[ OPEN ]

[swordhardy]

Who ⬤ Rokurou & you! Totally OTA.
What ⬤ August 2022 Event — Tanabata.
When ⬤ All throughout the event & afterward.
Where ⬤ Sai no Kawara; various locations.
Content Warnings ⬤ Fighting, violence, alcohol, blood, wounds, sex, language... will update as necessary.


〈〈〈 GAMBLING PROBLEM 〉〉〉
⓵ ― GET UP, COME ON, GET DOWN WITH THE SICKNESS
FIGHTING, VIOLENCE, BLOOD, WOUNDS; CAN LEAD TO NSFW BECAUSE HE'S FIGHTHORNY

[ The crowd cheers, jeers, and stomp their feet as fighters stretch along the outside of the arena. Bets come in rapidfire, with money slapped across the table as eager observers eye up the fighters and make snap judgements before every paired up fight begins. More and more cash flashes as people surge in from the card tables, winners high off beating the house and more than willing to relish in a little bloodlust. The unfortunate losers, they're just as eager, and more trusting of their judgement when sizing up fighters and throwing in their very last dollar to try to earn it all back in what feels like a safer bet.

The rules are simple for this set. No weapons, and the match ends when someone gives up or when one's pinned flat on their back for ten seconds. You can fight however you like within those parameters. It favors the brawny and those who specialize in hand to hand combat, but that doesn't stop Rokurou from hopping into the ring eagerly and cracking his knuckles when his number's chosen from the pool. He might be a swordsman with a heavy preference for fighting with swords ... but it's been a while since he let loose. A little skin on skin contact don't sound bad.

Clad in only a pair of trousers, the daemon rolls his neck and pulls his hair back before pointing at his pool-chosen (or maybe you knocked that loser aside and hopped in because you wanted to) opponent. With a vicious smile that shares his teeth and a predator's gaze, ]

I'm not interested in weaklings. If you break easy, you better just get out of the arena right now.

⓶ ― SKIN TO SKIN, BLOOD AND BONE, YOU'RE BY YOURSELF BUT NOT ALONE
BLOOD, AFTERCARE, CAN ALSO GO SPICY WHY NOT IT'S MANSLUT SUNDAY

[ Off to the side of the area is another stretch of bar, space a little quieter than the ones amongst the casino. Rokurou's perched on one of the stools with a dewy glass of ice water beside him and a mess of red-stained tissues scattered behind his elbow. His nose is a mess, blood smeared across his upper lip, and a shiner hues around the circle of his visible eye. Mottled purple and blue blend across his skin; shirtless, a couple of angry scratches crisscross with old faded scars, some white, some pink. Crusting brown dries beneath his fingernails, leading to scratched up knuckles.

Clumsily, he dunks a fresh napkin into the cup and wipes down his abdomen to wipe the scratches focused around his hipbones. Water smears red into diluted pink, edges of the cuts smoothed down and eased by the cold. ]

Scratching during a match ... cheap move. [ the water tints pink with another dunk of the napkin, then slaps his skin again closer to his belly button with just the slightest shudder of breath against the muttering, ] Like fighting a damn cat.

[ The daemon rolls his neck and looks up, catching the eye of someone who's come to the bar—and with a lopsided smile, asks, ]

Hey, how's my back look? I think they got me there too.

[ Rokurou leans, drawing forward his thick mane of dark hair to share broad shoulders and sharp shoulderblades ... and yes, more irritated tallies along the handsome slope of his spine and ribs. More blunt patches of green and yellow bloom across tanned skin and muscle, some fresh, some fading, not all from today. He's a wild artist's canvas, with beads of red dripping down from wounds over the smudging of bruises. ]

⓷ ― FIRE IN MY LUNGS, CAN'T BITE THE DEVIL ON MY TONGUE
ALCOHOL

[ The night's dragged on and plenty of people have already lost their cash to the house. Rokurou's among those numbers, having spent enough for the night that he's no longer looking to wager more money ... but adrenaline is high and the fun isn't over yet. A group of people have set up a makeshift game of their own closer to the bar; it's a corner where the drinks are flowing and the games are less structured, and all of the betting is everything but cash. Anything goes. Hell, once some people get drunk enough, they even go back to the tables to gamble away what's left of their money anyway—it's a win/win for the house, ain't it?

