As we lay

TITLE: As we lay
AUTHOR: Lemonychocolate
EMAIL: dragonechilde@yahoo.com
WEB SITE: n/a
RATING: Mature-Adult
DISCLAIMER: I make no claim to, nor hold any license to the original characters to this story. These characters are used for the sake and sole purpose of entertainment only. No profit shall be, nor will be gained from the writing found hereafter; nor shall any personal credit be taken as to the character designs, personalities or concepts stemming from the original characters used. All situations in the story below, unless otherwise stated, should not, in any way, have any bearing on the creator’s original work.
FEEDBACK: Yes!
SPOILERS: none that I can think of.
SUMMARY: After one reckless and unforgettable night, Yusuke and Kurama are forced to deal with the consequences.

Chapter 1

A young man gazed out of the window. He was beautiful in both looks and manners; a flux of nature for which he was endlessly complimented; all of which he accepted with quiet grace and grave dignity. However, if the truth be told, he was largely indifferent to his physical appearance. He could no more take credit for an extraordinary combination of genes that created him than he could the sun rising.

People thought his indifference quaint and modest. They were charmed by the seemingly unaffected young man and declared him a credit to his generation. In actuality, he was an old soul. One of the most ruthless and cunning thieves the Makai world had ever known. He was legendary.

Yoko Kurama, a silver-haired kitsune.

A demon fox.

Premier thief of the Demon World.

Unfortunately, his exploits grew too great. He was hunted and wounded grievously, perhaps even fatally. However, in a spark of brilliance, he conceived a ruthless plan. Hurt and mortally wounded, in a fit of desperation he escaped into the human world. Pouring his essence into a young human female, he subsumed the embryo she carried and was reborn as Minamino Shuichi.

A human.

His intend was merely to rest. Grow stronger within his shell of humanity until he grew stronger. He estimated it would take only about 15 years. Unfortunately he failed to factor in the human woman that unknowingly gave birth to him.

Her selfless nature, the love and concern that she nurtured him began to have an effect on him. Affection, tenderness, care…devotion, all were emotions he had never experienced.

Until he was born to one Minamino Shiori; the woman he called Mother.

He now quietly lavished on this unselfish woman—whose only crime was loving him—the same care and deep, abiding affection. He was Minamino Shuichi, kitsune, yokai…

And her son.

Kurama sat on the window sill of the hotel. His hair burned a deep, crimson fire under the rays of the sun gently flooding the room with light. The subtle, androgynous beauty that had defined him as a youth, had been lovingly sculpted and shaped as his human body matured along the way to adulthood. 10 years ago he looked ephemeral, like a creature from the pages of a fairytale. Now at the age of 26, he brought new meaning to the word ‘beautiful’.

His physical body having reached corporal maturity, Kurama’s eerie, luminous face and form effortlessly drew both male and female eye. As willowy slim as in his youth, he seemed to move to an invisible melody; a graceful, elegant dancer.

Eyes of a lush emerald green, shaded shimmering pools set against his crimson hair and creamy pale skin. His composure, the quiet smile he wore, was that of a man many years his senior. His effortless calm drew people to him as well as his looks. ‘Here was a man,’ their eyes seemed to say, ‘Even in the face of utmost catastrophe would figure out a way to save us and him.’

And for the most part, they were right. He had suffered and learned invaluable lessons in his second life as a human. Dangerous, hard won lessons that had left permanent marks upon his soul. Marks that he accepted with grace and forbearance; he was grateful for this second opportunity that he dared not squander.

It was a fact that often exasperated his fiery, impatient lover.

The sun caressed his face like a benediction; the morning shaping to become a glorious day. Yet on his pale creamy face, there was no enjoyment of the morning. His eyes were empty. He did not see the riotous play of colors of the early morning sun.

Reflected subtly in the window, his face bore little resemblance to the pleasure filled, hungry expression he had worn the night before. Devoid of joy, desire—ecstasy—his eyes held sorrow.

Hearing a faint sound, he stiffened slightly before turning his head.

The rays of the sun softly illuminating the stirring form of his night time companion. His eyes were drawn to the leanly, muscled chest. Dark brown nipples that he had laved and suckled greedily during the night; a pair of strong, corded arms had wound about him, holding him tightly as their bodies surged in desperate quest for fulfillment.

Helpless to stop, he trailed eyes to one bared leg protruding from the rumpled sheets. His breath caught in his throat. That same leg, along with its pair, had been wrapped tightly around him, flexing. Holding him. Pressing him deeper into the hungry, gripping sheath. That sensory memory played ruthlessly in his mind. Reawaking his body.

