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.

Chapter 5



Days later found Kurama swimming rapidly to consciousness. The platform upon he rested was, for all extents and purposes, the equivalent of a futon.

Previously, they had been sleeping on the ground. Sure, the ground was comfortable with a thick layer of sweet, fragrant grass he had laid down to soften its hardness, still all in all it was ground and it was hard.

As difficult it was for Yusuke to get down, it had been even harder for the pregnant young toushin to get back up. It had taken the boy several embarrassingly long and frustrating minutes of rocking to eventually get up. Sometimes Yusuke had to resort to crawling over to the wall in order to leverage himself up.

Usually, by the time the dark-haired boy was up, he was generally in a smoldering, dangerous mood…and looking to take someone’s head off.

Kurama, being no fool, usually vanished into another part of the cave and absolutely would NOT return until it was safe. Deep in the recesses of the cave, he had begun creating something that would eliminate the difficulty; and incidentally lower the stress levels in their temporary shelter.

Outwardly, although Yusuke voiced his complaints about sharing the wide ‘bed’, secretly he was touched by the thoughtfulness. Though, it didn’t lessen his wariness.

This morning, like the previous mornings, Kurama was the first to wake. In the quiet time—in this soft, gentle time before Yusuke woke—it was his time. Stealthily his hand raised the too large top his bedmate wore. Soon the round, glorious taut belly was bared to his reverent eyes.

What he felt went beyond mere lust or possessiveness. It was indescribable just how he felt…touching Yusuke like this.

Careful to avoid disturbing the boy’s slumber, Kurama gently ran his hand over the stretched skin. Again, marveling at the sheer wonder, the magnitude of the gift he had been given….He was humbled by the wondrous gift bestowed upon him.

Every morning when he touched Yusuke like this—though he felt like the most wretched and unworthy of creature that ever walked—it was if the gods looked upon him. They looked down and saw a spark of something good in him, blessing him with such an opportunity.

Twisting slightly, he shifted around to lay his face against the precious resting place of his progeny.

His legacy and the beginning of his Clan House.

This was the culmination of what he had worked for all his life, a dream he had had for as long as he could remember.

He dreamily wondered what they would look like, which one of them would the kits resemble, him or Yusuke. And like all the other previous days, he decided he just didn’t care.

He made a soft thrumming sound deep in his throat as he turned his head, pressing his cheek against the warm, glorious swell of Yusuke’s abdomen. Both hands, now in play stroking the distended belly, were infinitely gentle.

Pressing his lips against the taut skin, he whispered senseless words of reassurance and comfort. Though who he was reassuring, himself, the kits or Yusuke, he honestly had no idea. It was there, along with another strange unfurling of emotion…of need he was helpless to suppress. At times he resented feeling like this, weak and fearful that this would, or could, all be taken from him. For the most part, he reveled in this soft emotion that filled him, because as weak as he felt, simultaneously he felt as if he could conquer the three worlds feeling like this.

In a few minutes, he would put on his mask, shrug back into his armor and becoming again the coldly distant kitsune, but now…in this time out of time, he would treasure these moments as the precious gifts they were. They did not lose any of their value, mainly because they were freely given and not stolen. And he would destroy anyone that attempted to take them from him. For the first time in his extremely long life, he refused to contemplate a future in which he would not be a part of his family’s life.

He reflected on his relationships with the others, the people he considered family and friends. That he went to enormous lengths to make sure they remained safe, sane and relatively happy would remain his secret. His mother still did not know what he risked to save her life so many years ago…that he had not succeeded was all due to Yusuke’s effort. There was a wry look in his eyes. Yusuke’s impulsive action should have given him a clue as to the rash nature of the boy. Even then, something about Yusuke called to him, spoke to some hidden recesses of his soul. He had been fascinated ever since. Tagging along beside Yusuke, he had seen some of the worse, and best, of human nature.

Both Yusuke and Kuwabara unknowingly were his teachers in the Humanity 101, for that matter, they even managed to impress such knowledge into Hiei’s reluctant head. He laughed silently, remembering the annoyed frustration that often lit the tiny fire demon’s eyes. Poor Hiei…humans utterly confused him. So certain of his belief regarding humans, it had come as a profound shock to see all his fine theories as substantial as air.

A faint smile dancing in his eyes, he ran his hand gently over Yusuke’s belly. His children would have the best of both worlds…of all three worlds, he decided. They would know that deceit and treachery existed in humans and demons, as well as goodness and loyalty.

Yusuke stared upwards at the ceiling through slitted eyes. Keeping his breath slow and even, he tried earnestly to maintain the illusion that he was still asleep. He had his doubts as to whether or not he was fooling Kurama. Still, it allowed Kurama to have his moment to commune with their children. It was usually the same every day. He would be asleep and would wake feeling hands touching him. He could feel the reverent hesitation in the featherlike touches, as if the life he carried was something fragile.

Ruefully he could have told Kurama that, judging by the way the little devils kicked, fragile was far from what they were. But he never did. It was moments like this, he felt connected…joined to Kurama in some intangible way.

He came to the conclusion that living with Kurama, in such close confines, had the effect of making him…curious about the lean, graceful kitsune. After all, there was little to occupy his mind other than the coming birth of the babies. At the oddest times, he found himself watching Kurama, curious about what drove of Kurama’s obvious intelligence.

He wondered pensively if having an ‘alliance’ with Kurama would be such a bad thing? Sure his advisors would freak. Though freak really wouldn’t come close to describing their reactions, he thought ruefully. He wasn’t quite as oblivious as everyone assumed, especially at how they treated Kurama.

The slights and veiled insults. The sneering looks as if Kurama was no better than some pathetic whore trailing after him.

Sure it burned him, to have one of his best friends treated like shit. Unfortunately, he had a sneaking suspicion that if he reacted, gotten pissed, there would be a load of dead bodies lying around…and Kurama, smack-dab in the center, casually licking the blood off his claws.

Between the two of them, they pretty much had the entire spectrum of emotions running through their bodies in response to hormones, Yusuke thought with a sardonic mental smirk.

So, it was just easier to pretend and ignore everything it all. Besides, Kurama didn’t seem to have a problem with it. He smiled. Actually, he got the sense that his wily kitsune friend was having a blast figuring out ways to outmaneuver his advisors.

Several minutes of quiet communion passed before he regretfully brought it to a halt. His bladder was making itself felt. A slight murmur and he instantly felt himself released. A quiet rustle, an almost imperceptible movement in the bed and Kurama stirred as if he was also just waking.

