[Fic] A Fever Inside Me
Title: A Fever Inside Me
Fandom: Ajin: Demi-Human
Pairing: Kei Nagai/Kou Nakano
Rating: Explicit
Warning(s): Temporary character death, violence, gore
Word Count: 558
Summary: Bloody blow jobs are a questionable way to get off.
Author Note: Written for Day 1 of Goretober. Or in my case, the Gorefest that's gonna take longer than a month to write for.
Kou is on his back, sprawled across the floor, with Kei between his legs. His hands are digging into the carpet, his heels into the small of Kei’s back, and Kei’s sucking him off like he’s done this before. Kou jerks into a sitting position, when Kei gives a particularly hard suck, curling his body over Kei’s with a high whine. He’s almost there, but it’s not enough and he doesn’t know how to ask for what he needs.
There’s a hand around his throat soon enough, claws pricking into his skin until blood wells. He chokes, throws his head back and offers his throat to Kei’s IBM. It’s grip is hot, strong enough that he’s already struggling to inhale. He makes the mistake of looking down at Kei, who’s watching him in turn. He grins around the cock in his mouth, presses his fingers into Kou’s thigh, and sinks down further.
Kei’s hips make little abortive movements, pressing into the floor. It’s then Kou realizes that his eyes are on the hand his IBM has around his throat. He flushes at the realization, in time to have the IBM tighten its hold again. It’s almost enough, the hot mouth around his cock, and the claws tearing into the soft skin of his neck.
Kou’s hand slaps up to wrap his fingers around the IBMs wrist. His mouth is open on a silent gasp, fingers twitching as Kei wraps his tongue around his cock. He’s so close, almost there, when the IBM digs its claws in deeper. It pulls, and shreds.
Pain radiates from his throat as he tries to breath. He tries to gasp. Make some kind of noise in response to the pain. He can’t. He can only shudder as the IBM holds him in place, blood running down his chest and splashing across Kei’s face. Kei twists his hand, grazes his teeth over the head of Kou’s cock, and that’s all it takes.
Kou comes, vision blurring from bloodloss.
All Kou knows next is that Kei is sitting across from him, face carefully blank.
Kou stretches carefully, still vaguely worried that one time he’s going to regenerate different. He huffs, noting the way that the carpet is sticky with blood. Kei hadn’t even bothered to roll him out of the spot. Not that he’s surprised.
“What about you?” Kou asks instead of complaining, turning his attention back to Kei. Kei reaches across the space between them, hand only stopping, once his fingers are hovering over Kou’s lips. Kou rolls his eyes, but flicks his tongue out, wraps his lips around Kei’s fingers. He licks his fingers clean of blood and come. It’s his answer. He knows Kei jerked himself off, probably did it the moment Kou died. It’s a shame, really. They’ve been doing this thing for weeks and he still hasn’t seen what Kei looks like when he comes.
“Hmm,” Kei pushes up from the floor, pulls his fingers from Kou’s mouth, and tugs his bloodied shirt into place. As if he can erase the evidence of what they had just done. It works, because Kei is unruffled, looks like he’s just killed someone. Like he didn’t just have a cock in his mouth.
Kou flops back to the ground when Kei leaves. He sighs, and wonders how he’s going to die next time. Because there will be a next time. Kei gets off on the blood and violence, and Kou won’t deny that he’s become dependent on the pain to get off. He sighs again and wonders how the fuck he got here.
Fandom: Ajin: Demi-Human
Pairing: Kei Nagai/Kou Nakano
Rating: Explicit
Warning(s): Temporary character death, violence, gore
Word Count: 558
Summary: Bloody blow jobs are a questionable way to get off.
Author Note: Written for Day 1 of Goretober. Or in my case, the Gorefest that's gonna take longer than a month to write for.
Kou is on his back, sprawled across the floor, with Kei between his legs. His hands are digging into the carpet, his heels into the small of Kei’s back, and Kei’s sucking him off like he’s done this before. Kou jerks into a sitting position, when Kei gives a particularly hard suck, curling his body over Kei’s with a high whine. He’s almost there, but it’s not enough and he doesn’t know how to ask for what he needs.
There’s a hand around his throat soon enough, claws pricking into his skin until blood wells. He chokes, throws his head back and offers his throat to Kei’s IBM. It’s grip is hot, strong enough that he’s already struggling to inhale. He makes the mistake of looking down at Kei, who’s watching him in turn. He grins around the cock in his mouth, presses his fingers into Kou’s thigh, and sinks down further.
Kei’s hips make little abortive movements, pressing into the floor. It’s then Kou realizes that his eyes are on the hand his IBM has around his throat. He flushes at the realization, in time to have the IBM tighten its hold again. It’s almost enough, the hot mouth around his cock, and the claws tearing into the soft skin of his neck.
Kou’s hand slaps up to wrap his fingers around the IBMs wrist. His mouth is open on a silent gasp, fingers twitching as Kei wraps his tongue around his cock. He’s so close, almost there, when the IBM digs its claws in deeper. It pulls, and shreds.
Pain radiates from his throat as he tries to breath. He tries to gasp. Make some kind of noise in response to the pain. He can’t. He can only shudder as the IBM holds him in place, blood running down his chest and splashing across Kei’s face. Kei twists his hand, grazes his teeth over the head of Kou’s cock, and that’s all it takes.
Kou comes, vision blurring from bloodloss.
All Kou knows next is that Kei is sitting across from him, face carefully blank.
Kou stretches carefully, still vaguely worried that one time he’s going to regenerate different. He huffs, noting the way that the carpet is sticky with blood. Kei hadn’t even bothered to roll him out of the spot. Not that he’s surprised.
“What about you?” Kou asks instead of complaining, turning his attention back to Kei. Kei reaches across the space between them, hand only stopping, once his fingers are hovering over Kou’s lips. Kou rolls his eyes, but flicks his tongue out, wraps his lips around Kei’s fingers. He licks his fingers clean of blood and come. It’s his answer. He knows Kei jerked himself off, probably did it the moment Kou died. It’s a shame, really. They’ve been doing this thing for weeks and he still hasn’t seen what Kei looks like when he comes.
“Hmm,” Kei pushes up from the floor, pulls his fingers from Kou’s mouth, and tugs his bloodied shirt into place. As if he can erase the evidence of what they had just done. It works, because Kei is unruffled, looks like he’s just killed someone. Like he didn’t just have a cock in his mouth.
Kou flops back to the ground when Kei leaves. He sighs, and wonders how he’s going to die next time. Because there will be a next time. Kei gets off on the blood and violence, and Kou won’t deny that he’s become dependent on the pain to get off. He sighs again and wonders how the fuck he got here.