He forcibly tore his eyes away, not daring to tempt himself any further. His hands clenched, breath shuddering in his throat. The aching need that stirred in his groin nearly doubled him over.

This man—his friend—had strove tirelessly, long into the night and early morn, to bring him to a height, a level of aching pleasure he had never experienced. Even now his body quickened, heavy and swollen, as the memory of how the raw, agonizing pleasure set his body to singing.

Right or wrong, forevermore, last night coupling would always be held as a standard to any bed play he sought to indulge in.

He was ruined.

He watched, almost bitterly, as those remarkable eyes—eyes that could quall an enemy with one cold deadly stare—blinked at him with sleepy, dangerous languor. The effect on him was instant. Desire slammed into him with the force of a blow. His insides clenched, knotted with such a painful surge of ‘want’ and ‘need’ that he barely restrained a gasp.

His body hardened; an aching tug settling in his groin. More than anything, he wanted to join his sensuous dark-haired companion.

To be tumbled back to bed, redolent with the intoxicating scent of sex and his lover.

To simply…let go.

Lose the reins of his control. Become nothing more than a writhing, mindless creature of lust. Want. Need.

Wallowing in sumptuous passion. Bodies surging, blood thick and rich, thundering in their ears, burning through their veins. Low murmurs of need, desperate cries of passion becoming a soaring duet of sound. Sliding deep, deeper still into the slick, burning heat. Throaty moans, urgent and hungry—oh, so very hungry—urging him deeper.

Crying out for more.

Tighter.

Harder.

Kurama swallowed, his face sharp with urgent desire as his lover shifted, sprawling with slow, wicked languor upon the bed. Displaying his body in an open invitation for further debauchery and lustful exploration.

Green eyes shading to near black, traveled covetously, possessive over the wanton display. His hands twitched from the tactile memory of caressing the supple flesh. He was helpless to suppress his body’s inevitable reaction.

A lazy, deeply sensuous smile slowly curved his lover’s lips at the visible evidence of his want and need.

Then he watched, with almost clinical detached interest, as sick comprehension dawned in his one-time lover’s eyes.

“Tell me, has your curiosity been sufficiently satisfied? Did I perform to your expectations?” he asked with brittle sharpness, voice cut like the sting of his Rose Whip.

Yusuke’s eyes flickered then fell at the harsh condemnation in Kurama’s eyes.

His hands tightened on the sheet that just barely covered his nudity; slowly drawing it further to hide his nakedness. His knuckles showed white under the strain, a muscle worked in his jaw as he fought for control.

He searched for something to say; something that wouldn’t get him a quick punch in the jaw or gut. It wasn’t like he ever meant for…for…this to happen. And he sure as hell wasn’t gonna say something dumb like, ‘Damn, Kurama! That was some fuck you laid on me!’

He had an unwavering certainty that those words wouldn’t go over too well and would probably result in his immediate termination.

Drawing at his tattered shreds of dignity, he wrapped the sheet closer about himself and eased to his feet. Feeling painfully exposed, even with the sheet, he hastened to the bathroom grabbing at his clothing in passing. All too aware of the bitter, angry green eyes drilling a hole in his back.

Kurama watched Yusuke flee into the bathroom, fiercely glad at the fleeting look of pain and the way Yusuke limped. He dropped his head to his raised knees; the memory of how that sleek, muscled body felt under his hands nearly undoing his hard fought control.

And if he did—if they did in full cognizance—there could be no going back.


Yusuke stood under the shower, feeling the water pounding down on his back and ass. Slowly easing the aching pain of anterior muscles; muscles he didn’t even know he had. As long as he stood there, with the water pouring over him he could pretend the water seeping from his tightly closed lids was simply from the shower.

Unfortunately, the side of effect of that was with his eyes closed, images of just how achingly beautiful Kurama looked. Disturbing images of the blind hungry look Kurama wore last night cascaded in his mind. With a gasp, he quickly opened his eyes. Still, the pleasure drugged face played a prominent role in his mind.

That mindless look of hunger…the whimpering, begging, pleading look in those bottomless, deep green eyes; eyes that a guy could willingly fall forever.

He swallowed hard frantically listing all the reasons why what had happened, shouldn’t have happened. First, there was the fact that he wasn’t gay; second, that he was in love with Keiko; he was married; they had a five-year old daughter. AND HE WASN’T GAY!

He braced clenched fists against the wall; his heart hurting at the pain he caused. Yet despite all that, knowing that it was wrong, he craved Kurama’s touch. It wasn’t because of Keiko that his body was almost tied into knots. Throbbing and aching to once again feel Kurama silken body clenching around him. And his face was flushed with more than the heat of the shower—one hand ghosting over his ass—the fading ache a reminder of how it felt to have the kitsune deep inside him.

