When I am bored, there will be YYH-ness.
“You didn’t tell me ###### ### ###,” Kurama said as they re-situated Shura et al in Yomi’s, and to a degree their, apartment downstairs.
“I thought you’d appreciate a dry sort of surprise,” Yomi replied, throwing himself down on the couch and adopting a lounging position. Shura toddled up and began patting his face. He pulled the child up on top of him and let his hands be taken hostage for a round of patty-cake. Tilting his head back toward Kurama, he said, “Bitch, go make me a sandwich.”
“Go make it yourself.”
“Ever tried assembling something in the dark?”
“I don’t care if you make a mess, so long as you don’t burn the place down.”
“Soup and sandwiches sound good for dinner.” Bluntly he added, “I can’t work a stove, Kurama.”
The flaxen-haired boy sighed. “That pity angle isn’t flattering, Yomi,” he said, before going into the kitchen.
He decided that while he had the stove on he might as well make grilled cheese sandwiches, which he knew Shura could eat. After setting the toddler up with that, though, he hesitated and asked, “Can he handle soup?”
“So long as it’s not very hot,” Yomi replied, tearing up his son’s sandwich into smaller pieces so that the child could feed himself.
Kurama taste-tested the soup, found the temperature fine, and doled out a bit for Shura to start with. Then he took his own dinner and sat down next to Yomi. The blind man had taken off his jacket, baring his arms. Raising an eyebrow, Kurama noted that his arms were thicker than they used to be, and gave the rest of him a look-over. “For someone who’s been living off of cereal, you look like you’re putting on a lot of weight.”
“Muscle,” replied Yomi brusquely. “I can’t run around like I used to, but I’ve been making do with weights.” In case Kurama didn’t believe him he held out his arm for inspection.
The boy took him up on it, and widening his eyes realized that Yomi actually had quite some definition. “Have you been doing this by yourself?” he inquired, squeezing a bicep.
“Kuronue spots me.” Kurama nodded, thinking that Kuronue had a nice set of arms too. He wondered if Yomi had been toning up anywhere else, and decided to find out.
Shifting as Kurama pulled up his shirt and fingered his abdomen, he grabbed the other boy by the head and gently pushed him away when the fingers began trailing too far downward. “Not the time,” he warned, tilting his head pointedly toward Shura.
“Sorry,” Kurama said, sitting back. He could wait until Shura was put to bed.
Fortunately Shura actually went to sleep after going to bed, as by then Kurama was getting rather antsy. “Take off your shirt,” he implored once Yomi had shut the bedroom door and returned to the living room. Yomi wanted to roll his eyes-he may as well have wanted to spit diamonds. Oh well; his son was asleep and he was here now in the company of, he knew from his sighted days, one fine specimen, who wanted satisfaction. Best to deliver, then. Smirking, he grabbed the hem of his shirt tails and slowly lifted them up, sure that Kurama’s eyes were currently savoring and documenting his every move. So his friend was in fact right, he had gained a lot of flesh-but he wore it all damn well.
Even if he hadn’t already known that, it would have been confirmed by Kurama’s swift move to appreciate. He kept as still as possible while Kurama ran a pair of slender hands over his flat, hard stomach, and moved them out to trace up his waist, moving them in again at his chest. When the hands moved in on his nipples, however, he no longer found it so simple to stand still, especially once the hands began to turn circles, coaxing his nipples into a nicely pointed pair of nubs.
Keeping still proved impossible when Kurama began to pinch and twist one nipple while licking the other. With one hand he groped behind him, with the other he made sure that tongue stayed right where it was. He found the couch arm and managed to only slip a little while in transit to the couch itself, keeping Kurama and that nimble little tongue fixated on him the entire time. Spreading himself over the couch, he tilted his head back and let in and out deep, sighing breaths while he kept one hand on Kurama’s head, massaging its scalp as its foxy owner switched sides. The other hand he inched downward, to placate another part of him aching for a bath from Kurama too.
The hand brushed Kurama’s thigh, bringing attention to itself. Immediately Kurama rose up off Yomi’s chest and grabbed it. “Uh-uh!” he scolded gently, in a sing-song fashion, nibbling its knuckles in playful admonition. “This isn’t a game of Blind Man’s Bluff,” he told it, swatting it on the wrist while its master chuckled. “Now, let me lead the way.” And smirking he pulled the hand down Yomi’s chest and abdomen so that it could feel how much sexier its body had gotten, and then left it at the base of this sexiness while he freed and began to kiss the tip.
