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Sun soaking amongst the trees. The crisp sound of ashes fading into existence and the blood that was once on his sword disappear. Returning his sword to its scabbard, Tomioka turns his back to the sun. Following the trail to the town he was assigned his mission to, Tomioka keeps a clear head.
The mission had taken him less than a day to complete, for which he was gratified. The demon was emasculated, and the Blood Art was weak against Tomioka. However, it was a constant load of assignments for him. Kanzaburo had come to him every day with a new mission from the master.
The number of demon slayers in the corps has drastically dropped, meaning that the Hashira have to pick up more tasks from this. He knows that he isn’t the only Pillar that is getting piled with missions and that he has to endure it.
Yet, his eyes are starting to become heavier with every step. Tomioka, suddenly, can’t remember the last time he’s had a wink of sleep.
Entering town, Tomioka looks around. No crow in sight, so Tomioka decides amongst himself to look for a place to stay for the day, so he can be well rested before Kanzaburo comes to him with another mission.
Walking around, he earns strange looks, which isn’t uncommon for him. He has become accustomed to the strange looks, despite his discomfort from it. It definitely feels more at his appearance, he’s almost positive that he has leaves stuck inside his hair, but he can’t find it inside himself to care.
“Tomioka-san!” A voice yells out. Startled and confused, Tomioka turns around to find Rengoku waving at him. His shoulders loosen, and he nods in acknowledgement to the Flame Pillar.
“Hello, Rengoku,” Tomioka greets. “What brings you here?”
“I’ve been assigned to a mission nearby,” Rengoku smiles, and that does wonders for Giyuu. Seeing Kyojuro after a stressful number of missions is refreshing. “What are you doing here?”
“I just finished up an assignment, I’m looking for some place to spend the day before heading back out,” Tomioka answers, and Rengoku's smile softens.
“I see you’ve been working hard,” Rengoku says, and his hand comes up to grab a dark green leaf from his hair. Flushed, Tomioka speaks.
“Ah, yes, this is the longest I’ve been undisturbed by my crow,” Tomioka adds. Concern flashes over Rengoku’s face before it's washed away with a gentle smile.
“Well, let us find you a place to stay for tonight,” Rengoku says, his voice holding a playful tone, and he gently nudges Tomioka’s shoulder.
“Shouldn’t you be on your way to your mission?” Tomioka tilts his head, walking alongside him nonetheless. Rengoku laughs brightly, and Tomioka’s heart sputters from the sound.
“It wouldn’t hurt for me to help my dear friend find some place to rest,” Rengoku says as he eyes Tomioka from the side with a knowing smile. Giyuu feels the heat run to his face and decides to enlighten the flame pillar.
“Well then, my dear friend,” Tomioka says, brushing the tips of his fingers against Rengoku’s hand. “Why don’t you show me a quiet, secluded place where I can find some..” Tomioka comes closer to Rengoku’s ear and faintly whispers, “rest.”
This catches Kyojuro off guard, and he trips over his feet. Giyuu feels the corner of his lips curl, dangerously close to a smile. Kyojuro’s face is now red, which matches the tips of his hair. “I see you’re feeling bold right now, Tomioka-san,” Kyojuro chuckles lightly.
“It must be from the lack of sleep,” Tomioka simply shrugs, and Rengoku laughs louder.
Wandering through the town, Tomioka and Rengoku search for a place that welcomes travellers. Tomioka hadn’t gone through the town thoroughly, and it took them a moment to find someplace. They find themselves in this hotel, where a woman introduces herself and offers them a room for two. Tomioka walks into the room, Rengoku following right behind, and he closes the door.
Giyuu has his back towards Kyojuro, setting the futon down in the corner of the room. Warm hands come around his waist, a head resting on his shoulder. “Giyuu,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against his neck.
“Yes?” Giyuu hums, tilting his head to the side. Kyojuro’s hands settle on his waist, circling his thumb in a soothing rhythm. Giyuu finds himself melting under Kyojuro’s touch as much as he wants to stay strong.
“You must take better care of yourself,” Kyojuro murmurs into his neck, taking out the ribbon that holds his hair. Black hair pools around his shoulder, and Kyojuro’s warm fingers push it to the side.
Kyojuro’s hand crawls up his spine, gently detangling the knots in his hair. Carefully, Kyojuro removes each twig and leaf with care. “Shouldn’t you be on your way?” Giyuu says. Yet he finds himself unable to pull away from Kyojuro, leaning even more into his touch.
“I’ll only be a moment,” Kyojuro breathes softly, finding his lips at the back of Giyuu’s neck. His other hand finds the top button of Giyuu’s uniform, and he glances at Giyuu to agree. He nods, and the top of his uniform gets unbuttoned, allowing more access for Kyojuro.
Giyuu finds himself enjoying this. He knows how rare it is for them to see each other, being Hashiras and taking on the weight of their titles. This significance is where they have just each other, where it’s just Giyuu and Kyojuro, not Tomioka and Rengoku. This small chance where Giyuu can let his guard down just once, where he can rest and shut the world out.
Turning around, Giyuu stares into Kyojuro’s eyes. For as long as they’ve been together, Giyuu’s learned the look that Kyojuro holds on his face. The look of want and desire, Giyuu doesn’t deny him.
When they kiss, it’s special. The weight lifted from Giyuu’s shoulders and the warmth that radiates from Kyojuro. Their lips slotted perfectly against each other, melting away the tension Giyuu held for the past weeks.
His own hands find their way to Kyojuro’s hair, running his fingers through his scalp. Giyuu can feel the smile against his lips from Kyojuro. These small chances they have with each other are memorable; times when they are treasured.
In public, they have to avoid being close; during the time period they are in, they will be frowned upon. No one else knows about their relationship, and they plan to keep it that way.
Kyojuro’s lips fall lower, kissing under his chin and to his throat. His touch is so gentle that Giyuu is influenced instantly. A soft sigh escapes his lips, and Kyojuro captures them. His weight pushes Giyuu to the futon, Kyojuro hovering over him.
