and stories untold (Amatsuki, Kon/Toki/Kuchiha)
Title: and stories untold
Author: reversedhymnal
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: sex with a girl and two boys?
Word count: 3193
Summary: They have things to can learn together.
A/N: I still can't write Toki very well, :\ I requested this prompt, lol, but I'm not sure if I got a response. But, uh, I'll post anyway? Just in case...
Amatsuki, Kon/Toki/Kuchiha: three-way sex - instinct
“I never knew what happiness was,” Kuchiha confessed, “Until I met Shamon-sama.”
Kon smoked on his pipe, and blew interesting shapes into the air; Toki watched the meaning in his words slip between the pale curls of it, as they twisted past his lips. “All a dog needs to be happy,” he said, “Is someone to tell him Good Job. Feed the dog, give the dog shelter, and he’s your best friend for life.” Kon breathed in more smoke and Toki and Kuchiha waited; he blew the smoke out, lazily. “It’s a limited concept of happiness, though.”
“Shut up,” Kuchiha muttered into her knees. The night air was thick and smelled sweet, and the three of them were on the porch, with the stars a blanket of dazzling light high above the darkness of the world. “I had other people offer kind words before Shamon-sama. I doubt you could understand the difference between them.”
Kon angled his head, and breathed smoke into Kuchiha’s hair; she wrinkled her nose at the smell of it, too strong. Toki breathed the air in, watching them, their dark hair catching highlights and casting shadows, the glimmer of their eyes, wet and deep, the way their mouths were carved achingly into their faces; there was something strong and wounded about them at the same time. They were so real.
Toki told them: “I’m just now learning what happiness is.”
*
It wasn’t a tradition, because there wasn’t any meaning in it; and it was a really weird concept for Kon, at first. His nights were usually lonely, or stiff with challenge; he made friends with the expectation of being abandoned, or used, and he didn’t talk about his family, not ever. And then he got lost in time, and now he only had one arm, and people still whispered and shied away from him.
Except Kuchiha; they taught each other how to play fight, like two lonely dogs tired of the instinct to kill: hard to let go of, but grudgingly willing because it was better than being alone. Because being yourself and not being hated was absolutely exhilarating, for all that they pretended it wasn’t.
Kon didn’t want to say it was a habit, because it really sort of just happened, without conscious thought, and habit was something that became so through choice. Kon liked to think he was decisive about which bad habits he picked up; Kuchiha wasn’t supposed to be one of his bad habits. It was just that they invariably wound up together, after hours, late at night, instead of sleeping. It was companionable, existing under the heavy sky side by side, tired and not alone.
By the time Toki came Kon was almost used to having people who weren’t scared to associate with him around. And having Toki should have messed it up, by all rights - it should have been weird, or odd, because Toki was just this tiny kid thrown into this strange world, and at least Kon was used to cold logic and rough fighting; he’d managed, but Kon wasn’t so sure how Toki would get on with them.
He should have changed everything. It should have been broken, the bad habit; but it wasn’t. Toki worked. He joined and it didn’t take from anything; he added, instead, and Kon found himself cherishing these small, quiet moments. Sitting and talking or sitting and listening.
Kon smoked, and sometimes Kuchiha paced, and on occasion Toki fell asleep against a beam so that he woke up to find one of his new friends had put him to bed. That was sort of fun, because it was weird how strength could be hidden in unlikely people, and Kon liked the way Kuchiha moved so gently with Toki in her arms.
It was like at night they could release the latch on the armor they had to wear, a small space of reprieve in such a hostile world.
Kon realized, too late, that he was attached.
*
“Oh?” Kon asked with one of his mysterious smiles. “And you’re trying being happy out on us?”
Toki laughed, and it wasn’t actually happy sounding, but then, Toki had said that he was learning. It felt strange, though, not one of his usual laughs. It was different, like it shook things inside him; wasn’t just a ghost passing through for the benefit of others. It came from a place inside him, real.