Growling softly, his face tight with a stubborn refusal to give in to his body’s demand, Yusuke fought a silent battle for control. Trying to seal away the echoing sounds of their joined cries of passion—of mind-shattering pleasure—from his mind.

It was a testament to his strength of will that one-by-one, he managed to regain control of himself.

He shut off the shower, and almost immediately regretting it. The silence was painfully loud with no additional distraction from his thoughts.

Singled-mindedly he began drying himself off, devoting the utmost concentration in such a mundane task. Meticulously he dressed on his pants; devoting an extraordinary amount of thought and attention to the act of putting first one leg then the other into the pants. The amount of thought usually reserved when he fought the big nasties and was trying to survive.

Finally he was dressed. There was nothing more for him to do, nothing to distract his mind from how he had majorly fucked up not only his life but Kurama’s as well. He gripped the sink, his knuckles turning white with the extremity of his handhold. He hesitantly raised his eyes to stare at himself in the mirror. His hands tingled, body getting hard and erect, despite his orders to the contrary. The memory of touching creamy, silken skin twisting his insides also confused the hell out of him.

It left a funny taste in his mouth.

And what else had been in his mouth had his eyes widening and he dry-heaved. Yusuke reached desperately reached for the toothpaste. He brushed his teeth three times, gargled four times before he felt the disturbing aftertaste was gone.

Okay, okay, he silently chanted, trying to calm himself. What’s the worst that can happened if Hiei and Keiko find out? He winced as several realistic scenes, all with him beaten, bloody and possibly dead played in his mind. Okay, let’s NOT think about the worst.

He whimpered as he looked, really looked, at himself in the mirror. He had that weary, satiated look of a damn good fuck. The kind where you KNEW you would be remembering and feeling the aftereffects of that night for days, if not weeks, to come.

Briefly a thought crossed his mind that a conscience was a terrible thing to have when the rest of your body felt so damn good.

Forgetting to pickup the laundry, forgetting their anniversary, or not noticing Keiko’s new outfit or hairstyles—those were the usual situations he found himself getting a stern, glaring eye from Keiko. And he had a hollow feeling that…that this would get him more than a nasty look from her.

Bewildered by the desire he still felt, Yusuke leaned his forehead against the tiled wall, just imagining what he stood to lose.

Everything he valued. Wife, child, friends and home.

Keiko, Kurama, Kuwabara and Hiei were four of his closest friends. And he betrayed two of them, one of them his wife, by sleeping with Kurama. He stood to lose three people because one, he couldn’t hold his liquor; and two, cause he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.

It was a given that Hiei was gonna kill him when or if he found out; not to mention what Keiko would do to him.

He never thought he would wind up like this. Especially not with—his face burned with shame—Kurama.

He always thought Kurama was kinda pretty, actually beautiful if he was honest. A guy would be blind not to notice. And maybe, just maybe, he did…wonder. What it would be like to hold that slim, dancer’s body in his arms, to have the right to touch and caress that smooth creamy pale skin. But that was as far as it went! Just thoughts! Hell, every guy wondered, didn’t they? he thought uneasily. And he did marry Keiko, he thought with some self-righteousness, so that ought to have proved something.

But he never, EVER thought about fucking Kurama. All he wanted to do was touch! And if touching was a crime, then millions of people should be locked up. Other than Kurama, he never HAD any thoughts about fucking guys. Which proved he wasn’t gay, he thought triumphantly.

Staring into the mirror, he wondered, with a sense of dismay why Keiko married him. He was a screwup, a fool. The only thing he had going for him was that he was half-yokai, and that wasn’t exactly a marketable skill in the Human World.

Still looking in the mirror, Yusuke did not see what others saw when they looked at him.

Much like Kurama, Yusuke’s raw, earthy looks had deepened over the years. His time spent in the three worlds subtly changing him, redefining his outlook on life.

Gone was the sullen, belligerent expression he had once faced the world. Chin outstretched, hands clenched—aggressive and ready to take on the world—he was armored against the slings and slights of strangers. Daring anyone to mess with him.

But with the passage of time—and his belief in himself—his outward appearance had changed.

The large, expressive eyes had lost their angry, frustrated expression. He had met and overcome more than his share of challenges in his life to make him aware that he didn’t have to fight anymore. The sneering mouth relaxed; a faint smile now played on his hard lips.

