Bathing
Title: Bathing
Fandom: YYH/Mononoke
Setting: Hogwarts_Hocus universe
Characters: Kurama/Kusuriyuri
The day was pleasant, the sky hazing to grey toward the horizon, promising rain in the evening, but the early afternoon was enjoyable. His deshi occupied for the afternoon and everything that would need his attention cared for, Kusuriyuri crosses the grounds to Kurama’s greenhouses. It wasn’t difficult to find the kitsune. Being the only other youkai in the school, the only one that he could sense, made it a relatively simple task to find the redhead.
Seeing Kurama when he reached the doorway of the greenhouse was a more difficult task. The redhead was hidden under one of the raised beds, working on the fussy irrigation system, radiating frustration and irritation. Kusuriyuri crossed the room, kneeling next to the table. The sight that met his eyes was not what he expected. Several vines were holding up the base of the table and Kurama was half-covered in dirt and rather red in the face.
“How can I help, shirogitsune?” Kusuriyuri asked, his voice soft, measured.
“Moujuutsukai-san,” Kurama said, slightly startled, flushing more. He moved out from under the table, brushing the dirt from his clothes. He looked at his hands scowling slightly. “There is nothing to be done for that table. It’s beyond repair.”
When they stood, Kusuriyuri looked over the table. It seemed that all the dirt had fallen out of it and the base of it was dry rotted out. “Are you okay?” he asked, turning back to Kurama.
“Just irritated,” Kurama admitted before turning away slightly and adding, “and embarrassed.”
Kusuriyuri’s eyebrow rose slightly. “Embarrassed?” he asks, his tone becoming slightly more solemn.
Kurama became very interested in brushing the dirt from his clothing. “You seem to catch me at a disadvantage frequently,” he mumbled.
Kusuriyuri reached up and brushed some dirt from Kurama’s shoulder. “I do not see how this is a disadvantage, shirogitsune,” he murmured, moving slightly closer to Kurama.
The redhead caught the medicine peddler’s hand and kissed its palm. He smiled. “You are too good to me, moujuutsukai-san.”
This puzzled Kusuriyuri a little. He did not think he did more than would be expected for the relationship they were developing. He let the comment pass. “You were not hurt, then?” he asks softly, stepping slightly closer.
“No, not hurt. It wasn’t heavy, just dirty.” He thought a moment about stepping back to keep from dirtying Kusuriyuri’s kimono, but the medicine peddler never seemed to mind the dirt. He also knew the movement would be taken as an indication he was too busy and Kusuriyuri would leave, allowing him to continue to work. He didn’t want to lose the soothing company just yet. He sighed, allowing a small smile. “I was finished for the day. I’ll have to replace that one tomorrow.”
“Then, you will wish to bathe?” Kusuriyuri asked, making no move away from the kitsune.
Though green eyes glittered with mirth and excitement, none of it was betrayed in Kurama’s words. “I think I may require assistance to get all the dirt off,” he said solemnly, teasing Kusuriyuri as the peddler often teased him.
“There is quite a lot to make sure is removed,” Kusuriyuri agreed softly, solemnly.
“There is a proper bathing room off my new room,” Kurama said, twining his fingers between Kusuriyuri’s.
“A proper bathing room will help to ensure the dirt is properly removed,” Kusuriyuri murmured in approval.
“As will proper help,” Kurama added. “Will you join me, moujuutsukai-san?” He leaned down slightly, laying a light kiss on Kusuriyuri’s forehead.
“As shirogitsune desires,” Kusuriyuri murmured, tilting his face up slightly, an invitation for a kiss if Kurama wished to give him one, or agreement to help in whatever manner the kitsune desired.
Kurama gave him a light, quick kiss. “Let us retire, then,” he murmured, caressing Kusuriyuri’s cheek. “I wouldn’t wish to be interrupted.” Not with this demon. He was sure Kusuriyuri was quest class, with the way he manifested wards. He was possibly as strong as or stronger than Karasu. And, yet, Kusuriyuri never pressed his advantage over Kurama. He’d already told the kitsune that he had wards that could incapacitate him, and yet he always was deferential, respectful. It was something Kurama savored, though it baffled him. He kissed Kusuriyuri lightly again and then led him through the greenhouse to his office and through into his room.
Kusuriyuri stepped easily out of his geta while Kurama worked his shoes off. “Pardon the intrusion,” he murmured, more from habit than need for it to be said.
“There is no intrusion when one is as welcome as you are,” Kurama replied, his fingers lightly tracing Kusuriyuri’s cheek and hair. He bent, kissing the peddler deeper, longer than he had in the greenhouse. His fingers worked the purple cloth off Kusuriyuri’s head, letting his hair loose to fall around his shoulders. He pulled back reluctantly. “If we keep this up, you’ll need to bathe as well,” he sighed.
Kusuriyuri lowered his eyes. “It would not be undesirable, as I must undress to assist you.”
Kurama laughed indulgently. “This is true.” He let his fingers trail through Kusuriyuri’s hair. He wondered what prompted Kusuriyuri to hide his hair, but as there was no objection to his uncovering it, he indulged and enjoyed it as something that was only his. He bent, burying his nose in the freed hair, and breathed in deeply. The scent of medicines, freshly prepared from plants, of the sun, of earth, faint traces of metal and water, filled his senses, the smell that was the demon that has allowed him to claim his affections.
