Hell or High Water: Vines

The door closed behind them with a bang, Yusuke flailing a bit to get away from the iron grip encompassing his forearm, his attempts to escape nearly making him trip over the carpet. Yusuke resented the loss of his Mazoku privileges, trying to regain the dignity he had misplaced at the last tournament.

Toguro had no trouble at all tossing him down onto the springy mattress—he barely had to flex those piles of muscle before Yusuke went sailing. His side hit the blankets hard without him really feeling it, the impact mussing the sweaty bed sheets he groped at to get up, reeling at the smell of semen all around him. Indomitable as always, he was on his feet a second later, his fists balled and his caramel eyes wide with fury.

“Sit down.”

“Make me!” Yusuke spat.

“Calm down and sit, Urameshi. This won’t take long.”

They glared at each other, chins jutted, their expressions so strangely alike that Yusuke faltered a bit, unnerved. He started avoiding the irate angles of Toguro’s face with some difficulty, scowling at a wicker chair sitting in the corner of the room, despising the fact that he felt like a kid again compared to Toguro’s massive, nostalgic size.

Toguro’s black eyes were small and burning behind his glasses, causing Yusuke to crane his neck suddenly and settle his fists in the pockets of his sweatshirt, still clenched tight. His adam’s apple bobbed as he searched for what to say, before he unequivocally broke the silence, dropping his chin to frown at Toguro defiantly.

“Stay the hell away from Kurama, Toguro.”

The burly man growled, his lips drawing back until he’d bared his teeth, reminding Yusuke of a bear about to clamp its jaws on its prey. “And why should I, Urameshi?”

“Because—”

“Let me tell you something: I’m not raping him. If you want to take this up with anyone, take it up with him.”

“I kn—” Yusuke started, infuriated, but Toguro cut him off and overrode him with such force that even Yusuke Urameshi had no choice but to shut his lips tight and listen, glowering or not.

“You may want to keep in mind, though, as you take it up with him, that your jealousy is just a nuisance to him. He’s the type of demon who’s free with his body but careful with his heart. I know that type very well. I’m not stealing something he hasn’t already given—if I’m stealing at all. You, on the other hand, are taking that thing I just said he was careful with and manhandling it, and in the process making a damn mountain out of what is, to him and me, a molehill.”

“Well gee, Muscles, thanks for the advice,” Yusuke drawled, his fists itching to swing straight into the bastard’s face.

“You needed to hear it.”

Yusuke clucked his teeth, his slit eyes fuming, angry that he was being lectured by Toguro, of all people, angry that his lover was betraying him with his enemy, and even angrier that he could see, even if Toguro couldn’t, the other dimension to this triangle.

Kurama had had flings before, but this was more solid than that, too well rounded to be simple lust. Kurama seemed to trust Toguro, to like him, to be willing to put aside his pride and do little things like cook for him and smile at him, things he usually reserved for Yusuke. In the Spirit Detective’s opinion, Kurama was being drawn towards Toguro like a dog on a leash, pulled closer and closer and too complacent to try to get away. It was more than Yusuke could handle.

Yusuke was chewing on these hard thoughts as the silence stretched, Toguro watching him coolly, and they left a bad taste in his mouth. With nothing more to say, and not willing to start a slam-down in Kurama’s house, Yusuke pushed past him towards the bedroom’s door, and Toguro sighed, raising his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation.

“Wait,” he said, and then grabbed the crook of Yusuke’s arm as he turned around. Yusuke’s shocked gasp allowed in the tongue that slipped through his lips, and pulled out again when Yusuke attempted to bite it, hard. Yusuke flailed ineffectually, yelping against his attacker’s mouth, punching Toguro’s shoulder hard enough to jerk it.

Suddenly the kiss was broken with a wet smack, and Toguro leaned back up to his usual impressive height, watching Yusuke gasp and pant, trying to regain his breath.

“What the hell was that for?”

“Kurama and I are fully capable of fucking someone without giving a damn for them. You’re the only one who isn’t.”

Yusuke huffed, too infuriated to speak, and breezed out the door on autopilot, heading down the stairs and away from the cottage, passing right by Kurama. He was shouting after him that there was breakfast, if he wanted it, but Yusuke, for once pushed past even the grumbling of his stomach, gave no response.