Yomi tossed himself back onto the couch and groaned as he showed self-appreciation via minute strokes; while Kurama showed appreciation via greedy, voracious slurps and sucks and swallows, all the while making the savory sounds of a happy glutton. Afterwards, while Yomi lay sprawled and panting still, Kurama sat back and licked his lips, making exaggerated smacking sounds, and in his best sultry voice declared, “You’re such a big boy, Yomi, but it wasn’t all muscle. If you hadn’t gotten so plump I couldn’t have eaten you up like I just did.”
But Yomi wasn’t so far gone from being the dish that he couldn’t dish it out too. Sitting up, he grinned and pulled Kurama to him, smacking the other boy on the seat of his pants. “And what about you?” he asked, his hand appraising the pants’ contents, squeezing. “Did your meal just go straight to your ass, or has Kuronue been helping you get bigger too?”
Kurama smirked and backed up into Yomi’s grasp, letting out a sensuous chuckle for the other’s benefit when the grasp became a massage. “How was that a meal?” he inquired deviously. He picked up Yomi’s unoccupied hand. “I’m still hungry.”
Something warm and wet, Kurama’s tongue, lapped at his fingertips. “Oh?” humored Yomi with a smirk of his own.
“Yes,” Kurama affirmed, kissing each finger. He backed against the other hand harder. “You’ve only fed one of my mouths.”
He said it so nonchalantly. Somehow Yomi managed not to break into more than low laughter. “I see,” he said (a little dryly), before flipping them and just hoping he didn’t send the wrong part of Kurama down onto the couch arm. Judging from the lack of cracks and pained utterances-hell, what he was getting was a soft croon, basically egging him on-, he was getting better at this sightless maneuvering bit. “So Kuronue has been spoiling you, has he?” A snort. He smirked. “Well, let’s hope he likes looking at your ass as much as I do feeling it, because it’ll be twice as swollen as it is now once I’m done ‘feeding’ you.”
“I thought you’d appreciate a dry sort of surprise,” Yomi replied, throwing himself down on the couch and adopting a lounging position. Shura toddled up and began patting his face. He pulled the child up on top of him and let his hands be taken hostage for a round of patty-cake. Tilting his head back toward Kurama, he said, “Bitch, go make me a sandwich.”
“Go make it yourself.”
“Ever tried assembling something in the dark?”
“I don’t care if you make a mess, so long as you don’t burn the place down.”
“Soup and sandwiches sound good for dinner.” Bluntly he added, “I can’t work a stove, Kurama.”
The flaxen-haired boy sighed. “That pity angle isn’t flattering, Yomi,” he said, before going into the kitchen.
He decided that while he had the stove on he might as well make grilled cheese sandwiches, which he knew Shura could eat. After setting the toddler up with that, though, he hesitated and asked, “Can he handle soup?”
“So long as it’s not very hot,” Yomi replied, tearing up his son’s sandwich into smaller pieces so that the child could feed himself.
Kurama taste-tested the soup, found the temperature fine, and doled out a bit for Shura to start with. Then he took his own dinner and sat down next to Yomi. The blind man had taken off his jacket, baring his arms. Raising an eyebrow, Kurama noted that his arms were thicker than they used to be, and gave the rest of him a look-over. “For someone who’s been living off of cereal, you look like you’re putting on a lot of weight.”
“Muscle,” replied Yomi brusquely. “I can’t run around like I used to, but I’ve been making do with weights.” In case Kurama didn’t believe him he held out his arm for inspection.
The boy took him up on it, and widening his eyes realized that Yomi actually had quite some definition. “Have you been doing this by yourself?” he inquired, squeezing a bicep.
“Kuronue spots me.” Kurama nodded, thinking that Kuronue had a nice set of arms too. He wondered if Yomi had been toning up anywhere else, and decided to find out.
Shifting as Kurama pulled up his shirt and fingered his abdomen, he grabbed the other boy by the head and gently pushed him away when the fingers began trailing too far downward. “Not the time,” he warned, tilting his head pointedly toward Shura.