His mouth drew a large amount of attention as many women wondered what it would feel like—touching them. And as his inner self developed so did his body change. He grew taller, his limbs lengthening with pleasing grace and strength. His very walk, the first thing people noticed, was more akin to an animalistic prowl.

Exuding an unconscious animal magnetism, again like Kurama, he drew more than his fair share of attention. Females—and quite a few males—felt a fatalistic shiver course down their spines upon meeting his dark, fathomless gaze. More than a few sought, in vain, to capture his attention. All wanted to know…wanted to experience, that power and grace first hand.

His ‘bad boy’ persona and appearance had drawn the reluctant, secretive attention of females, young and old; now his appearance, that of smoldering of raw masculinity and power, drew and held their eyes and minds long after an extremely oblivious Yusuke had passed. There was a solidity about him; a feeling that ‘here is a man that will fight for me, hold me and support me for all time’.

He was no beauty in the sense that Kurama epitome beauty. However, Yusuke’s brand of beauty was rooted in the earth.

Like a white-capped mountain, hazy and blue in the distance; a grove of trees, standing mighty and stalwart.

Strong, solid and ever-lasting.

Timeless.

He was a rock; a beautiful facet rock.

However, none of this did Yusuke see in the mirror. All he saw was a ordinary guy with guilty, haunted eyes.

He winced, his eyes widening at the revealing display of livid marks decorating his throat and chest. Frantically Yusuke grabbed a cloth and rubbed at the love-bites, as if soap and water could erase them from his skin. His chest was as painfully tight as his eyes were dry when he again regarded himself in the mirror.

Nothing was foolproof to a sufficiently talented fool, he thought bitterly. And guess who’s the fool?

The fearful wide-eyed stare, panic roiling visibly in his eyes and underneath it all, there was hunger. He flushed, desire rising as images of Kurama again played on the white screen in his mind.

—that deceptively sleek body dewed with the perspiration of sex; gasping his name every time he slid slowly into the tight, clenching heat…

—the ecstatic low moan, how impossibly tight and hot Kurama felt when he sank inside, as if the kitsune had been made for him…as if his sole purpose was to bring Kurama pleasure…to please the Kurama in any way he could…

—the way Kurama had tortured and teased him; the heated breath, the slick glide of tongue against his throat…his nipples…his stomach…his…

Yusuke swept his hand out, struggling to dispel the images rioting through his head. He watched, as if in slow motion, as the glass sitting on the edge of the sink fell.

Shattered against the unforgiving floor.

Numbly he watched as shards of glass caressed his flesh. Slowly thin lines of crimson appeared; a liquid simmer under the florescent lights.

The strength of his need made him want to cry.

Nothing had changed. He still ached for Kurama.


Hearing the sounds of glass shattering, Kurama ran to the bathroom. Flinging open the door, his eyes met Yusuke’s wild brown stare.

That hungry, fixed stare stopped him from moving any closer.

Yusuke drew back, unable to bear being even this close to Kurama. He froze at the kitsune’s cry of alarm.

“Stand still! If you move, you’ll step on a piece of glass,” Kurama finished more calmly. His breath caught in his throat at the slow, considering look Yusuke gave him. He was frozen, unable to move or say a word as Yusuke, with calm deliberation, lifted his foot and lowered onto the glass strewn floor.

Pain twisting Yusuke’s face as bright sharp pain ran a jagged line from his foot to his brain. Savagely he exulted in the momentary agony. It was only a little taste of what he deserved.

Lifting his foot again, he attempted to again step into glass. Wanting the pain…needing the punishment. He took a kind of perverse joy in his act of self-mutilation.

His face cold and remote, Kurama swept in and snatched Yusuke away from the broken glass and strode from the room. Dumping his burden on the bed, he gave a flat, hard look at Yusuke, a silent warning of what he would do if Yusuke so much as moved.

Yusuke rolled over and buried his head in the pillows, no longer to bear the look of betrayal he imagined he saw on Kurama’s face.

Kurama sighed, the ice in his heart melting away. He shouldn’t have laid all his guilt on Yusuke’s shoulders. His friend had a bad habit of shouldering all the weight of the world onto his back. He was just as culpable as Yusuke in this debacle. He was not as drunk as that.

He could have said ‘No’.

Running a cloth under cold water and grabbing another cloth, he returned to the bedroom. Carefully he pulled the slivers of glass from Yusuke’s foot and used the wet cloth to blot away the blood. Once he had assured himself that all the glass was removed, he plucked a seed from his hair. Putting it into his mouth, he crushed it and mixed the remnants with his saliva, forming a paste which he used as a healing agent on Yusuke’s lacerated foot. In a casual display of strength belied by his fragile build, Kurama ripped the other towel into strips which he used to bandage Yusuke’s foot.