He moved to kiss the tips of Kusuriyuri’s ear, nibbling a little on the point of it before following it down with his lips. He sighed softly when Kusuriyuri’s arms wrapped around him lightly. He wanted to take his time, to savor his new partner, but every time thus far, his desire had gotten the better of him, pushing him to completion, to the full joining of their energies that was completion with the peddler. Kurama hadn’t explored his ears, so prominent, to find if they were sensitive yet. And, given the way Kusuriyuri reacted, sighing softly the name he’d given Kurama, shirogitsune, white kitsune, and tilting his head to make it easier for Kurama to reach, he should have taken the time before.
When he reached the lobe, he whispered his own name for Kusuriyuri, moujuutsukai, wild animal tamer, acknowledging his own nature and the peddler’s effect on him. He kissed the red earring, knowing it to be ruby, for luck by human reckoning, but there was a tingle of something that let Kurama know this stone had a deeper purpose. He continued his way up Kusuriyuri’s ear until he reached the tip again.
He pulled back slowly, savoring the slight flush of Kusuriyuri’s cheek under his closed eyes, the long moment it took to open those blue eyes, the look of trust in them when they did. “Moujuutsukai-san,” he whispered before bending to kiss the peddler.
He kept the kiss light, quick. He could feel the grime on his skin and didn’t want to get that all over Kusuriyuri or his bed. “I need to be cleaned,” he murmured, a smile playing with his lips.
Kusuriyuri reached up and brushed Kurama’s cheek. “Anything willingly done is clean.” An answering smile played with his lips. “Though, removing the dirt would be desirable.” He begins unfastening Kurama’s shirt purposefully.
The words had the ring of something Kusuriyuri had or would say to A. “You’re right,” Kurama murmured, kissing the top of Kusuriyuri’s head to allow him to undress him. When his shirt fell to the ground, he removed the obi age, the cloth at the top, and obi jime, the rope around the obi. Though he allowed his own clothes to fall to the floor, these he placed with care over the back of a chair.
He moved behind Kusuriyuri, finding the obi knot itself rather complicated to undo from the front. Or perhaps that if his arms were around Kusuriyuri, he would tend to kiss the demon, a rather distracting hobby given Kusuriyuri’s tendency to use low level energy techniques while they were being intimate.
Kusuriyuri was amused by the kitsune’s moving around behind him. He turned to watch the fox over his shoulder. Amusement curved his lips as he noticed Kurama untying the obi with much more ease than normal. When it came to untying the date jime, the underbelt of the obi, knotted in the front, Kurama’s fingers began to fumble again as his lips explored Kusuriyuri’s other ear. With patient amusement, Kusuriyuri tilted his head to allow Kurama’s explorations while guiding his hands in removing the belt. He started to remove the koshimo, the belt that kept his kimono at the proper length, when Kurama’s hands overlapped his.
“So many ties,” Kurama murmured, nuzzling Kusuriyuri’s head a little with his cheek. He managed to untie the koshimo deftly, allowing Kusuriyuri’s kimono to fall open and to the floor, pooling around his feet as its gathered length was released. Kurama wrapped his arms around Kusuriyuri, his hands sliding between the open outer layer and the still tied hiyoku, the middle kimono. He caressed Kusuriyuri’s chest, enjoying the feel of the finer silk against his palm and the coarser silk and hemp blend against the back of his hand. “Truly a treasure,” he almost purred.
Kusuriyuri reached up and caressed Kurama’s hair, his hands warm with the gentle current of energy he allowed to flow through them. “Is that so?” he asked softly, turning to look up at Kurama.
“That is so,” Kurama replied, turning Kusuriyuri so their lips met. There was a soft, flowing feeling of life that filled him as they kissed, something he knew would fill him, would overflow as they continued. Something he craved; the very thing that distracted him from his sensuality so that he could seek its fulfillment.
“Moujuutsukai-san,” Kurama sighed, pulling back from their kiss. “How will we get clean like this?” he teased softly. He hadn’t wanted to stop kissing the peddler, but the feel of grime on his skin broke through even the growing need to continue their kiss. He slipped Kusuriyuri’s outer kimono off his shoulders and draped it over the chair.
Kusuriyuri tilted his head at Kurama, his eyes alive with humor as he very solemnly said, “Perhaps the only way is for us to remove our own clothing?”
Kurama laughed. “No, that wouldn’t be acceptable. We shall just have to fumble along, then.” He began with the date jime that held the hiyoku closed, relieved that the under layers only had simple ties. He managed to untie it and the hiyoku before he kissed Kusuriyuri again, pulling the peddler so close he could feel the seam between the nagajuban, the under kimono, and the han eri, the collar that showed.
Kusuriyuri’s arms wrapped low around Kurama’s waist, sliding along the waistband of his jeans until his hands crossed. The energy that coursed through them had a deeper feel, somehow more and less than when his hands were in the kitsune’s hair. Kurama’s tongue touched his lips briefly before the kitsune pulled back. “Shirogitsune?”
Kurama reached behind his back and brought Kusuriyuri’s hands forward, to the fastenings of his jeans. “Please,” he whispered, his own hands moving to untie the date jime of the nagajuban.
Though the fastenings were still oddly unfamiliar, Kusuriyuri did manage to open them at about the same time Kurama untied his robe. He pushed Kurama’s jeans off his hips while the kitsune pushed his pants down. He allowed his eyes to savor the kitsune’s body, the tracing of scars he knew made the fox self-conscious, the arousal below them already alive and reaching for his touch. He trailed his fingers up it, letting his nails drag slightly, before caressing Kurama’s abdomen. He could see the slight trembling as Kurama made himself be still to allow for the gentle explorations. He looked up, his hands leaving Kurama’s body so he could allow his robe to fall from his shoulders as he stepped closer to Kurama.