“I always seem to be using people, all my life,” Toki spoke bleak words in a voice that he thought was nonchalant about the emptiness that had always bounced boredom hollow around inside him, “I don’t see why I should stop now.” He looked over at Kuchiha and Kon, dark and still and new, so different from the bright harsh reality of that previous life. “Or are you two different?” he asked with a crooked smile.
“Of course we are,” Kuchiha said in disgust, face pinched tight. “Stop being disgusting. I hate people who think like that. It’s not okay to use people.”
“But,” Toki asked distantly, “Isn’t that what everyone does?”
“If you’re not careful, Kuchiha is going to punch you, and I’m going to let her.” Kon blew out smoke in Toki’s face this time, and Toki started coughing, waving his hand to dispel the haze. He squinted through it, out over the garden they sat on the edge of, watching the quiet sleeping things. Toki laughed again, then, and it was less unhappy than before. It shook things nicely in his chest; it was an exciting feeling, strange and bright.
*
There’s a dog god inside of her but Kuchiha had always felt like the size of her own skin was enough. It was everyone else that made her feel awkward and misplaced; incorrect, not inside herself, but in conjunction with everyone else. Then Shamon-sama had happened, and she felt like she could revolve like a small dark star amidst all the others just fine so long as she had a welcoming smile to return to. It was a big sea of people, but she didn’t have to stand out. She didn’t have to be the lonely girl child chased out of the village; she didn’t have to a god to be fearfully worshiped.
Shamon-sama didn’t make her feel like a shock bit at her skin every time she brushed against the fabric of the world. That was happiness, to her; it was simple, and it was enough.
Now she felt too full, like her heart was about to swell up and burst like an over ripe fruit at market, choking on the way they made her feel. There was a place in the world for her now that didn’t just fit like some perfect self-contained space around her - her world grew between Kon and Toki and stretched wide like it wanted to show her all the things she’d been missing lost inside her own skin; suddenly she felt like she was too small, because happiness did something completely different than sadness: it grew and grew and spread, instead of twisting her down inside herself. Kon and Toki fed her happiness like they could feed a fire and never run out of fuel. The kept close like her happiness could keep them warm forever.
She realized that there were different kinds: dog-happiness, and human-happiness. She got a taste of human-happiness on her tongue with them, and she knew better, but once she got her teeth set into them, she never wanted to let go.
*
“People used me,” Kuchiha cut off his laughter, her voice slicing through the night like she was manipulating her sword to carve them out and make the world bleed with the truth. “And I wasn’t happy. Shamon-sama didn’t use me; he just accepted me. That made me happy.”
“Happy like a dog,” Kon murmured. “But acceptance is nice. I made someone bleed for it, once.”
Toki frowned. “But it wasn’t enough for you, Shinonome-kun.”
“No,” Kon agreed. His smile grew into a smirk that he threw at Kuchiha like a weapon, and Kuchiha growled at him, but stayed curled around her knees beside them. “A person needs more than just acceptance to be happy.”
“Then so does Kuchiha.” Kuchiha’s eyes were bright and it was easy for Toki to hold them, and say decisively, “It’s true. Kuchiha is also a person. She needs that kind of happiness, too.”
“Even though I feed you,” Kon added with a curl of amusement, “You’re not a pet. And you’re not my charge.”
Kuchiha’s whisper was quiet in the still night: “What am I then?”
“Something important,” Toki said. He leaned back on his palms, looked up at the cold heavens and amended his statement: “Someone important. To us.” Kon smoked calmly on his pipe, and Toki was glad Kuchiha’s face was half in shadow, because sometimes the expression in her eyes made something deep inside him want to break.
*
It’s funny, Toki would think later, how he’d spent all his life just going with things, not caring, even though he can look back on it now and know, as he did then, that he hadn’t really wanted it. Everything had just happened, before, without Toki really choosing it; it hadn’t mattered what happened.
Toki and Kon and Kuchiha, whatever they were, they’d sort of just happened too - but they were all choosing it, with every second, with every heart beat, with every smile, with every bruise. There was a difference, he saw now, between apathy and instinct.