---

Kurama was levering the eggs out of the pan and onto a plate, irritated that whatever had passed between Toguro and Yusuke had only served to put the unpredictable boy in a worse mood, when he was stopped by a massive hand curling over his wrist, tilting the egg from the spatula as its owner’s form pressed up against him, a pillar of stone behind him.

Not one to mince words, Toguro leaned forward and down, bending significantly to attack Kurama’s sensitive ears with a gruff mouth, savoring the primal shiver that graced lithe shoulders as facial hair scraped along the soft, receptive skin. Rolling the lobe between his teeth and smiling at the quivering body before him, his curious paw of a hand cupped Kurama’s groin firmly, feeling how hard he’d gotten as Kurama let out a shuddering gasp and clenched his legs.

“I take it it didn’t go as hoped,” the kitsune sighed.

Toguro grunted, fondling the soft flesh in his palm. “No. Talk to him.”

“Why should I?” Kurama said coldly.

“Because he needs it,” Toguro husked into a pink ear. Kurama cocked his head and smiled.

“Will you eat, or would you rather jerk me off?”

Toguro leaned back, leaving Kurama’s eyelids fluttering, his whole body bereft and achingly warm, regretting his joke. His pants and underwear dropped a second later, the muscles of his slim legs spread gently as his partial erection was grabbed at the hilt, making him groan shamelessly. “Bring it all to the table and I’ll do both.”

Kurama snorted at that promise, and then let his head loll back as he whined, feeling calluses coax his shaft into complete hardness with surprising ease, his hips swaying with each pull on his member and his toes curling in their slippers.

---

Crack!

Kurama’s scrotum tightened deliciously as he keened, nearly coming just from the feel of Toguro’s coarse palm sticking to his ass, soothing the tremors of the hit. His muscles jumped as something hot, long and hard as stone began to jut into him from beneath the zipper that scratched rouge marks into his stomach, making him squirm even more wildly. Sweat and pre-come were staining wet patches into Toguro’s trousers, but neither of them spared a thought to that.

Crack!

“Toguro, Gods…”

The huge hand raised high in the air, about to slam down again onto that tender rosy ass. Toguro quirked his lips when he saw that Kurama couldn’t help arching his back over his knee, anxious to receive it. Crack, and he was bucking at Toguro’s trousers, the rough material harsh on his cock—and finding something incredibly erotic about that. From this angle he could smell Toguro’s dick as clearly as if it were buried to the hilt in his mouth, the overpoweringly primal scent of musk taunting Kurama.

Toguro chuckled deeply, and swatted his hand down playfully, stopping it right before it connected. The wind hit anyway, and the lissome form over his lap jolted forward, moist lips forming a vicious ‘oh’ that made Toguro let out a rumbling snarl. He shifted and grabbed the left cheek of Kurama’s ass, kneading it roughly while one finger went below the young man’s arched, delicate chin.

Toguro put the slightest pressure on his thick digit and watched as Kurama rose with it, his masses of scarlet curls spilling around him, obscuring parts of his face and neck and leaving others delightfully exposed. Kurama’s hands reached down to balance on a bulky thigh, his lungs expanding with pants. Ringlets of hair were glued to his skin by his aroused sweat, heightening the beautiful image he cut.

Kurama gulped, and then opened his mouth to gasp as a fingertip pushed between two sore mounds and brushed his opening with surprising gentleness. Immediately, Toguro sealed those lush lips with his own, his tongue snaking through a widening mouth and pulling him into a lusty, dominated kiss. With a thorough swipe of Kurama’s warmth, he pressed the pad of his finger into the tight muscles that protected Kurama’s achingly small hole.

Toguro pulled his face back, breath crashing against Kurama’s lips. Then Kurama was scooped up, letting out an undignified squawk as Toguro got off the bed, Kurama writhing in his arms, and dropped him down on his back, ankles off the mattress, tremors going up the fox’s succulent body as he stared lasciviously at his tormentor and wondered what was next.

Toguro grunted, and grabbed Kurama’s ankles, lifting them up in the air until he had a clear view of everything he wanted to see. “Your plants,” Toguro growled.

“What?”

“Fuck yourself with them. I know you do. Once you’ve done a good enough job, I’ll replace it with my cock.”

Kurama blinked at him, shocked. “But—”

“Don’t cross your legs now. You’ve done this with Urameshi, right? Let him watch?”

