Only the Most Intense Flames can Burn a Rose

AN: Kogas Hentai Luver- Yeah, it was part of the story. When Kurama was a little boy, he climbed up to get some cookies or something off the top of the fridge, and he lost his balance. The jar fell and broke, and Shiori rushed to save him, fell on the floor, and has permanent scars of her wrists now.

solitare1- All in good time, darling. All in good time.

Thanks for the compliment, Lore. Feel free to contact me on the messengers if you guys want.

Sorry about that. Every time I do a sideways heart, it cuts out the rest of the chapter.

Here's the chapter.


Clothes dropped to the floor with fevered urgency. A black sash followed by a black jacket. Finally freed, a fitted silk yellow tunic followed, leaving the redhead only in a pair of pristine white pants. Fevered kisses paused just long enough to get the tunic up and over in order for it to fall to the floor, and Kurama could just feel the other’s eyes rake hungrily down his lithely muscled form.

He tried to open his eyes, and didn’t succeed. Well, maybe he did. Everything just seemed so distorted. He tried to see who he was with, and all he saw was darkness… Fuzzy lines. It was like he was drugged, but he didn’t remember anything. There was nothing that he had had that was tainted by someone else’s hands. He prepared it personally, as far as he remembered.

However, if this was a drug, it was amazing. His skin tingled with the other’s touches, and burned where he felt eyes peering. Exploring hands returned, and Kurama moaned softly with the attention. The hands worshipped his upper arms, not leaving his skin and leaving behind a trail of fire when they moved further inwards, to the center of his chest.

Those same hands pushed, and he took a few steps back before the back of his legs hit the edge of what he assumed was a bed. It was higher than he was used to. His mind told him that it wasn’t his, but he didn’t care. He moved to sit back on the bed and scooted just a bit further, and the other person in the room crawled in his lap. He felt lips and teeth at his throat, which he bared by tilting his head back.

“Do you realize how perfect your imperfections make you, Kurama?” Even if Kurama couldn’t see him, he knew that voice. He would never forget Karasu’s seductive purr, especially when he felt it against his throat. Following that was a strong bite. He pulled away at that, scooting back as far as he could, and his eyes cleared as he saw the figure in front of him clearly. “What?” The darker man asked, smile pulling at lips bruised a darker shade thanks to the kissing beforehand. “Just scared of me now?” He started crawling forward, moving in a way that was too sensual to be real. How could crawling be so enchanting to see? “Don’t you miss my lips already?”

Kurama leaned back, and another set of arms curled over him, one at his bare shoulder and the other encircling his waist, preventing his escape. “Relax, Shuuichi. You want him. Let him have you.” The man behind him leaned forward, silver hair falling over his shoulder in a curtain. Kurama was shocked, turning his head and seeing a set of familiar golden eyes, a smirk, and a twitch of white vulpine ears. “Youko…?”

His fox demon’s smile widened, glancing to the other who was still approaching. “He can give you what you need, you know it. You haven’t enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh in this body, my human. You miss it. Let him give it to you.”

“No, I can’t. He’ll kill me.”

“You’ll like fucking him. He might not kill you, you’re good enough for him to keep.”

The white figure tilted his head, and Kurama turned back, only for his lips to be caught in another kiss. Leaning back just got him closer to his white darkness, and moving forward just brought him closer to the man he was trying his best to ignore. Two pairs of clawed hand touched and caressed him. One man was whispering sweet, persuasive nothings while another worked at his skin. How could he not give into this? This was too intoxicating to ignore anymore…


Kurama woke with a start. He sweated with excitement as he sat straight up in bed, wide green eyes dancing around his room to make sure he was where he remembered going to sleep after he was done with his work. His chest heaved in heavy breaths and his heart wouldn’t stop racing. He’d ignored his human hormones up until this point, but something about Karasu seemed to awaken the sexual deviant inside of him. The fox demon took who and what he wanted when he wanted it, and now he seemed to want Karasu. Or at least he wanted Karasu to have him, death or not.