There was no time for words as Kurama pulled Kusuriyuri close to him, kissing him, his tongue seeking entrance to Kusuriyuri’s mouth. A moan filled the room as their tongues met, as their bodies pressed together and as the energy flowed through them both increased.
Kusuriyuri could feel Kurama working his jeans off his feet. When they were freed, the fox picked up the peddler and walked into the bathroom without breaking their kiss. Kusuriyuri wrapped himself around the kitsune, holding close, enjoying the need and hunger that prompted the sudden move. Those fed into the energy that flowed through them, allowing him to feel the kitsune’s energy pressing against his own.
A spray of warm water against his back caused Kusuriyuri to moan. He moved to release his legs, only to have Kurama hold him where he was. He was pressed into the wall, the tiles cold against his skin after the warmth of the water. A shiver traveled his body. He felt Kurama fumbling under him a moment before two of the fox’s fingers pressed into his body. A deep, needy groan filled their kiss.
Kurama’s hunger was barely held in check enough to make sure his partner was ready. Kusuriyuri had been long untouched before they’d begun their relationship and the kitsune was still concerned that he would hurt the medicine peddler unintentionally. He treasured the trust Kusuriyuri had gifted him with almost as much as he treasured the peddler himself.
A soft whimper of need, the closest he’d ever heard Kusuriyuri to begging, rose from the peddler’s throat when Kurama broke their kiss and removed his fingers. Kurama knew it for what it was. He could feel the near desperation in Kusuriyuri’s energy. The walls between them had never fully repaired and with each repeated encounter, he became more aware of what Kusuriyuri controlled through long habit and natural restraint. He was only this aware of his partner when they were this close, though, when some part of his body had breached Kusuriyuri’s, but each time, that awareness was stronger.
He shifted, guiding his shaft into the hole his fingers had prepared for it. For some reason, the thought of planting himself in Kusuriyuri filled his mind as he guided the peddler’s body along his.
Kusuriyuri’s fingers tightened around Kurama’s hair, his knuckles going white as he arched back, his head back, pressing against the wall, offering his bared throat to Kurama. Between the steam of the shower and the power that flooded the room, breathing was difficult. When Kurama’s lips claimed the offering, breathing became next to impossible.
Fireworks played throughout Kurama’s body, sparks of energy filling his sight, pricking his skin, driving him to reach fulfillment. “Breathe,” he whispered between kisses to Kusuriyuri’s throat even as his body moved quicker. He reveled that Kusuriyuri moved with him as much as he could, that the peddler’s energy only told of pleasure and need. Even the pulling on his hair drove him, though usually he found that tedious and painful.
The world shimmered around them in waves of color and energy before it both imploded and exploded at the same time. Kusuriyuri came with a gasp of surprise and Kurama with a deeply satisfied moan as his knees gave out and they slid to the floor along the wall.
Trembling in a heap on the floor with the water just barely hitting them, Kurama recovered enough to speak first. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his fingers brushing Kusuriyuri’s hair back from his face.
A slight smile played along Kusuriyuri’s lips as he brought his fingers up to touch Kurama’s lip. “I am okay,” he replied as softly. “We should clean your body now that you are clean,” he murmured solemnly, his eyes alight with contentment and humor.
“That is so,” Kurama replied in the same solemn tone, mimicking the other demon’s formal speech patterns. He was loath to move, though, wishing to stay tangled in his partner’s body and energy. He kissed Kusuriyuri’s fingers, letting his tongue tease the digits. He tasted the earth and green. A smile curved his lips and he took Kusuriyuri’s hand in his. On his lips had been the taste of water, of the blue of the sky. His neck tasted of a deeper water, the blue of night. Where did the change occur Kurama wondered. He tasted, licked and kissed his way up Kusuriyuri’s arm, closing his eyes and allowing his mind to see what he tasted. It was like coming to a deep pool in the middle of the forest with a laughing brook leading away from it. He could feel the amusement in Kusuriyuri’s energy, as well as his pleasure in the kitsune’s attention.
Rather than following to the too tempting mouth, Kurama moved down Kusuriyuri’s chest, moving them so the water played over his body while he kissed his way down. Metal, tangy and black, joined the water as he moved down until his lips circled Kusuriyuri’s navel. Just under, fire, spicy red, began to melt the metal. He was just aware of Kusuriyuri’s hands in his hair, of the renewal of energy flowing around them. He allowed himself the sensual pleasure of tasting his partner’s spilt seed, a long slow lick, before he took Kusuriyuri’s reawakened shaft between his lips. Fire flooded through him, warm, welcome, as his tongue played over the hard flesh.
It wasn’t long before Kusuriyuri’s body begged for release. He struggled to hold back, to draw out the pleasure Kurama was giving him, but when Kurama swallowed around him, it became impossible. With a gasp, he came, his fingers curling in Kurama’s hair.
If a volcano’s eruption could be called gentle, that is how Kurama would describe the taste and feel of Kusuriyuri’s orgasm filling his mouth. He swallowed, allowing the flesh to slip from between his lips reluctantly before moving to lie next to Kusuriyuri on the shower floor. “An elemental?” he asked softly, his fingers tracing the line where fire and metal met.
“That may be so,” Kusuriyuri murmured, tilting his head into Kurama’s shoulder. “It is not something I have considered for very long. The elements call to me, I answer them.” He allowed his fingers to trace light paths along Kurama’s arm.
