Betrayals

The godling writhed under the tantei, moaning in exquisite pleasure as the teen slid in and out of his body. Lips joined, separated, explored as the two rocked together. Groans increase in volume, their motions become more frantic, pleas falling from the godling’s lips as his body arched, thrust against the teen.

Green eyes filled with anger, with pain, widened, flickers of gold coursing through them as the teen whispered words of sweet devotion to the godling, words he had spoken to the green-eyed one. The godling cried out, moaning in passion, returning those words, just as the green-eyed one had.

Staggered, stunned, Kurama fell against the wall, using its stability to guide him out of the apartment, away from the scene before it could be finished. His mind swirled, twisted in on itself, human and youkai explanations warring, emotions warring. He shouldn’t care. He didn’t want to care. He was wounded deeply. Blindly, he walked. Blindly sought a source of comfort, of something to allow him to sort out his pain, soothe his mind. He didn’t see the trees, didn’t feel the youki in them. He staggered until a tree stood in front of him that wouldn’t move out of his way. He fell against it, his eyes hot and dry, his throat tight, his chest stabbing with pain on every heartbeat. Noise behind him, a familiar sound, but unrecognizable caused him to turn slowly.

Red eyes, arms crossed in disdain, words must be falling from those lips. They were moving, but sound didn’t come. Slowly, a badly timed movie, the words finally reached the mind, “What are you doing, Kurama?” There was nothing that would have been called compassion in the voice, in the words. Mere curiosity, nothing more.

Words would not come. Red hair flew as he shook his head in negation. Sounds fell on the ground, shattering, “He said…he said…he lied.”

A frown crossed the pale features, red eyes seeking understanding. “Who lied? About what?”

A growl begins to form, gold threatening green, “He said he loved me, only me. He just said the same damn thing to him! I’m a fool, a fool.” Over and over the words fall, accusations, self-recriminations, until a sword calloused hand wraped over his throat.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Punish me,” the challenge, the answer. A bitter laugh, “I let myself be taken in. Punish me.” Hands wrapped around the wrist that held him, “Punish me for being a fool.”

Red eyes narrowed, “How far do you want to be punished, Kurama?”

“Rosewhip,” the word a bare ghost of the cry he normally used to summon his preferred weapon.

“Fine,” Hiei grunted out, his fist flying, contacting with the kitsune’s cheek, sending the redhead flying into a nearby tree. Kurama met the tree with a harsh grunt and fell to the ground, waiting. Hiei yanked his hair back, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Useless kitsune. Thinking with your dick again, aren’t you?” He pulled the redhead to his knees, backhanding him with his free hand. “Answer me, bitch.”

“Yes!” the word straddled the line between pain and euphoria. His breath left his body in rush as Hiei brought his fist into his abdomen, angling upwards. Green eyes rolled back, lips parted, panting.

“Fucking whore. I bet you let him screw you, didn’t you? Lowered yourself and spread your legs. I bet he took you like a bitch and you begged him to, didn’t you?” Hiei threw the kitsune’s head back against the tree and it bounced as Kurama fell in a heap at his feet. He pulled back the kitsune’s head, looking into his eyes finding the green eyes dazed in pleasure. He frowned and demanded, “Answer me!”

“Yes, yes. I let him fuck me, begged for it. I begged to be his bitch and he used me.”

Hiei rolled the kitsune onto his back, pinning his wrists by his head as he knelt over the redhead’s chest, “Why? Why did you let him, Kurama?” He bent over, looking as deeply as he could into the kitsune’s eyes. He didn’t care. The answers would just be more punishment for the fox. Nothing more.

Kurama searched himself for the answer, searched the eyes hovering over his, trying to find the truth. Hiei saw his mind struggling and waited, watching. Finally, the words slow, “I didn’t think I could have what I wanted so I agreed to what I could have.”

“What is it you want, Kurama?” Hiei’s voice was between threat and promise.

“I wanted the Makai, I wanted a youkai. I wanted to remember what it was like to be Youko, to have a demon in my bed, around my body, in my body.”

“Then why did you stay here, fox?” the words accused, stung, beat at the kitsune.

Kurama swallowed and looked away, “She needed me. So, I stayed for her.”

“Fool,” the word came out a growl, masking the longing behind it. He wanted someone to stay for him, for someone to need him. A thought crossed his mind, unbidden, unwelcome, wanted. The fox needed him. A snarl crossed his lips as he struggled to maintain his role, “Stupid fool. Why did I seek you out in the first place? You’re useless.” He leaned down, his lips near the kitsune’s ear, “If you wanted the Makai, why didn’t you seek out the Makai? If you wanted a youkai, why did you turn to a ningen?”