“We need to talk…” he said at last.

The dark, shaggy head was shaken determinedly. The stiff set shoulders spoke eloquently that hell would freeze over when that happened. A bittersweet smile flashed across Kurama’s face. It was all very well trying to ‘talk’; but it was tricky as hell when Yusuke probably would rather face Sensui during the championship soccer match than discuss anything emotional.

“We didn’t use any protection last night.”

Warily one eye was uncovered. ‘Yeah, so?’ The mute, expressive stare spoke louder than words and darkened green eyes closed in resignation. Why did he have to be the one to give Yusuke this particular talk?

“Yusuke, your particular race of demons are all males,” he began delicately. “Toushins don’t spring into being full-grown. Where do you think all the little toushins come from?”

Both eyes were revealed now. Each one expressing the utmost in horror. “Dear God, no…” Yusuke breathed. He scrambled off the bed, drawing as far away from Kurama as possible. As if by distancing himself he could somehow deny what Kurama was implying. If he could, he would have tried to deny that they had had sex last night; however the throbbing ache in his ass would not let him. And that reminder was enough to set him off.

He stormed about the room, in an eruption of violent energy. He knew was probably behaving like a lunatic. Ranting and raving was the first clue, but he just couldn’t take any more. With just barely enough control not to damage the place, he raged through the room; sullying the air with foul blistering curses in both Japanese and several dialects he had learned while in the Makai.

He pounded his hands against the wall and desk; battering his head against the door and walls. Struggling mightily to come to grips with what Kurama implied.

His body was glowing, his spirit energy reflecting his dangerously chaotic and turbulent state.

He was a truly a fearful sight; a yokai in full rage. It was a sight that would have had dozens of yokai pissing themselves with fear, thousands of yokai screaming in terror and scrabbling for cover, diving out of windows to escape.

Kurama, however, was negligently sitting on the bed, his legs crossed as he patiently waited out Yusuke’s temper tantrum. “Yusuke, it is not a certainty,” he said loudly enough to be heard over the noise his friend was making.

If the rapid breaths that Yusuke was taking were any indication, Yusuke was one step away from gibbering. “However, we were in our yokai forms for the most part. So if any… consequences arises from this call me immediately. There is a certain remedy I know of that will cause…” he trailed off, unwilling to put into plain speech what would happen.

“Dammit! I’m not gay!” Yusuke furiously screamed his denial at Kurama, taking refuge in anger. His fists were clenched, a shimmering blue glow enveloping his hands.

A fact Kurama took little notice. “Nobody said you were, so get over yourself!” he snapped, an unusually harsh note creeping into his voice. His own, rather formidable temper, began to rise. “We’re in this together, so get your facts straight,” he snarled with uncharacteristic resentment. The strikingly, lush verdant shade of his eyes deepened with frustration and anger.

It was rare enough that he allowed anything other than solemnity to show that it immediately caught Yusuke’s attention.

He regarded Kurama with large, startled eyes. Temporarily shocked out of his own panic-induced rage. It was one thing to tease and tweak Kurama, safe in the knowledge that his long-suffering friend, other than an exasperated roll of his eye or a quick swat, rarely showed his temper.

And there was a subtle wrongness, a discordant feeling of being massively out of step with the rest of the world. There was something unnatural…to have Kurama pissed at him, or for him to be this angry at his kitsune friend.

“Why does shit always happen to me?” He slumped against the wall and slid down it. Drawing his knees up, he clasped his arms around them. His eyes lowered, he devoted an inordinate amount of attention to a frayed thread. Anything to avoid looking at Kurama, anything to avoid thinking how much he had enjoyed having sex…he nipped that thought quickly in the bud.

I am NOT sexually attracted to men, he told himself firmly.

Hell, there were guys that both Keiko and Shizuru cheerfully pointed out looked better than Kurama. Which inevitably lead to him yelling at them to shut the hell up, he didn’t care. It got to be a game between the two women. Them finding a hot guy; him getting pissed.

Yet somehow, when it came to Kurama things were…different.

“Can’t…can I take it now…?” Yusuke whined plaintively after a few minutes of painful silence.

“No….It’s only purpose is…” Kurama broke off, frustration showing minutely on his stressed face. Looking disturbed, he ran a hand through his hair before speaking with forced patience. “You would not want to take this for any other reason than this specific purpose. Trust me.” He could have bit his tongue when those two words fell from his lips.

Yusuke’s head jerked up, his eyes fastening on Kurama’s face.

‘Trust me’.