Giyuu has learned that he loves it when Kyojuro is on top of him. Loves it when, for once, he can let Kyojuro take the lead. When Giyuu is relaxed enough with him to let him take charge, Giyuu gladly follows his lead, like the water flowing down the stream.
In the earlier point when they were together, Giyuu found it difficult to have affection. To let his guard down and allow himself to find that sense of peace with Kyojuro. Kyojuro, the sweet man, waited patiently for Giyuu and told him, “For as long as it takes, I’ll wait for you.”
And he did. Kyojuro had waited until Giyuu was ready. He remembers the first time they had kissed. Where Giyuu had told him he was ready, and Kyojuro, being so considerate, asked him if he was sure. He told him that he was, and Kyojuro was so happy, happier than normal. He came forward with an embrace that Giyuu found warmth in his arms. His hands had come back and cupped his cheeks.
The look in his eyes had Giyuu’s heart melting. The distance between them was small, and Kyojuro glanced down at his lips before looking back up. A look of pleading and permission. Giyuu smiled softly before leaning forward, Kyojuro meeting him, as they closed the distance. Kyojuro’s lips warm and soft, Giyuu found himself melting under that small kiss, never wanting it to stop.
Then, once they had pulled away, Kyojuro thanked him. Gratitude spilled from his every word for how he was glad that Giyuu allowed him to take his hand. That they can share this new experience.
Giyuu had found happiness that day–for the first time in a while– and he didn’t plan on letting it go.
But for their roles as Hashiras, they must make sacrifices.
“Kyojuro,” Giyuu manages to gasp out between their kisses. The other man opens his eyes, lips hovering against Giyuu’s. “You must go,” he says, and once he does, he feels the pain of Kyojuro having to leave so soon.
This draws a frown from Kyojuro, and he places his forehead against Giyuu’s. “I know,” he sighs, sadly. He doesn’t move, and Giyuu cups his face. “I wish I could see you more often,” Kyojuro sulks, his eyes saddened, and Giyuu prefers to see that lovely smile on his lips instead of this frown.
“If you finish your mission quickly, perhaps we can have another chance together,” Giyuu weakly points out. But he knows how the chances of that are low, with the high possibility that his crow might come with another mission by the time Kyojuro finishes his. However, this seems to spark a small amount of hope in Kyojuro.
Giving him one last kiss, Kyojuro says, “I’ll be thinking of you until we meet again.” Giyuu feels the heat rise up and the smile forming on his lips. Giyuu walks him to the door, and because he won’t see him for some time, Giyuu gives him one last kiss.
They pull away, the feeling of his lips lingering against Giyuu’s. “Please get some rest,” he adds before planting one more kiss on his forehead before leaving.
Then, he walks out, the weight coming back on his shoulders, and the emptiness filling the holes where Kyojuro had planted in his heart. Now cold and alone, he lies down on the futon and closes his eyes, letting sleep take over his body.
. . .
Sighing softly, Giyuu moves his neck to the side. Kyojuro learned over time that one of his sensitive spots is just below his ear. His hand rests on Giyuu’s waist as he looms over him.
A day of grace was given to them, and they walked to Giyuu’s estate, where they could finally have time together without any disturbances. Once they were inside, Giyuu kissed him softly. Words exchanged with a sweet kiss, to make up for the time spent away from each other.
Kyojuro melted instantly against him. His hands wrapped around Giyuu’s waist and had a firm grip. Giyuu’s hands came up to those blonde locks, fingers becoming lost within the soft hair. They made their way to Giyuu’s room, where they toppled over the futon placed in the middle of the floor.
A sweet kiss had turned into something more. Something more erratic and exciting. Which is how Giyuu now has Kyojuro kissing his neck.
They have never gone this far, with time being unfair to them and with Giyuu’s hesitation. Their touches have been soft and tender, nothing beyond that.
But now with Kyojuro’s lips against his neck, his hands rubbing his waist firmly. Giyuu’s losing sense of what was holding him back in the first place.
Kyojuro comes back to Giyuu's face, inches away, and eyes gleaming with desire. Giyuu wraps an arm around his neck, pulling him in, and closes the gap between them. Kyojuro smiles against his lips and drops down to his elbows.
A tongue grazes his lip, and he gasps quietly. Pulling away, Kyojuro looks down at him. “Apologies, was that too much?” he asks, his voice the quietest and gentle Giyuu’s ever heard. His eyes were shadowed with concern and uncertainty. Smiling softly, Giyuu shakes his head.
“It’s fine, it caught me off guard, is all,” Giyuu says, and he pulls Kyojuro closer. However, Kyojuro stops just before his lips.
“You’ll let me know if it’s too much, right?” Kyojuro mutters, eyes wandering over Giyuu’s face, prepared to stop if needed. Giyuu nods, and it’s all the push Kyojuro needs before he continues.
Kyojuro captures his lips, starting soft and gentle. Moving steadily and with purpose. His hands roam up to his face, Giyuu tilts his head, leaning more into the touch, and this opens the kiss more. Kyojuro’s tongue once again grazes his lips, and Giyuu opens with no hesitation.
A new sensation fills his head as Kyojuro takes the lead with their kiss. Tongue dipping into Giyuu’s mouth, he’s unable to stop the gasps flowing from his lips. The taste of Kyojuro fills his head.
Kyojuro’s hand comes up and rests against his neck, his thumb angling his chin up for more access. His teeth nibble on his bottom lip, and Giyuu whimpers. He feels embarrassed by the noises that Kyojuro pulls so easily out of him, cheeks flushed red.
“You sound lovely, Giyuu,” Kyojuro praises, and Giyuu can’t stop the shiver running through his body. Kyojuro notices this and smiles lovingly at him. “Do you like that?” he whispers. “Do you like it when I call you sweet things?” Giyuu feels the blush darken and spread over his body. He squirms under his gaze, unable to do anything but lie under him. A breathy chuckle leaves Kyojuro’s mouth.