A shudder passed through Kurama’s body as he felt Hiei’s hips rock against his chest, revealing the beginnings of his arousal. Relief, need, lust coursed with his blood through his body. He gasped, his eyes closing when a sword calloused hand wrapped around his throat.

“Answer me, kitsune,” the koorime growled.

“I thought the Makai wouldn’t want me. I thought I’d be denied the youkai,” Kurama whimpered out, his body trembling. Every threat, every insult added to his need of the koorime. He panted open mouthed around Hiei’s grip on his throat.

Hiei growled, anger surfacing again, welcome to the confusion. Was the fox so dense that he couldn’t see he was wanted? Tightening his hand around the pale throat, causing Kurama to throw his head back as he attempted to keep his airway open enough to breathe, Hiei bent low to the kitsune’s ear, whispering, “The Makai sought you, you fool. Why didn’t you seek the Makai?” He pulled back from the redhead’s ear and backhanded Kurama.

An involuntary cry managed to rise under Hiei’s hand and Kurama begged, “Punish me. I was a fool. I was stupid. I should have known better. I should have sought you before.”

“Why should I? Why should I punish you? Why should I exert myself for someone so…” he hesitated, trying to think of a word. “Weak,” he finally decided, snarling the word, slurring it as he glared at the gasping redhead.

“Punish me and I will grow. Beat me and temper me. I need it! I need you!” Kurama panted, the world slipping liquidly behind his eyes as he struggled to get enough air to sustain himself. The koorime’s hand tightened around his throat and he whispered, “Hiei!”

Hiei released his throat and watched as Kurama lay panting beneath him. Before the redhead could completely recover, Hiei viciously claimed his mouth, keeping Kurama from breathing effectively while his tongue plundered the redhead’s mouth. Hiei slid his hands into Kurama’s hair, caressing his scalp before fisting his hands around the red strands and pulling them back so that Kurama had to arch until the top of his head was on the ground, Hiei still attached to his mouth, stealing his breath. A groan echoed through their bodies as Hiei plundered and dominated the kitsune’s mouth.

Hiei broke their violent kiss and panted, “This means nothing, kitsune.” He knew as he said the words they were a lie. He’d been corrupted by his time in the Ningenkai as well. He’d hoped. Youkai didn’t hope. They sought, they planned, they conquered, but they did not hope.

Kurama’s eyes rolled in his head. “Nothing, nothing. Just punish me,” he agreed, moaning. He was beyond thought. He could only obey the voice that drove, taunted, punished him. He didn’t want that voice to leave. He didn’t want to be forgiven. Not yet.

Kurama’s ready agreement cut Hiei to the quick. He growled to cover the pain, surprising in its intensity. “Fucking bastard,” he spat, pushing himself to his feet and pulling Kurama up after him. He threw the limp kitsune across the clearing, his body meeting another tree with a solid thud. “You should be left like this,” his voice was acid poured onto the redhead’s soul.

“Don’t leave me!” Kurama felt panic beginning to rise in his chest. “Don’t leave me! I need you!” He tried to focus on the koorime, but his head swam from the contact with the tree. Before he could say more, before he could get his eyes to work for him, Kurama was pinned to the tree, a sword under his chin, a hand around his throat.

“What do you mean by that?” Hiei’s voice could have flayed the kitsune’s hide from his bones.

“I need you, Hiei. Don’t leave me. I’ll agree to anything. I need to be punished. I need…” His words were cut off as Hiei claimed his mouth again. The sword remained at his throat, threatening his skin if he responded too enthusiastically. By centimeters, the blade left his neck, allowing him to press into Hiei’s mouth. He didn’t flinch as the blade reversed itself, cutting his clothing as it made its way downwards, brushing the surface of his skin, forcing him to be still, to control his breathing, his trembling. Hiei’s other hand left his throat, following his blade, roughly pressing the fabric out of the way. Their lips broke apart and he gasped out “Hiei” before he was thrown away from the tree as the koorime backhanded him.

Before Kurama could recover from the blow, Hiei was on him, cutting his clothes, removing them from his pale form. The shirt fell away from the redhead, shredded, unwearable. Pants remained, only snagged by the sharp blade. The katana threatened the fair skin, red lines marking the flesh where the tip of the blade was drawn over it. Kurama gasped, trembled, near silent pleas falling from his lips.

