hh_mirror | A whole barrel of it ((Closed, Kusuriyuri/Kurama))

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A whole barrel of it ((Closed, Kusuriyuri/Kurama))

Kurama was sure that one of the reasons he didn't like gods and tended to try and stay away from them was because, for some inexplicable reason, they liked to use him as a little cat-toy. Bat him around a little here, let him think he's free for a minute, then start chewing on his head for a while.

It's starting to get old, and the string of his patience has been growing short. He was sick of working in the greenhouses, bored of staying in his office or his room, and not yet intrigued enough to start really exploring the castle. What he wanted now was to be around someone calming.

Kusuriyuri, of course, was the calmest person he knew. Kurama also adored spending time with him, so it was in search of the Medicine Peddler he went, first deciding to check his office.

He paused at the door and knocked politely, in case any students were in or Kusuriyuri was busy.

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The wind tangled and entwined their hair, pulling it up and away from their scalps as it did. Kusuriyuri continued the downward motion, pressing Kurama down until they were laying on the canopy, the wind whipping at his body, his clothing, trying to pull him away even as he wrapped his limbs around his kitsune.

Knock it off, wind, Kurama thought, a grin pulling at his mouth. You can't have him.

He curled around his lover, shielding him from the insistent pull of the storm, drawing him close, twining his fingers through hair and cloth so he could trail kisses along Kusiriyuri's cheek, whispering his name so quietly that the wind couldn't hope to make it drift away.

Through the energy and chaos around them, Kurama's voice whispering his name reached him and pulled him closer to the kitsune in ways that mattered more than physically. He responded by whispering Kurama's name, his true name, not the identities he'd assumed nor the pet name Kusuriyuri had given him.

The storm was reaching its climax, dying out though it struggled to continue on. It refused to die quietly. It would rage until it had nothing left, rage until the fire was gone out of the air, leaving the night time cold. It promised the first frost of the season in its wake. But for now, it raged.

The wind began to weaken, whipping now in short, exhausted bursts instead of the constant torrent, and the rain paused with it - now gentle, now cutting - until at last it died, fading into a soft, still breath.

He buried his face in Kusuriyuri's shoulder, sighing contentedly.
"Next spring is going to be interesting," he murmured.

"This season of quite should prove of interest," Kusuriyuri murmured softly. He could still feel the energy of the storm, of the trees below them, though it had faded somewhat with the passing of the storm. He felt more alive than he had in some time. He laughed a little, joy he could not contain. "Tell me what you anticipate," he said, turning to kiss Kurama's temple.

"An entire winter to wait for the first storm of spring... I have a feeling it will be spectacular." He grinned widely and turned Kusuriyuri so his back was to Kurama's front, and leaned back against the trunk of the Mother Tree, fully relaxed and content. "Though there's always a chance of a winter storm."

Kusuriyuri wrapped Kurama's arms around him. He looked up at the sky, seeing it differently through the eyes of his other form. He laughed a moment. "I have never danced a winter storm. I tended toward the south in the winter." Soon, it would be too cold to remain where they were, but for now, energy still danced along his skin, keeping him warm and comfortable. "With you, if it can be done, I should like to try," he sighed, letting his head rest against Kurama's shoulder.

"I promise to keep you warm all winter, it will keep me from wanting to hibernate," he joked.

Kusuriyuri caressed Kurama's arms. "That would make the winter most enjoyable," he murmured. He sighed, feeling the energy slowly starting to ebb into the night as the storm died out and the winds calmed. The feeling of something scared lingered, though, enveloping them in warmth. "The Mother is pleased with us," he said, somewhat bemused.

Kurama tossed back his head and laughed, long and hard.
"Aha, ahh, yes, I imagine she would be." He patted the branch affectionately, feeling the return amusement from her. "I suspect she doesn't have many visitors quite like you an I."

Kusuriyuri chuckled and moved so he was facing Kurama again, kneeling over his lap. "I would doubt it," he murmured, leaning in and kissing the kitsune. There was still enough energy, enough life around them to have him feeling somewhat intoxicated with it.