His partner’s nonchalance and humility still baffled Kurama. Every other demon he knew was proud to the point of arrogance and entirely too sure of what they were. He drew his fingers up Kusuriyuri’s body, slipping them behind his neck and into his hair and kissed the peddler slowly.
A small whimper of want escaped Kurama when Kusuriyuri pulled back and moved away. “Shirogitsune needs to be cleaned,” the peddler murmured as he knelt by Kurama’s feet. He reached for the bar of soap, rubbing it between his hands before purposefully beginning to wash Kurama’s feet.
The touch itself was strictly practical, no teasing, no lingering. The energy that flowed between Kusuriyuri’s hands and Kurama spoke of desire and pleasure. Kurama propped himself up on his elbows to watch, trying to read through Kusuriyuri’s calm mask. He could just see the slight smile, though his partner’s eyes were focused on the action of his hands.
Kurama’s mind wandered slightly to the ways he could repay this indulgence. When Kusuriyuri propped one of his feet on his shoulder, Kurama remembered the perfume oil he’d found with Primavera, the one he’d longed to smell on the peddler. He had oils that were suitable for massage. That was a skill he knew Kusuriyuri would appreciate, one he had justifiable confidence in.
When Kusuriyuri switched the legs, he straddled the one he’d finished, focusing as intently on the second as he had on the first. He was aware of the kitsune’s plotting, though only that he had decided on something that pleased him. Emotions carried energy that flowed between them, though the exact ideas behind the emotions remained obscure. He had not lied when he said it was not one of his skills to read minds. When they were this intimate, this unguarded, it might be possible for him to refine their contact to the point where he may have an idea of the kitsune’s plans. He felt no need for that, though. He had allowed Kurama to claim him, had encouraged it. Kitsune treasured those they claimed beyond anything else. If a plan pleased Kurama, Kusuriyuri was sure he would eventually know what it was and enjoy it as well.
With both Kurama’s legs clean and under him, Kusuriyuri began cleaning Kurama’s hips and groin, carefully washing, his touch itself not arousing, but the energy causing the fox to moan softly. Kusuriyuri lingered a moment, taking as long on Kurama’s shaft as he had on either of his legs. Kurama’s moans became more frequent and louder, only to soften with disappointment when Kusuriyuri’s hands continued up his abdomen.
Kusuriyuri could feel the embarrassment of the scars that littered the kitsune’s stomach. He let his fingers linger on them, tracing them, accepting the fox for everything that he was with his touch. He kept his eyes focused on his hands though he wanted to look up into Kurama’s eyes. He knew at the point he did, Kurama’s need would fill him and the kitsune’s hunger would take over their encounter again. Not that he minded that hunger. He just wished to show Kurama his own need.
When his hands reached Kurama’s chest, Kusuriyuri’s hips were over the kitsune’s. He continued to wash the kitsune’s chest with one hand while the other reached behind him and guided the erect flesh he’d cleaned into his body. As he slid down, he allowed his eyes to come up, to meet Kurama’s. He let his hunger, his desire, bleed into his eyes as he rocked his hips.
Kurama moaned deep in his chest, wrapping his arms around the peddler, claiming his mouth, seeking to take that need into himself. He allowed Kusuriyuri to set the rhythm, clinging to his partner. He knew Kusuriyuri took pleasure in their encounters, but to have him initiate this act was not something Kurama had ever anticipated. He almost laughed when Kusuriyuri continued to move while washing his hair.
“Moujuutsukai-san,” Kurama murmured affectionately. His plan to give Kusuriyuri a massage was cemented in his mind. The only thing that it needed was the right time. The romantic in him wished for dinner before hand, a sensual menu that would lead into scentual pleasures.
Kusuriyuri kept his rhythm slow until he was finished with Kurama’s hair. He made the redhead lean back slightly so the water would remove the shampoo, forcing Kurama’s hands to leave him in order to support him. For now, this suited Kusuriyuri’s purpose. He brought a little more energy to his fingers and brushed them along Kurama’s lips while increasing the pace he’d set.
Kurama moaned and sucked Kusuriyuri’s fingers into his mouth, his tongue playing over them as he bobbed along them at the same pace Kusuriyuri’s hips rocked along his shaft. The slow coiling heat of orgasm was building in him again. And then Kusuriyuri tightened around him, the energy flowing through him increasing as he did. Kurama groaned deep in his chest as heat began to flood through him. He was forced to lean back, pulling Kusuriyuri’s fingers along with him.
When Kurama’s back reached the floor, Kusuriyuri took back his fingers and traced them down his chest. Green eyes watched him, filled with hunger, desire, pleasure. He placed his palm on Kurama’s stomach, close to where their bodies met. Again, he increased the flow of energy, watching as Kurama arched into his body. It wasn’t quite enough to draw out the fox’s orgasm, but the sounds Kurama was making were less restrained, louder than they’d been before.
“Mou…moujuu…Kusu…” Kurama struggled to call to his partner as chaotic energy flowed through him.
“Shirogitsune,” Kusuriyuri murmured, his head going back, his eyes closed as he allowed pleasure to wash through him, allowing the energy of his orgasm to fill the room and Kurama.
A strangled scream announced Kurama’s release as he struggled to contain the nearly overwhelming pleasure. It took several moments for his arms to work well enough to wrap around Kusuriyuri where he’d collapsed on his chest. “Moujuutsukai-san,” he whispered, his voice haggard.
The only reply Kusuriyuri gave him was to nuzzle into his chest.