He threw the covers off of him and swung his legs over the edge of his bed. His blood was pumping so loudly that he could hear his heartbeat, even with a lot of it running stubbornly between his legs. He went into the bathroom quickly and ran fresh water in his sink. He splashed some in his face and ran his hands under the cool flow. His pulse seemed to be calming, but that’s all. His breathing returned to normal, but he still felt… Unclean. He shouldn’t have had that sort of a dream about anyone. Especially not about… Him.

He took off his button-up pajama top and slipped out of his pants, crossing the tiled floor to his tub, running warm water and quickly changing the water flow to become a shower instead. Immediately, he began washing himself. He focused on his chest and neck, for it still felt like there were traces of someone touching him there. He knew it didn’t happen, but it felt so real.

As he washed his body, he saw it still running though his mind. He scrubbed at his chest and he could almost imagine Karasu’s hands doing it to him. As if he was being too rough. He hated this. He didn’t want to want this man, and he didn’t understand why he did. Other than his power, Karasu had nothing that was spectacular, and if he were attracted to mere power, he would have pursued Yuusuke long ago. It wasn’t just power the crow had… But he didn’t know what it was.

Karasu was attractive; Kurama had to give him that. His features were sharp and defined, but it worked for the man. His hair was gorgeous, like a cape of black velvet; and his eyes were beautiful, even when tainted with red. When they weren’t crazed and looking at him with a gaze that almost made Kurama imagine the death that was playing right behind them. His body was perfect. He was built for the same kind of fighting that Kurama embraced. All planned movements and just enough strength needed to get the job done. Muscles weren’t impressive if you didn’t know how to use them.

Maybe it was his voice. His voice was so rich, he felt a shiver go down his spine every time it purred a word, and every sentence that flowed from his lips seemed to be meant just for his ears, like he spent so much effort to sound as seductive as he did. Even when he was insulting him at the Dark Tournament fight, it still sounded like it could be sweet nothings.

While his mind wandered, he hands dipped lower. His thoughts softened, and so did his scrubbing. With just soap and skin to clean him, it wasn’t surprising that it had changed to rubbing his stomach and occasionally dipping below the navel. Sighing, he leaned against the shower wall to his side, turning so his forehead pressed against the cooler tile, and took himself into his hand. It seemed his body wouldn’t calm on his own, especially at this point.

His actions were almost clumsy. He hadn’t touched himself in this way since well before his human birth. When he was Youko, he didn’t do anything to himself. He always found another person to do what ran through his mind, whether they wanted to or not, male or female- it didn’t matter.

For now, a hand was all he had- and he was unusually sensitive. The first squeeze when he wrapped his fingers around himself was almost breathtaking. Maybe years of celibacy had been good for him. He ran his thumb over his swollen head and moaned in appreciation. He used a barely firm grip after that, and then moved his hand. He stroked himself to the completion that he needed, biting at his bottom lip to cease the noises that no one was around to hear in the first place.

When he finally pushed himself over the edge, the water washed it all away quickly. By the time he recovered from the first orgasm to rock this body, there were no traces of his deed other than the smell. That too was quickly getting absorbed into the steam filling the bathroom, and being filtered out by the fans running in the walls.

However lighter his body felt, his mind still told him what he did was wrong. He was giving into the desires that might possibly kill him one day. He had to stay alive. He had his mother to care for. He had to make sure there was someone there who knew how to help her in case she ever fell into the sickness that she had had before when he first met Yuusuke. He had to be there for her, and that was why he couldn’t allow himself to do anything with someone who had said on many occasions that he wished to kill him.

He lowered himself to the ground, letting the water beat against his back and adjusted the temperature, making it hotter. He wanted to feel the burn. He hoped that a little pain would let him wake up from whatever this thing was that had taken him. He needed to be let free from Karasu’s clutches. He was trapped already, even without any physical bonds to keep him place.

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Kurama was dressed by the time he exited the bathroom. His hair was damp, but free from a towel and hanging down his back. He walked out of the bathroom and then into his kitchen, setting some water on the stove to boil. Tea was calming, and it was something that he needed at the moment.

It was early morning, so early that the sun hadn’t even risen. There wasn’t even any light in the sky yet. The sun was still hiding while most other people were tucked into their beds with sweet, pleasant dreams, getting their well-needed rest.

After he had his tea prepared and drank, he still felt uneasy. There weren’t enough plants around him to calm him in this apartment. He needed to go out and do something else. Take a walk, at least.