“It’s a—slightly different circumstance,” Kurama muttered lamely, those wide green eyes still blinking up at him, confused. Toguro cocked an eyebrow, and Kurama blushed slightly. “What position?”

“This one,” Toguro answered immediately, “this one right here.” A virile grin crossed his face, and Kurama’s eyes widened effortlessly, looking almost scared. Toguro planted a placating kiss on the swell of Kurama’s ankle, five o’clock shadow scraping loudly against the skin and making Kurama shiver pleasantly.

“I, I—”

“Your plants or my tongue. The plants will be more fun for both of us, I think.”

Kurama gasped, and then moaned as the minute stirrings of the air met his stiff, straining cock. His balls were retracted tightly, his shaft twitching and bobbing with breath, and he closed his eyes and arched his back, forgetting Toguro’s request. Toguro, who had been holding Kurama’s legs like a plastic doll’s, straight out and spread, watched as Kurama’s fingers curled in the white coverlet on the mattress, pushing back to keep himself from hanging straight up and down. Toguro grunted.

“My tongue, then,” he murmured quietly, and leaned down, feeding the long legs and arching toes over his shoulders.

“W-wait,” Kurama stuttered. “Wait.” And then he paused again, his blush deepening.

“For what, Fox?” Toguro asked impatiently.

Without answering, his beautiful face almost as brilliant as his crimson mane, Kurama flexed his power. Slowly, tentatively, greenery arched from his hair. Kurama yelped and thrashed as the vines, imbued with their own free will, suddenly exploded with life. Thin tendrils leapt across the taut chest, swishing against smooth, sweaty muscles and finding his nipples. His curling hands fisted, trapping blankets in a vice grip as two vines wrapped up his begging nipples in a tight pinch and began to gyrate.

“Just the nipples,” Toguro commanded, his face completely motionless as he took in the erotic sight stretched below him, noticing the wisps of greenery racing to envelope Kurama’s cock.

Kurama panted once, twice, bucking at the air, and then flexed his power. His legs automatically moved to close, but Toguro pulled them farther apart, so nothing at all touched his dilating hole and his jumping cock.

The plants on Kurama’s nipples pulsed and twitched and pulled, and then Kurama, seduced by Toguro’s teasing, tightened them almost past endurance and then extended two small vines, thin and fragile, and slowly made them stroke the sensitive tip of each nipple. They jabbed and caressed those pursed nubs until his upper body was heaving with every breath, a light sheen of sweat and a sweet blush covering his rosy young body.

Toguro was breathing heavily too, the monster between his legs seconds from ripping through the painful constriction of his pants and popping the zipper in half. “Now—you can’t touch your cock, but you can use your ass.”

“In this position—” Kurama whimpered, intensely aroused.

“A new one, then,” Toguro said shortly, and dropped Kurama unceremoniously onto his back, listening to him yelp as he bounced a bit, the mattress creaking and his cock bobbing and slapping his stomach. Huffing at the erotic sight spread before him, all supple muscle and smooth skin, Toguro fixed his eyes for a moment on the blushing shaft nestled above a smooth, wiry tangle of crimson pubes, and then tore them away with difficulty.

It was easy to scoop him up and flip him over, a massive hand on his upper arm holding him as his body was maneuvered to its knees. Kurama mewled, finding something so erotic about this, so erotic about the dominance, and let out a soft grunt when Toguro let go of his arm, letting him fall into a curved, languid position on the bed, and grabbed his ass, a buttock in each hand, spreading it lewdly.

Feeling vaguely embarrassed, Kurama trembled, the embarrassment heightening his lust until his whole body was on fire, kissed by red from tip to toe as he bucked, wanting something to touch him, caress him, envelope him. He was so caught up in his rapture that he couldn’t control his plants, and they relaxed and slid off him, pooling underneath him like the set of clothing he had long since discarded, adding to his frustration.

“Toguro,” he moaned, and Toguro captured a desperate hand as it wandered towards the hard source of his fervor. Toguro placed it back towards his front.

“You chose your plants, so use them. That, or accept a punishment,” Toguro said, and grinned wolfishly. A beautiful eye, as long-lashed as a girl’s, sparkled back at him mirthfully, and then, in an exercise of will, the plants began to slink up his arms again. He gritted his teeth as the crept along his sweaty, heaving chest, and then cried out when his painfully stiff nipples were finally found and swathed in tiny feelers.