Fandom: YYH/Mononoke
Setting: Hogwarts_Hocus universe
Characters: Kurama/Kusuriyuri
The day was pleasant, the sky hazing to grey toward the horizon, promising rain in the evening, but the early afternoon was enjoyable. His deshi occupied for the afternoon and everything that would need his attention cared for, Kusuriyuri crosses the grounds to Kurama’s greenhouses. It wasn’t difficult to find the kitsune. Being the only other youkai in the school, the only one that he could sense, made it a relatively simple task to find the redhead.
Seeing Kurama when he reached the doorway of the greenhouse was a more difficult task. The redhead was hidden under one of the raised beds, working on the fussy irrigation system, radiating frustration and irritation. Kusuriyuri crossed the room, kneeling next to the table. The sight that met his eyes was not what he expected. Several vines were holding up the base of the table and Kurama was half-covered in dirt and rather red in the face.
“How can I help, shirogitsune?” Kusuriyuri asked, his voice soft, measured.
“Moujuutsukai-san,” Kurama said, slightly startled, flushing more. He moved out from under the table, brushing the dirt from his clothes. He looked at his hands scowling slightly. “There is nothing to be done for that table. It’s beyond repair.”
When they stood, Kusuriyuri looked over the table. It seemed that all the dirt had fallen out of it and the base of it was dry rotted out. “Are you okay?” he asked, turning back to Kurama.
“Just irritated,” Kurama admitted before turning away slightly and adding, “and embarrassed.”
Kusuriyuri’s eyebrow rose slightly. “Embarrassed?” he asks, his tone becoming slightly more solemn.
Kurama became very interested in brushing the dirt from his clothing. “You seem to catch me at a disadvantage frequently,” he mumbled.
Kusuriyuri reached up and brushed some dirt from Kurama’s shoulder. “I do not see how this is a disadvantage, shirogitsune,” he murmured, moving slightly closer to Kurama.
The redhead caught the medicine peddler’s hand and kissed its palm. He smiled. “You are too good to me, moujuutsukai-san.”
This puzzled Kusuriyuri a little. He did not think he did more than would be expected for the relationship they were developing. He let the comment pass. “You were not hurt, then?” he asks softly, stepping slightly closer.
“No, not hurt. It wasn’t heavy, just dirty.” He thought a moment about stepping back to keep from dirtying Kusuriyuri’s kimono, but the medicine peddler never seemed to mind the dirt. He also knew the movement would be taken as an indication he was too busy and Kusuriyuri would leave, allowing him to continue to work. He didn’t want to lose the soothing company just yet. He sighed, allowing a small smile. “I was finished for the day. I’ll have to replace that one tomorrow.”
“Then, you will wish to bathe?” Kusuriyuri asked, making no move away from the kitsune.
Though green eyes glittered with mirth and excitement, none of it was betrayed in Kurama’s words. “I think I may require assistance to get all the dirt off,” he said solemnly, teasing Kusuriyuri as the peddler often teased him.
“There is quite a lot to make sure is removed,” Kusuriyuri agreed softly, solemnly.
“There is a proper bathing room off my new room,” Kurama said, twining his fingers between Kusuriyuri’s.
“A proper bathing room will help to ensure the dirt is properly removed,” Kusuriyuri murmured in approval.
“As will proper help,” Kurama added. “Will you join me, moujuutsukai-san?” He leaned down slightly, laying a light kiss on Kusuriyuri’s forehead.
“As shirogitsune desires,” Kusuriyuri murmured, tilting his face up slightly, an invitation for a kiss if Kurama wished to give him one, or agreement to help in whatever manner the kitsune desired.
Kurama gave him a light, quick kiss. “Let us retire, then,” he murmured, caressing Kusuriyuri’s cheek. “I wouldn’t wish to be interrupted.” Not with this demon. He was sure Kusuriyuri was quest class, with the way he manifested wards. He was possibly as strong as or stronger than Karasu. And, yet, Kusuriyuri never pressed his advantage over Kurama. He’d already told the kitsune that he had wards that could incapacitate him, and yet he always was deferential, respectful. It was something Kurama savored, though it baffled him. He kissed Kusuriyuri lightly again and then led him through the greenhouse to his office and through into his room.
Kusuriyuri stepped easily out of his geta while Kurama worked his shoes off. “Pardon the intrusion,” he murmured, more from habit than need for it to be said.
“There is no intrusion when one is as welcome as you are,” Kurama replied, his fingers lightly tracing Kusuriyuri’s cheek and hair. He bent, kissing the peddler deeper, longer than he had in the greenhouse. His fingers worked the purple cloth off Kusuriyuri’s head, letting his hair loose to fall around his shoulders. He pulled back reluctantly. “If we keep this up, you’ll need to bathe as well,” he sighed.
Kusuriyuri lowered his eyes. “It would not be undesirable, as I must undress to assist you.”
Kurama laughed indulgently. “This is true.” He let his fingers trail through Kusuriyuri’s hair. He wondered what prompted Kusuriyuri to hide his hair, but as there was no objection to his uncovering it, he indulged and enjoyed it as something that was only his. He bent, burying his nose in the freed hair, and breathed in deeply. The scent of medicines, freshly prepared from plants, of the sun, of earth, faint traces of metal and water, filled his senses, the smell that was the demon that has allowed him to claim his affections.