*
“Thank you,” Kuchiha said softly, and then she let go of her knees, and crawled the few feet between them, and pressed her mouth against Toki’s cheek, and breathed a wet line down its gentle angle to his jaw line.
“Wh- what!?”
Kon asked, “Is this a dog saying thank you?” and Kuchiha snarled, fiercely, and Toki gasped, his heart beating fast. Kuchiha tried to jerk away at his reaction, but Toki grabbed at her without thought.
Around an obstruction of confused, embarrassed need in his throat, Toki said, “I like all of you, Kuchiha.” It made the dog girl make a delirious noise, small and intimate.
“So do I,” Kon said softly, and Toki looked over at him, surprised that he hadn’t noticed when the larger boy had shifted, moved close against his other side. His pipe rolled on the wooden planks with a quiet clanking sound, starlight gleaming in silver lines upon its fine engravings. “I won’t take this if it isn’t all of you, Kuchiha.” His smirk made Toki’s heart keep pounding, his eyes getting caught on the curve of Kon’s mouth. “I’m greedy like that.”
When Kuchiha laughed, it was a laugh Toki had never heard from her before; something deep and glorious, full of knowing, that made things low inside him shiver. He wanted her to touch him again, with the thrill of that dangerous growl echoing rough across his nerves. He wanted Kon to reach out with steady fingers to smooth the bangs from her face, so the starlight caught along the stubborn set of her face; he wanted to be able to lean in and press a kiss to Kon’s wrist, so he could follow it up his arm, to meet Kon’s mouth with tongue and teeth.
“I am Kuchiha of the tainted blood,” came Kuchiha’s voice so low and rich that Toki had an impression, for just an instant, of a mouth full with too many sharp teeth, and a bristling of fur. “If I were nothing but a dog, I would want to be near you. I am more than a dog, and I want this.”
For a moment Toki wondered if there was something wrong with him, to want this so badly. Had this old world changed him? Such strange things were happening, why should this feel so natural, so instinctive, to press close to these two people and never ever let go. He saw the reflection of his need in their dark eyes, and he knew, at least, that he was not alone compelled. The significance of being wanted so viscerally shook him.
“This?” Toki asked, deep with knowing, but still floundering. He couldn’t quite help himself from leering softly at Kuchiha, knowing he was blushing as he felt his cheeks sear with heat. He didn’t know how to charm them like he did everyone else - they drew from him deeper reactions than anyone else. Maybe it was because Kon and Kuchiha were more than Toki had ever let himself believe he needed, before. Comrades. Friends. Important. Softly, he mocked, “What’s this.”
She gave a low snarl, and it was Kon’s hand that reached out and grabbed Toki’s tight, to slip into that alluringly perfect opening in Kuchiha’s clothes; the skin of Kuchiha’s belly was warm and soft beneath his fingertips as Kon dragged their hands down, until Kuchiha was cursing and yanking at her ties.
“Shi-it,” Toki breathed, the heat of Kon beside him searing into his skin, down deep inside so that it twisted liquid-like down his spine to make him squirm faintly; he pressed the back of his head against the rough beam he was leaning against. “Is this…really okay?”
“Stop thinking so much,” Kon told him in a hot murmur against his ear. Toki bit his tongue as Kuchiha snagged open his yukata so that Kuchiha’s mouth could do something outrageous to his stomach; he shuddered hard against Kon, felt it when the other boy’s mouth drew into a smile, wicked and dark against Toki’s sweat-damp skin. He shuddered again, his free hand reaching up to grip Kon’s loose robe and tug him closer. Kon’s whisper drifted over him like feathers sliding against his skin; “I’ve thought about this enough for all of us.”
Kuchiha muttered, “Pervert,” even though she was the one who was spreading Toki’s thighs and settling between them. Toki choked on a laugh, and scratched his nails lightly against Kuchiha’s bared skin before Kon was taking his hand away so he could bite at the soft flesh there. Toki didn’t know if Kon was lying or if he had really thought about this late at night when no one was around, maybe, and, yeah, Toki couldn’t quite keep in a moan at that thought. If he had, apparently Kon had decided it was okay; the risk worthy of the taking.
