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Just a Scratch

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Kyo glared at the keycard he had been given at the hotel’s front desk. A long hallway with a row of identical doors stretched in front of him.

He started walking, his footfalls quiet against the carpeted floor. He was exhausted. He didn’t have time to rest appropriately after the tournament ended, and barely caught some sleep in the flight to Hungary.

Chizuru had met him at the airport. She explained what was going on: the crater in Aggtelek Karst, and Orochi’s energy. Yagami had arrived in the city some hours earlier, and, according to Chizuru, the redhead wasn’t doing too well. The power of Orochi’s presence was starting to have an effect on Yagami.

The priestess had everything covered. She had booked rooms in a hotel nearby, and arranged transportation to the crater. They would leave in the early hours of the morning. If they were lucky, they would manage to seal Orochi again, and no battle would be necessary.

Looking at the bright side, Chizuru commented that at least the god had appeared in an unpopulated area. The number of potential victims would be minimum.

After a brief conversation at the hotel’s lobby, they went to their respective rooms. Kyo just wanted a shower, maybe dinner, and then he would crash into bed until it was time to leave. He was only carrying a small sports bag with a few personal belongings, but even that felt heavy, tired as he was.

When he arrived to his room, he inserted the keycard into the slot with a sigh of relief.

The room was dim-lit, and smelled like cleaning products. The curtains were closed, but light from the street filtered through the fabric.

Force of habit made Kyo kick off his shoes near the door, and he also dropped the bag unceremoniously on the floor. Without wasting time, he started to pull his white jacket off, already fantasizing with the hot shower, and eager to get into bed.

A soft moan coming from the darkest area of the room startled him. He was suddenly on guard, angry at himself for the oversight. Being tired was no excuse for letting a potential enemy get so close to him.

However, it was not an enemy, or at least not one that would pose a significant threat.

Kyo recognized the silhouette that was sitting on the edge of the bed. The long strands of hair, red in the dim light.

“You’re in the wrong room, Yagami.”

The lack of a response made Kyo sigh impatiently. He didn’t have the strength to deal with Yagami that night.

Even though the room was spacious, Yagami’s presence created an oppressive atmosphere, and Kyo felt as if there was no way to put enough distance between them.

“I’m really not in the mood for this nonsense,” growled Kyo, throwing an angry glance at Iori.

However, Iori wasn’t looking at him. He was sitting on the bed, back hunched. He was holding his head clearly in pain. His breathing was shallow, and soft muffled groans could be heard.

Kyo frowned. Was it the Riot? Iori was going to lose control in a hotel full of guests?

Yagami had managed to suppress his cursed blood during the tournament, but now they were closer to the source. Orochi’s energy had to be calling him, pushing him.

“Hey…” Kyo muttered, tiredly. “Really. Don’t start or I’ll have no other choice than to knock you out and throw you into the hallway because that’s my bed.”

Iori’s reply was a low laugh.

“I want to see you tr--” The phrase was interrupted by a sharp cry that was quickly disguised as a curse. Kyo realized that Yagami was struggling to resist, but he was slowly losing that battle.

He had to prevent the Riot from occurring.

What could he do?

Challenge Iori and fight him… Would that work? Would a fight provide relief or just make matters worse? And even so, would they be able to find somewhere to fight in that foreign city? The hotel was located in a very popular area. The surrounding streets were packed with vehicles and tourists.

But he had to do something.

Distract Iori. That usually worked. He could make Iori focus on something different than the voices in his blood.

At the start of the tournament, he had vowed to help Iori. But Iori had controlled Orochi’s threat on his own. For weeks, Kyo had seen Iori’s resolution, and his silent battle against Orochi.

If he was tired that night, what about Iori?

“This'll be over in a few hours,” said Kyo firmly, coming closer to the bed. “We already beat Orochi once. Don’t give in.”

Iori looked up. His face was an expressionless mask full of badly concealed pain. His crimson eyes were glazed.

“Save your words. Just remember that after I finish with Orochi I’ll come for your life,” Iori replied.