Hiei resheathed his blade, stood akimbo over the submissive fox. He frowned deeply, his eyes following the lines his katana had drawn on the kitsune. Kurama’s pale face, marred now by bruises and blood turned to look at him. Looking over his shoulder, Kurama’s green eyes threatened to bleed gold as red eyes coldly regarded the fallen form. Before Kurama could say anything, Hiei asked again, “Why did you go to a ningen if you wanted a youkai?”

“I was a fool. I was a fool. I should have sought what I want. Is it too late?” the last was a bare whisper, nearly lost in the gasps of pain rising from the redhead’s throat.

Hiei rolled the redhead onto his back and straddled his abdomen. “I’m here, aren’t I?” he asked softly. The fox had been punished enough. Punishment was to reinforce a lesson, not just to cause pain. Though the redhead had not called to stop, Hiei drew the line. He took off his scarf and began to slowly brush the blood away from the kitsune’s face. “Foolish kitsune. Have you learned your lesson?”

“Don’t leave me,” Kurama begged, his eyes unfocused. “I won’t seek anywhere else when what I need is right here.”

Hiei bent and began to lick the blood around the kitsune’s mouth. “You’ve been corrupted by the ningen,” he commented dryly, looking into the bleary green eyes.

“Haven’t you, as well? I didn’t call the halt and you stopped.” Kurama let his hands slide up Hiei’s legs while the koorime held his eyes, thinking.

A shadow of a smirk crossed Hiei’s lips. “I suppose it’s possible. We are both fools, then.”

“Let us be fools together, then?” Kurama’s hands continued to slide up the koorime’s body. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I should have sought you first.” His eyes didn’t quite manage to focus properly and Hiei was becoming worried at how long it was taking the kitsune to recover.

“Are you sure you’re up for this, Kurama?”

“It will help me recover.”

“Figures kitsune would use sex for healing,” Hiei’s voice was mockingly bitter. He leaned forward, his lips hovering over Kurama’s, “You’re not up to making me submit.”

“I came to you submissive,” Kurama conceded, reaffirming his position in their encounter.

“I’m not going to love you,” Hiei’s voice continued bitter. The words weren’t as true as they should have been. He was nearly as much of a fool as the kitsune.

“That is a human thing,” Kurama’s voice hitched. He wanted to be accepted, acceptable to the distant koorime.

“He didn’t love you,” Hiei’s voice was cold.

“He said he did. I wanted to believe it. It felt nice to be loved.” Kurama looked away, trying to hide his pain.

“He betrayed you. He couldn’t have if you hadn’t let yourself be lied to.” Hiei couldn’t stop the words, the hateful bitter words that flowed so easily. “You sought what you are not, tried to fit into a world you don’t belong in. You let yourself be pulled into the web, trapped…”

“Rosewhip,” the word was a bare whisper, almost not leaving the redhead’s lips. He couldn’t bear anymore recriminations. His body shook violently under Hiei as he struggled to contain his pain. “Rosewhip. Have mercy. No more right now,” the pleas fell from his lips, barely separated into words, barely understandable.

“This will really help you recover?” Hiei asked, his voice concerned. He shouldn’t have cared. It was duty, only duty. Punishment and recovery. It was his obligation to help Kurama, nothing more.

“Yes,” Kurama whispered, the word more hungry than it should have been.

Hiei stared a moment in disbelief at the kitsune before sitting up and removing his cloak. “As you say.” He bent to the redhead’s face and gently began kissing the from his fists. His lips touched every bit of discolored skin, brushing against it with his ki. If this would heal the fox’s body, then it needed to be done thoroughly, he told himself by way of excuse. He would not admit to enjoying the feel of the kitsune’s skin against his. He was doing this out of duty, not of need. He didn’t completely believe that.

He lifted enough to see the color was beginning to fade from the purply marks and Kurama’s eyes had closed. His face was relaxed, his lips parted, waiting. As gently as he touched the kitsune’s face, he brushed their lips together, eyes open, watching the face beneath his. Pleasure crossed the face below his and Hiei closed his eyes, secretly satisfied. He slowly deepened their kiss, his lips pressing more firmly before his tongue sought entrance. His ki flowed along the surface of his skin, gently brushing the kitsune’s mouth, healing it as his tongue lathed away all traces of blood. A groan rose to be quickly swallowed. This wasn’t for pleasure, it was healing.