“Bathroom…?” Yusuke asked hopefully, yawning mightily once he judged it safe. His uncertainty easing further at the tiny quirk of thin lips before Kurama, with a soft murmur, rose from the bed. Grunting, he sat up and allowed the kitsune to help him to his feet. Throwing a quick ‘Thanks’ over his shoulder he waddled as fast as he could to the bathroom. The condition of his bladder had reached a state of urgency.

Washing his hands, he began brushing his teeth, deliberately lingering in the bathroom as his mind traveled over the past several days.

The first time he had woken with Kurama pressed against him, he had lay rigid, silently freaking out. After a few minutes, he made noises like he was waking and was quietly, and quickly, release. He had fled to the dubious safety of the bathroom and silently continued freaking out there.

When he had came out, Kurama behaved as if nothing had happened, looking at him quizzically…like the kitsune hadn’t been pressed against him, rubbing his belly.

The second morning, same thing. By the third morning, some instinct within him had kicked in, subtly relaxing him. Beyond the soft, reverent touching, Kurama hadn’t done anything else to him, and it had felt…nice.

No, it had felt more than nice, he realized slowly. As a warm flush spread throughout his body, Yusuke willfully banged his hand on the rocky wall. Using pain to resume command of his mind and body; it was the one path he was determined not to venture.

Taking a deep shaky breath, he squared his shoulders, and plastering on his best gangster smirk (instantly feeling more in control) he waddled back into the main area. Making a beeline for the table, he carefully lowered himself into a chair. Every time he sat down, he mentally breathed a sigh of relief when the chair held his increasing weight.

“Dammit, man! Where’s my breakfast?” Yusuke demanded with such a cocky, engaging grin that Kurama felt a tug at the corners of his lips. Sternly he controlled his treacherous muscles.

“Coming right up,” Kurama replied calmly, though his calm was tempered by the exasperated look in his eyes.

Yusuke nodded in satisfaction as a steaming plate of food was placed before him on the table. Eagerly he attacked his food, closing his eyes appreciatively.

“That’s what I like about you, Kurama,” he said indistinctly around a mouthful of food. Meaningfully, he pointed chopsticks at the kitsune. “You’re prompt…and a damn good cook.”

“I live but to serve.” The coolly sardonic expression Kurama wore had Yusuke grinning impishly at his friend. He had come to decipher the varied expressions Kurama wore. This was as close to a smile as he was going to get. But he was working on getting a full fledged smile from the silver-haired kitsune.


* * *

Later that evening, Yusuke reclined upon the bed. Feeling the temperature dropping, Kurama, in preparation of their evening meal, had built up the fire earlier than usual.

The familiar aspect of the fire had a two-fold effect on the toushin. The fire burned soothingly, its’ quiet popping doing a fair job of lulling Yusuke’s sense of urgency, dulling his faint unease with his ‘captivity’. It was surprisingly comfortable…this quiet place Kurama had found. There were no meetings he had to attend, no advisors vying for his attention; no one expecting anything from him.

He leaned his head back, wigging slightly to find ‘the spot’ among the mound of ‘pillows’.

Today, as he did every day, he was surreptitiously watching Kurama. More specifically, he was watching Kurama’s hands as the kitsune prepared their evening meal.

A faint triumph moved in him at the meat Kurama had in the skillet. A long, hard battle won by yours truly, he gloated.

Hell, I didn’t fight my way to the top of the food chain just to become a friggin’ vegetarian! he had snorted disdainfully when Kurama had suggested a vegetarian diet.

Eat vegetables and fruits…not in this world! He wanted meat! Besides, he had reasoned to Kurama, what the hell did cows eat? Plants…hay and corn. And they’re veggies, right? So technically wrappin’ my lips around a hamburger meant that I’m getting’ my veggies quicker, cuz the cow’s already ate ‘em and I’m eatin’ the cow! And everybody knows the damn cows keep the good stuff, he had claimed loftily.

Efficiency at its best.

Kurama had been stunned silent by my logic, he thought with gloating smugness, remembering the wide-eyed stare he had been given. Wasn’t often he had better ideas than Kurama but when he did, he loved to relish them.

Like a magnet, his eyes and thoughts inevitably returned to the kitsune. There was something about Kurama that was increasingly drawing his eyes and mind. At the oddest times, he found himself staring at Yoko, lost in various thoughts. Weirdly enough Kurama, whether in human or yokai form, figured prominently in his idle daydreams.

Those long fingers sure were quick, he mused, lazily fascinated with both the way the knife and hand moved gracefully through the motion of chopping vegetables.

Unconsciously he drew his legs up, bunched muscles in his thighs flexing, clenching together in a fitful bit of unease. Lulled by the fire and the nearly hypnotic pattern of Kurama’s hands, his mind fell into a dreamlike state, wandering aimlessly in whatever direction his thoughts took him.

Graceful, beautiful and…and…strong. Pretty. Both silver Kurama and red Kurama. His mind drifting slowly, his breathing slowed, as he settled into a languidly complacent state.

He could just imagine Kurama hands…those long fingers softly playing over his flesh, stroking the aches and pains from his back and shoulders. He liked the way they felt, rubbing the aches from his back. Sometimes, just sometimes he imagined them…other places; touching him, delicately caressing, and doing all sorts of naughty things to his body.

And memories—dark, hot, sensual memories of one of that most amazingly, fabulous night—rose languorously from the depths of his mind. Cheeks flushed, eyes drowsy and hooded, he watched the lissome form of the kitsune with rapt attention. Eyes fixed on the graceful, seductive bend of Kurama’s body….His tongue snaked out and moistened dry lips.

Yusuke’s throat tightened. He swallowed hard and wrenched his gaze from the body that drew his eyes like a lodestone. Alone in his thoughts, his eyes grew heavy-lidded, as he relived every moment of the single most incredible night of his life.

Kurama’s head tilted slightly, his hands stilling momentarily in their task. In his eyes, something flashed. A tiny smirk curved his lips.

Soon, my Yus-chan, soon, he promised. Unseen by Yusuke, his smirk broaden into a cruel, sensuous smile.


* * *

As the days slowly turned into weeks, and without a single move by Kurama, Yusuke’s wary attention waned. The kitsune was always unfailingly polite—courteous even—with him. He wasn’t treated like some fragile, pampered pet…but as someone of worth.

Like Yoko Kurama always treated him.