The two top game choices are arm wrestling and drinking contests. The daemon's set up for the latter, grabbing freshly washed glasses from the waitresses's tray, slamming them down onto the table with relish. Two bottles of amber whiskey come along with it. Cheap stuff, but it'll get the job done.]

Whoever falls off their chair first is the loser. [ he slides the second bottle forward with a flick of his fingers; they probably didn't even need the cups when they each get their own. ] As for what we're betting... how about a secret? A good one. Something we haven't told people around here.

〈〈〈 PLEASURE PALACE 〉〉〉
⓸ ― YOU LET ME VIOLATE YOU, YOU LET ME DESECRATE YOU
NSFW (16+); APHRO

[ The palace drips decadence. More than Rokurou's used to, more than suits his taste, and he can't afford any of the expensive drinks lining the gilded sidecars. But the atmosphere of the palace is easy and pleasant in spite of its incredible richness, and there are drinks that are a little cheaper than Tenkohime's specialty. Incense lofts through the woodpanel rooms, a soothing scent laced with an undercurrent that settles deep into the bones and belly. Heat begins as a slow simmer, though Rokurou can't tell the difference between what's in the air and what's in his glass—his drink goes down smooth, honeyed warmth that coats his throat. His naturally olive tone doesn't share color or flush easily, but he's feeling the tingle of tipsiness along his fingers and toes. A lightweight that enjoys the feeling, the daemon leans into the sensation with a pleased sigh.

The cushions of the couches and chairs are plush and draped with velvet blankets. Pillows glint, lined with gems. Voices are hushed, glasses tink, soft laughter echoes down long hallways. Gaze lidded, the daemon smiles at someone nearby (Tamamo or not) with a slight squint. A friendly look as he rests his chin in his hand, pinky and index finger toying with his bottom lip idly. ]

Aah, sorry. I'm staring. [ though he doesn't sound very apologetic about it— ] You're just really cute.

⓹ ― YOU LET ME PENETRATE YOU, YOU LET ME COMPLICATE YOU
NSFW (16+); INSTASMUT OPTION, WE HORNY

[ The night drags on. Sake stains Rokurou's lips, warms his tongue. The bruises from his earlier bouts in the area throb and his cuts sting, bones ache, a beat that urges on the restlessness that tremors along the mapline of his veins. Blood rushes through his body, a crescendo of urgency from the half of him that lacks humanity, a beast hungering for carnage. Alcohol dulls his hard-kept reason; everything becomes overwhelming to a creature with heightened senses. He craves the painpleasure of stimulation. The dig of nails into his flesh or teeth into his skin. Gentle, rough, the hard clench of thighs or tickle of tossed hair. The restless itch stirring knows but one word: more, more, more, more.

Instinctually, he follows after a scent of strong desire. Something that calls out to him, a taste in the air that draws in a hungry monster like a bug to a flame. There's no hesitation when he winds his arms around a figure, pressing his strong chest up against another's back. He inhales that delicious scent, tilting his head against the back of their neck while the palms of his hands slide forward to tease along the other's stomach in a slide of flirtatious fingers already threatening to go south. His sharp teeth graze over skin but don't bite yet, though the urge to pinch flesh between his canines and print a heavy red mark spikes.

Predator wanting to trap its prey, he rasps against the shell of an ear. ]

Shit ... I really wanna devour you.

〈〈〈 GOSSIP 〉〉〉
⓺ ― A SUNNY PLACE FOR SHADY PEOPLE, A CROWDED ROOM WHERE NOBODY GOES
HOT GOSS, LOOSE LIPS

[ The band plays and people are relaxed, chattering amongst themselves ... a little louder than they might normally. Ruddy cheeks and bright eyes, it's easy to catch wind of something interesting even when you're not trying to. Rokurou tips his glass to his mouth and takes a swig of sake while overhearing someone who looks rather rich talking about how he's started seeing some really popular courtesan on the side, something about how they're deeply in love now ... and catches a glance of the person he's speaking to's incredulous expression. Guess someone's got the wrong idea about what paying for company means.