Hiei’s hands slid through Kurama’s hair, gently caressing the scalp that had been abused by his hands and contact with the trees. He could feel the kitsune’s ki greeting his, guiding him to where the fox most needed healing, most wanted to be touched. Their mouths remained joined, more groans escaping their careful control, their bodies moving together, Hiei moving to lie on the redhead as Kurama’s hands held him close, caressed his back through the tank top the koorime still wore.

Hiei pulled back from their kiss, his eyes opening slowly, watching green reappear from under heavy lids. Red and green met and they both knew they were corrupted, both knew this was more than simple punishment and recovery. Hiei had hoped, Kurama had longed. Both had been corrupted by the ningen. “Are you sure?” Hiei asked, his voice holding the hope of his eyes.

“Yes,” Kurama answered, his longing in his voice. They would never admit their feelings, never confess more than their voices admitted and confessed at that moment. A soft smile curved the redhead’s lips, “Completely sure.”

A ghost of a smile attempted to curve Hiei’s lips, only succeeding in softening his eyes, “Hn.” He touched those stubborn lips to Kurama’s and slid away from the tempting mouth to kiss the bruises along the kitsune’s jaw and on his throat. A thorough job, a complete job, that is what he told himself. It wasn’t for pleasure. It didn’t fulfill his hope, he didn’t hope. He told himself thus as a moan rose to his lips, tickling the skin near the kitsune’s ear.

Hiei’s lips continued down Kurama’s neck, his hands moving to support the graceful column as the redhead arched into his touch, into his kisses. Hiei pulled back a little, surveying the flesh, the marks left by his hands, the score left by his katana where the kitsune had responded a little too enthusiastically for having a blade under his chin. Gently, he licked the wounded flesh and the redhead shivered under his touch, gasping and moaning. Hiei marked each place in his mind that drew a louder noise from the fox’s throat. He gave up arguing with himself, abandoned his denials. He wanted the kitsune.

Kurama could feel the change in Hiei’s ki, in his touch and he responded to it. His cries came more freely, his fingers massaged deeper, his pleas fell more freely. Hiei’s hands slid from behind his neck and began lightly brushing over his shoulders. The kitsune felt more than alive, trembling under the tender caresses. His hands sought to return his pleasure. He winced as his tortured muscles pulled across his abused bones, but Hiei’s touch eased away the pains, freeing him to return the koorime’s gentle ablutions. He felt his ki rising to meet Hiei’s, could feel the gentle groans that rose from the koorime’s throat. Kurama let down his guard, opened himself fully to the other, allowed himself to be completely vulnerable.

“Fool,” the word ghosted across the kitsune’s skin, unsure of its target, falling to the ground, impotent. Hiei’s lips continued their path across the fox’s neck, reaching the arches of his collarbone, following it outwards to the rounded shoulder. Again, the word “fool” brushed the redhead’s skin, carried away by the gentle breeze. Hiei’s lips continued their exploration of Kurama’s body, slowly sampling the skin, brushing his ki along the abused muscles. His lips crossed the red mark from his blade and he followed it down the kitsune’s body, tracing the path to where it vanished, nicking the redhead’s waistband, fraying the fabric. He looked up, his eyes tracing the vanishing line to meet green eyes seeking his. Need, want, hunger in those emerald orbs drew a groan from his throat. He heard the answering growl from the kitsune’s throat and his hands went to the ground, holding his body up as he moved back to Kurama’s mouth to steal that noise from his throat.

Their lips met hungrily, Kurama’s hands going to Hiei’s hair, his shoulders, his back, pulling the koorime as close as possible. Hiei sought to devour the fox, his body rocking into the redhead’s abdomen as the kitsune’s hands wandered down to caress his ass. Hunger, lust, need in every touch, in every movement as they writhed together on the ground. Kurama’s hands moved again to Hiei’s back and pulled his tank top away, tearing the fabric, ruining it, not that either of them cared. The skin of their chests met and they swallowed each other’s groans of pleasure.

Kurama pulled back from their lip-locked conversation, gasping, “Please, Hiei, please.”

Their eyes met and understanding passed between them. The words would never be spoken aloud, but they understood, they knew. Hiei bent once more to kiss Kurama deeply, increasing the amount of ki that flowed between them with that touch. The kitsune was his, only his ever more. With a jolt of possessiveness he’d never experienced before, he bound the fox to himself. Kurama groaned wantonly, surrendering, returning the binding. The koorime was his, he was the koorime’s.