And Kon probably had, and thought it cool and logical, and Kuchiha moved as easily as if this were perfectly natural, the most comfortable thing in the world, and in his heart, Toki felt nothing but an overflowing wealth of rightness. That was enough for him; more than enough. Thought was gone, and they moved as if by instinct: because they chose each other as if they couldn’t help but choose each other, and so there was no reason to not move forward with this. They fit, and they would learn happiness together, and it was the most real and important thing Toki was pretty sure had happened to any of them.
The strangest part of it was probably how completely and utterly not awkward it suddenly was.
They had to be quiet, though, in the still, summer-heavy air of the temple. The fabric of their clothing rustled as they shifted and shed it, Kon’s pipe made two harsh sounds as it completed its roll off the deck. Toki couldn’t stop staring at the way they looked together, Kon pressing biting kisses to Kuchiha’s neck, his fingers working hard at the braid she used to keep it still around her shoulders. Kuchiha was doing something that sounded a little like the softest growl Toki had ever heard, which would have garnered a seriously freaked out look if he wasn’t so very preoccupied with Kuchiha’s hand drifting teasingly over his erection, his body bared to the moist night, to both his comrades’ gazes. Their eyes were dark and half lidded, mouths wet and lush and Toki had to bite the heel of his hand so that he could muffle the sounds just watching them drew out of him.
Kon flashed a grin his way as he finally pushed back Kuchiha’s hair in a long glistening fall, the strands twisted and waving from being creased into one style so long. She shook it back, and then leaned forward over Toki, only to have her hair move in a seductive slide back over her shoulders. It framed her face and where her hands were on his thighs, her mouth hesitating over the head of Toki’s cock; her bangs were in her eyes and she looked up to give Toki a look that almost made him come on the spot. It made her smirk, showing a bit of teeth before she leaned down, and took him into her mouth, gentle, soft and wet.
“Ah!” Toki couldn’t breathe but he knew as soon as he got a chance he wouldn’t be able to stay silent; fire was racing through his body, steadily building in pulses that washed over him. Toki looked at Kon for help, and Kon leaned over him, his one good arm braced against the beam so that Toki had to tilt his head back, and arch his body to reach his mouth.
The world fell to pieces right there, between Kon and Kuchiha’s mouths on him, beneath a starry sky in a world far from his own empty one. There were moments he remembered better than others, particular instances that sheared through his hungry delirium like the sun fierce behind uncertain clouds: the giggling stumble to Kon’s bed room, the closest one, immediately pressing Kon back against his soft futon for a taste of him; the flavor of Kuchiha on his tongue and the way her fingers dug into his back a split second before she released him to grip the covers, mindful of his human frailty; the push and slide of Kon’s fingers slick and warm with something, pressing slowly into his hole, the way surprise was burned away by pleasure, by Kuchiha’s wondering, pupil-blown eyes as she watched Toki bow his back and beg with quiet breaths for it.
He remembered when Kuchiha reached over him to slide a hand down his back, touch her fingers lightly where Kon’s erection entered him in long, devastating strokes, until Toki was able to uncurl shaking fingers from the pillow and curl them into her, instead, wet again with slick soft folds; she made delicious noises as he pressed tight against her wall, and stroked his thumb backward as best he could, rocked by Kon’s rhythm. Toki remembered how they sounded, rough and perfect.
He remembered how Kon pressed a kiss against the back Toki’s neck when he came with an almost silent cry, and how Kuchiha threw her head back unashamed and rode his fingers; he didn’t remember much about his own orgasm: just a brush of fingers against his cock, both his friends reaching for him, callused fingers laced together in a gentle tug that sent him over the edge a flash fire instant that almost made him think he’d lose his mind.
He found it again in their arms.
(Omake would be something like:
"But how did you know where to put it," Kuchiha asked.
