#/ i did not think fuu could survive a single coherent thought

[astarab1aze]

❛ you taste like heaven. ❜ Gure for Furie

smutty starters

Shigure's enthusiasm burned so deeply in his gut, malforming delicate constitution, taking it between his wolfish jaws and cradling it - as though a dog would an egg, trained to treat even the most wild and vicious of beings with utmost care, with love and respect in spite of himself. Furie hated that, couldn't help but flinch when Shigure's mouth popped wetly in his retreat, noticing all yet incapable of saying anything.

He felt used, in this, pinned down and down and eaten in ways he only wished he could describe, a violet glow washing over his groin - where Shigure's thorough, invasive licks came upon him, zealously drinking in purplish-white fluid as though his very life depended on it. He felt fouler still, a vile interloper, hips tightly secure in dogged grasp. All he could manage was a tight grasp to the silk over his collar, hips taking on a mind of their own and guiding their buck into Shigure's hungry mouth, body writhing, too sensitive, too receptive to the flattening of his tongue and the nip to his glans.

Fingertips flew into Shigure's hair, anchoring him to the desperate work he'd done - to the violet glow dribbling down the aching girth of purplish gradiant, the misery of curled toes and wincing embarrassment. Legs pried apart, gray eyes hunting, searching for more than a few moans and a glint or two of iridiescent scales. No doubt, Shigure expected, wanted, craved the buck of Furie's hips despite his succumbing to the throes of maddened arousal and curiosity, lifting his hips, crying out without a voice, fingers tangling into the dog wolf's hair, clenching his teeth, tears forming at the corners of his eyes--

Silly, he felt silly for thinking this mattered beyond a few swipes of the Sohma's tongue, foolish and idiotic for thinking he could ever move beyond her memory; Think of her, the harpy Yule, and find bits and pieces of her in others. He felt stupid and naive, accepting Shigure into him like this, lips and teeth followed up by the attentive thrust of his hips, the needy moan he pulled from Furie's doubtful mouth. He wanted, desperately, to take Shigure further into his arms, but all he got was the hungry, greedy suckle of his mouth, tongue still lapping up ropes of indelicate violet where fingers would soon enter and displace, push and press against the painful heat of his prostate. Under any other circumstance, Furie would've liked to have thought he'd handled it all with dignity and grace, but the reality was not lost on him.

If he'd ever had a voice to behind with, he was absolutely certain he wouldn't have had one then. Drawn in by expert tongue flicks and a few manipulatively considerate phrases, yet still too blinded by the fact to draw away and fight, to throw his fists and cry out with sound his displasure, his pain, his fear, his bashfulness, his inexperience, his... Toes curling in the darkness between them, silence accentuating his lack of breath, such a desperate, needy, greedy buck of his hips, burying himself down his throat to the hilt without a second thought - impulsivity guiding his acheful sway--