The daemon snorts, sliding his glance away before dropping himself comfortably down onto one of the couches. He lays his sheathed sword across his lap, resting fingers on the black casing. Rumors of the wolf girl going against her family have been one of the biggest, and it has him tapping his fingers against Stormhowl in quiet contemplation. ]

Families are difficult, huh...?

[ A mutter to himself, but like all of the other murmured voices around, it's easily caught even below the sound of music. ]

〈〈〈 TANABATA 〉〉〉
⓻ ― BABY, WE BUILT THIS HOUSE ON MEMORIES

[ Social butterfly by nature, Rokurou weaves through the crowd of festival-goers with ease. A flutter of purple kimono follows his motions, haori a royal shade draped across his broad shoulders instead of his usual lilac kimono. Eyes scanning, he watches the people that pass and stop; the good feelings in the air are electric, joy stretched across mouths and shining in eyes obvious at every turn. The swordsman sighs, gently endeared, though he doesn't decide to join in with the groups holding hands and happily playing games before heading to write wishes deep in their hearts down to offer up.

He only stops when he sees what seems to be a wallflower—someone else alone, or someone looking out of place. Goodnatured, he approches with a tilt of the head, cascade of black hair falling forward as he offers a friendly grin. Always one with a soft spot for quiet types and out of place introverts, or even those that just look a little lonely in a crowd, he flutters close like a moth drawn to moonlight. ]

Mind if I hang out over here? It's pretty crowded. [ smile lopsided, he offers out his right hand; there's a paper dish with delicious candied sweet potatoes inside, ] If you're hungry, I got an extra dish for free. How about it? Not much better than candied sweet potatoes.

[ He has his own second plate in the other hand; of course, the second dish hadn't been a mistake at all, nor had it been free. But that's a secret he keeps to himself, wanting to spread the good feeling a little bit. It isn't like his words are a lie: there really isn't much better than candied sweet potatoes. ]

⓼ ― IF I CAN'T BE CLOSE TO YOU, I'LL SETTLE FOR THE GHOST OF YOU

[ Underground, lights dapple the earth overhead creating a tapestry of sky. Constellations move, graceful gestures of arced limbs set back against melding purple and blue. The ambiance slows, the din becoming a gentle wash of whispers while papers flutter after being tied to slim bamboo and branches. Lanterns cast a gentle golden glow, stars among the people, weaving between trees and wishes.

A young man stands among them, uncharacteristically reserved as he reaches up to brush the back of a rough knuckle against one of the papers carefully hung among the field of hopes. Inky hair falls around in his shoulders, loose, moving gently as he tilts his head up and studies the false stars overhead. Dropping his hand away, the daemon leaves the wishes alone—in the end, he hadn't written what he really wanted to. Men like him, men who have sinned too greatly, have no right to ask the heavens for anything.

After a slow exhale, he finally smiles. It's a slight tilt, almost tired, not the normal shit-eating teeth gnashing grins he likes to wear. An ache persists in his chest, below blackened ribs and somewhere in a charred heart—a kick, a pulse of something that's long since been turned to smoldering ember and ash. Idly, the hand drawn away from the branches to rub over his chest. Uncomfortable, the feeling furrows a stitch between his brows for a moment before it smooths over. No stranger to restlessness, he tilts his head to find a target of distraction with glittering mismatched eyes. Pinning red and coin-bright gold. ]

Say, what do you think happens to people who've left the city?

〈〈〈 WILDCARD. 〉〉〉
⓽ ― WANT SOMETHING ELSE? WILDCARD ME, OR ASK FOR A CLOSED STARTER.
Rokurou can be found pretty much anywhere around the Palace of Sai. Feel free to mod any of the above prompts if you have an idea (especially for previous CR), or we can toss 'em together in another way. You can hit me up on plurk at bigwoof or PM.