In high amusement, Kon said, "Because of my divine instinct, obviously.")
Author: reversedhymnal
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: sex with a girl and two boys?
Word count: 3193
Summary: They have things to can learn together.
A/N: I still can't write Toki very well, :\ I requested this prompt, lol, but I'm not sure if I got a response. But, uh, I'll post anyway? Just in case...
Amatsuki, Kon/Toki/Kuchiha: three-way sex - instinct
“I never knew what happiness was,” Kuchiha confessed, “Until I met Shamon-sama.”
Kon smoked on his pipe, and blew interesting shapes into the air; Toki watched the meaning in his words slip between the pale curls of it, as they twisted past his lips. “All a dog needs to be happy,” he said, “Is someone to tell him Good Job. Feed the dog, give the dog shelter, and he’s your best friend for life.” Kon breathed in more smoke and Toki and Kuchiha waited; he blew the smoke out, lazily. “It’s a limited concept of happiness, though.”
“Shut up,” Kuchiha muttered into her knees. The night air was thick and smelled sweet, and the three of them were on the porch, with the stars a blanket of dazzling light high above the darkness of the world. “I had other people offer kind words before Shamon-sama. I doubt you could understand the difference between them.”
Kon angled his head, and breathed smoke into Kuchiha’s hair; she wrinkled her nose at the smell of it, too strong. Toki breathed the air in, watching them, their dark hair catching highlights and casting shadows, the glimmer of their eyes, wet and deep, the way their mouths were carved achingly into their faces; there was something strong and wounded about them at the same time. They were so real.
Toki told them: “I’m just now learning what happiness is.”
*
It wasn’t a tradition, because there wasn’t any meaning in it; and it was a really weird concept for Kon, at first. His nights were usually lonely, or stiff with challenge; he made friends with the expectation of being abandoned, or used, and he didn’t talk about his family, not ever. And then he got lost in time, and now he only had one arm, and people still whispered and shied away from him.
Except Kuchiha; they taught each other how to play fight, like two lonely dogs tired of the instinct to kill: hard to let go of, but grudgingly willing because it was better than being alone. Because being yourself and not being hated was absolutely exhilarating, for all that they pretended it wasn’t.
Kon didn’t want to say it was a habit, because it really sort of just happened, without conscious thought, and habit was something that became so through choice. Kon liked to think he was decisive about which bad habits he picked up; Kuchiha wasn’t supposed to be one of his bad habits. It was just that they invariably wound up together, after hours, late at night, instead of sleeping. It was companionable, existing under the heavy sky side by side, tired and not alone.
By the time Toki came Kon was almost used to having people who weren’t scared to associate with him around. And having Toki should have messed it up, by all rights - it should have been weird, or odd, because Toki was just this tiny kid thrown into this strange world, and at least Kon was used to cold logic and rough fighting; he’d managed, but Kon wasn’t so sure how Toki would get on with them.
He should have changed everything. It should have been broken, the bad habit; but it wasn’t. Toki worked. He joined and it didn’t take from anything; he added, instead, and Kon found himself cherishing these small, quiet moments. Sitting and talking or sitting and listening.
Kon smoked, and sometimes Kuchiha paced, and on occasion Toki fell asleep against a beam so that he woke up to find one of his new friends had put him to bed. That was sort of fun, because it was weird how strength could be hidden in unlikely people, and Kon liked the way Kuchiha moved so gently with Toki in her arms.
It was like at night they could release the latch on the armor they had to wear, a small space of reprieve in such a hostile world.
Kon realized, too late, that he was attached.
*
“Oh?” Kon asked with one of his mysterious smiles. “And you’re trying being happy out on us?”
Toki laughed, and it wasn’t actually happy sounding, but then, Toki had said that he was learning. It felt strange, though, not one of his usual laughs. It was different, like it shook things inside him; wasn’t just a ghost passing through for the benefit of others. It came from a place inside him, real.