Hands tore at clothing, barely keeping it intact as it was removed with haste. Lips couldn’t taste enough, hands couldn’t touch enough, there wasn’t close enough. They had to be joined, their bodies had to be together, had to be one. Pants, belts, shoes were flung away, their fall unheeded, unmarked. Kurama lifted his legs, silently begging, silently pleading, wrapping his limbs around the koorime as he slid lower, and then pressed into the kitsune’s body.

A whine of pain from the unaided entry was swallowed by a groan of pleasure as ki flowed around them. Kurama leaned up, Hiei’s head arching back to meet his and their lips joined as their bodies joined. Hiei held the red hair with one hand while his other slid between their bodies, seeking the kitsune’s erection. To finish their joining, they needed to reach that exquisite death together. Hiei could feel need pressing against him, the gripping heat of the fox’s body pulling him higher than he’d been before. Kurama struggled to scream, to kiss, to groan, to express himself adequately, but his mind refused to cooperate, insisting on spiraling higher, piling pleasure on pleasure as the koorime moved within him, as Hiei’s hand stroked his erection, as their lips continued to touch, as their tongues continued to dance.

Hiei needed that mouth, he needed to touch Kurama as much as possible. He wouldn’t let the kitsune free. He continued to plunder the kitsune’s mouth, devouring him. His body’s demands were getting stronger, his need becoming harder to ignore. Reluctantly, he broke their kiss, panting, “Join me.”

“Yes,” the kitsune groaned loudly, arching back. He was close, his body demanding, his release, his death calling him.

Hiei moved more harshly in the fox’s body, seeking that final place, that place of euphoria and peace. His hips moved, forcing himself into Kurama’s body as the kitsune’s body tightened, his screams rose, his voice warned of his imminent demise.

With a back bending thrust, Hiei felt the kitsune’s body shudder under him as he pulsed his life into Kurama’s body. Time froze, their bodies shuddering in release, ki pulsing around them, blending. Their voices remained frozen in their throats.

Hiei let his body collapse onto the redhead’s as he panted, trying to reclaim his mind from the void where it’d taken flight. Gentle hands caressed his back as the redhead struggled to breathe under him. The clearing was dark, the sun setting. His eyes fell on a pile that had not been there before, was not their discarded clothing: A neatly folded pile at the edge of the clearing. He plucked at Kurama’s arm to get his attention and the redhead slowly turned his head.

As one, they slowly moved to their hands and knees, neither trusting their legs enough to stand, and crawled to the pile. It was Kurama’s clothing that had been left at Yusuke’s, not much, a shirt and a pair of pants. No more. Cautiously, he sought the tantei’s ki signature and could find nothing. “How odd,” he muttered softly.

“Hn,” was the only answer. The koorime stood, moving to replace his clothing. He looked down at his body. “You bled,” his voice held concern.

Kurama looked over his shoulder and at the koorime’s body, blood ringing the koorime’s flaccid flesh, and tensing his muscles in concern. There was no pain now, “It seems I have healed.”

Hiei stepped over to the kitsune, “Next time you come to me, come prepared.” He cupped the pale cheek with his sword calloused hand.

“I’ll not be such a fool again.”

Hiei bent and gently kissed the still kneeling kitsune, “You are a fool, as am I.” He walked away, pulling his clothes on and left the clearing without another word. There was no regret, only statement of fact.

Kurama smiled softly. He’d found more than he’d hoped he had right to even dream of. A small pang made itself known as he thought about what had driven him here, but the pain sweetened and made the reward more valuable. Never would be lies spoken between them, never words of devotion spoken, but they were unneeded. The marking meant more, held more than empty words ever could. The mute apology of the clothing meant more than mere words could. With a whispered thank you, the kitsune rose and dressed, heading home in the darkening twilight.

A/N: This was a request from KyoHana. It was posted in my lj ( http://hcolleen.livejournal.com/40423.html ) and I have edited from that original posting. Not a lot, but tightening up wording, trying to reduce redundancy (my biggest sin as far as writing goes, I've been told).

Because I was asked..."Rosewhip" is used as a "safe word" in this story. It's purpose is to call a hault to the punishment and is used in BDSM and S&M to keep the bottom safe from excessive harm. It gives the bottom the power to stop the scene if it becomes too much for them. A safe word should always be used and respected or it's not safe/sane/consensual.

Also, before I completely forget I don't own 'em and leave cookies