“You have everything planned out, haven’t you?” Kyo asked jokingly, a disdainful smile on his lips.

“Not everything. Only your death.”

Kyo didn’t look away. Iori was smirking back at him.

“Asshole,” scowled Kyo.

Iori kept staring at him. He really enjoyed saying that kind of things. He was such an exasperating jerk.

But at least Iori looked a bit better now, focusing on him and not the pain.

Kyo took one more step toward the bed.

He was cautious when he stroke Iori’s hair in a light caress. He was never sure of how Iori would react. Sometimes, Iori allowed his touch. Sometimes he responded with violence.

That night, Iori let the caress continue. When Kyo pulled him a bit closer, Iori rested his head against Kyo’s hip and closed his eyes with an exhausted sigh.

Kyo’s eyes softened. Still caressing, he laid his hand on Iori’s neck for a while, and then let his fingers travel down, pushing the wine-colored coat aside, and then the white shirt, until he reached one of Iori’s shoulders. He felt the muscles hard and tense.

Kyo silently asked himself if he should continue.

As if answering his question, Iori raised a hand and placed it on the small of Kyo’s back, pulling him even closer, and then hid his face against Kyo’s abdomen, inhaling deeply.

Kyo felt a pleasant shiver and smiled against his will when, without losing any more time, Iori pushed his black T-shirt upwards and breathed directly against his skin. 


There were times when Kyo wondered how they could end like that, completely exposed, unable to hide anything from each other, in a dimly lit hotel room.

Threats became empty words, challenges were taken as an invitation.

Their clothes would get in the way and they would discard them in a matter of seconds, pulling, sometimes tearing them in the process.

The air against his skin was always colder than he expected, but the cold was quickly disregarded when he felt the warmth of Iori’s skin, his hands all over him, his wet lips, the inebriating contact of his arousal. 

Years ago, Yagami had been rough, back when they were learning to know each other, when they weren’t aware that both of them had the same desire. Iori took what he wanted with a feverish hunger, unable to make the pleasure last, and the culmination was short and unsatisfactory. The words they exchanged were hostile. They would part ways feeling resentful and angry.

But Iori had changed over time. Now he was fully aware that there was no reason to hurry. Their encounters could last as long as they wanted. Iori was able to explore, possess and subjugate if that was what he wanted. Kyo would allow it. He would not push him away. He would not reject him.

Quite the contrary. Kyo expected every touch, demanded even more, and then rewarded Iori when his turn arrived.

That night, in a hotel in a foreign land, Kyo enjoyed a hundred wordless touches, lying naked on his back, with Iori leaning over him. The redhead stared at the scars on his chest, the long, clearly visible lines where his fingers had torn the flesh open. Iori’s eyes darkened upon seeing them, and Kyo jokingly muttered “if they irritate you so much, you should try to leave your own marks, consciously, this time.” Iori had regarded him with a strange scornful look. But he had liked the idea.

Kyo smiled and then moaned, because Iori kissed his chest, the scars, and then began to slowly work his way downward, making a cruel pause over his navel and then continuing until he reached his crotch, touching Kyo’s arousal with his lips.

With Iori between his legs, Kyo arched his back when the redhead took him between his lips and into his mouth. Kyo ached for that feeling, the warmth saliva, the maddening touch of Iori’s tongue against his erection.

Clenching his fists on the sheets, Kyo pushed, urging Iori to take him deeper, as deep as he could, and the redhead complied, licking along his throbbing length, his hand going under Kyo, seeking for his entrance, wanting to prepare him for what was to come.

That was another aspect they had learned over time. To ensure that the other was ready. It had been unexpected. Kyo had thought Yagami would take him as he pleased, but he had been wrong. Iori was even more aroused when his fingers started to rub his hole, taunting and pushing against the natural resistance of his body. Iori growled to himself when the contradictory mix of pain and pleasure made Kyo moan.

Sometimes, Kyo was aroused just by seeing Iori so intent on making him enjoy the sex. The pleasure was amplified by that awareness. The shared anticipation was unbearable.