“I always seem to be using people, all my life,” Toki spoke bleak words in a voice that he thought was nonchalant about the emptiness that had always bounced boredom hollow around inside him, “I don’t see why I should stop now.” He looked over at Kuchiha and Kon, dark and still and new, so different from the bright harsh reality of that previous life. “Or are you two different?” he asked with a crooked smile.
“Of course we are,” Kuchiha said in disgust, face pinched tight. “Stop being disgusting. I hate people who think like that. It’s not okay to use people.”
“But,” Toki asked distantly, “Isn’t that what everyone does?”
“If you’re not careful, Kuchiha is going to punch you, and I’m going to let her.” Kon blew out smoke in Toki’s face this time, and Toki started coughing, waving his hand to dispel the haze. He squinted through it, out over the garden they sat on the edge of, watching the quiet sleeping things. Toki laughed again, then, and it was less unhappy than before. It shook things nicely in his chest; it was an exciting feeling, strange and bright.
*
There’s a dog god inside of her but Kuchiha had always felt like the size of her own skin was enough. It was everyone else that made her feel awkward and misplaced; incorrect, not inside herself, but in conjunction with everyone else. Then Shamon-sama had happened, and she felt like she could revolve like a small dark star amidst all the others just fine so long as she had a welcoming smile to return to. It was a big sea of people, but she didn’t have to stand out. She didn’t have to be the lonely girl child chased out of the village; she didn’t have to a god to be fearfully worshiped.
Shamon-sama didn’t make her feel like a shock bit at her skin every time she brushed against the fabric of the world. That was happiness, to her; it was simple, and it was enough.
Now she felt too full, like her heart was about to swell up and burst like an over ripe fruit at market, choking on the way they made her feel. There was a place in the world for her now that didn’t just fit like some perfect self-contained space around her - her world grew between Kon and Toki and stretched wide like it wanted to show her all the things she’d been missing lost inside her own skin; suddenly she felt like she was too small, because happiness did something completely different than sadness: it grew and grew and spread, instead of twisting her down inside herself. Kon and Toki fed her happiness like they could feed a fire and never run out of fuel. The kept close like her happiness could keep them warm forever.
She realized that there were different kinds: dog-happiness, and human-happiness. She got a taste of human-happiness on her tongue with them, and she knew better, but once she got her teeth set into them, she never wanted to let go.
*
“People used me,” Kuchiha cut off his laughter, her voice slicing through the night like she was manipulating her sword to carve them out and make the world bleed with the truth. “And I wasn’t happy. Shamon-sama didn’t use me; he just accepted me. That made me happy.”
“Happy like a dog,” Kon murmured. “But acceptance is nice. I made someone bleed for it, once.”
Toki frowned. “But it wasn’t enough for you, Shinonome-kun.”
“No,” Kon agreed. His smile grew into a smirk that he threw at Kuchiha like a weapon, and Kuchiha growled at him, but stayed curled around her knees beside them. “A person needs more than just acceptance to be happy.”
“Then so does Kuchiha.” Kuchiha’s eyes were bright and it was easy for Toki to hold them, and say decisively, “It’s true. Kuchiha is also a person. She needs that kind of happiness, too.”
“Even though I feed you,” Kon added with a curl of amusement, “You’re not a pet. And you’re not my charge.”
Kuchiha’s whisper was quiet in the still night: “What am I then?”
“Something important,” Toki said. He leaned back on his palms, looked up at the cold heavens and amended his statement: “Someone important. To us.” Kon smoked calmly on his pipe, and Toki was glad Kuchiha’s face was half in shadow, because sometimes the expression in her eyes made something deep inside him want to break.
*
It’s funny, Toki would think later, how he’d spent all his life just going with things, not caring, even though he can look back on it now and know, as he did then, that he hadn’t really wanted it. Everything had just happened, before, without Toki really choosing it; it hadn’t mattered what happened.
Toki and Kon and Kuchiha, whatever they were, they’d sort of just happened too - but they were all choosing it, with every second, with every heart beat, with every smile, with every bruise. There was a difference, he saw now, between apathy and instinct.
