hair fanned out around his head, his eyes squeezed shut, mouth open. 

“Can I…?” Akaza purred. “I need to… Need to…!” 

Kyojuro yanked at his hips. “Y-Yeah. Yes!” 

Yes? Kyojuro said yes? 

Akaza lunged down without a second thought, and sank his fangs into the crook of Kyojuro’s neck. Blood spurted and welled around his teeth, bubbled against his lips as he bit harder. A blissed, feral snarl built in his throat. Hot, wet, delicious.

The sensations running through the rest of his body paled in comparison to the perfection he felt in his fangs. The itchy ache finally faded as Kyojuro’s flesh hugged his teeth, as it brushed and caressed his gums. 

He did not rip, he did not tear. Akaza had not been told he was allowed to do that. He was only told he could bite. 

But even just sinking his teeth in was wonderful. He couldn’t imagine how actually eating him might feel, how amazing pieces of Kyojuro would feel in his throat, in his stomach. 

The rest of his body still moved, still obeyed Kyojuro’s instructions and teaching, but it all paled in comparison to his teeth. 

Kyojuro moaned and grabbed the back of Akaza’s head. He was saying something, but Akaza was not sure what. He didn’t know if he just didn’t process it, or if it actually didn’t make sense. Senseless moans and cries and whimpers. 

Akaza didn’t know if they came from his own mouth, or the slayer beneath him. 

He worked his jaw, carefully, gently. He did not want to hurt Kyojuro, but he needed to feel his teeth moving inside of him, feeling them slipping against bloodied flesh, back and forth, back and forth. He pressed his tongue against the wound to coax out more blood, purred as droplets of it slid down his throat. 

He was not sure how long he was allowed to gnaw and chew and bite, but he worked his teeth until Kyojuro’s hand slid down to his back, and tapped him. 

“Akaza.” Kyojuro’s voice was still breathless, still shaking, but far more steady than it had been. 

Akaza hummed into the wound. 

Kyojuro tapped him harder. “Akaza, let go.” 

He could not help but whine in disappointment, but if that one taste was all he would be allowed tonight, he would not take anymore. Slowly, he opened his mouth, slid his fangs from the holes, leaving behind strands of blood and spit. 

Kyojuro’s face was flushed and his chest heaved as he smiled up at Akaza, and gently nudged him back. “That was good. You did good, Akaza.” 

Akaza blinked. Had they… finished? While he had his teeth buried in Kyojuro’s shoulder and was too lost in the sensation to notice? 

Admittedly, that made sense for him… 

Well, so long as Kyojuro said it was good, it didn’t really matter to Akaza. Especially considering he’d already gotten off twice before… 

But he wasn’t done yet. Kyojuro had a wound, so he needed to take care of it. That was only right. 

“Akaza…?” 

Akaza huffed, pulled out, and settled down next to Kyojuro. “Can I…?” His eyes stayed stuck to the bite mark, still oozing blood. 

Kyojuro rolled his shoulder, and winced. “No more biting tonight.” 

Akaza shook his head. “I want to take care of it.” 

Kyojuro tilted his head, his brows furrowing, before he nodded. 

With a pleased sigh, Akaza leaned in and pressed his tongue to the wound. Kyojuro twitched beneath him, but didn’t react more than that. 

Good. Akaza had to take care of him. Kyojuro had let him taste him, let him have him, so Akaza needed to make sure he was alright. 

He ran his tongue over the wound, and while he relished in the last few tastes of his blood, that wasn’t the point. He cleaned the punctures, worked his tongue against the holes in his flesh. 

“Akaza?” Kyojuro laid a gentle hand on top of his head. “Are you alright…? I’m sorry if I—For your first time, that might have been a bit much.” 

Akaza hummed, too focused on licking the wound clean to genuinely answer the question. 

“Akaza.” 

Lapping the last of the blood away, Akaza lifted his head. “I’m the one who wants to eat you… I still don’t understand why you’re trying to apologize for anything.” 

Kyojuro sighed. “Akaza, I don’t think you genuinely want to eat me. I think… I believe you are just having some trouble deciphering your desires. Hunger was probably the only strong thing you felt for so long. I think you might be confused. I shouldn’t have—We should have talked some more first—” 

Akaza shook his head. “I liked it. I don’t feel it in my teeth as much right now. That means I liked it.” 

“Feel it in your teeth…?” Kyojuro echoed. 

Akaza nodded, and laid his head down to rest his cheek against his shoulder. “They itch, and ache, when I think about you. Pressing them against you, feeling them inside you… It’s made the feeling fade.” 

Kyojuro’s smile was unbelievably fond. “You’re a demon through and through, aren’t you? Feeling love and desire in your teeth like that!” 

“I’m sorry…” Akaza murmured. 

“No.” Kyojuro softly pet his hair. “I thought I had made it clear, but I like your teeth, Akaza. I can’t help but watch your mouth, find your fangs…attractive. Desirable . I don’t mind that you want to use them on me. I like it.” 