He relaxed the tense, eagle-eyed scrutiny he subjected a seemingly oblivious Kurama to, regaining some of his natural buoyancy; frequently treating an extremely patient kitsune to some of his more ribald humor.

It was difficult to be wary of someone that was helping you take a leak. Not that his watchful attention of Kurama disappeared. It just…shifted in some indefinable way.

Lately he found himself blushing over the oddest things. A glance from gold eyes; a flash of creamy ivory skin he saw when Kurama disrobed…the touch of their hands. It was just so…weird.

He was also tired of having a tingling sensation go up his arm every time their fingers touched, or any other part of his body that touched the silver haired kitsune. It always left the oddest feeling. He usually felt flushed, like he had been sitting too close to the fire. Every time he met that narrowed golden gaze, held Kurama’s eyes for too long, he was left with a disturbing feeling of anticipation.

Like, if he would…if he could just follow where the kitsune led, all his troubles would be forgotten. That Kurama could lead him to a world where…around this time he would usually be making a beeline for the underground pool of water to cool down. Needless to say, he had no intention of troubling Kurama with his little problem.

It was stupid, really; but watching Kurama eat, sometimes he would forget to eat himself. And chugging merrily along would come this weird-ass feeling, like he was anxious, or waiting eagerly for something to happen. It wasn’t all the times, but it was happening often enough to make him feel…weird.

It was even starting to happen when they talked. For some reason, he would get…distracted staring at Kurama. Actually it was Kurama’s mouth that he found himself watching so avidly. It was only when Kurama touched him, or shook him gently, that he would come back to himself, stammering and flushing at the curious look Kurama would give him.

It usually became a hundred times worse by nightfall.

That was when they prepared for bed.

A bed that they shared.

Yusuke changed quickly, readying himself for bed. He always made an effort to be the first in bed; he was embarrassed by his friggin’ huge body. He refused to consciously think of the other reason why he liked being the first in bed; watching Kurama get ready for bed had become a furtive pleasure. Every movement the lithe figure made was like the opening move of some strange, obscure dance.

From the silver of his hair, shifting and flowing by the light of the fire, to the shimmering gleam of bared arms and shoulders, even the way Kurama moved, drew his rapt attention. Every movement was as if some invisible music was playing that only Kurama could hear.

Watching Kurama move—every step or shift of his body was light-footed and graceful, poised and smoothly controlled—was simply incredible. There was a phrase, he once heard, about poetry in motion. That, he decided, described precisely the way Kurama moved. Like a poem or…or a beautiful song.

He caught himself musing on the dip at the base of the warm ivory throat, wondering idly if the skin felt as soft as it looked. Wondered how it would taste. The memory of how Kurama tasted swept through his mind like it had been summoned. He remembered tasting every inch of Kurama’s deceptively, slender body.

And being tasted in turn.

His fingers tingled with the urge to touch, goosebumps speckled his arms.

Yusuke’s cheeks heated, as he forced the memory from his mind. Yet he did not withdraw his stare when Kurama turned and began walking to the bed. Every night he vowed to ride out the strange tension seemed to develop each time Kurama came to bed. He wasn’t sure whether Kurama felt it or not, though he had a sneaking suspicion that the other yokai was just better at hiding it.

Finally he looked away just before Kurama got to the bed. His thoughts turning inward, seeking to understand the strange feelings that washed over him. He was confused by fearful excitement he felt. What made it strange was the fact that he usually only felt like that just before he got into a fight.

With a rough sound, he turned over on his side, facing away from Kurama. There was about two feet of room between them. But he laid stiff, his back rigid and his hands clenched to his chest. He felt the bed shift, creaking a little, as Kurama settled beside him.

Slowly he became aware of his aching jaw. He was clenching his teeth so tightly that his jaw finally protested. But nothing dimmed his awareness of the slim body beside him. He could literally feel the hairs on his arms stand up. He could almost swear that he could sense the blood rushing through Kurama’s veins.

He laid there, a slight tremor running through his body and thoroughly confused by the odd sense of expectancy. What the hell could he possibly be waiting for? It wasn’t like someone was gonna attack him. They would have to get through Kurama first before that happened. So what was he waiting for?

Subliminally he could feel the tension rising, thickening behind him. Rising so thick and tight that he thought he would choke. Scream and scream some more, scream away the spiraling feeling, rising higher and higher, scream until he lay hoarse, panting…drained.

Scream until it was gone.

He couldn’t take it anymore, this feeling on edge. He turned over, his mouth open, poised to rip into Kurama, and found the kitsune, his back to him, fast asleep.

With a sigh, he felt the prickly sensation die. Slowly a smile, hinted at the corners of Yusuke’s mouth, came into being.

Yoko’s tail was twitching and jerking in his sleep.

Stealthily Yusuke’s extended his hand, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the lean back of his bed partner. Finally his fingers grasped the soft, silky tail. Even more carefully he pulled the sleek appendage back towards him, content to simply stroke it.

He loved the way it would sometimes quiver in his hands. He loved how it felt against his skin. Impulsively, he rubbed his cheek against the silky fur, delighting at its softness. It was like a lucky rabbit’s foot.

Only without the rabbit. And the foot.

He could pet and stroke it all night. Scooting a little closer, he gently cradled the soft tail in his arms, and hardly aware of it, his eyes gradually becoming heavy as the forgiving darkness soothingly covered his mind.

Shards of gold gleamed between narrowed eyes. Kurama kept his breathing slow and even, mimicking sleep. He twitched his tail slightly, as if in his sleep. He was rewarded by the way Yusuke’s hand reflexively tightened.

Still asleep. Good.

Careful of his tail still within the boy’s grasp—he had learned early on not to make any abrupt moves—he sat up. Sleep being the last thing from his mind.

Reclining against his pillows, he turned a contemplative stare at the youth sleeping so trustingly next to him. Then he turned his gaze to the low burning fire. Coolly he planned his next move. At the tiny whimper, his hand automatically went to Yusuke’s back. His formidable mind focusing how to achieve what he wanted without losing what he had gained; still his hand was gentle as he gently kneaded the ache that troubled Yusuke

The faintest of scowls was on his cold, patrician face. Why was Yusuke being so stubborn?

The boy had STILL not given him an answer regarding an official alliance. That was what was keeping him up long after Yusuke had fallen asleep. That and these damnable hormonal instincts! Unconsciously his scowl grew darker and harder. Cruelty and high annoyance was etched in the inhuman planes of his face.

While an alliance between their Houses was not precisely what his instincts demanded, it was as far as he was willing to go. As far as he was willing to concede. He was fighting with every ounce of cold logic at his command.