Comments

[swordhardy]

—mn.

[ Rokurou huffs against the shell of Robin's ear when his hands finally break past that line. Fingers wrap around his cock and move, offering desperately wanted friction—a little clumsy ... but it's so cute. Feels good. His breath hitches under that touch as hips rut forward to grind into it again and again.

Reaching for Robin's chin, he guides the vampire's face towards his to meet their gazes for a moment. Rokurou smiles, laugh lines crinkling gently around the corner of his human eye while the sheen in that gold is hazy with lust. A look that says, no need for apologies.

Thumb pressing up beneath that pretty bottom lip to purse it, the daemon leans in to cover Robin's mouth with his own in a kiss. One he's quick to deepen, running the tip of his tongue along the seam of the other man's lips before slipping it inside. Teasing and rolling it against the sharp edge of Robin's fangs. He can taste the metallic tang of his own blood in that mouth; the bite on his shoulder throbs, recalling the sensation of teeth digging into flesh.

He keeps kissing him as his other hand slides down over chest and belly to mirror Robin's actions. He slips into the front of the vampire's pants to make it a mutual handjob. His reactions are so cute that Rokurou wants more more more of them—so he cups and coaxes, tracing Robin's shape before pumping. ]

[sweetsong]

[ relief. no judgement. they share the same desires. funny, when they contrast so much. but robin's always been an outlier when it comes to his aesthetics, his passions, and his ways. he wonders how else they might be similar, as he arches his back and exhales shakily. his nerves quiver, just like his thighs and the rest of him that follow, and robin finally smiles back--- just before his lips are covered by rokurou's and their tongues touch.

and as they do this, it's a mixture of courage and clarity that sharpens his mind. just for a tick. his hands... they'll do fine. maybe it's dangerous to do this in the first place, to draw rokurou even deeper, but it also feels oddly natural to someone who's never done it before. it's all based on what he's seen in the dark corners of some of the shadier clubs, where the hosts or hostesses aren't afraid to use their bodies.

he should be the same. pleasure and freedom. it's a two way street.

robin pulls his hands away, as loathe as he is, to place them on rokurou's shoulders. to give himself some balance as he leans forward slightly, angling himself. the daemon should be able to keep in contact with his dick while he moves his ass back, to catch rokurou's cock in between the cheeks.

just so that he can grind. provide a softer, more plush kind of friction. a way to prepare himself, too... but he's not thinking about that. his mind is completely on the feeling of rokurou against his skin. ]

[swordhardy]

[ A soft noise presses into their kiss. Contentment, pleasure, desire—a blended groan as he rubs his tongue against Robin's sharp tooth to make that kiss a little bloodier. A slight throb and then metallic tang comes, red diluted between their mouths as Rokurou laps into the vampire's mouth.

Slender arms wrap around his neck. Hips rock. The sensation changes, his erection pressed between thighs and ass. Pulse quickening, the daemon moves with him, thrusting into that tight clutch with more urgency. Needy grind that draws more shivers, beads of sweat trickling down cords of muscle, a clammy sheen tickling along his hairline—Rokurou draws back slightly, lips pink and kiss-swollen, gazing at the vampire with lidded eyes.

His hand continues to move, stroking along Robin's length. Coaxing, exploring, deft fingers indulge and learn what kind of touch earns a sweeter reaction.

Rokurou bites over Robin's bottom lip before asking in a low voice, ]

Do you ... want more than this?

[ Even when his blood feels like liquid fire he can temper himself—as badly as he may want to burrow into the deepest part of the vampire, he's not a completely unscrupulous man. ]

[sweetsong]

[ maybe he sounds like he's crying, but he's not. choked soft noises, some of which die before they can leave him fully. robin, who has never ached this much for anything in his life, doesn't know where this road will take him. sure--- he knows what the end will certainly be right now, but his mind is racing and his thoughts are jumbled and hot and foreign. never in his life has he ever wanted to do this, but now that it's been presented?

he just can't say no. ]

Yeah. [ after all, he's basically begging for it in every sense that aren't his words. that he begins to tease the tip of rokurou's dick by just moving himself just up enough so that it could catch against the rim. ] I really do...