“But—” 

“If you’re still worried about wanting to eat me, remember what I said! You trust me, and I trust you not to eat me. So you don’t have to worry about it. Okay?” 

“Kyojuro…” 

“Okay?” 

Akaza took a deep breath. “Okay.” 

“Good.” Kyojuro sat up, dislodging Akaza and causing him to let out a petulant whine. “Let’s get cleaned up, and then we can talk some more about our relationship. Now that I assume we’re both on the same page, it seems we need to have an in depth conversation about things.” 

Akaza worried his lip with one of his fangs. “I just don’t understand. How can you be okay with this? How could you love me when I love you like this?” 

“I find it rather amusing that I’ve accepted that you love as a demon does when you haven’t!” Kyojuro laughed. “You are a demon. I know that. Of course I do. Given how strange you were about our spars and us fighting, even from the night we met, I always figured you might conceptualize these things differently as a demon! I didn’t think it would be so intense, and I definitely didn’t think that you might not even be aware of it, but that doesn’t mean I dislike it.” 

Akaza pressed his hands to his face, and fought back an embarrassed groan. 

How was he so out of touch that Kyojuro had realized all of this before him…? How was he so deep in demon instincts that he could not tell hunger from sexual desire? 

Or perhaps worse… hunger from love? 

Would they always be so intertwined for him? Would he ever be able to look at Kyojuro, and know that he loved him, that what he felt was love, without a twist in his stomach or ache in his teeth? 

“Akaza,” Kyojuro reached out to cup his cheek. “We’ll talk things out, okay? If you aren’t ready for this, that’s… that’s fine. We just need to actually talk.” 

“No!” Akaza leaned into his touch. “No. I know I care about you. I want to keep touching you, I want to keep doing this. I just… I just—I think I need help. Understanding it all. You’re right. I think my hunger is all mixed up with everything, and I don’t know how to fix that.” 

“That’s fine,” Kyojuro assured him. “We’ll talk. We’ll talk a lot now, about what you’re okay with, about what I’m okay with. I don’t want either of us to be confused and unsure again. I care about you, and I know you care about me. We’ll figure the rest out.” 

“You really like my teeth…?” Akaza whispered. “I can hold you in my teeth, and you don’t mind?” 

Kyojuro smiled. “I like your teeth. I can’t promise I’ll always let you bite like that when you want to, but I’ll try and indulge you when I can.” He let his hand fall away. “Come on. Like I said, let’s get cleaned up, and then we can talk more.” 

Akaza took a slow, deep breath to ground himself, and nodded. 

In the end, their talk was actually rather short. Kyojuro promised to more clearly state what he wanted and what he intended, and asked that when Akaza was confused about his own feelings, or worried that Kyojuro hated something about him, or was disgusted by his demonic traits, he just say so, and they could talk about it. 

Kyojuro did promise that he certainly didn’t hate Akaza’s demonic features, or mannerisms. 

He liked them. 

Part of Akaza still found that incredibly difficult to believe, but could he really deny it after Kyojuro had put his fingers in his mouth like that? Traced his teeth, and treated them with so much reverence? 

For the first time since this had all started, when Akaza and Kyojuro curled up in the same bed, Akaza did so with no confusion, no guilt, and no shame. 

And when he quietly asked, “Kyojuro? Can I… When we lay like this, can I hold you in my teeth?” 

Kyojuro merely let out a soft, short laugh, and answered, “Of course you can. Just don’t bite down too hard.” 

“I won’t,” Akaza promised. “I just want to hold you. Keep you safe. You're safe in my teeth. You trust me, so I won’t break the skin.” 

“I know.” Kyojuro tugged him closer to his chest. “How would you like to do this? Do you want my wrist?” 

“Please,” Akaza requested. 

Kyojuro held his wrist out, slightly shifting his body to make himself comfortable while his wrist would spend the night in a demon’s mouth. 

Would Akaza ever be able to believe any of this…? 

Delicately, he took Kyojuro’s wrist in his teeth. Already, the dull ache had already settled into his fangs once again, but with even the softest of touches against Kyojuro’s skin, it faded once more. 

His teeth ached to love him, to take care of him, to keep him safe. He needed to satisfy it. 

Maybe, if he did this enough, his hunger for Kyojuro would fade into something less monstrous. 

Or perhaps it would make it even worse. After all, demons were not known for reigning themselves in once they had indulged themselves. 

But… Kyojuro trusted him. 

Kyojuro would never let him take more than he was allowed. 

Akaza pressed his teeth into his wrist, and let out a content sigh. 

It was okay. Kyojuro said it was okay, so it was. He would help Akaza understand his feelings, he would help Akaza love him the right ways, in the ways that he liked and deserved. 

He fell asleep with a satisfied stomach, warm teeth, and a content purr. 

The tenth time, and every other time after that, Kyojuro looked at Akaza’s mouth, he knew it was with love and adoration. 

The very same love and adoration that Akaza felt in his teeth.