People often misunderstood Yoko Kurama.

Where they called his methods and motives cold and cruel, ruthless and barbaric; he simply saw himself as behaving in an imminently practical and logical manner. He could not understand why others did not behave in such fashion. But their loss was his gain. He was more successful at achieving his goals because he did not allow sentiment or affection to sway him.

They saw his icy distance and presumed he was heartless and emotionless. When in reality, he simply chose not to put them on display to allow others to try to control him.

Which wouldn’t work in any case.

However, with Yusuke carrying his kits, his mind and body were in a constant war. His newly emerged instincts demanded he seal the pregnant Yusuke as his mate; while his practical mind protested the idea most strenuously. Both sides struggled for supremacy, which had been causing an unusual feeling of uncertainty in him.

And he had been shocked at how much ground he had been steadily losing to his hormonal, driven body. With a tenuous, weakening claw-hold he had thought it would be a race as to which gave first, Yusuke’s body or his mind.

He had never been more grateful than when his human side suggested an alliance. That idea lessened the war. He could think, plan with a minimum of distraction.

A tiny amused smile touched his lips. It had felt like he had Kuroune living in his head. His smile faded.

Kuronue.

How long had it been since he had thought of his old partner? His…friend?

He and Kuronue had ruled the forest and beyond. Partners in crimes. Brothers in arms.

He smiled, a faraway look in his eyes, as memories he thought long forgotten played in his mind.

Kuronue of the wild ideas and free spirit; he was the calmness to his partner’s storm. He was the anchor that kept Kuronue tethered and in turn, Kuronue taught him how to fly.

His eyes widened, a sudden realization occurred to him.

They balanced each other. Each was the source of the other’s strength, and counter stone.

His head tilted.

Much like he was with Yusuke? But was Yusuke the same with him?

Interesting, he mused, his mind ticking away. He examined the idea from all sides, thoroughly investigating it to see the flaws. Not much surprised, he found plenty.

All regarding Yusuke.

Though matured somewhat, Yusuke still had a problem with authority; even more so now that he WAS an authority. Belligerent, rude, and often obnoxious; still Yusuke was one of the most loyal individuals he knew, Yoko thought in some surprise.

Yusuke had a certain talent for making even cold, dreary days seem brighter, warmer…colorful. Full of possibilities.

There had been many missions—with nothing more to do but sit and wait—where Yusuke’s wild, infectious enthusiasm had relieved the tedium of their mission.

Of course, Yoko conceded, quite a few of those times he had seriously contemplated the idea of ripping out the flapping tongue to gain some peace and quiet, something Hiei used to softly urge him to do. Dared him, to be accurate, he wryly remembered.

But he never did, though he had ample cause, he thought darkly. Furthermore, he had refused to allow Hiei to do harm to either of the humans. Though at the time, the ‘why’ had sorely bothered him. He was unused to be undecided.

Frozen. Calculating. Unemotional. These were only the flattering things people, his enemies, had said about him. They were words he had taken chilly pride in, to be described as such. And these traits had carried over with him into the human world.

A world where he had not reckon upon the love of one soft-hearted human woman. His ningen mother, she with her endless love, was the first to blunt his cold, sharp edges.

Yusuke took it upon himself to complete what she had started.

Kurama’s mouth tilted up in an ironic smile. He looked at the boy sleeping so sweetly and peacefully against him. The tender, wry expression in his eyes, so vastly different from his usually cold, chilly expression, would have shocked Yusuke speechless.

It took his human mother almost 17 years to weaken the ice that surrounded him; it took Yusuke a couple of months to thaw then bring life to the icy tundra of his life.

When Kuronue died, the part of him that laughed and played, that took enjoyment from life, died as well. It had hurt so much, Koronue’s death—that like an animal—he had tucked away that part of him to avoid any more pain. And he had remained that way for over 700 years.

Then along came one scowling young punk, the complete atheist of his human self. Quietly restrained, outwardly pleasant and courteous, still he was cynical enough that he ‘recognized’ Yusuke’s sort. And not for much did he expect anything from the boy.

He, who once made a healthy living by eliminating the surprises and stealing the treasure, found himself very much surprised. Astonished would be more accurate once he had gotten over his joy that his mother would live.

That night, Yusuke saved more than just his mother’s life; he had saved his soul. He swiftly became Yusuke unspoken tutor in all things demonic. Not for anything did he want to look around and find his loud-mouth, pugnacious friend missing, possibly dead. Who else had the tenacity to badger then drag him, kicking and screaming, back into the sunlight?

It is times like this, that I really miss my human form, he thought wryly.

At least in that form, it was easier to smile. This body has certain quirks and thought processes subtly engrained on it. A 700 year old habit was hard to break, he thought dryly, a hidden smile barely moving his lips. Gazing down at Yusuke’s sleeping form, he wondered if, perhaps, this boy would be worth the trouble to break the habit.

“We’ll see,” he said out loud. He glanced at the fire, surprised to see that it had died down to smoldering coals. With a sigh, he rearranged his limbs in the bed and allowed sleep to steal his mind away.

* * *



As days slid into weeks, Yusuke and Kurama relationship took on a deeper, hidden tone.

Morning rose, and like every other morning, Kurama woke first. Stretching lazily, he padded out of bed and took care of his morning needs. Returning to the main room, he built up the fire to ward off the early morning chill, before going back to bed. Climbing back under the covers, he laid for a few precious moments, relishing the warm bulk as Yusuke, with a sleepy murmur, sought his arms.

It was time, this early morning time—where all possibilities existed—that all his uncertainties vanished. He could see the future stretching before him.

His Clan House, proud, mighty and strong. With Yusuke at his side. He was increasingly convinced that with Yusuke beside him, all things were possible. He was well-respected. He paused, rethinking his choice of words. Well, he was at least respected, he conceded.

After hundreds of years of emotional solitude, he had a family. He had friends. His hand caressed the swell of Yusuke stomach.

He would be a father. Closing his eyes, he matched his breath to Yusuke’s. The slow, even breaths lulling his mind. Drowsily he stared at the fire, his hands tunneling under Yusuke’s shirt for the warm, naked flesh of the boy’s back.

A fatuous smile spread on his face at a protesting nudge to his midsection. He obligingly moved to give them room. It was joy to watch the kits’ limbs move vigorously, safe in their warm shelter. A paw, a foot…it moved him, this tangible sign of life.