He moved to kiss the tips of Kusuriyuri’s ear, nibbling a little on the point of it before following it down with his lips. He sighed softly when Kusuriyuri’s arms wrapped around him lightly. He wanted to take his time, to savor his new partner, but every time thus far, his desire had gotten the better of him, pushing him to completion, to the full joining of their energies that was completion with the peddler. Kurama hadn’t explored his ears, so prominent, to find if they were sensitive yet. And, given the way Kusuriyuri reacted, sighing softly the name he’d given Kurama, shirogitsune, white kitsune, and tilting his head to make it easier for Kurama to reach, he should have taken the time before.
When he reached the lobe, he whispered his own name for Kusuriyuri, moujuutsukai, wild animal tamer, acknowledging his own nature and the peddler’s effect on him. He kissed the red earring, knowing it to be ruby, for luck by human reckoning, but there was a tingle of something that let Kurama know this stone had a deeper purpose. He continued his way up Kusuriyuri’s ear until he reached the tip again.
He pulled back slowly, savoring the slight flush of Kusuriyuri’s cheek under his closed eyes, the long moment it took to open those blue eyes, the look of trust in them when they did. “Moujuutsukai-san,” he whispered before bending to kiss the peddler.
He kept the kiss light, quick. He could feel the grime on his skin and didn’t want to get that all over Kusuriyuri or his bed. “I need to be cleaned,” he murmured, a smile playing with his lips.
Kusuriyuri reached up and brushed Kurama’s cheek. “Anything willingly done is clean.” An answering smile played with his lips. “Though, removing the dirt would be desirable.” He begins unfastening Kurama’s shirt purposefully.
The words had the ring of something Kusuriyuri had or would say to A. “You’re right,” Kurama murmured, kissing the top of Kusuriyuri’s head to allow him to undress him. When his shirt fell to the ground, he removed the obi age, the cloth at the top, and obi jime, the rope around the obi. Though he allowed his own clothes to fall to the floor, these he placed with care over the back of a chair.
He moved behind Kusuriyuri, finding the obi knot itself rather complicated to undo from the front. Or perhaps that if his arms were around Kusuriyuri, he would tend to kiss the demon, a rather distracting hobby given Kusuriyuri’s tendency to use low level energy techniques while they were being intimate.
Kusuriyuri was amused by the kitsune’s moving around behind him. He turned to watch the fox over his shoulder. Amusement curved his lips as he noticed Kurama untying the obi with much more ease than normal. When it came to untying the date jime, the underbelt of the obi, knotted in the front, Kurama’s fingers began to fumble again as his lips explored Kusuriyuri’s other ear. With patient amusement, Kusuriyuri tilted his head to allow Kurama’s explorations while guiding his hands in removing the belt. He started to remove the koshimo, the belt that kept his kimono at the proper length, when Kurama’s hands overlapped his.
“So many ties,” Kurama murmured, nuzzling Kusuriyuri’s head a little with his cheek. He managed to untie the koshimo deftly, allowing Kusuriyuri’s kimono to fall open and to the floor, pooling around his feet as its gathered length was released. Kurama wrapped his arms around Kusuriyuri, his hands sliding between the open outer layer and the still tied hiyoku, the middle kimono. He caressed Kusuriyuri’s chest, enjoying the feel of the finer silk against his palm and the coarser silk and hemp blend against the back of his hand. “Truly a treasure,” he almost purred.
Kusuriyuri reached up and caressed Kurama’s hair, his hands warm with the gentle current of energy he allowed to flow through them. “Is that so?” he asked softly, turning to look up at Kurama.
“That is so,” Kurama replied, turning Kusuriyuri so their lips met. There was a soft, flowing feeling of life that filled him as they kissed, something he knew would fill him, would overflow as they continued. Something he craved; the very thing that distracted him from his sensuality so that he could seek its fulfillment.
“Moujuutsukai-san,” Kurama sighed, pulling back from their kiss. “How will we get clean like this?” he teased softly. He hadn’t wanted to stop kissing the peddler, but the feel of grime on his skin broke through even the growing need to continue their kiss. He slipped Kusuriyuri’s outer kimono off his shoulders and draped it over the chair.
Kusuriyuri tilted his head at Kurama, his eyes alive with humor as he very solemnly said, “Perhaps the only way is for us to remove our own clothing?”
Kurama laughed. “No, that wouldn’t be acceptable. We shall just have to fumble along, then.” He began with the date jime that held the hiyoku closed, relieved that the under layers only had simple ties. He managed to untie it and the hiyoku before he kissed Kusuriyuri again, pulling the peddler so close he could feel the seam between the nagajuban, the under kimono, and the han eri, the collar that showed.
Kusuriyuri’s arms wrapped low around Kurama’s waist, sliding along the waistband of his jeans until his hands crossed. The energy that coursed through them had a deeper feel, somehow more and less than when his hands were in the kitsune’s hair. Kurama’s tongue touched his lips briefly before the kitsune pulled back. “Shirogitsune?”
Kurama reached behind his back and brought Kusuriyuri’s hands forward, to the fastenings of his jeans. “Please,” he whispered, his own hands moving to untie the date jime of the nagajuban.
Though the fastenings were still oddly unfamiliar, Kusuriyuri did manage to open them at about the same time Kurama untied his robe. He pushed Kurama’s jeans off his hips while the kitsune pushed his pants down. He allowed his eyes to savor the kitsune’s body, the tracing of scars he knew made the fox self-conscious, the arousal below them already alive and reaching for his touch. He trailed his fingers up it, letting his nails drag slightly, before caressing Kurama’s abdomen. He could see the slight trembling as Kurama made himself be still to allow for the gentle explorations. He looked up, his hands leaving Kurama’s body so he could allow his robe to fall from his shoulders as he stepped closer to Kurama.