Others had begun the long trip over his navel and down towards his ass. At a murmured command from Toguro, they parted and swept over his hips and down the crease of his thighs, laying soothing caresses on Toguro’s thick fingers that made Toguro let out a shaky sigh, his eyes intent behind the glasses.

Kurama was panting and wheezing, barely able to direct his molesting plants. When the vines reached the muscled ring and began to feel their way into their master, indolent, gentle, Kurama too far gone not to tease himself now in the place of Toguro, Toguro took pity on the fox. Toguro’s fingers found the inside crease of his thigh, where leg met groin, inches from the shivering member that was bobbing and pitifully tight, and stroked it, feeling Kurama jump. The fox’s legs spread as pre-come dribbled from his straining cock, and then Toguro enveloped his hanging balls and began to bounce them, gently, still teasing.

“Ah—Ah!” Kurama yelped, and, spurred on by his hot need, his plants curled into one long, silken feeler, and plunged in. Kurama’s back was in a permanent, curvaceous arch as he tried to direct them, and then he screamed when they curved and found that place inside that made him see stars.

“Make them spread so I can see.”

Kurama lowered his head, chest heaving, and then the feelers widened, opening him up for Toguro. Toguro squeezed his balls, watching a shiver run up the smooth flesh of a thigh, Kurama’s hips shaking with arousal, blushing patches of color on his skin.

Kurama jerked and craned his neck to stare back when Toguro’s finger slid in, the lubrication of the vines giving his thick finger room to work. Kurama groaned like an animal as it curved, finding the bundle of nerves he was looking for and pressing mercilessly. Kurama’s moist lips widened, wordless, his fingers sawing holes in the comforter.

“Good enough. Take your plants back, and I’ll fuck you.” Toguro was already up, walking to the nightstand, his belt coming off and coiling on the mattress and a big thumb pushing out the buttons of his fly, sighing as some of the constriction was relieved. He folded up his glasses, listening to Kurama writhe on the mattress, and put them down with all the lazy intention in the world. Then he rummaged in the drawers for the tube of lubricant he’d bought yesterday, and climbed onto the bed, which groaned under his weight.

Kurama’s plants were gone, bright green eyes up and watching him slyly, lustfully, as he undid the rough buttons of his coat one at a time, kneeling on the bed, and shrugged the garment carelessly off, tossing it to the ground. Toguro threw the lube at Kurama, who caught it on reflex, examining it, popping open the cap to sniff. Mouth curving deviously, Kurama held it in a palm and crawled along the forgiving mattress, his teeth closing on the metal lip of the zipper, drawing it down with a scratchy roar. Toguro became caught in his boxers, bending down slowly, until he sprang free and up, bulging and needy in front of Kurama, his foreskin stretched tight over the engorged head.

An immense hand entwined with long scarlet locks as Kurama wedged his tongue between the foreskin and the head, rolling it down skillfully with his mouth. Musky pre-come dribbled as he continued suckling the head, deft tongue making Toguro groan, using his hands to coax the lube from its container meanwhile with a few harsh twists. When he had a good amount, he closed the cap, still sucking, and rubbed it between his hands until it was nice and warm, the viscous gel slicking down his fingers and smelling pleasantly of strawberries. Then he embraced the fat, rigid cock, feeling it bob in welcome, and began massaging it with glossy digits, working languorously from the balls to the base on up, starting slowly and moving faster, wringing it, until the shaft was sleek and shiny.

He drew back his mouth with a lascivious pop that vibrated down Toguro’s dick and made him grunt, his hand still clenched in Kurama’s hair. His fingers loosened at a sign from Kurama, who collapsed backwards onto the mattress and lifted up tantalizing hips, using his lube-smeared fingers to prepare himself, circling the entrance and then delving further in with a moan. Toguro watched Kurama’s shoulders tense and loosen for a moment, golden eyes impossible to read, and then dragged Kurama’s hand back with a loud growl, nudging himself beneath his raised hips, a hand at the root of each leg.

“Wait, Toguro, I haven’t stretched myself proper—ah!” He arched back, head slamming into the mattress as Toguro sheathed himself between the cheeks of his ass in one stroke, the sensations of Kurama clenching instantly around his massive cock making him snarl, the vice-like walls beginning to ripple as Kurama moved his muscles. “Toguro…” Kurama moaned, his face tight with pain. Toguro was momentarily oblivious, his hips jerking in half-thrusts to get the last inch in, pushing Kurama back with the force of his hips before he used his grip on his legs to jerk him forward again.