A trail of soft kisses down his neck. A graze of teeth startles him, and before he gets another chance to think, they sink into his neck, his lips sucking softly as the skin is between his teeth. A sound leaves his mouth, alarmingly close to a moan, and his body trembles. Kyojuro’s tongue, wet and warm, swirls around the marked skin.
Looking at Giyuu, he waits for any sign of discomfort, and when he finds nothing, he smiles. “You’re so gorgeous, Giyuu,” Kyojuro says, his voice deeper and raspy. He sure knows how to make Giyuu flustered. It took a while before Giyuu had gotten used to Kyojuro’s compliments, even longer when they were used in a pleasant moment like this. Yet the effects of it were still the same; he’s just slowly learning to embrace them.
Kyojuro dives back to his neck, his teeth nibbling Giyuu’s neck and his tongue soothing the mark. His body grows hotter, and he feels a strain in his pants. A hand comes up to Giyuu’s uniform; the upper buttons by his neck are already undone. Kyojuro stops and tilts his head up for confirmation.
Giyuu nods. As Kyojuro unbuttons him, he realizes that this is going far, past where they usually do this. But Giyuu feels safe and comfortable enough with Kyojuro to take control and more willingly follow his lead. His upper body gets met with the cold air surrounding them, his nipples harden with the cool breeze, and he immediately misses the warmth his shirt gave him.
“Are you still okay?” Kyojuro perks up, his eyes finding Giyuu’s hazy ones.
“I’m fine,” Giyuu sighs, and he’s stunned by how out of breath he is. Kyojuro, however, is delighted with the way he sounds. Smiling beatifically, he kisses him gingerly.
Warm broad hands come up his chest. His touch brings goosebumps to Giyuu, the way his hand roams his chest, feeling every scar, every blemish. Giyuu finds this more intimate than anything they’ve done so far. Kyojuro finally sees what Giyuu hides at bay.
A small reminder tells him that this is the first time Kyojuro is allowed to see this. No quick change out of his uniform and a small glance to roam his body. The first time Kyojuro is allowed to view his body, things that Giyuu doesn’t generally show him.
He traces his scars delicately. Scanning over his upper body, his face blank and clear of any emotions, Giyuu starts to feel unnerved. Kyojuro is uncharacteristically quiet, and Giyuu is left exposed, discomfort rising, and he wants nothing to shrink away from his gaze.
Kyojuro leans down, Giyuu stares at him, confused. Then, a gentle kiss is placed on his abdomen, a scar that was severe and nearly damaging enough that he would’ve had to leave the corps. A mission in his earlier life as a demon slayer had left him critically injured.
He had seen this scar as a flaw, a mistake. Proof that he wasn’t worthy of being a demon slayer. Until now, he had been ashamed of the scars he got. If he were stronger, they wouldn’t be staining his skin. He’s not like the rest of them, wearing their scars with pride, like Shinazugawa. They went through real battles, gaining their marks through justifiable battles. His scars are a reminder of how debilitated he was.
Despite that, Kyojuro is kneeling forward, his lips leaving a fleeting feeling. His breath hitches, his heart hammering in his ears, and a frantic flutter inside his stomach blooms. The softness and warmth of his lips leave his skin aching for more.
Giyuu covers his mouth, sealing any more sound from leaving. His eyes focused on Kyojuro, unable to look anywhere else. Tremors run through his body, and Giyuu is barely able to suppress them as Kyojuro kisses the scars along his body.
Kyojuro’s hands rest around his waist, and his mouth wanders over his chest. Giyuu can’t stop the coil of heat running through him. Trailing up his body, Giyuu feels his pants growing tighter. Kyojuro places a kiss atop his hand, looking at Giyuu with a warm expression.
“Move your hand,” Kyojuro murmurs, his voice thick, heavy with emotion that Giyuu can’t decipher. Tentatively, he does move his hand away from his mouth. His eyes followed down to Kyojuro’s lips before looking back up. Kyojuro sees this, yet he doesn’t move forward like Giyuu had thought he would.
There are no words between them as their gazes become entangled. The silence fills the room and surrounds them, like a warm blanket. Giyuu has never seen Kyojuro look at him this way, like he was someone who was invaluable, someone who was worth the time and effort.
Kyojuro stares at him like he understands what he’s been hiding away. That he sees all the things Giyuu conceals about himself. “You are breathtaking, Giyuu,” Kyojuro says, so low it might as well have been a whisper. Placing a kiss on his cheek, “entrancing,” another near his eye, “strong,” on his forehead, “worthy,” top of his nose, “so beautiful,” his lips.
Giyuu’s face burns, turning more red than before, if possible. He tilts his head to the side, not able to handle Kyojuro’s love. Kyojuro is known for giving praise, especially to Giyuu. His words dripped with appreciation and esteem. There’s no room for any doubt about it in his voice.
Kyojuro is a man of truth and hospitality. He wouldn’t give praise if it wasn’t deserved. Always looking for the light in the darkest places. Willing to protect those who are unable to defend themselves. Giyuu doesn’t know how he attracted this man.
Lips find their way to the side of his cheek, kissing down his neck. “Don’t cover that pretty voice of yours,” he says, looking back up at Giyuu. He nods, afraid that his voice will betray him if he speaks a word. Kyojuro retraces his scars, his lips going back. Giyuu knows this because he’s gone back to the very first scar. But this time, he feels teeth bite into his skin.
Gasping softly, he looks down with widened eyes. Silently captivated by the fact that Kyojuro is leaving love bites all over his skin, something sprouts inside his stomach. The idea of his body covered in marks made by Kyojuro makes his heart race.
Giyuu reaches down to him, running his hand through his hair and eventually finding the band that holds his hair together. Pulling it out, he watches as the tied blond locks draped around his face, his bangs falling just above his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Giyuu is transfixed on Kyojuro.