There was no time for words as Kurama pulled Kusuriyuri close to him, kissing him, his tongue seeking entrance to Kusuriyuri’s mouth. A moan filled the room as their tongues met, as their bodies pressed together and as the energy flowed through them both increased.
Kusuriyuri could feel Kurama working his jeans off his feet. When they were freed, the fox picked up the peddler and walked into the bathroom without breaking their kiss. Kusuriyuri wrapped himself around the kitsune, holding close, enjoying the need and hunger that prompted the sudden move. Those fed into the energy that flowed through them, allowing him to feel the kitsune’s energy pressing against his own.
A spray of warm water against his back caused Kusuriyuri to moan. He moved to release his legs, only to have Kurama hold him where he was. He was pressed into the wall, the tiles cold against his skin after the warmth of the water. A shiver traveled his body. He felt Kurama fumbling under him a moment before two of the fox’s fingers pressed into his body. A deep, needy groan filled their kiss.
Kurama’s hunger was barely held in check enough to make sure his partner was ready. Kusuriyuri had been long untouched before they’d begun their relationship and the kitsune was still concerned that he would hurt the medicine peddler unintentionally. He treasured the trust Kusuriyuri had gifted him with almost as much as he treasured the peddler himself.
A soft whimper of need, the closest he’d ever heard Kusuriyuri to begging, rose from the peddler’s throat when Kurama broke their kiss and removed his fingers. Kurama knew it for what it was. He could feel the near desperation in Kusuriyuri’s energy. The walls between them had never fully repaired and with each repeated encounter, he became more aware of what Kusuriyuri controlled through long habit and natural restraint. He was only this aware of his partner when they were this close, though, when some part of his body had breached Kusuriyuri’s, but each time, that awareness was stronger.
He shifted, guiding his shaft into the hole his fingers had prepared for it. For some reason, the thought of planting himself in Kusuriyuri filled his mind as he guided the peddler’s body along his.
Kusuriyuri’s fingers tightened around Kurama’s hair, his knuckles going white as he arched back, his head back, pressing against the wall, offering his bared throat to Kurama. Between the steam of the shower and the power that flooded the room, breathing was difficult. When Kurama’s lips claimed the offering, breathing became next to impossible.
Fireworks played throughout Kurama’s body, sparks of energy filling his sight, pricking his skin, driving him to reach fulfillment. “Breathe,” he whispered between kisses to Kusuriyuri’s throat even as his body moved quicker. He reveled that Kusuriyuri moved with him as much as he could, that the peddler’s energy only told of pleasure and need. Even the pulling on his hair drove him, though usually he found that tedious and painful.
The world shimmered around them in waves of color and energy before it both imploded and exploded at the same time. Kusuriyuri came with a gasp of surprise and Kurama with a deeply satisfied moan as his knees gave out and they slid to the floor along the wall.
Trembling in a heap on the floor with the water just barely hitting them, Kurama recovered enough to speak first. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his fingers brushing Kusuriyuri’s hair back from his face.
A slight smile played along Kusuriyuri’s lips as he brought his fingers up to touch Kurama’s lip. “I am okay,” he replied as softly. “We should clean your body now that you are clean,” he murmured solemnly, his eyes alight with contentment and humor.
“That is so,” Kurama replied in the same solemn tone, mimicking the other demon’s formal speech patterns. He was loath to move, though, wishing to stay tangled in his partner’s body and energy. He kissed Kusuriyuri’s fingers, letting his tongue tease the digits. He tasted the earth and green. A smile curved his lips and he took Kusuriyuri’s hand in his. On his lips had been the taste of water, of the blue of the sky. His neck tasted of a deeper water, the blue of night. Where did the change occur Kurama wondered. He tasted, licked and kissed his way up Kusuriyuri’s arm, closing his eyes and allowing his mind to see what he tasted. It was like coming to a deep pool in the middle of the forest with a laughing brook leading away from it. He could feel the amusement in Kusuriyuri’s energy, as well as his pleasure in the kitsune’s attention.
Rather than following to the too tempting mouth, Kurama moved down Kusuriyuri’s chest, moving them so the water played over his body while he kissed his way down. Metal, tangy and black, joined the water as he moved down until his lips circled Kusuriyuri’s navel. Just under, fire, spicy red, began to melt the metal. He was just aware of Kusuriyuri’s hands in his hair, of the renewal of energy flowing around them. He allowed himself the sensual pleasure of tasting his partner’s spilt seed, a long slow lick, before he took Kusuriyuri’s reawakened shaft between his lips. Fire flooded through him, warm, welcome, as his tongue played over the hard flesh.
It wasn’t long before Kusuriyuri’s body begged for release. He struggled to hold back, to draw out the pleasure Kurama was giving him, but when Kurama swallowed around him, it became impossible. With a gasp, he came, his fingers curling in Kurama’s hair.
If a volcano’s eruption could be called gentle, that is how Kurama would describe the taste and feel of Kusuriyuri’s orgasm filling his mouth. He swallowed, allowing the flesh to slip from between his lips reluctantly before moving to lie next to Kusuriyuri on the shower floor. “An elemental?” he asked softly, his fingers tracing the line where fire and metal met.
“That may be so,” Kusuriyuri murmured, tilting his head into Kurama’s shoulder. “It is not something I have considered for very long. The elements call to me, I answer them.” He allowed his fingers to trace light paths along Kurama’s arm.