Feeling the long body stir beneath his seeking hands, he ducked his head, his mouth seeking the beguiling warmth of Yusuke’s neck. Inhaling deeply—his eyes closing—of the fragrant warmth he found, a signature scent he had long come to associate with Yusuke. A space unfolded behind his eyes as Yusuke’s unique scent filled that space, a mixture of soft musk; rich, pungent earth; and wild, open spaces.

Freedom thy name is Yusuke, he thought quixotically.

A swirling kaleidoscope of colors intermixed with such lovely smells that he couldn’t tell whether the colors had smells or the smells had colors. In any event, even with his eyes closed all without Yusuke saying a word, he could easily identify the youth.

He could identify all his family and friends in like manner; however, it was Yusuke’s scent that seemed imprinted upon his consciousness.

He made a humming noise, nuzzling further at his warm bedmate; secretly pressing a discrete kiss at the corner of sweet, tender lips. His heart lightening when, from the corner of his eyes, he saw the soft, fatuous smile creep upon Yusuke’s face, the gentle laughter that shook the boy’s body and natural way Yusuke turned into his loose embrace trying to get closer.

So, Yusuke enjoyed these moments as well, he thought well pleased.

His hand swept down, rubbing soothing circles over the warm bulge of Yusuke’s stomach. A hand came up, tangling with his, stopping the caressing motions. Hands joined, they rested on the precious swell of their children nestled beneath Yusuke’s heart.

Yusuke was only this available when on the cusp of wakefulness. Usually upon waking, the boy’s unconscious armor was donned, making it impossible to get this close. He refused to dwell on the ‘why’ he wanted to be closer to Yusuke.

Then further introspection was dissolved in soft pleasure as, the circle completing itself, a hand began gently caressing and tugging at first his ears then hair. His eyes closed, bliss running through him. Wiggling, he twisted to lay his cheek against on the smooth, soft skin of Yusuke’s belly.

For long endless minutes, they basked in this quiet moment. Then flexing his hand in the luxuriously soft hair, Yusuke gave a delicate tug on the long silken locks.

His breath escaped in a silent rush at the slow turn of the silver head when Kurama lifted up and looked at him. His chest felt instantly tight when his eyes became entangled in a pair of searching golden eyes. What Kurama was looking for, he didn’t know but this feeling of oddness was becoming an increasingly familiar state every time his eyes locked onto the intense gold stare.

Slowly lush, luxuriant lash lowered, shielding him from that searing stare. Trembling, he felt the invisible tension that riddled his body ease once Kurama looked away.

He was shaken the hot flash of something in the kitsune’s eyes. What it was, he didn’t know…all he knew was that deep inside himself, he felt an answering response.


* * *


In their third week, Yusuke’s body went into the final stages.

His birthing slit began seeping a viscous substance. It embarrassed him to hell and back. Burying himself in the ground and pulling the earth over him sounded like a wonderful idea.

However, Yoko simply acted as if nothing was wrong, that this was an everyday occurrence. Brushing aside Yusuke’s embarrassed mumblings with a faint smile; he produced soft, absorbent cloths to ride low on Yusuke’s hips.

His stomach turning at the idea of using, “Feminine napkins,” Yusuke had whispered to the kitsune, that he flat out, categorically refused to wear them. Nofuckin’way in the world, no…the THREE fuckin’ worlds, would he ever, EVER wear one of those “Damn blood rags,” he had yelled at Yoko.

And slowly silver ears laid flat. “You will wear it,” Yoko had told the stubborn boy softly. There was a narrowing of golden eyes that made Yusuke pause. “Otherwise you may sleep on the ground. I refuse to allow my clothes and bed to be permanently stained.”

Yusuke stared at Kurama, wounded, hurt pride written all over his face. He dropped his eyes. “Vain clotheshorse,” he muttered nastily, snatching the pad from the kitsune, his face a deep, furious red.

Kurama inclined his head slightly, a quirk of his lips going unnoticed by Yusuke. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but naked people have very little influence in society,” he retorted dryly.

“You…you made a joke.” Yusuke’s head came up with a jerk. His eyes narrowed, an accusing look settling in his eyes. “You made a joke.”

Kurama negligently turned away. His tail flickered, moving from side to side. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, casting a look over his shoulder at Yusuke. Then one eye closed in a deliberate wink.

“You know, I hope both kids take after me,” Yusuke shouted after the kitsune retreating back.

Soft laughter floated back to him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Damn teasing fox.” But Yusuke’s voice held a pleased note. Again he refused to wonder why Kurama teasing sent a warm feeling through him.


* * *

Time had lost some meaning as they awaited the birth of their children.

Although Kurama had been leaving weekly messages for Yusuke’s people, he was not sure how much pressure they could or would place upon Mukuro or Yomi to force the other two to get involved. Or whether Koenma would get involved.

He had been contacted by both Kuwabara and Hiei. Both had agreed, with some hesitation, not to get involved. Hiei understood better than Kuwabara a male kitsune’s instincts to becoming a father. They were friends, however, still he could not, would not allow them access to Yusuke. He would sooner stop breathing than to allow such to happen—and Hiei understood.

It was the diminutive fire yokai that had taken charge. What Hiei had told the others, more than likely had threatened to do to them, he didn’t know.

All he knew was he and Yusuke were left alone. He continued leaving messages, updating everyone on Yusuke’s progress.


* * *

Kurama sat desultorily shelling peas. He was rather glad for a chance to rest. He was sitting, propped up against the wall. Two bowls were on either side of his long-legged sprawl from which he was listlessly plucking string-beans, separating the peas from the shell and dropping them into their respective bowls.

Yusuke had been going, with little pause, all morning and afternoon.

Suddenly nothing was to his likening.

The bedding had to be changed, the dishes had to be rearranged, the baskets and pottery had to be stacked just so, the loose dirt had to be carried outside, the refuse most definitely had to be taken outside…far, far away, outside.

All the water containers had to have fresh water brought in from outside. This required several trips by an increasingly annoyed Kurama. While he was gone, Yusuke took the opportunity to wash clothes, especially kitsune’s. He tackled the fine tailored cloth with a gleeful enthusiasm. That is, until Kurama came back and saw what he was doing. With an outraged gasp of horror, he snatched his clothes away and backed away, holding his fine, beautiful garments protectively to his chest.

Now the entire cave was a clean and spotless as an underground cave could be, thought Kurama tiredly.

He turned his head at a small squeak from the bed. His nose twitched, then wrinkled at a familiar scent.