Kurama gasped, his ass still red and tender from Toguro’s spanking, the prodigious size and girth of the cock slowly being slid out of him making him moan as he tried to replace the soreness with pleasure. Seeing the pained look on Kurama’s face, Toguro thrust a bit more gently, reaching down to palm his cock. As he pulled, Kurama groaned, pleasure sparking to offset the pain.

Soon, Kurama was arching back to meet Toguro’s movements, and every time he did Toguro became a bit rougher, squeezing Kurama’s cock and yanking on his hips or hair to move his body the way he wanted it. He was skilled—Kurama didn’t register the pain as anything but pleasure anymore, and seeing that, Toguro began to push his threshold further, bit by bit, until their desperate hips were pounding and Kurama’s flesh rippling harder than it ever had before.

Toguro yanked out and flipped Kurama over, using his hair to pull him onto his hands and knees and then penetrating again, smoothly, Kurama thrusting his hips back to meet him, vocalizing his ecstasy with a series of yelps. Toguro watched himself disappearing in between the taut mounds, moving in and out easily now, and somehow, an image of a young, pink-haired girl, legs straight in the air and eyes sly, was superimposed over the redheaded boy before him.

Toguro closed his eyes, feeling himself riding closer, deceptively smooth and full as heat built in his stomach and behind his ears. Kurama, reading the cues of Toguro’s body, moved himself so the cock filling him and then leaving him bereft, piercing him over and over, was hitting all pleasure points simultaneously, Kurama squeezing on it too. In response, Toguro growled and tugged Kurama’s cock faster, rougher, rippling his fingers, moans drawn from pretty lips as the fox felt himself suddenly rushing to meet Toguro as well.

The blistering heat washed over Kurama with no warning, and he was tightening, howling—then, seed coating Toguro’s fingers, he went limp. Toguro continued fucking the tight, then loose entrance, inches, seconds away—and then there. He groaned as he came, leaning over, one hand keeping up Kurama’s supple, mewling body, the other braced against the bed. The final thrust poured the last semen into Kurama’s relaxed hole, and then Toguro braced himself, breathing heavily. He waited for himself to soften, laying idle kisses on Kurama’s damp skin, and then felt himself slip out, semen running down Kurama’s legs, making his face squinch up.

“Well, that was certainly pleasant,” Kurama muttered tiredly.

Toguro laughed, and then got up to go to the shower and bath, Kurama following moments later with a limp, the soiled sheets in his hands. There was no such thing as cuddling among demons.

---

“Yusuke, I’ve told you a thousand times—” Koenma murmured tiredly, and began suckling his new pacifier compulsively when he was interrupted yet again.

“But he’s fucking Kurama!”

“Yes, but even if he were raping Kurama, legally the Spirit World can’t get involved—”

“That’s bullshit!”

“It may be bullshit,” Koenma said, attempting to override him, “but in this instance Toguro has committed no crime. Would you really send a man to hell because you don’t like him having relations with your friend?”

“Damn straight I would,” Yusuke growled. “He shouldn’t be out anyway! I don’t give a crap if he was sobbing and begging you to let him back when you toured hell, he shouldn’t—”

This time, it was Koenma cutting Yusuke off. “You don’t know a damn thing about hell, about Limbo. He shouldn’t have been there in the first place. I couldn’t—” he paused to sigh, something in his voice keeping Yusuke from bursting in. “I couldn’t leave him there. Even after everything he’d done to us, he didn’t deserve ten thousand years of that. And would you really consign him to it because Kurama’s attracted to him?”

Yusuke glowered, taken aback by the seriousness in Koenma's voice. “—No,” he answered honestly.

“Then stop bothering me, Yusuke. Go get Botan to fly you back, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Yusuke was too good-hearted to protest, though he stormed out of the office more than walked.

Koenma sighed, remembering haunted eyes with a shiver, set in the face of a young boy, big for his age—Toguro under the duress of Limbo. Returning to toddler form, he leaned his head on the desk and asked ogre for a drink.

Jorge brought him his milk with no trouble, and then Koenma abruptly announced it was time for his afternoon nap, and went off to his four-poster crib.

He hoped Toguro wouldn’t make him regret his clemency, and drifted off to sleep thinking up punishments for him if he did.