That was how Kyo wanted it that night. His body trembled, avid to feel Iori inside him.

“Careful or I…” Kyo warned, shivering when he felt Iori’s fingers pushing and entering him. His cock was still in Iori’s mouth, the caress of the redhead’s tongue and lips was driving him crazy.

Iori moved away very slowly, sliding his fingers, in and out, going deeper each time.

“You’re eager tonight, Kyo.”

Kyo shook his head weakly, and then gasped because Iori went even deeper, without taking his eyes off him. The redhead looked pleased with himself and relaxed. There wasn’t a trace of the pained expression Kyo had seen when he entered the room.

“Shut up,” Kyo growled, making a gesture for Iori to come closer.

Iori never stopped stroking. He leaned over Kyo, their erections rubbing against each other. His eyes were on Kyo’s the whole time.

Kyo didn’t know what he liked more about being like this with Yagami. Maybe the foreplay, or maybe having Yagami in him, coming inside him. What he did know, was that he always wanted to see Iori’s expression. It wasn’t enough to hear Iori panting raggedly, or the occasional deep sound that escaped from his throat. Kyo wanted to see every change in his expression, the moment when Iori’s eyes filled with desire.

Kyo let out a muffled moan because Iori was teasing a specific spot, making him squirm. Iori’s eyes were mocking him again.

Gathering his thoughts, Kyo didn’t look away. With his hand, he stroked Iori’s crotch and enjoyed a moment of triumph when he wrapped his fingers around Iori’s erection and the redhead made a sound that was a mix between panting and moaning. Kyo pumped quicker, Iori’s cock pulsating warm and thick against his fingers, and Iori closed his eyes when the strokes brought about an excruciating pleasure.

“Do it,” said Kyo.

Kyo was shocked when Iori complied without arguing. He held his breath when Iori’s erection rubbed and pushed against his hole, and clenched his teeth when the pleasure became painful all of a sudden.

Iori stopped, looking at him with scorn.

“Idiot,” Iori muttered, but Kyo wasn’t able to reply because Iori leaned over him to kiss him roughly.

“Doesn’t matter, do it,” Kyo insisted under the kiss, moaning when he felt Iori’s hand sliding down to his crotch and surrounding his length, making him shut up by stroking with a merciless pace.

Kyo pumped his hips and hated Iori for bringing him so close to the limit. The redhead didn’t look like he was going to stop.

“Listen to me, dammit,” Kyo cursed, arching his back, trying to contain the pleasure, knowing that Iori was playing with him.

Iori let out a low laugh, his lips against Kyo’s neck, and kept on ignoring him, caressing as if he intended to make him come with his hand.

Kyo cursed again. He hold on to Iori, trying to control himself, and he hugged Iori tightly, trapping him in a desperate embrace.

“Kyo…” Iori muttered, stunned.

Kyo didn’t reply. Had he hugged Iori before? He couldn’t tell. When they had sex, they would take and enjoy to their satisfaction, but there would be no gestures of affection.

“Kyo…” Iori said again, shaking his head, moving away from the embrace.

Kyo let him go. He assumed Iori was angry. Even the caress had stopped.

They looked at each other. Iori’s skin was glistening with sweat, his hair was damp, and his eyes were questioning him in silence. He looked slightly shocked.

It was a strange reaction to a harmless hug, but Kyo kept that comment to himself. Had he accidentally ruined the night?

If that was the case, he wouldn’t allow that to happen. He made sure that Iori was looking at him, and he lowered a hand to stroke himself.  Without averting his eyes, he silently told Iori that he could finish the work by himself if Iori didn’t want to go on.

However, Iori looked at him, looked at his erection, and smiled briefly before leaning down to lick the head of Kyo’s cock.

Kyo grunted, because Iori’s tongue was damp and hot and made him want to be inside Iori’s mouth again.

As if reading his thoughts, Iori pushed his hand away and took him between his lips. Iori’s fingers sought for his asshole again, sliding into the narrow opening, as if the interruption had not taken place.