“Shit…” Yusuke softly moaned, his eyes widening in horrified dismay. “I didn’t even feel it,” he muttered beneath his breath. Temporarily ignoring the growing ache in his back, and embarrassed as hell, he surreptitiously dumped his shelled peas into the other bowl. Using the empty bowl, he held it over the spreading wetness darkening his pants and attempted to get up without letting Kurama noticed he had peed in his pants.

Jeeze, how the hell do women stand this constant running to the bathroom…?

“Yusuke…?” Kurama called questioningly, slightly alarmed at the boy’s pallor.

Groaning silently, Yusuke ignored the call as he attempted to waddle faster to the bathroom, his face turning red with shame.

There was a disturbed look in Kurama’s eyes as he surged to his feet.

The wet stain on the back of Yusuke pants giving him a clue.

Catching Yusuke quickly, he ignored the boy’s red face and struggle to get free. “It’s time…”

The redness vanished, leaving Yusuke as white as a sheet. “Oh…” he said numbly. In a daze he allowed Kurama to guide him back to bed. A tremor shook him. His insides seemed to doing something. There was a deep pulling sensation low in his stomach. His attention turning inward, he growled dangerously at the kitsune that was attempting to position him on his back. Instincts kicking into high gear, his teeth made an audible sound when he snapped at Kurama.

His eyes wide, Kurama snatched his arm away just in time. A scrap of cloth dangled from Yusuke’s bared teeth.

Brown eyes held a feral, ugly threat of impending death. While dimly Yusuke recognized Kurama as friend, mate?, however, at the moment he was being guided by instincts hardwired into every toushin. Instincts older than Yoko Kurama and Raizen combined years, demanded certain things of him and would not to tolerate any interference of any kind.

His meaning clear, he shifted and wiggled on the sheet, discontent evident in the frown of displeasure on his face. Mewling, he pawed at the sheet. Another deep pulling, a sudden clenching of his belly signaled he didn’t have much time.

His lesson learned, and wary of Yusuke’s teeth, Kurama carefully eased the sheet away from the soft grass that padded their bed. A happy, purling sound came from Yusuke. He wiggled some more, allowing Kurama to pull the sheet further from the bed. Moving around on the soft fragrant grass, Yusuke shifted to his side and pawed at the covering on his legs. Calming hands—careful of the low threatening growl—gently eased them from him.

Yusuke suspiciously eyed the nervous, silver haired kitsune that hovered then allowed the yokai to remove the irritating shirt.

“Hold on, Yusuke,” Kurama called out urgently, suddenly remembering what he read in the books about toushin’s birthing processes. He didn’t think Yusuke heard him.

“Damn…” He dashed to the neatly arranged pots and thoroughly demolished the orderly stacks as he frantically searched for a large pot to boil water. It would provide sufficient moisture in the air.

Rummaging further, his mind becoming blank at the loud screech behind him, he searched desperately for the packages of surgical tools he had ‘appropriated’.

He kept tossing frantic looks over his shoulder, senselessly urging Yusuke to ‘Hold on, I’m coming!’

“Where…? Where…? WHERE THE HELL DID I PUT THEM!” he screamed, clutching at his hair, teetering on the verge of panic. Another scream of pain had him scrambling, his mind picturing the box he had place them. Tufts of silver fell from his hands as he grabbed the box containing sealed and sterilized bundling cloths. Though he came prepared, for the first time, he was wondering if perhaps it would have been wiser to remain at the Keep.

Yusuke’s scream banished all further self-recriminating thoughts.


* * *

Though the long, laborious hours he endured, all Yusuke was aware was getting whatever the hell was causing all this pain…OUT! Get it out! Getitoutgetitoutgetitout! That litany of thought was the only thing in his mind.

He pushed, huffing and puffing between each quasi-painfree moment before another round of agony compelled him to bear down, grunting and pushing with all his might. Distantly he was aware of something, somebody stroking his hot brow with cool wetness, and any other time he probably would thanked them but if it wasn’t gonna get whatever it was causing him pain out, then whoever it was could piss off.

Grunting and straining, he was practically conscious of nothing but his body’s overriding urgency. Pushing…bearing down between the awful, constricting tightness around his middle. Just barely having enough time to suck in a mouthful of partially revitalizing air before the awful pressure gripped him.

Hours of almost unendurable pain slowly crept past. Kurama was shocked to find that more than six hours had passed since Yusuke went into labor. This wasn’t good, he thought worriedly.

As for Yusuke—unaware of Kurama’s growing unease—every now and then the red mist of pain would cleared from his brain sufficiently for him to gasp out incoherent threats. His lurid curses, though inventive, were anatomically impossible for Kurama to perform. Had either been in their right mind, they would have found some amusement in the threats and curses. But as it was, the more desperate and gasping Yusuke sounded, the more silently frantic Kurama became.

Blearily focusing on silver hair and worried, golden eyes, Yusuke glared hotly at the kitsune. “I swear to GOD, I am SO gonna kill you! You fuckin’ bastarrrrrrrdddddddd!” He screamed the last, his voice going up an octave as another contraction hit. His hands braced in the grass, Yusuke bore down, his face turning red with effort.

Kurama’s nose twitched slightly. Other than that, he didn’t notice the occasional rude noise Yusuke made; or the odors that accompanied each sounds. His normally icy composure having long since deserted him with each pain filled cry from Yusuke. They made him flinch, his stomach churning with nausea.

Damn his pride…they needed help! He needed help.

Yusuke, teetering on a seesaw of pain, lay panting. Sweat literally pouring off of him. Throat throbbing from screaming, he swallowed gingerly, feeling the nearly painful rasp. He blinked, salt water stinging his eyes as something intruded on his mind. Something that sat uneasily, jittering up and down, waiting to be noticed. He focused on the kitsune and his eyes narrowed slightly.

He didn’t like that look of resolution, like Kurama had decided on something he didn’t want to do.

“Yusuke….I need to go get help,” Kurama said softly to the panting, obviously tired, toushin. His eyes held a bruised look. He winced. Feeling of being totally out of his depth each time Yusuke cried out in pain. “Don’t worry; I’ll be back before you know it.” He tried to smile reassuringly, but was dismayed to feel his mouth not cooperating.

Yusuke, panting after a particularly strong contraction, shifted on the bed.

Kurama rose to his feet, preparing to sprint back to the Keep and beg for help. At a sudden vise-like grip on his testicles, he whimpered. It was all he could do not to scream.