Such a simple phrase resonated within them both. It was written in their eyes and faces; in the large expressive eyes of Yusuke and the parted lips of Kurama. Their faces flushed at the memory.

It was what had been whispered by Kurama last night. The memory of the brief moment of pain, when Yusuke cried out, his body trembling as he gladly surrendered his virginity to the kitsune.

Trust me.

And he did, wordlessly giving his trust to Kurama, trusting the silver-haired kitsune with his body, trusting that his belief would not be in vain. That his pain was soon followed by such indescribable ecstasy it left him, even now, feeling weak as butterflies fluttered around in his stomach. It was like a tangible cord connecting them, affecting them. Forcing them to relive the searing, unearthly passion that still had the power to unsettle them.

It was with an effort of will that Kurama managed to turn his head, breaking the connection of their eyes. Silence fell again between the two. From the corner of his eye, he studied the stubborn, sullen lines that formed on Yusuke’s face. He sighed.

“Yusuke, I would like to apologize for my words earlier,” he said stiffly. He stared at the floor, unable to face the defeated, lackluster brown eyes. “You were not the only one in the bed last night. I participated fully and joyfully in last night’s activities,” he choked out.

Yusuke studied his friend. Slowly a bit of life came into his eyes. His lips curled upwards in a tiny smirk though it was a far cry from his usual snarky look. “You would rather have had your guts ripped out and your face smashed into a wall than say that, huh?” he guessed with a wise nod.

Kurama proud carriage slumped. His lips curled in a self-mocking smile. “Was it that evident?”

They glanced at each other in shared mirth, momentarily managing to set aside last night. But as day followed night, it crept back into the room. Sitting boldly in the middle like a 10-ton purple elephant, merrily waving its trunk. Awkwardly they glanced away, each wondering with a sense of desolation if there was a way back to the easy friendship they once enjoyed.

“Will you tell Keiko?” Kurama eased away from the bed. He stood at what he believed was a safe distance from Yusuke.

“Not if I can help it…” Yusuke responded flatly, his face drawn in sober lines. He looked aged, far older than his years.

A red brow rose in surprise. “You’ll lie? To Keiko?”

Yusuke gave him a long, dangerous stare. “I’m not like you,” he replied slowly after several seconds of silence. “Everything I have, everything that I am is because of Keiko. She’s always been the one driving me, forcing me to be better than I am; never allowing me to settle. I have a home, a wife and child. A job that I enjoy. A job that gives me the freedom to enjoy my life, daughter and wife. I don’t have the smarts to fall back on to get a better job. So yeah, I’m not gonna tell her. I’m not gonna lose everything I’ve worked my ass off to get. Keiko believed in me before I believed in myself.”

Kurama’s eyes widen slightly. “I…I’ve always believed in you,” he stated quietly. He stared at the carpet. “So have Koenma and Botan. Time and again, Hiei and Kuwabara have had your back—we’ve all had your back—no matter the odds against us. Because we believed in you.”

‘Even when Keiko didn’t’ was unspoken.

Stung by the soft reproof in the quiet, husky voice, Yusuke’s jaw clenched, however he refused to apology. “And you? I don’t suppose you’ll be telling Hiei about our little indiscretion?” he retorted nastily, going on the offensive. His motto was, ‘When in doubt, attack.’ “He’s no more inclined to forgive and forget than Keiko.”

Slender shoulders rose in a shrug. “Hiei and I have wandered apart and back a dozens times since we’ve been together. That this occurred during our ‘together’ period is regrettable. While it will be difficult, it is unlikely that he will permanently bar me from his bed or deny himself the pleasure of my companionship.” That this was a momentary aberration was plain in his voice. He wanted to hurt Yusuke; as much as Yusuke was hurting him.

“Hiei trusts me and loves me. As I love and trust him. No matter the outcome—whether we stay together or find another—we will always respect each other and remain friends.” He smiled coldly at Yusuke. It didn’t need to be mentioned that Keiko wasn’t like that.

Yusuke’s mouth dropped open. For a minute, hurt as well as envy was written all over his face. He shook his head roughly. “Well, bully for you.” But his heart wasn’t in the words he threw at Kurama.

It wasn’t jealousy or envy that he felt for the pair. It was more like…wistfulness. The bond between Hiei and Kurama, even a blind man could see it in the way they talked to each other. Stoic Hiei accepted and tolerated Kurama’s fussing over him. Anybody else would receive the acid edge of the little yokai’s tongue. It pleased Hiei; he enjoyed having someone fuss over him. Worry about him no matter how much he tried to pretend other. It was the way those cold red eyes would soften that showed how much it meant to him.