[ no, bring back those lips. he wants another kiss, a quick one before he lowers his head back down to the side of rokurou's throat and gives him another one there. he nips with the flats of his teeth, avoiding those fangs, before nosing his jaw. ]

... I need you in me.

[swordhardy]

[ There isn’t a man alive, and probably also dead, that could hear a line like that and not get turned on. Dry heat curls in his gut as he grabs Robin’s chin to drag him back up for another kiss. A harder, hungrier one, tongue without mercy as it plunders deep into the vampire’s mouth.

His hips move on instinct, head of his cock grinding up between his cheeks. It’s a little slick from the precum that smears with the thrust, but it isn’t enough—he doesn’t want to hurt Robin, so they can’t do this dry.

There’s probably something like lube in this room for them to use, but Rokurou doesn’t have the patience to go find it or let Robin leave his embrace.

When the kiss breaks, he traces his index and middle fingers along the line of Robin’s Cupid’s bow. Then, eyes lidding, Rokurou pushes the tips of his fingers past the seam of those lips to knead them against tongue. ]

Suck on them good.

[sweetsong]

[ it's like every part of him knows what to do: robin couldn't ignore the opportunity that's been given to him. that despite all the pink and fluff and overall cuteness that he knows he consciously and unconsciously exudes, there lies baser tendencies that couldn't go unapproached. a heat, a fire, coiling its way around rational thought and just squeezing it out of robin as tightly possible... only leaving an eagerness that makes him bend to rokurou.

there's definitely lube in here but that's okay. dulled reason follows what rokurou wants, and he can certainly give it to him. mouth already agape, lips parted from panting, there's nothing else that he would rather do right now--- already teasing himself using the daemon. the kiss that just departed is missed and robin wishes he could steal another.

but those fingers are a good enough replacement.

suck on them... yeah, he can do that. he wraps them around, tongue sliding in between, and he closes his eyes so he can focus. don't leave anything untouched, even going so far as to test himself (he's seen what some of the pricier courtesans are good at) but not pushing any further once he hits a point.

and then he bites. not hard, but those teeth of his? no way he's not going to draw a little blood. ]

[swordhardy]

Ha...

[ The daemon shivers when those teeth prick over his fingers. A little tremor of pleasure, one paired with dark pupils that dilate with want. As a swordsman, his fingers are extremely sensitive—he's trained them to be that way—and every one of Robin's ministrations are rewarded. Rokurou's breath quickens and the flush sitting along his cheeks deepens, spreads. His cock leaks, dripping a thick bead of precum from the slit.

When he draws his hand back, he's fast to cover Robin's mouth with his own again. Hungry for him, wanting him, ache so deep in his bones that it's gotten to a maddening point. Slick with saliva, Rokurou presses his finger up against Robin's ass and works him open. Slowly, kneading with care, pressing into him to the first knuckle and giving him a moment to adjust before moving on to the thicker second. And then all the way in, with the length of the digit rubbing against inner walls to find what spots elicit a sweet reaction.

His patience is thinning. Rokurou inhales, exhales, and buries his tongue into the vampire's mouth as he curls that finger before working it in and out. And as long as it doesn't seem like Robin's struggling with it, he'll add a second to stretch him out more. ]

[sweetsong]

[ he doesn't curse. he's never said one in his life. but at this point, robin's more than willing to sacrifice some of those smaller things if he can continue to feel this way. outside of singing and dancing for others, this is a far cry from a shared performance. no--- this is an intimacy that he will crave time and time again. a daemon exposing a vampire to a different kind of pleasure he hasn't really known before.