Wide, tear-bright golden eyes peered at the toushin in pained surprise. “You did this to me….You ain’t goin’ nowhere, buddy boy,” Yusuke rasped out, his hand tightening on vulnerable flesh. His lips twisting in a horrible grin, he growled, “Now siddown.” Feeling another contraction coming, he quickly released the kitsune. Moaning, he braced himself.

Kurama slowly straightened, his ears laid flat at the wailing cry that came from Yusuke. His ears flickering in a rare show of indecision, he took a half step away. Yusuke needed someone more capable than him. Someone that actually knew what they were doing, he thought with some bitterness. Then he froze as a pair of dark eyes opened and fixed on him.

There was no expectation in that stare, no demand that he stay. Nor were there loud, vocal outbursts, objections to his leaving. There was nothing but the quiet gasping of an exhausted Yusuke. Just…pain and dumb resignation. As if Yusuke was used to people running out on him when he needed them.

By the minute hardening of Yusuke’s abdomen, he could see the next contraction coming. He took another step away, his ears again laying flat to his skull at the muted cry Yusuke gave. Wide eyes took in the hot, flushed face of the weakening toushin, the lines of tiredness like a road map on Yusuke’s face.

He looked old…10, 15 years older than his years would suggest. And he needed help in birthing.

His tunic fluttering at his speed, Yusuke watched Kurama run from the cave room. Closing his eyes, he refused to allow the disappointment he felt to affect him. Turning inwards, Yusuke sought the deep well within for the strength to go on. He was drawing on the last of his reserves.

He lay gasping, his mouth parted to suck in as much air as possible. His eyes opened wide at the cool cloth that stroked his heated flesh. “Ku…ra…ma…?” he panted.

“Shhhh…just concentrate,” Kurama whispered, he smiled painfully at Yusuke. “I’m sorry. We’ll do this…together. Just like we’ve always done…Go, Team Urameshi…”

A faint, trembling smile touched Yusuke’s pallid lips. “Idiot…” His hand moved slightly, and gratefully Kurama seized it then simply rode out the next contraction with Yusuke. Only by a minute tightening of his lips and narrowing of his eyes did he show the pain of the tight grip.

They were in this together.

Several hours later, his ears laying flat at a particular virulent cry from Yusuke, Kurama’s eyes widened.

The birthing orifice was bulging outwards. It had widened to about a four-inch diameter.

A dark, wet fuzzy… something could be seen. His breath caught in his throat. Another grunting push by Yusuke and the opening spread even further, allowing more of the fuzziness to be pushed out.

A head…

Kurama swallowed hard. He was trembling as he held his hands out—guiding—as tiny shoulders emerged.

This was real. “My god…” he whispered in awe.

A rounded little belly eased out then finally a pair of legs. He carefully guided the kit to the cloth set a little distance from Yusuke. Two clamps were applied quickly to the cord still connecting the baby to Yusuke.

Resting for a few seconds, Yusuke took several deep revitalizing breaths. “Oh, ewww…” he said, his eyes widening. Kurama was licking at the wet, squirming little bundle. Licking all the icky red stuff off the baby. “You are soooo never gonna kiss me,” he rasped.

Kurama ignored him. Licking a newborn kit stimulated the infant’s skin among other things. It also provided a way for him to bond with his kits. Until the day he died, he would always know the taste of his children and their scents.

He was rewarded by a tiny mewling cry. Grabbing a wet, surgical towelette, he quickly finished cleaning the kit.

Turning back, he watched as his second son was born. His sight becoming uncommonly blurred, he was unaware of tears falling down his face. Doing the same with this one, he ignored his shaking hands as he ministered to the now spastically flailing arms and legs.

Then swiftly cutting the twin cords between the clamps, he tied them off. Removing the clamp on the cord extended from Yusuke, he watched, opened-mouth as it slowly retreated back inside Yusuke. Deciding to ignore it, he focused on his children. Opening another package, he cleaned out their ears and lightly brushed the cloth over their closed eyes. It would be several more days before their eyes opened.

He softly stroked the tiny tails, laughing shakily at the jerky movements they made, before moving them closer to Yusuke.

“We did it….You did it,” he said, an unexpected shakiness in his voice.

Exhaustion weighing heavily on him, Yusuke simply blinked up at the double image of Yoko. “Uh huh…” A tiny sound, just at the edge of his hearing drew his faltering attention down. He stared blankly at the mewling kits.

“Kinda puny ain’t they…?” he commented hoarsely. They were so helpless that all his protective instincts surged to the foreground of his mind. With exhaustion pulling at him insistently, the fierce surge of emotion lent him false sense of strength. Being stubborn to the core, he refused to give in to it so he was grateful for that strong emotion.

Kurama laughed softly, his eyes for once open and revealing. He felt connected to Yusuke in a way he never felt before. There were no shields in place in this timeless moment. He found it surprisingly easy to not erect the usual barriers he used to keep the world at bay. “Yes, but imagine how you would feel if they were any bigger,” he teased.

A tired smile tugging at his lips, Yusuke shook his head. “I take it back. They’re exactly the right size,” he declared emphatically.

They shared warm smiles. Then something…some ineffable something shifted in the air between them. Despite his exhaustion, Yusuke felt it. He tried to play it off as his imagination, but not even in his wildest dreams could he conjure the look now in Kurama’s suddenly narrowed, golden stare. Though his body was physically incapable of responding, however there was nothing wrong with his mind filling up with one lurid image after another.

Without breaking his gaze from the wide, brown stare, Kurama carefully laid the fitfully moving kits near Yusuke’s chest. Continuing the motion, and giving Yusuke plenty of time to move away, he drew closer to the faintly parted lips that had begun haunting his dreams.

His body tightened in sudden, abrupt pleasure, the quick rapid puffs of air across his lips served only to increase his arousal.

“Kurama…?”

“Shhhh….” he whispered against dry, pallid lips. Achingly slow, he licked at them. Drawing back slightly, satisfaction humming through him, as a quick, pink tongue instinctively darted out, tasting the moisture coating the lips.

Tasting him.

Hunger, now a constricting, warm pulsing sensation driving him, he captured Yusuke’s mouth. The movement of his lips was a slow, heated buildup suggestive of other things to come. And it would come, of that he was now utterly certain.

With a low moan, lips parted for him, allowing him entrance to the liquid warmth within. He slipped in, his tongue beginning a slow, erotic dance; irresistibly calling for Yusuke to join him. And fierce satisfaction ruling as a hungry, heated caress tangled with his.

His Yus-chan.