However, this time, Iori seemed more eager, his breath uneven while he licked along Kyo’s length.

Kusanagi stared at Iori and his pleased expression. Iori was licking, savoring him, and Kyo felt the urge to give something in return, to take care of him too.

“Yagami…” Kyo panted, grabbing Iori by the hair to make his point come through. “That’s enough.”

Kyo made Iori come toward him, down on him, between his open legs. Iori complied and, their eyes still fixed on each other’s, he started to rub his erection against Kyo’s hole.

Iori penetrated him slowly, but even so, Kyo trembled under the familiar mix of pleasure and pain. Kyo smiled inwardly. The pain only served to arouse him even more.

Iori’s grunts and Kyo’s own panting became one when Iori thrust once to go deeper. Kyo felt Iori trembling and holding him tight by the hips. Iori cursed when Kyo thrust against him too, seeking to feel him even more.

Iori pushed and pulled out and was inside him again, their pace becoming quicker, shorter and desperate. Kyo felt his muscles go rigid, the pleasure building inside him, Iori’s erection going deep into him, making him tremble and unable to contain the climax anymore, forcing him to spill his seed between them, while Iori smirked and kept thrusting and panted because Kyo’s climax made the passage even narrower, and Iori could feel it all around his length.

Kyo lost sight of the world for a while, because the intensity of Iori’s thrusts were prolonging the spasms of his orgasm. He could feel Iori coming closer to the climax too, and, unlike him, Iori was eager for the release, seeking it impatiently, his glazed eyes fixed on Kyo, his breath jagged.

Kyo moved then, following Iori’s rhythm in a steady cadence with his hips, pushing each time Iori thrust against him.

Iori let out a silent groan when the first wave of pleasure ran through him. His semen spilled inside Kyo, abundant and hot, and Kusanagi shivered at the feeling. He was unable to get used to it, and the fact that Iori could fill him like this, lost in the pleasure Kyo made him feel.

Kyo wanted to make Iori’s pleasure last even longer, but the spasms became sparse and finally died down.

When Iori moved away, Kyo felt that the room was even colder. He missed the warmth of Iori’s body.

However, to his surprise, Iori lay down next to him, instead of getting up to clean himself and leave, as he usually did.

They exchanged a look. Kyo didn’t fail to see Iori’s satisfied expression.

“How come you’re not leaving?” Kyo asked, smug.

“This is my room.”

“No, it isn’t,” replied Kyo, but then the doubt set in. Maybe he had been so tired that he opened the wrong door? But then… why did the keycard work?

Iori had closed his eyes, as if he didn’t give a damn about Kyo’s confusion. Kyo concluded that, even if it was indeed the wrong room, he could stay for a while, because Iori wasn’t telling him to leave.

Kyo sighed, and started to relax.

“I will deal with Orochi by myself. I don’t need you”, said Iori after a couple of seconds.

Kyo turned to face Iori, who was looking at him gravely and sternly.

“I told you I would help whether you wanted it or not,” Kyo answered.

A few more seconds passed by. Iori’s gaze went to the scars on Kyo’s chest.

“You’ve done enough.”

“Forget it.”

Iori grunted, irritated by his stubbornness, and started to add something, but Kyo interrupted him with a kiss.

Taking advantage of Iori’s shock, Kyo invaded his mouth, and moaned with pleasure when Iori, instead of pushing him away, returned the kiss with his usual aggressiveness.

When they broke the kiss, Kyo stared at Iori with such intent feigned expectation that Iori frowned, unable to guess what that was about.

“What?” Iori asked, harshly.

“Back at the infirmary, you said you’d kill me if I kissed you again. I’m waiting to see you try.”

“Tomorrow,” Iori deadpanned, and Kyo looked at him speechless because… that had been a… joke?

He had no time to ask, however, because Iori got up and went into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. The sound of running water started not long after that.

 

~ Fin ~

 

MiauNeko
August 24th, 2018