“Sorry,” Kurama said, sitting back. He could wait until Shura was put to bed.
Fortunately Shura actually went to sleep after going to bed, as by then Kurama was getting rather antsy. “Take off your shirt,” he implored once Yomi had shut the bedroom door and returned to the living room. Yomi wanted to roll his eyes-he may as well have wanted to spit diamonds. Oh well; his son was asleep and he was here now in the company of, he knew from his sighted days, one fine specimen, who wanted satisfaction. Best to deliver, then. Smirking, he grabbed the hem of his shirt tails and slowly lifted them up, sure that Kurama’s eyes were currently savoring and documenting his every move. So his friend was in fact right, he had gained a lot of flesh-but he wore it all damn well.
Even if he hadn’t already known that, it would have been confirmed by Kurama’s swift move to appreciate. He kept as still as possible while Kurama ran a pair of slender hands over his flat, hard stomach, and moved them out to trace up his waist, moving them in again at his chest. When the hands moved in on his nipples, however, he no longer found it so simple to stand still, especially once the hands began to turn circles, coaxing his nipples into a nicely pointed pair of nubs.
Keeping still proved impossible when Kurama began to pinch and twist one nipple while licking the other. With one hand he groped behind him, with the other he made sure that tongue stayed right where it was. He found the couch arm and managed to only slip a little while in transit to the couch itself, keeping Kurama and that nimble little tongue fixated on him the entire time. Spreading himself over the couch, he tilted his head back and let in and out deep, sighing breaths while he kept one hand on Kurama’s head, massaging its scalp as its foxy owner switched sides. The other hand he inched downward, to placate another part of him aching for a bath from Kurama too.
The hand brushed Kurama’s thigh, bringing attention to itself. Immediately Kurama rose up off Yomi’s chest and grabbed it. “Uh-uh!” he scolded gently, in a sing-song fashion, nibbling its knuckles in playful admonition. “This isn’t a game of Blind Man’s Bluff,” he told it, swatting it on the wrist while its master chuckled. “Now, let me lead the way.” And smirking he pulled the hand down Yomi’s chest and abdomen so that it could feel how much sexier its body had gotten, and then left it at the base of this sexiness while he freed and began to kiss the tip.
Yomi tossed himself back onto the couch and groaned as he showed self-appreciation via minute strokes; while Kurama showed appreciation via greedy, voracious slurps and sucks and swallows, all the while making the savory sounds of a happy glutton. Afterwards, while Yomi lay sprawled and panting still, Kurama sat back and licked his lips, making exaggerated smacking sounds, and in his best sultry voice declared, “You’re such a big boy, Yomi, but it wasn’t all muscle. If you hadn’t gotten so plump I couldn’t have eaten you up like I just did.”
But Yomi wasn’t so far gone from being the dish that he couldn’t dish it out too. Sitting up, he grinned and pulled Kurama to him, smacking the other boy on the seat of his pants. “And what about you?” he asked, his hand appraising the pants’ contents, squeezing. “Did your meal just go straight to your ass, or has Kuronue been helping you get bigger too?”
Kurama smirked and backed up into Yomi’s grasp, letting out a sensuous chuckle for the other’s benefit when the grasp became a massage. “How was that a meal?” he inquired deviously. He picked up Yomi’s unoccupied hand. “I’m still hungry.”
Something warm and wet, Kurama’s tongue, lapped at his fingertips. “Oh?” humored Yomi with a smirk of his own.
“Yes,” Kurama affirmed, kissing each finger. He backed against the other hand harder. “You’ve only fed one of my mouths.”
He said it so nonchalantly. Somehow Yomi managed not to break into more than low laughter. “I see,” he said (a little dryly), before flipping them and just hoping he didn’t send the wrong part of Kurama down onto the couch arm. Judging from the lack of cracks and pained utterances-hell, what he was getting was a soft croon, basically egging him on-, he was getting better at this sightless maneuvering bit. “So Kuronue has been spoiling you, has he?” A snort. He smirked. “Well, let’s hope he likes looking at your ass as much as I do feeling it, because it’ll be twice as swollen as it is now once I’m done ‘feeding’ you.”