Right now he didn’t care whether he was still being driven by hormones, instincts or anything else for that matter. All he knew was how truly incredible it felt to be doing this.

And he wanted more.

Much, much more.

Wild images, probably born from too many restless nights, freely wandered through his head. Nights of hot, passionate sex; days of hedonistic pleasure taken to dizzyingly, soaring heights.

He burned. Literally he was burning up. His body shaking and shuddering—desperate to experience that sensation.

A need…a ravenous hunger awoke. Consummate and possess this wild moaning creature in his arms. And to never let him go.

He wanted to mar the virgin flesh of Yusuke’s neck with a Mark so vivid that all would know…this was his precious bondmate.

The mate to his soul.

Shocked at that thought, he abruptly drew back. His mind swirled in confusion; his eyes more than a little wild. Even as he struggled to retreat back to a mentally safe distance he was challenged by the fitful, all-consuming need to slake his thirst deep within Yusuke’s hot, silken walls. It set off a pulsating, throbbing ache that was hard to ignore. That he did not want to ignore.

Yusuke eyes opened slowly, the drugged, unfocused look in his eyes almost lured Kurama back to the tempting lips.

The sharp disappointment Yusuke felt at the abrupt cessation made him moan supplicating, instinctively seeking to draw Kurama back to him. When he met Kurama’s shattering stare, he froze, realization of what he—what they—were doing washed over him.

How could I have ever thought his eyes were cold, he thought helplessly. Caught in the snare of the blazing golden eyes.

Heat…blistering, hot, sensual heat from Kurama’s eyes set his blood to thrumming. He shuddered, unable to pull his rapt gaze from the sultry, soul destroying force of Kurama’s captivating stare.

He licked his dry lips, all too aware of the instant attention Kurama focused on his mouth. His mouth parted, he had to say something…but what? The kiss Kurama laid on him scrambled his brain and apparently stole his voice as well.

The pleasure he felt was so familiar, that all he wanted was more and more. To burn within the sweet conflagration Kurama’s kiss aroused in him. The sheer hunger he felt startled him.

A naked look of desire; the promise of everlasting pleasure…ecstasy he saw in Kurama’s eyes made him hunger with a painful, shocking intensity. He saw its twin emotion etched on Yoko’s face. The lust, the greedy rapacious need that filled the hot golden stare shook him like a rag doll.

And he bailed. Surrendered. Raised the proverbial white flag.

Tucking his tail between his legs, he turned and abandoned consciousness. Preferring the false safety of unconscious rather than the profoundly disturbing look in Kurama’s eyes.

Kurama quickly caught Yusuke’s limp body and eased him down. Then moving carefully he shifted enough to rise to his feet. His eyes never leaving the loose sprawl of warm, burnish limbs on the bed.

With a rough sound he turned away.

His tail moved in jerky patterns. A barometer of his unsettled mood. His face blank, he picked up and gently cradled his squeaking kits. Forcefully setting aside the conundrum that was Yusuke, he allowed the endearing way the tiny infants moved to charm him.

They rooted at Kurama’s hand, the teeny sounds they made causing a smile to lighten the shadow-darkness in his eyes. “Shhh…your father is tired…” he whispered to them. “Shhh, let’s let him sleep.” He was of the private opinion that nothing short of a shot to the head would wake Yusuke.

Still, he moved quietly. Setting the tiny bundles on the cloth spread out for them on the ground, he rooted around for the rest of the cleaning supplies. Then gently he washed them of the residual fluids left on their bodies despite their tiny sounds of protest. Cleaned, he settled beside them and developed a deep fascination counting their toes and fingers.

The tiny fists moved jerkily before seizing on his fingers, one finger to each. He laughed softly, thoroughly enchanted. They were…beautiful, he thought. He smiled when they released his fingers and rolled over. Clumsily they both managed to get to all fours and began staggering about, occasionally falling as they struggled to master their shaky limbs. More laughter came from him as one tiny body bumped into his brother who went sprawling. Mewling in surprise the first one fell over as well.

Gently he touched first one, then the other on their heads; stroking tenderly at the tufts of silky black hair that adorned the kits. Definitely Yusuke’s, he thought with smile.

Unlike toushins, when a kitsune was born, much like their natural animal kin, kits usually managed to get on their feet within the first 45 minutes of their lives; and then after, they usually spent roughly the first 15-16 months running around on all fours. It was, to some extent, the equivalent of a human child crawling then learning to walk. Kits usually did not master the fine art of walking on two legs until they were about 18-24 months old. At that stage, they were just learning to balance themselves.

It usually involved a lot of falling, getting up, crying piteously, then getting up and trying again.

They wouldn’t be moving far, he dimly remembered from previous glimpses of kitsune kits. However, as a precaution, he plucked a couple of seed’s from his hair and raised a simple barrier of sturdy plants.

Moving cautiously he began changing the bedding while Yusuke slept. He could feel exhaustion pulling at him, but he sternly resisted the siren call. There was a little more to do before he was able to rest.

It took him several minutes to make the bed then cleaning Yusuke of the fluids from the birth. Gently he picked up the now sleeping kits and placed them in the hollow made by the curve of Yusuke’s body. Yawning mightily he undressed, uncaring that his clothes were dropped on the dirt floor as he prepared to join his impromptu family in slumber. Naked, he hesitated briefly before crawling into the bed and fitting himself behind Yusuke.

Once again, that strange sense of rightness came over him as if this was how things were supposed to be.

This was how they were supposed to be.

Together.

In the time that it took for that thought to fade, his decision was made. Capitulating to his fate, he snuggling into the warmth of Yusuke neck, a tired smirk curved his lips. This was where he wanted to be, where he needed to be. Now to convince his Yus-chan of the rightness of this and everything would be fine.

A tiny chuckle escaped him.

Yeah, right.

The boy was going to give him a run for his money was a foregone conclusion…and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Yusuke was not one for simply accepting decrees without a struggle. His co-father had to be convinced of the rightness of their being together. And Kurama found himself anticipating the coming battle of wits, the hunt and chase.

Despite his tiredness, he felt his body stir pleasurably. The coming weeks or months would prove to be extremely interesting.

Yusuke was definitely going to…have a cow if they were in the same position upon waking, he thought with exhausted calm. And unwilling to fight the weariness that pulled at him any longer, he threw an arm over Yusuke’s waist. His fingers lightly touching the softly rounded bodies of the sleeping kits, it was with soft wonder he felt their tiny bodies go up and down. They were still breathing.

And finally allowed sleep to take him.

Chapter 5/8
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