Unexpectedly, he becomes aware of being the only one shirtless, and feels bare.
His fingers brush the curve of Kyojuro’s jaw, lifting his chin to meet his gaze. The man crawls up, inches away from his face. His eyes sharpened, filled with curiosity. Giyuu hooks a finger in the collar of Kyojuro’s uniform, tugging lightly. “Off,” he says, nearly whining.
Kyojuro chuckles deeply and complies with no restraint. Giyuu finds watching Kyojuro get undressed on top of him more attractive than he would admit. The flex of the muscle that he stares at when Kyojuro takes off his shirt.
Kyoujuro, now shirtless and hair-free, looks down at him. Air snagged in his throat, Giyuu forgets how to breathe. His intense gaze has Giyuu grounded, absorbed in those striking golden eyes and red irises.
Broad shoulders and blond hair with distinctive red tips overshadow him. Kyojuro is more muscular than him, he’s confirmed now. Compared to Kyojuro, he has a slim and slender figure. His body is agile, and it’s mostly due to his breathing style. The way he has to train and the body he needs to have with water breathing.
Flame breathing is different. Giyuu doesn’t know much about it, but when he and Kyojuro spar against each other, he sees the different ways he has to breathe, the way he holds his sword. It's a typical thing for all Hashira and all Demon Slayers. There is a difference between them all, and the different ways they must train themselves to conquer it.
Water breathing is like... well, water. It can flow steadily like a river and be a clean slice to a demon, or it can have more raging waves defect attacks. Giyuu gets the guidance he needs for water breathing, and he thanks Urokodaki for that. His body was poised with the strength of water’s weight, yet fluid as the waves, unpredictable, graceful, and unbreakable.
Kyojuro’s body positioned above him, Giyuu is caught up in the intensity of his eyes. He lets his eyes fall to the rest of his figure. His form is carved with toned and defined muscle, a canvas of his own scars. Some old and faded, leaving a lighter color on his tan skin. Marks that hold stories in Kyojuro’s life.
Subconsciously, his hand reaches out, fingertips brushing the bump of the scar near Kyojuro’s shoulder. The gash is long, fading to Kyojuro’s back where Giyuu’s eyes can’t follow. Glancing back at Kyojuro, his eyes are focused on Giyuu’s hands. Hoisting himself up, Giyuu leans into a kiss, a slow, deliberate motion.
Giyuu’s lashes are low as the kiss lingers, a mere whisper of a touch. His slender fingers find the back of Kyojuro’s head, getting lost within his hair. Kyojuro allows his eyes to fall closed, easing washing over him as he leans more into his touch. Kyojuro’s thick hands come up his back, an involuntary shiver courses down his spine, and he feels the smile against his lips when this happens.
Giyuu’s hair spills free from the constraints of the ribbon that Kyojuro pulls out. Cascading in a dark wave behind his back.
The kiss becomes more primal, hungrier, a raw moment that slips from Kyojuro as he is the one to initiate it. Giyuu responds, his lips parting as an invitation to allow his tongue back into his mouth. Their kisses deepen and intensify. His body presses closer to Kyojuro, a quiet desperation in his moves as his arms wrap around Kyojuro’s back.
The heat pooling low in his stomach rises. This unfamiliar and overwhelming sensation runs through his body, this want, this need for something. Kyojuro’s kisses leave him aching for more, never feeling satisfied, and getting enough. His tongue dominates inside Giyuu’s mouth, who doesn’t put up much of a fight against it.
His legs wind around Kyojuro, an almost possessive grip. The touch of his chest comes into contact with Giyuu’s. The heat radiating from Kyojuro's body. Giyuu’s skin, much cooler, becomes warm from Kyojuro’s chest against his. A buzz of sensation fills him, and he finds his hips rocking, trying anything to release this friction.
Kyojuro pulls away, breaking their kiss. Giyuu whines is impulsive, a soft sound of protest against the loss of contact. His hands attempt to pull Kyojuro closer, picking himself up to reel Kyojuro back in. His lips swollen, eyes hazy and darkened with an unspoken want.
“Giyuu,” he whispers–low. The sound brings a shudder to Giyuu’s body. He halts, however. “Are you sure?” he asks once more, but this time, his voice brings a deeper meaning. Asking Giyuu if he’s certain he’s ready to be in the most vulnerable state with Kyojuro.
He pauses at the question, the desire and heat that clouds his mind clears for a moment of clarity. Months of being with Kyojuro run through his mind. The moments they’ve shared, late nights, quiet mornings, the stolen glances during meetings. Memories that rush through Giyuu’s mind, each one a reminder of the love, care, and patience that Kyojuro has shown him.
Countless times, Kyojuro has held him in his arms, made him feel safe and wanted. It was a tender embrace of the cold solitude that he’s known for years. He thinks back about every word, every gesture, and every act of understanding and care that came from Kyojuro.
Giyuu’s heart ignites with love. Pure love, raw and unshakable, it blooms deep in his chest, warm and steady, spreading through every limb.
Deliberately, his hand comes up–palm flat against his cheek, thumb brushing under his eye. His eyes lock onto Kyojuro’s, reflecting not just want or need, but surrender. “I’m ready, Kyojuro,” Giyuu breathes, his voice low but steady, each word an unshakeable truth. “I trust you,” he adds after a thought.
A smile, bright and genuine, breaks across his face as he leans in, pressing their foreheads softly together. His thumb brushes once more across Kyojuro’s cheekbone. Giyuu’s trust, his surrender, the silent readiness in his eyes, it’s too much for Kyojuro, his heart swelling with a fierce, protective affection. The steady beat of two hearts finally stepping into rhythm as one.
“I’m going to take good care of you,” he promises, voice low and thick.