*
“Thank you,” Kuchiha said softly, and then she let go of her knees, and crawled the few feet between them, and pressed her mouth against Toki’s cheek, and breathed a wet line down its gentle angle to his jaw line.
“Wh- what!?”
Kon asked, “Is this a dog saying thank you?” and Kuchiha snarled, fiercely, and Toki gasped, his heart beating fast. Kuchiha tried to jerk away at his reaction, but Toki grabbed at her without thought.
Around an obstruction of confused, embarrassed need in his throat, Toki said, “I like all of you, Kuchiha.” It made the dog girl make a delirious noise, small and intimate.
“So do I,” Kon said softly, and Toki looked over at him, surprised that he hadn’t noticed when the larger boy had shifted, moved close against his other side. His pipe rolled on the wooden planks with a quiet clanking sound, starlight gleaming in silver lines upon its fine engravings. “I won’t take this if it isn’t all of you, Kuchiha.” His smirk made Toki’s heart keep pounding, his eyes getting caught on the curve of Kon’s mouth. “I’m greedy like that.”
When Kuchiha laughed, it was a laugh Toki had never heard from her before; something deep and glorious, full of knowing, that made things low inside him shiver. He wanted her to touch him again, with the thrill of that dangerous growl echoing rough across his nerves. He wanted Kon to reach out with steady fingers to smooth the bangs from her face, so the starlight caught along the stubborn set of her face; he wanted to be able to lean in and press a kiss to Kon’s wrist, so he could follow it up his arm, to meet Kon’s mouth with tongue and teeth.
“I am Kuchiha of the tainted blood,” came Kuchiha’s voice so low and rich that Toki had an impression, for just an instant, of a mouth full with too many sharp teeth, and a bristling of fur. “If I were nothing but a dog, I would want to be near you. I am more than a dog, and I want this.”
For a moment Toki wondered if there was something wrong with him, to want this so badly. Had this old world changed him? Such strange things were happening, why should this feel so natural, so instinctive, to press close to these two people and never ever let go. He saw the reflection of his need in their dark eyes, and he knew, at least, that he was not alone compelled. The significance of being wanted so viscerally shook him.
“This?” Toki asked, deep with knowing, but still floundering. He couldn’t quite help himself from leering softly at Kuchiha, knowing he was blushing as he felt his cheeks sear with heat. He didn’t know how to charm them like he did everyone else - they drew from him deeper reactions than anyone else. Maybe it was because Kon and Kuchiha were more than Toki had ever let himself believe he needed, before. Comrades. Friends. Important. Softly, he mocked, “What’s this.”
She gave a low snarl, and it was Kon’s hand that reached out and grabbed Toki’s tight, to slip into that alluringly perfect opening in Kuchiha’s clothes; the skin of Kuchiha’s belly was warm and soft beneath his fingertips as Kon dragged their hands down, until Kuchiha was cursing and yanking at her ties.
“Shi-it,” Toki breathed, the heat of Kon beside him searing into his skin, down deep inside so that it twisted liquid-like down his spine to make him squirm faintly; he pressed the back of his head against the rough beam he was leaning against. “Is this…really okay?”
“Stop thinking so much,” Kon told him in a hot murmur against his ear. Toki bit his tongue as Kuchiha snagged open his yukata so that Kuchiha’s mouth could do something outrageous to his stomach; he shuddered hard against Kon, felt it when the other boy’s mouth drew into a smile, wicked and dark against Toki’s sweat-damp skin. He shuddered again, his free hand reaching up to grip Kon’s loose robe and tug him closer. Kon’s whisper drifted over him like feathers sliding against his skin; “I’ve thought about this enough for all of us.”
Kuchiha muttered, “Pervert,” even though she was the one who was spreading Toki’s thighs and settling between them. Toki choked on a laugh, and scratched his nails lightly against Kuchiha’s bared skin before Kon was taking his hand away so he could bite at the soft flesh there. Toki didn’t know if Kon was lying or if he had really thought about this late at night when no one was around, maybe, and, yeah, Toki couldn’t quite keep in a moan at that thought. If he had, apparently Kon had decided it was okay; the risk worthy of the taking.