Yusuke sighed, slumping against the wall. Not that him and Keiko were having problems, he stoutly assured himself. But t was plainly understood that if he ever strayed, there would be hell to pay. It was okay for him to look, but heaven help him if he touched.

Maybe that was the difference, he mused. Did humans and demons have different reactions to relationships, he wondered. “Just when I thought I had everything together, I had to fuck shit up.” He spoke quietly, his eyes distant and unseeing. Absently he began rubbing at his wrist, worrying at a love-bite on the underside of his wrist.

“It took both of us last night to ‘fuck shit up’,” Kurama replied heavily.

After a few seconds of thinking over the words, Yusuke nodded his head. There was nothing more to be said. What was done was done.


* * *

Kurama made his way swiftly to a Makai portal. He had left Yusuke back at the hotel. Neither daring to get close enough to say goodbye in their usual fashion. It usually involved a lot of back-slapping on Yusuke’s part, a warm teasing grin then a hug.

Now, in the wake of this new…perverse awareness between them, they dared not touch. It was unspoken that neither wanted to chance resurgence of whatever it was that had drove them last night. And it was still there, waiting silently. A heat that shimmered and pulsed seductively between them. It strummed along their nerves, plucking delicately, as if trying to find the right key that would re-ignite the flames. It was like something alive and aware.

They dared not speak nor openly acknowledge that it existed for fear of what would happen.

One time was a fluke and could be blamed on too much alcohol. If they gave into it again, it would be with the full knowledge of what they were doing.

Kurama mouth was set firmly as he made his way to Muruko’s domain. That he was currently circumventing protocols by appearing first to her, rather than Yomi, he didn’t care. He was far more anxious to see Hiei. His stomach was tying itself in fearful knots; an ominous feeling of dread overcoming him.

Never before had he had a similar feeling. His relationship with Hiei was open. It was understood by each that they did not have, nor want, exclusive rights to each other. Never would he want to see invisible shackles of ‘ownership’ on his fiery, stoic little friend. And from everything Hiei said to him, the yokai felt the same.

So why this feeling of dread? As if last night romp had changed more than his relationship with Yusuke.

Peremptorily striding into the mansion, he questioned a servant. “Lord Jaganshi, where is he?” He asked none of his usual politeness.

The servant bowed and directed him to an outside bare, dirt arena. Kurama’s stomach clenched; he took a deep breath before heading in that direction. That the servant directed him elsewhere other than the bedroom was troubling.

Arriving at the location where a sweaty, gleaming Hiei practiced with sharp, precise movements of his katana, Kurama exhaled slowly. His eyes closed in pain.

He knew.

Somehow, someway—Hiei knew.

Stilling his nerves, he opened his eyes and gracefully descended from the stairs to the green grassy space around the flattened dirt arena. He sank into the forgiving green silence, allowed the grass to rejuvenate and shore up his battered spirit. Save for admiration of the skillful and deadly movements that Hiei always awoke in him, his face was empty.

With Kurama watching him, Hiei continued practicing. Though he was now heir to Muroko, he had no intention of letting his hard-won skills deteriorate. A fierce exultation swept through him as admiring eyes caressed his body. That his body pleased Kurama after all these years still had the power to stun him.

Going through the motions of his kata, though tired and exhausted, he had sensed the moment Kurama entered the Makai. A bittersweet joy ebbed softly through him as he felt the direction Kurama traveled.

A half-hearted smirk had curved thin lips. That was certainly going to upset the apple-cart, he had thought. Yomi’s little advisors certainly weren’t going to like the fact that Kurama came here.

“If there was one person that I feared, it was Yusuke,” he stated emotionlessly. Silently he crouched, extending his katana in a killing move to an invisible opponent. “When it came to him, I always feared that I was second best. Second choice.”

Kurama did not pretend not to know what they were discussing. “You were never second best. Not with me,” he replied huskily. Turbulent emotion made his eyes gleam with unshed tears.

Hiei continued as if Kurama had not spoken. “I always wondered what would happen if either of you recognize what existed or what could exist between you. Yet still I took a chance at loving you.” His whirling movements slowed to a halt and faced Kurama.

“And I don’t regret one minute.”

A choked sound came from Kurama. He dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry…” he cried softly, struggling not to shame Hiei by crying openly.

Hiei went swiftly to his lover. “Get up, fool,” he said harshly, yet there was an undertone of concern in his voice. Dropping to his knees, he roughly shook Kurama’s shoulders. “Do not a bigger idiot! So you have feelings for that stupid detective....It matters not, unless his woman is willing to release him. Which I doubt,” he added sourly.