“I know,” Giyuu says, his voice just above a whisper. Kyojuro leans down, capturing his lips in a deep kiss. His tongue instantly dips into Giyuu’s mouth, tasting him, devouring him, their mouths molded perfectly together.
The feel of Giyuu’s legs tightening around Kyojuro’s hips–how strong yet more slender they are as they press against Kyojuro–sends a wave of electricity between them. The effect they have on each other shows as Giyuu feels the bulge of Kyojuro against his own.
A low groan escapes Kyojuro’s mouth, the sound stirring the heat sitting in Giyuu’s gut. It causes their kiss to break, but Giyuu surges forward, reclaiming the kiss with quiet desperation. His lips move with this renewed hunger. Giyuu holds their kiss, grinding against him, he finds half his mind to be embarrassed about it.
Fingers dig into his waist, sure to leave handprint marks. Kyojuro holds him down, Giyuu frowns as he attempts to move from his grip. The restraint sends both a jolt of frustration and a thrill through his veins. Hips twitching with the need to move, but obeying the quiet strength above him.
Kyojuro’s fingers hook onto his pants, glancing back up at him one more time to confirm this. Then he understands it, the careful shift of his warm hands at his waistband, Kyojuro’s care for every move to take this slow, to savor this moment as long as possible. Deliberate and caring, that’s what undoes him more than anything.
His hands clutch at Kyojuro’s shoulder, bracing himself for something sacred. Offering Kyojuro more than just physical, it’s his trust and vulnerability, a testament to how far they’ve come. With that, he starts to slowly guide the fabric down.
Giyuu’s natural instinct is to close his legs as if suddenly aware of his exposed state, but Kyojuro holds his legs. A silent plea not to hide away. His eyes roam over the expanse of Giyuu’s body, taking in every curve and every scar; the mere sight leaves Giyuu with a full-body shiver.
Kyojuro’s hands wander up Giyuu’s thighs, trailing heat with each touch. His gaze remains fixated on Giyuu, unable to suppress the shudders going through his body. Kyojuro feels them, hears the thick puffs of air that leave Giyuu’s lips.
The touch is gentle at first, and he barely recognizes it before warm fingers wrap around his length. A quiet gasp, his lips parted as Kyojuro moves his hand slowly. “You’re so beautiful,” Kyojuro says, his face in complete awe as he stares at each reaction. Giyuu feels himself twitching at this praise, and it seems Kyojuro did too as he smiles.
His ragged breath fills the silence around him, besides Kyojuro’s praise. Giyuu still struggles to relax underneath him, but Kyojuro encourages him. His hand is pumping slowly, and Giyuu is forced to feel every movement of his hand, how slow and deliberate his touch is.
Giyuu had thought Kyojuro would’ve stayed quiet at least a little longer, but he knows how enthusiastic the man is. He still tries to stifle his moans, but Kyojuro leans down. “You don’t have to hide it. Not from me. Let me have it,” he whispers, lips grazing against his mouth. And instead of shrinking away from these words, he embraces them.
Kyojuro’s thumb swipes over the tip, the slickness gathering there. Giyuu’s back arches slightly–and he lets out a quiet moan without shame. The sound–raw and unrestrained– has Kyojuro’s grip loosen before tightening again. Drawing another gasp, Kyojuro leans back, starting in admiration at him.
He can only imagine how he looks, flushed skin, parted lips, a quiet tremble through his body. His black hair spilled behind him like ink on paper. His body was littered with marks.
Kyojuro’s hand glides down again, firm and slow, stroking with just enough pressure to make Giyuu whimper. The sound is foreign, even to himself, but he’s losing the care for it. Kyojuro strokes him, speaking softly into his ear about how beautiful he is.
Just as Giyuu’s body responds, arching into Kyojuro’s hand, teetering towards something near the edge, suddenly, the warmth of his hand leaves. There’s a moment of pause, the room filled with only the sounds of Giyuu, his frustrated whimper as he attempts to glare down at him.
With a soft chuckle, Kyojuro murmurs, “Not yet. Patience, my love.” he presses a kiss against him, a form of apology. The loss of touch leaves him feeling cold, needing something to ease this ache.
Rustling sounds are heard as Giyuu feels the weight of the futon lift. He looks around to see Kyojuro holding a small bottle. Giyuu lies there as Kyojuro sits in front of him, his face blank of any emotion. Giyuu’s chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, the cold air brushing over his skin. His legs are closed–instructive, protective–a last shield in the face of surrender.
Kyojuro doesn’t rush. He doesn’t push.
He just watches. Patient. Present. Waiting.
And in that silence, Giyuu feels the weight of trust heavier than any blade. It isn’t just desire. It’s devotion.
Slowly, so slowly, he unclenches his thighs, letting them fall open–an offering given not because he’s told to, but because he wants to. No words needed when his body speaks clearly. He still feels vulnerable as he lies in front of Kyojuro. The smile softens as he coats his fingers with slick oil, rolling the bottle between his palms.
He doesn’t move too fast. He doesn’t assume. He brings one hand close, letting Giyuu see the glistening digit hover near him. “Tell me when,” he says, winded. The warmth of his oiled fingers against Giyuu’s inner thigh makes him flinch, just slightly, his breath hitching at the new sensation.
“Relax,” he whispers, “I’ve got you.” Giyuu breathes slowly, letting Kyojuro’s patience ease his worry. Then, one fingertip brushes over his entrance. Giyuu gasps quietly, caught between tension and desire. Kyojuro leans in, kisses him softly, his lips hovering. “Breathe for me, let me take care of you.”
Giyuu takes a shallow inhale, Kyojuro’s finger pressing gently, slowly dipping inside. His eyes snap shut, focused on the sensation. There’s resistance, and Giyuu has to force himself to relax, the tension loosening and letting his finger sink deeper. It’s only a slight stretch, tiny and nearly insignificant, but it's new and different for Giyuu. And he’s experiencing it with Kyojuro.