Kurama leaned, letting Kusuriyuri drape over him as they kissed. He pushed his hands underneath the damp barrier of Kusuriyuri's clothing, longing for skin that was still a small bit unfamiliar than the touch he knew so well. His energy was different too - wilder, impassioned - Kurama's head swam around the currents of it and he was very glad for the support underneath him.

Kusuriyuri ached for Kurama's touch, needed it. The energy in him needed release and he needed the kitsune. He could feel the Mother's encouragement, though if he were more himself or less needful, this would cause some reticence. He threaded his fingers through Kurama's hair and this brought a little order to the chaos. He needed more, though.

Kurama was more than willing to indulge the Mother's encouragement, and shrugged out of his tunic - or tried to. The fabric stuck to his skin with infuriating stubbornness, trapping him inside it even as he pulled heavy silk off Kusuriyuri's back. He almost asked Kusuriyuri to help... but hands in his hair, close to his ears, felt so good...

Kusuriyuri's fingers found Kurama's ears and he massaged them with the ends of his nails more than his fingers. He let his lips trail down Kurama's chin to his neck. He needed more, though. He dragged his hands down and pushed the wet fabric out of his way so he could touch and taste and be with Kurama more.

Kurama shuddered and writhed under the touch, pulling Kusuriyuri onto him so he straddled his lap completely. He ducked his head, mimicking the kisses Kusuriyuri gave him. His tongue slid along his lover's skin and he tasted rain and heat and metal. He worked the obi of Kusuriyuri's kimono loose, more difficult now that the fabric was soaked, but was rewarded when he pulled it away from wonderful, welcoming skin.

Kusuriyuri's hands found the obi for Kurama's tunic and untied it with relative ease, it being narrower and more simply tied than his own. As he released the fabric, he felt the Mother hold onto it. Later, when needs were less pressing, that would amuse him. For now, he slid down Kurama's body, kissing and touching as he went.

A soft groan escaped him and he raised himself to meet Kusuriyuri's lips, running his hands along his lover's body wherever he could reach.

Kusuriyuri used Kurama's motion to remove his pants and then crawled back up his body, kissing and touching, finding other places that would make Kurama groan again.

Kurama murmured encouragement, and soft gasps of pleasure escaped him whenever Kusuriyuri moved to a place especially sensitive. His back pressed against the rough bark of the tree while his hands wandered over Kusuriyuri's smooth skin. The wildness of it made him grin, and hi twined himself around Kusuriyuri to keep him close.

Kusuriyuri looked at Kurama and caught sight of his grin. He returned it then laughed a little before kissing him again. He let his weight settle on Kurama while kissing him. he feel of skin on skin made him crave more, though. He pushed himself up. For the contact he wanted, he would have to lose contact first. He reached behind himself and guided Kurama's shaft into his body as he lowered himself.

He lifted his hips obligingly, needing Kusuriyuri more than just wanting him. He bit his lip to stifle a cry when he entered - the energy did more than just heighten the pleasure. He whispered old words again, pressing his lips to Kusuriyuri's ear so only he could hear, rocking his hips slowly to bring Kusuriyuri close.

Kusuriyuri wrapped his arms around Kurama, clinging as he struggled to breathe around moans of pleasure, laughs of joy, whispers of love in return. His hands massaged Kurama's shoulders and then up into his hair, seeking out the ears he knew were so sensitive.

Kurama butted his head against Kusuriyuri's hands, still aware of himself enough to dictate that much. Everything else, he let the energy and his body take over, seeking out every little bit of pleasure he could give and gain.

Somehow, Kusuriyuri found Kurama's mouth and kissed him, completing the flow of energy through his body, giving it a full path, making it that much stronger. He could feel it coursing through Kurama's body, through his. It moved him in a rhythm more primal than anything, more pleasurable than anything, intensifying the flow of energy until it sang around them.

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