“I do NOT have feelings for him!” Kurama pulled away with a sharp movement; both voice and eyes were fiercely angry. “It was nothing more than two guys getting their rocks off. It was just sex. And not a very good fuck at that,” he added crudely with a horrible, jeering laugh.

Sitting back on his heels, sharp crimson eyes studied the kitsune; seeing past the vulgar laughter that left a foulness lingering in the air. Even without using his Jagan eye, he could see fear spreading through Kurama. “You’re afraid,” he said wonderingly. “The great Yoko Kurama is scared of a puny little hanyou…”

Kurama eyes narrowed, emotional pain disappearing in the wake of the laughter that fell from Hiei’s lips. “Shut up…”

Tears of mirth were running down Hiei’s face. “The trickster fox, so tricky he fooled himself! You’re running from that dimwit, Yusuke!” He chortled, pointing a finger at the growling kitsune. Kurama’s eyes and hair were paling, signaling his change to his yokai form.

In a flash, the diminutive fire demon was tackled to the ground with Yoko Kurama straddling him and glaring at him with a bone chilling stare. Unfortunately, it did nothing to stop Hiei’s laughter.

“I should kill you…” Yoko Kurama said in a cold distant voice.

Hiei smirked. “And let your precious Yus-chan find out?” he scoffed mockingly. He shook his head, making tsking sounds.

“The great Yoko Kurama, so clever that he fooled himself,” Hiei continued. Slowly he sobered at the flicker of real anger in the yokai’ eyes. He sat up, a faint look of wonder disturbing his pale face. “You didn’t know?” he said in disbelief.

“Know what?” Yoko snapped, a harsh note in his usually melodic husky voice. “And do insinuate I have feelings for…for…”

“Yusuke…” Hiei finished for him quietly. He rose to his feet. Mutely he shook his head. “All this time, I worried about losing you to him and you didn’t even realize how you felt.”

Yoko’s mouth opened then closed slowly. There was an unusual look of confusion coloring his golden eyes. “I do not have feelings for him other than friendship,” he protested quietly. He lightly touched Hiei shoulders. “Tis you that I chose to spend my days and nights besides. Yes, Yusuke is my friend. But that is all there is to our relationship. He is someone that I care for, which is saying a lot,” he admitted with a wry smile. It made Hiei’s blood quicken. “But that’s all there is to our relationship.”

“In every way, Yusuke is your opposite,” Hiei responded at last. His eyes were regretful. “I knew it, and I just…thought you knew it as well. I thought the reason why you never pursued him was because of Keiko.” He grimaced at the cool, level look Kurama gave him. In retrospect, what he said made the wily kitsune look like a hapless ningen.

“I don’t love him,” the kitsune protested, his voice growing exasperated.

Hiei looked at him in surprise. “I never said you did. However, what you feel for him is far stronger than what you feel for me.”

“Yet you welcomed me into your bed,” Kurama stated softly. His eyes were narrowed, clearly thinking deeply behind cool blank eyes.

“And your point…?” Hiei asked blandly. “You’re beautiful, and had more skills than I in the bedroom, why should I not avail myself of your talents? You made your interest in me plain, so…” And he shrugged.

Kurama retreated behind a cool mask. “It’s nice to know your opinion of me…” he murmured.

“Fox, I’m restraining my impulse to hit you,” Hiei said dangerously. He glared heatedly up at his taller companion, clearly annoyed. “I was…am very f…f…f…” He couldn’t get the word out. The intensity of his glare at the kitsune increased.

“Fond…?” Kurama said politely. His lips were twitching at the irate glare on the little yokai’s face.

“Yes…” Hiei grated out. “I was that word. Otherwise, I would not have lowered myself to bed you.”

“My apologies, I thought it was the other way around,” Kurama murmured. He manfully suppressed his urge to smile. He was quite sure Hiei would not take kindly to amusement.

“What. Ever.” Hiei enunciated slowly. “We ended up in a bed…”

“My bed…”

“In. A. Bed.” Hiei growled, his look daring the kitsune to speak. “It was enjoyable. However, I always understood that if you and Yusuke recognized each other that our time would be over.” And real regret shadowed his eyes, darkening them to near black.

Yoko’s breath eased out. He took a step towards his lover. His eyes were open, revealing the care and love he felt for Hiei. “Does…does it have to be over?” he questioned softly. Gently he touched Hiei’s shoulder. “Yusuke will not willingly leave Keiko and the child. I like what we have with each other.”

Hiei stared up at his friend then looked away. His hard mouth softened. He leaned imperceptivity into Yoko’s touch.

A tiny smile curled the kitsune’s lips.

It would do.