With each slow thrust of his finger, Giyuu’s body grows more familiar with the strange intrusion. It doesn’t hurt; instead strange, both foreign and exciting. He opens his eyes and sees Kyojuro watching him, the intensity in his eyes mesmerizing every reaction Giyuu lets out.
His finger slides deeper, curling gently as if searching for something. Giyuu stares at Kyojuro in confusion before a sharp, unexpected sensation burns inside him. He gasps, louder this time, hips twitching forward as if they had a mind of their own. Kyojuro hums low in his throat, adding a second finger carefully.
Giyuu takes a second before relaxing, his finger sliding in with little resistance. Both fingers move inside him, the stretch inside him stings at first, but then the touch is welcomed. His fingers move gently inside him, the movement careful as they stretch him wider. They don’t touch that particular spot again, just barely passing by it.
His arm comes up, covering his eyes. The slick glide pumping inside him clouds his head, wondering what it looks like to have Kyojuro’s fingers inside him.
A third finger circles around his rim, testing the waters before pressing inside. Giyuu moves his arm, no longer hiding behind it, and stares at the ceiling. A jagged, small exhale left his parted lips. Three fingers moving inside him, never staying in one place too long. A consuming surge washes over his body. A moan leaves his lips as he feels all fingers pump inside him, spreading apart, and grazing that sweet spot.
Kyojuro holds this rhythm for what seems like forever. Giyuu’s desire to finish grows stronger, and just as he feels himself twitch, all fingers leave, gently. A quiet whimper that borders on desperation tumbled from his lips.
“You look so pretty like this, Giyuu,” Kyojuro says. His voice is low, deep, and honeyed. “A beautiful mess lay before me,” he mutters, more to himself than anything. Giyuu doesn’t respond, his mouth running dry.
The faint rustling of fabric is heard, and Giyuu looks down at Kyojuro. His pants are taken off, and Giyuu finds himself staring hard. Not even caring how obvious he makes it seem. He looks down, a sense of exhilaration fills him, as he thinks about having Kyojuro inside him. He blushes deeper, watching silently as Kyojuro slicks himself up with lubricant. The tip brushes against his entrance, and he shivers.
Kyojuro slowly sinks inside him, being so patient and gentle with him. Giyuu’s mouth falls open, no sound leaves his mouth, but he feels the air in his throat clog. The contact is overwhelming, the stretch, the burn. Kyojuro’s body is close enough for his hands to grip at his shoulders, the only thing anchoring him there.
Each inch is a slow burn that makes both of them quietly moan, the sound blending into one. Kyojuro’s length deepened inside him, his walls tightly clenching around him. In agonizing slowness, Kyojuro pushes and pushes, taking small breaths every couple of seconds. Letting the stretch settle before moving further, his golden-red eyes lock onto Giyuu’s face.
And Giyuu knows he is starting to fall apart, coming undone like this, with Kyojuro staring at him, like he’s the most precious thing in his eyes.
Giyuu can’t find himself to hold eye contact with Kyojuro, his eyes snapping shut. His mouth parted as he fought to steady his breathing. Kyojuro’s head falls forward–resting against Giyuu’s shoulder. His chest pressing against Giyuu’s body, his own breathing heavy, and the heat of his breath brushes Giyuu’s skin.
Kyojuro sinks entirely inside. The moment of stillness is both welcomed and torturous. Giyuu’s body is adjusting to the feel of Kyojuro fully inside him. Their pants are filling the room. Their bodies pressed against each other, Kyojuro’s soft hair tickles his neck. Giyuu brings his hand up, running through the strands. Soft lips touch his skin, a fleeting feeling as they move around.
The feeling of being so full has Giyuu moaning softly. His body clenches involuntarily, and it draws a moan from both of them. Giyuu feels everything: the press of Kyojuro’s hips flush against his own, the heat of him buried deep inside him, the way his body molds to accommodate every inch.
They don’t feel just the pleasure of their connection. It’s belonging. His body is covered with just Kyojuro, and the only thing on his mind is Kyojuro. He feels claimed, not just in a possessive way, but protective. Where Giyuu finally, finally, found someone he’s safe enough to lose control with, to be vulnerable and let Kyojuro take the lead. Comfort in having someone else to lean against.
Kyojuro has proven to him many times while they were together. Walls that Giyuu had built around himself, gone and destroyed by Kyojuro, who forced him out of frigid isolation. And then, the thought of it, Giyuu gives in. Kyojuro feels it too, feeling the way Giyuu’s body relaxes around him, the tension leaving him in a soft exhalation.
Because at this moment, the world outside doesn’t exist. There is no duty, no past. There is only them–their bodies intertwined.
Their lips meet–this time not with hunger, a desperate kind of kiss from before–not lustful or possessive, but with something deeper. This is more, something softer, slow, tender, full of quiet promises and unspoken truths. The kiss lingers, unhurried, as if they have all the time in the world.
They withdraw, Kyojuro’s breath grazing Giyuu’s lips. His dark ocean eyes meet the horizon sunlight. “You,” he starts, voice barely over a whisper. “You can move,” Giyuu uttered in a soft, broken rasp. The first thing he’s said since Kyojuro went inside him.
He sees the light that brightens in his eyes, his hand coming off the bed to grab Giyuu’s hand lying on his shoulder. Kyojuro holds onto it, fingers interlacing, and brings it up to his lips, a soft, fleeting kiss before he starts to move.
Giyuu’s breathing hitches, his eyes widened. The movement was both pleasurable and almost unbearable for him; nothing could have prepared him for this. The intimacy of it, the vulnerability of it, is almost as overwhelming as the physical sensation. He now feels seen, known inside and out.
He feels everything. Each inch dragged out and pushed back in is drawn out as long as possible. Every vein, every ridge–he feels it all. His legs tremble slightly around his waist as he feels every pulse of heat as Kyojuro withdraws–only to push back in with the same maddening slowness, feeling deeper each time.