what robin wants is to share the coppery taste of blood and is given that chance. he tries to push into that kiss, claim rokurou's mouth as his own for a moment or two, tongue swirling and capturing that space. his lips not quite fitting completely, but that's fine--- because that'll let the moan that comes next touch the warm air that they share. he relaxes as best as he can but still greedily squeezes around it, already craving another despite the alien feeling. how there's enough saliva to keep things from being uncomfortable, but the friction of skin against skin... it's illuminating.

then the second causes his body to shudder and his vision to sparkle and he clings onto rokurou even harder. that he shuts himself up by mashing their mouths into each other, all the while his own dick dribbles and leaves some of that clear pre behind. ]

[swordhardy]

[ The tension in his own body heightens when he feels Robin clench around his fingers. Rokurou exhales in that kiss, urgency rising as his teeth meet the vampire's lips in a few hard, desperate nips that bleed into a fiercer kisses. Messy, hungry—it's all primal as he continues to fuck his fingers into Robin until he feels sufficiently loose.

Wrapping an arm around his waist, Rokurou tosses him over and presses him down onto the bed. Clothes peeled earlier fall off altogether, helped along by the daemon's greedy hands as he throws them back over his shoulder and onto the floor. All for the sake of pressing himself between Robin's legs, sliding his hands along his pretty thighs and pressing his groin up against his ass. It might be more comfortable for him to take it from behind ... but Rokurou wants to see his face. It's so cute.

Bowing, he presses kisses along Robin's stomach, moving his mouth over to his dick to give it a little attention. He kisses over the tip for a taste of that precum as he aligns the head of his cock up with his hole, fingers slick with his own precum. Then, gripping a hip, he slowly pushes himself inside.

A groan breaks from his throat when he feels the grip around his cock. Eyelids fluttering, a flush patches down his chest in waves of white and pink across tan. ]

[sweetsong]

[ he's not sure if it's a reward or punishment for his muscles to finally stop getting as tense after every time rokurou plunged his fingers into him, but... he misses them all the same. that a very small part of him hopes he doesn't suddenly lose that temporary elasticity, that he knows he's going to need to keep his core relaxed because there's only one more thing that could possibly come, and rationally? he wants rokurou. he wants this daemon to fuck him so badly.

surprised, robin gasps as he's repositioned. he can see rokurou much better this way. as much as his cute face is seen, robin's eyes go right to the man's eyes. how piercing and dangerous and wild they look, yet he knows without a doubt in his mind that he wouldn't go completely overboard.

then again.

how cruel rokurou is, to steal a taste of robin before going in like that. that the daemon's cock is taking his breath away by simply pushing inside. that robin watches with wide eyes and a held breath, feeling every inch as he trembles and twitches, making the barest of whimpers the whole time.

that once the daemon is completely seated inside, robin just. lets that breath out. finally blinking and staring up at rokurou. ]

You're... I feel so full...

[swordhardy]

[ The daemon slides his palm over Robin's abdomen with a little laugh, eyes glinting with appreciation and possession. There's a primal part of himself, the nonhuman part, that likes this. Owning him. Marking him. Filling him completely. It's like covering Robin in his scent from the inside out will somehow mark him as his forever—a satisfying thought.

In his thrall, Rokurou's forgotten to warn about the look of his blight. Hair falls away from his face in this new position, showing the true mismatch of his bright eyes. One red and one gold look down at Robin, set back against two differently colored canvasses. Red sits on a stretched of cragged black skin, a thick carapace cracked with ribbons of crimson. Swirls of ink blend into tan, touching down his throat and shoulder.

That red eye brightens as he begins to thrust. There's a brutal intensity in his gaze, as though he wants to pick Robin apart and devour every bit. Strong, there's power in the rock of his hips as he angles up and in, burrowing his cock deep into that welcoming heat. The clench of the vampire's body around him is addicting, so much so that he can't stop himself from picking up the pace. He fucks him hard, one hand planted on the bed for support while stroking Robin's cock with the other to offer more pleasure in the front.