His partner’s nonchalance and humility still baffled Kurama. Every other demon he knew was proud to the point of arrogance and entirely too sure of what they were. He drew his fingers up Kusuriyuri’s body, slipping them behind his neck and into his hair and kissed the peddler slowly.
A small whimper of want escaped Kurama when Kusuriyuri pulled back and moved away. “Shirogitsune needs to be cleaned,” the peddler murmured as he knelt by Kurama’s feet. He reached for the bar of soap, rubbing it between his hands before purposefully beginning to wash Kurama’s feet.
The touch itself was strictly practical, no teasing, no lingering. The energy that flowed between Kusuriyuri’s hands and Kurama spoke of desire and pleasure. Kurama propped himself up on his elbows to watch, trying to read through Kusuriyuri’s calm mask. He could just see the slight smile, though his partner’s eyes were focused on the action of his hands.
Kurama’s mind wandered slightly to the ways he could repay this indulgence. When Kusuriyuri propped one of his feet on his shoulder, Kurama remembered the perfume oil he’d found with Primavera, the one he’d longed to smell on the peddler. He had oils that were suitable for massage. That was a skill he knew Kusuriyuri would appreciate, one he had justifiable confidence in.
When Kusuriyuri switched the legs, he straddled the one he’d finished, focusing as intently on the second as he had on the first. He was aware of the kitsune’s plotting, though only that he had decided on something that pleased him. Emotions carried energy that flowed between them, though the exact ideas behind the emotions remained obscure. He had not lied when he said it was not one of his skills to read minds. When they were this intimate, this unguarded, it might be possible for him to refine their contact to the point where he may have an idea of the kitsune’s plans. He felt no need for that, though. He had allowed Kurama to claim him, had encouraged it. Kitsune treasured those they claimed beyond anything else. If a plan pleased Kurama, Kusuriyuri was sure he would eventually know what it was and enjoy it as well.
With both Kurama’s legs clean and under him, Kusuriyuri began cleaning Kurama’s hips and groin, carefully washing, his touch itself not arousing, but the energy causing the fox to moan softly. Kusuriyuri lingered a moment, taking as long on Kurama’s shaft as he had on either of his legs. Kurama’s moans became more frequent and louder, only to soften with disappointment when Kusuriyuri’s hands continued up his abdomen.
Kusuriyuri could feel the embarrassment of the scars that littered the kitsune’s stomach. He let his fingers linger on them, tracing them, accepting the fox for everything that he was with his touch. He kept his eyes focused on his hands though he wanted to look up into Kurama’s eyes. He knew at the point he did, Kurama’s need would fill him and the kitsune’s hunger would take over their encounter again. Not that he minded that hunger. He just wished to show Kurama his own need.
When his hands reached Kurama’s chest, Kusuriyuri’s hips were over the kitsune’s. He continued to wash the kitsune’s chest with one hand while the other reached behind him and guided the erect flesh he’d cleaned into his body. As he slid down, he allowed his eyes to come up, to meet Kurama’s. He let his hunger, his desire, bleed into his eyes as he rocked his hips.
Kurama moaned deep in his chest, wrapping his arms around the peddler, claiming his mouth, seeking to take that need into himself. He allowed Kusuriyuri to set the rhythm, clinging to his partner. He knew Kusuriyuri took pleasure in their encounters, but to have him initiate this act was not something Kurama had ever anticipated. He almost laughed when Kusuriyuri continued to move while washing his hair.
“Moujuutsukai-san,” Kurama murmured affectionately. His plan to give Kusuriyuri a massage was cemented in his mind. The only thing that it needed was the right time. The romantic in him wished for dinner before hand, a sensual menu that would lead into scentual pleasures.
Kusuriyuri kept his rhythm slow until he was finished with Kurama’s hair. He made the redhead lean back slightly so the water would remove the shampoo, forcing Kurama’s hands to leave him in order to support him. For now, this suited Kusuriyuri’s purpose. He brought a little more energy to his fingers and brushed them along Kurama’s lips while increasing the pace he’d set.
Kurama moaned and sucked Kusuriyuri’s fingers into his mouth, his tongue playing over them as he bobbed along them at the same pace Kusuriyuri’s hips rocked along his shaft. The slow coiling heat of orgasm was building in him again. And then Kusuriyuri tightened around him, the energy flowing through him increasing as he did. Kurama groaned deep in his chest as heat began to flood through him. He was forced to lean back, pulling Kusuriyuri’s fingers along with him.
When Kurama’s back reached the floor, Kusuriyuri took back his fingers and traced them down his chest. Green eyes watched him, filled with hunger, desire, pleasure. He placed his palm on Kurama’s stomach, close to where their bodies met. Again, he increased the flow of energy, watching as Kurama arched into his body. It wasn’t quite enough to draw out the fox’s orgasm, but the sounds Kurama was making were less restrained, louder than they’d been before.
“Mou…moujuu…Kusu…” Kurama struggled to call to his partner as chaotic energy flowed through him.
“Shirogitsune,” Kusuriyuri murmured, his head going back, his eyes closed as he allowed pleasure to wash through him, allowing the energy of his orgasm to fill the room and Kurama.
A strangled scream announced Kurama’s release as he struggled to contain the nearly overwhelming pleasure. It took several moments for his arms to work well enough to wrap around Kusuriyuri where he’d collapsed on his chest. “Moujuutsukai-san,” he whispered, his voice haggard.
The only reply Kusuriyuri gave him was to nuzzle into his chest.