And all the while, Kyojuro’s eyes remain locked on his face. Drinking and savoring every reaction Giyuu offers.
“Look at me,” Kyojuro murmurs, his voice heavy and low. His thrusts remain steady, a slow pace as he watches Giyuu’s eyes find him. Letting him see every shudder, every ripple of pleasure, trusting him completely. No more walls to hide behind.
His eyes were hazy and clouded. Kyojuro’s lips find their way to his eye, kissing away the tears that welled up. Giyuu trembles around him, walls clenching in silent pleasure. Soft and quiet moans leave his lips. Their rhythm isn’t rushed, each movement drawn out with deliberate care, not just to savor the sensation, but to cherish the connection between them.
Giyuu knows that Kyojuro isn’t just fucking him; he loves him. With every slow drag of his hips, every lingering press inside, every shared moan that passes between their lips. The slide is slick, so deep that it feels like Kyojuro is touching parts of him that no one else ever has. Not just physically, but soul-deep.
There’s nowhere else Giyuu would rather be.
The steady and gentle rate of Kyojuro moving inside him becomes a hypnotic thing that sinks into Giyuu’s bones, deeper than pleasure, deeper than thought. Each drag makes Giyuu ache–each push back in makes him whole.
For the first time in so long, Giyuu doesn’t feel like he’s drowning. He feels like he’s home.
The quiet friction of skin against skin, sacred.
Kyojuro murmurs praises, “You feel amazing.”
“You’re doing so well.”
“So perfect.”
The way Kyojuro moves inside him, his length thick and unrelenting, fills him so completely. Moving just enough to keep the fire between them stoked without sending them over the edge yet. He allows him to be drowned with these compliments. And when their lips meet again, it’s not desperate or even lustful yet. It’s love.
The sudden drag of Kyojuro’s thick length against that deep, hidden spot inside him sends a shockwave of pleasure through Giyuu’s body–so intense his hips jerk, a choked moan tearing from his throat as his muscles clench around Kyojuro involuntarily, pulling him deeper.
Kyojuro curses quietly and groans, low and ragged, his forehead dropping once again against Giyuu’s head. The sound like music to Giyuu’s ears. Kyojuro angles his hips, the pressure so good it has Giyuu drunk on the feeling, the rhythm never speeding up as he presses into that spot again–and again– each time sending a visible shudder through Giyuu’s body.
“Does it feel good, Giyuu?” Kyojuro sighs. And Giyuu barely registers him, his mind clouded, dissolved into a warm, heavy mist. He tries to answer, but all that comes out is a breathless whine. His eyes flutter, Kyojuro’s hand tightening around his own, and his hips arching up, chasing the feeling without a thought.
Giyuu can’t form words, just soft, broken sounds that spill from his lips with every slow, purposeful push.
“Speak for me,” Kyojuro breathes into his mouth. “I want to hear you say it,” Kyojuro whispers, voice low and nerve-racking, cutting through his haze. “Please, I want to hear how good you feel.”
It’s difficult to form any sort of coherent thought through the haze of pleasure, let alone a response. But the raw pleading in Kyojuro’s voice breaks Giyuu in the best way possible. Giyuu’s chest heaves, his breath unsteady as he takes a moment to collect himself, fighting back against the overwhelming sensation that threatens to drown him.
He takes a trembling breath, struggling for the right words, submerged in a warm wave of pleasure. He can barely think, but he wants to obey him, to be good for him. “Feels..ah,” he murmurs, voice broken and whimpering quietly. “You feel–hah..” breaking off into soft moans, Kyojuro waits, his lips devouring every sound. “Feels good,” he manages.
Kyojuro captures his lips, Giyuu can hardly return the kiss, his moans breaking them apart before Kyojuro savours the sound. His thrust speeds up a tad faster, and Giyuu’s moans become more frequent, his breathing ragged and uneven.
The sudden touch–warm, firm, gentle– sends a jolt through Giyuu like lightning under his skin. His back arches sharply off the bed, a broken cry tearing from his throat as Kyojuro’s hand glides over his length, timing it with the deep, steady thrusts inside him.
The dual sensation is almost too much–being filled so completely while that skilled hand works him slowly and sure. Every stroke pulls another gasp from him; every clench of his walls drags a low groan from Kyojuro’s lips. The sound of Kyojuro’s ragged voice makes Giyuu’s heart ache, his body trembling on the edge.
Kyojuro’s praises from his mouth feel almost unreal; he sounds in awe, and it leaves Giyuu’s heart fluttering, racing. The heat building in his stomach–sharp, hot, coiling tight enough to almost hurt. Every nerve alights with unbearable pleasure.
And yet, Kyojuro continues at this slow pace. Keeping Giyuu on the edge without pushing him over. Giyuu’s breath comes in short, broken gasps–each one laced with the quiet desperation of teetering on the edge. Giyuu’s head tilts back, his throat bobbing as he pants.
Every muscle feels taut–wound with tension. Every inch of him yearns for release. Giyuu becomes a whimpering, needy mess, all of his senses focusing on the pleasure inside him. The heat is building in waves, like lava pulsing through his veins, pooling heat low in his gut. He can feel it in every part of him, like a flame about to ignite.
When Kyojuro’s voice drifts over him, deep and filled with ragged affection, it only fuels the fire. “Beautiful,” he whispers again. “Let go for me,” he urges, lips grazing his own. “Come for me, Giyuu.”
A shudder runs through him–from chest to spine to toes–and then he shatters.
A choked cry escapes as he comes–hot and sudden across Kyojuro’s fingers–the pleasure so sharp it borders on pain. Warmth spills between them as he comes undone in Kyojuro’s hand, his back arching off the bed one final time. Walls clamp down hard around Kyojuro with each pulse.
He bites his tongue, attempting to keep the noise from growing any louder. Kyojuro’s thumb swipes over the tip of Giyuu’s length. “Don’t hold back,” he whispers, voice rough with restraint. And all around him–he feels it–the pulsing warmth of release. His eyes are dark and full of devotion. “That’s it,” he murmurs, slowing his hand but not stopping. “Let me feel you come apart.”