Kurama went back to his bedroom and changed clothes. He slipped into an old uniform for his college. They’d abandoned the uniform at the start of the semester they were in now, but he liked it. It was the same as the uniform from high school, but instead of pink, it was a deep red. It was almost the same color of his hair, and he thought that was very flattering. He wore it more for its pliable, light fabric, but looking good never hurt, either.

He left his apartment, taking the same light jacket he had almost taken the day before, and traveling the well-known path to the park. It wasn’t supposed to be very safe in the middle of the night, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t defend himself. He didn’t look like much to human eyes, but that was their mistake, and would be their problem.

As soon as he stepped past the vine covered gates of the grassy area, Kurama smiled. He could feel the plants there reaching out for him, needing him. The ones who were constantly denied sun cried out for his light, and he gave it to them. Basic plant nourishment was nothing for his abilities, and he didn’t have to touch them to do that. He began to walk, giving health here and there, and just taking in the overall appreciation that the plants gave him.

There was the occasional bum that slept on a bench, and the other people who took a shortcut through the park to get to the other side of it. It was easier than walking around it, especially if you had to be at work really early. He saw the apron of a local coffee shop, it was about time for them to open, cater to those who needed their morning caffeine.

It didn’t take too long for him to branch off from the main path to a smaller one. The main path was for travel, the smaller ones were for scenery. He didn’t need to move, he needed to be comforted.

After traveling it for only a couple dozen short, shuffling steps, another presence made itself known. He didn’t sense it at all before there was someone behind him. Kurama felt a hand wrap around his neck, and felt a pressure in his side. He did not, however, smell the scent of gunpowder. Instead it was oil and sweat, even a tiny bit of blood. “Hand over the cash, girly.” Rasped a gruff voice in his ear, “Or I might have to blast a bullet into that pretty skin of yours.”

This was a perfect example. He felt strength in the other’s arm, but the way he was trying to have the upper hand was sad. Not to mention he was slow. He plants told him nothing because the man was a dud. There was no energy in him but his own life. It was something that Kurama could handle, even with a gun against him.

“It’s too bad I’m not a girl, hmm?” Kurama asked, bringing an arm up to the one that was around his neck, and wrapping his fingers around the man’s wrist. He pressed two into the nerve there, and the other man moaned in pain, giving Kurama the chance to reach behind him with his free hand and rip the gun away, tossing it into the brush while sprinting forward and turning around to face his mortal opponent. The man, instead of running in pain like some would, reacted with more violence. He pulled a knife from an unbuckled sheath and threw it. It was apparently well balanced, because it buried itself into the skin of Kurama’s side.

The redhead tore it out with barely a wince, and threw it to the ground while charging. One well placed punch rendered the human unconscious, prone body suffering merely a broken nose, not a stab wound in his side. Kurama pressed his hand to his side, halting the blood flow the best that he could. His body healed faster than it should, so he knew that it wouldn’t take long for it to clot.

He used his free hand to gather up the weapons, pocketing them both. Humans these days… So obsessed with getting what they wanted that they’d kill for it. The man didn’t even look like he needed the money that bad. His gun was well-oiled, his nails were clean, and his clothes weren’t ragged. A bit worn, but that was all. He seemed almost excited by the idea of hunting another person, though. Was violence really this common these days? That you couldn’t even walk in a park at night without someone trying to kill you? Maybe it was something about the dark. Did blackness really bring out the worst in people? What of people who were raised in darkness? Though he knew nothing of Karasu’s past, he knew that it at least had to be dark.

What could have happened to the crow to influence what it had? What would have driven him to the insanity that he possessed? What taught him to show affection with death? Whatever broke him had to be horrible. It could have been the Toguros…

Whatever it was, though… It was something that he had to stay away from. It was time for him to stop daydreaming about what anything involving him would be like. It couldn’t happen. The little bit of sanity that he had left was keeping him in control. Kurama would bet his life that it was the only reason that he was still alive. He couldn’t play around with the idea that it was going to stay. He had to remain alive, at whatever costs.

Youko had to be ignored, and Karasu had to be killed. At least, he’d try to do it again. It was time for Karasu to leave his life and his dreams once and for all.