And Kon probably had, and thought it cool and logical, and Kuchiha moved as easily as if this were perfectly natural, the most comfortable thing in the world, and in his heart, Toki felt nothing but an overflowing wealth of rightness. That was enough for him; more than enough. Thought was gone, and they moved as if by instinct: because they chose each other as if they couldn’t help but choose each other, and so there was no reason to not move forward with this. They fit, and they would learn happiness together, and it was the most real and important thing Toki was pretty sure had happened to any of them.
The strangest part of it was probably how completely and utterly not awkward it suddenly was.
They had to be quiet, though, in the still, summer-heavy air of the temple. The fabric of their clothing rustled as they shifted and shed it, Kon’s pipe made two harsh sounds as it completed its roll off the deck. Toki couldn’t stop staring at the way they looked together, Kon pressing biting kisses to Kuchiha’s neck, his fingers working hard at the braid she used to keep it still around her shoulders. Kuchiha was doing something that sounded a little like the softest growl Toki had ever heard, which would have garnered a seriously freaked out look if he wasn’t so very preoccupied with Kuchiha’s hand drifting teasingly over his erection, his body bared to the moist night, to both his comrades’ gazes. Their eyes were dark and half lidded, mouths wet and lush and Toki had to bite the heel of his hand so that he could muffle the sounds just watching them drew out of him.
Kon flashed a grin his way as he finally pushed back Kuchiha’s hair in a long glistening fall, the strands twisted and waving from being creased into one style so long. She shook it back, and then leaned forward over Toki, only to have her hair move in a seductive slide back over her shoulders. It framed her face and where her hands were on his thighs, her mouth hesitating over the head of Toki’s cock; her bangs were in her eyes and she looked up to give Toki a look that almost made him come on the spot. It made her smirk, showing a bit of teeth before she leaned down, and took him into her mouth, gentle, soft and wet.
“Ah!” Toki couldn’t breathe but he knew as soon as he got a chance he wouldn’t be able to stay silent; fire was racing through his body, steadily building in pulses that washed over him. Toki looked at Kon for help, and Kon leaned over him, his one good arm braced against the beam so that Toki had to tilt his head back, and arch his body to reach his mouth.
The world fell to pieces right there, between Kon and Kuchiha’s mouths on him, beneath a starry sky in a world far from his own empty one. There were moments he remembered better than others, particular instances that sheared through his hungry delirium like the sun fierce behind uncertain clouds: the giggling stumble to Kon’s bed room, the closest one, immediately pressing Kon back against his soft futon for a taste of him; the flavor of Kuchiha on his tongue and the way her fingers dug into his back a split second before she released him to grip the covers, mindful of his human frailty; the push and slide of Kon’s fingers slick and warm with something, pressing slowly into his hole, the way surprise was burned away by pleasure, by Kuchiha’s wondering, pupil-blown eyes as she watched Toki bow his back and beg with quiet breaths for it.
He remembered when Kuchiha reached over him to slide a hand down his back, touch her fingers lightly where Kon’s erection entered him in long, devastating strokes, until Toki was able to uncurl shaking fingers from the pillow and curl them into her, instead, wet again with slick soft folds; she made delicious noises as he pressed tight against her wall, and stroked his thumb backward as best he could, rocked by Kon’s rhythm. Toki remembered how they sounded, rough and perfect.
He remembered how Kon pressed a kiss against the back Toki’s neck when he came with an almost silent cry, and how Kuchiha threw her head back unashamed and rode his fingers; he didn’t remember much about his own orgasm: just a brush of fingers against his cock, both his friends reaching for him, callused fingers laced together in a gentle tug that sent him over the edge a flash fire instant that almost made him think he’d lose his mind.
He found it again in their arms.
(Omake would be something like:
"But how did you know where to put it," Kuchiha asked.
In high amusement, Kon said, "Because of my divine instinct, obviously.")