Sweat continues to flush across Rokurou's skin, but the more he moves his body, the more invigorated he looks. The intensity doesn't lessen at all; he licks his lips and gasps, eyelids fluttering, leaning into the delicious ache that builds in his muscles and abdomen. More than anything, he wants to watch and feel Robin come undone beneath him. ]

[sweetsong]

[ both eyes immediately dart to the blight, though he won't soon forget that laugh and the touch that comes alongside it. dimly, robin's aware of how he must look in those eyes of rokurou's--- one of them less human than the other. he must look like prey? something easily spotted, brightly colored and fresh, and then equally simple to grab and take for his own. a role that robin has come to realize is relished by many especially when there's either a ton of fight or none at all that comes from them.

what he sees is... beautiful. handsome. almost hypnotizing in a way, especially as the daemon begins his pace. that he can't stop looking at his face, at how his hair moves with every thrust, at how robin can only feel pleasure growing and building up inside of him. that he wants to be fucked. he wants to be filled, claimed, used freely by rokurou until there's nothing left but whimpers and moans and panting and everything in between. every stroke earns him another dribble of pre, to slicken those movements of stiff flesh against calloused hand and fingers.

he grabs onto the sheets. he lets his body rock back and forth, using the barest of effort to keep himself somewhat in control, keeping himself as steady as possible. the pace, the rhythm of it all. skin against skin. the scent of sweat. arousal. it's dizzying. intoxicating. maybe there's something about their shared room as well? a perfect scene for one of tamamo's members to finally 'let his tails loose'... ]

M-more... give me more...

[ words that come in between harsh and sharp gasps of air. his bangs stay feathery and light, drifting to and fro. robin licks his lips, the points of his fangs barely visible past his lips which are slightly swollen. ]

[swordhardy]

[ Mismatched eyes narrow in on the swollen curve of Robin’s lips and the peek of sharp teeth just behind them. The memory of that first bite floods through him, intense as the moment his skin had broken, and the mark on his shoulder throbs. It’s a dizzying itch of pain that has him moving faster, thrusting deep into the vampire as though he can somehow carve a place for himself within his deepest reaches.

Hungry, Rokurou tucks down to kiss him again. He doesn’t stop the hard thrusts, just shortens them a bit, closing the gap between their bodies. So close that he has to take his hand away from Robin’s erection because his abdomen grinds against it instead. He kisses to claim that mouth and to swallow all of those sweet noises. To devour every inch that Robin gives to him. It’s his right, isn’t it? Right now this boy is his.

His thrusts gradually become quicker and more erratic, his breath shallow—he won’t last much longer. Tossing his head up, he licks Robin’s precum from his fingers and then presses the soft underside of his forearm, just over his wrist, to the vampire’s mouth. ]

Bite.

[ He isn’t a vampire, but he imagines the high from drinking blood while getting fucked must be pretty damn good. ]

[sweetsong]

[ he feels like every slam touches his crystalline heart. every thrust causes a little more of a tear to form in the corners of his eyes. robin's throat feels sore already from all the noises he's made, from the gentle and melodic moans to raw and sharp gasps. he never thought that he'd be in this position, yet it feels pleasurably natural. to feel every bone shaking and nerve quivering pound, every inch of rokurou being greedily accepted over and over.

which is why... he's more than happy to take that kiss. to covet it and then hunger for more. to try to tether that kiss and rein rokurou in. don't let him escape, because when will this happen again? for one of his first times to be one to remember, from now until the next, or even the end. his body may crave sweets and blood, but it'll be this that really creates that third necessity.

his eyes flash red. they stay that way. bite? he'll bite. he needs to feed. accept everything that rokurou offers. those teeth of his, dangerously sharp, pierce the skin and he begins to kiss. to suck. the kiss of a vampire from his world, which is more than just numbing to make the drink tolerable--- it's inherently intoxicating. erotic. a way to share the pleasure felt.

robin's world flickers and blows up. orgasm claims him and he whines a final time before what leaves him is more than just the climb up, but a sudden and radiant crash.

the blood is delicious. the flavor that swirls on his tongue? divine. and the waves that passes through him aren't stopping, either. ]