His body locks up tight before collapsing inward–weakness flooding every limb as wave after wave rolls through him.
Kyojuro stays deep–in every sense–riding out each tremor with unwavering devotion. Giyuu trembles beneath him, his breaths in shattered gasps, his body twitching with aftershocks as Kyojuro continues to move, and that steady hand gliding over his oversensitive length, gently milking every pulse.
“I can feel you... pulsing around me,” he growls low in his throat. “Still so tight..still coming for me.” Giyuu whimpers, the sound spilling from his mouth as he twitches weakly under him, every slow thrust drags against oversensitized nerves. Giyuu wouldn’t say he didn’t enjoy this, taking pleasure in Kyojuro inside him as he works to his own release. His body is hypersensitive as Kyojuro moves inside him.
Giyuu feels the moment when Kyojuro is near the edge, the sudden twitch inside him, and the furrow between Kyojuro’s eyebrows. Giyuu’s legs–weak but insistent– grip tighten around his waist, holding him in.
“G-Giyuu–” Kyojuro chokes out, voice breaking as he looks down at Giyuu. Eyes still hazy with aftermath, lips parted in quiet whimpers, and still so aware, so present. He wants this.
And that look–the silent yes, given with nothing but trust–is all it takes.
With a groan torn from deep within his chest, Kyojuro buries himself to the hilt and comes, hot and pulsing deep inside Giyuu. Each thrust grows shallow, desperate–as if trying to mark every inch of him–as he spills into warmth that Giyuu surrounds him in.
Giyuu sobs at the feeling–the heat flooding his walls, the way Kyojuro trembles above him, unmade. And for once, he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t turn away. He holds on tighter–legs weakly clinging, fingers clutching sweat, damp skin. Letting himself be filled completely.
Kyojuro leans down, his head resting against Giyuu’s chest. His hands move to under Giyuu, arms tighten under Giyuu’s backside, pulling him impossibly closer. Giyuu wraps his arms around Kyojuro, fingers tracing slowly, idle patterns across the other’s sweat–damp back–reverent.
Their breaths mix in the quiet aftermath. Giyuu doesn’t feel emptiness, doesn’t think about pain, or about loneliness that feels endless. In the silence, he understands that this wasn’t just about desire. It was about finding home in another person, and finally letting go.
The weight of Kyojuro above him–the warmth still deep inside him–the way their heartbeats begin to sync beneath tangled breaths.
Kyojuro doesn’t move, not yet. Every part is anchored to Giyuu, the warmth between them, the small tremors running through his body. He presses a kiss–soft–just above Giyuu’s racing heart. Giyuu holds on because he wants this, wants him.
His fingers trail up slowly, past damp skin and trembling muscle, until they brush against the back of Kyojuro’s neck–then tangle gently in his hair. A small sound escapes from Kyojuro, a sigh, tender all the same. He lifts his head just enough to look at Giyuu, eyes searching, asking: “Are you okay?”
Giyuu responds by pulling him into a slow, deep kiss–lips moving with more trust–a promise passing between them. They break apart slowly, reluctantly. Kyojuro lets out a shuddering sigh, his body beginning to soften inside Giyuu, but not pulling away. Giyuu doesn’t want him to leave just yet. The heat between them, this fragile moment, is precious to him.
Because for all their strength, all the battles they fought alone, all those moments shared between them. This –being tangled together naked under the fading light–is what truly breaks them open.
Once Giyuu releases his legs around Kyojuro, he feels the moment Kyojuro pulls out, slow and careful. His body clenched instinctively around nothing as a deep and hollow absence filled where warmth once pulsed, where there was once fullness. The warmth spills from him in a soft trickle, and a quiet whimper escapes Giyuu before he can stop it.
He doesn’t move to cover himself, doesn’t close his legs. Instead, he just breathes, allowing himself to fall prey to Kyojuro’s gaze. Skin flushed and glistening in the dim light—still trembling with aftershocks. Come drips slowly from his entrance, like a silent validation of their love.
Without a word, he leans down and kisses Giyuu–not on the lips this time– but low on his stomach, right above where his release glistens against pale and flushed skin. Then another, and another, slowly trailing upward until finally–he presses one soft, lingering kiss to each inner thigh. Giyuu’s thighs twitch, startling, but then Kyojuro gently closes them together, as if tucking away something sacred.
Giyuu blinks slowly as the haze begins to lift. His mind comes back piece by piece, like waking from a dream. With warm water and a soft cloth, Kyojuro cleans every part of himself, refreshing his body with a soft touch. He doesn’t rush, wiping slowly over his stomach, then over his stomach, each pass gentle enough that Giyuu can feel each stroke like a caress.
When Kyojuro finishes cleaning them up, Giyuu’s arms are firm but gentle as he pulls him beneath the covers. Their skin was bare and pressed up against each other, no space left between them. Their legs intertwined–Kyojuro’s snug between Giyuu’s thighs. His head resting against Kyojuro’s chest, soft lips find his forehead, and a thick hand runs through his hair with a repetitive velvet grace–the other wrapped around his waist.
“I love you.”
The words fall from Kyojuro’s lips. Not the first time with Kyojuro’s sincerity and display of affection. But tonight is different, they’re skin to skin, soul laid in the dark after giving up everything, with nothing left hidden.
With a soft kiss pressed over Kyojuro’s scarred and marked skin, he says, “I love you too.” He hears the hitch in his breath. No hesitation, just pure unfiltered truth spoken into the dark silence between them. Whispering love with nothing to fear from it.
And the sound of Kyojuro’s heartbeat fills his ears, the rhythm lulling him deeper into peace. Giyuu stops holding himself together, the tension he carries finally dissolving. Within minutes, their breathing slows into a perfect sync.