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nutteu · 2 years ago

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kiss me with your lies (and baby i’ll love you even then) [Chapter III]

[AO3 Chapter I] [AO3 Chapter II] [AO3 Chapter III] [AO3 Chapter IV] [AO3 Chapter V] [AO3 Chapter VI]

There were a few things that Toast noticed with Sykkuno by his side now.

He knew that touch was important for human beings, though he couldn’t say the same to supernatural creatures. He wasn’t born as one, after all. He had suspected that his curse had started on his early adolescent years, before he reached the age of fourteen, maybe even before then. He remembered how agitated people would gradually feel in his presence. He had chalked it up to him being a smart-mouth at that time.

He had always been seen as a smart, independent child who could understand very well when his parents were tired, when they could only offer an apologetic smile instead of reading him bedtime stories. He was raised the ways stereotypes of his lineage were; strict, tough love, with expectation larger than himself. But his parents had mellowed out due to their affectionate environment. They had always made sure to tell their children that they were loved, that they would be accepted no matter what, that they were the best things their parents could ever hope for. Maybe all the stories of children lost to the veil where the parents would not be able to follow got to them. They moved pretty quickly out of Malaysia after his fifth grade.

Toast hadn’t realized how lucky he was until he grew up and understood properly the harshness of what this tough love could reach, and how it left the children floundering and starved of affection. He had plenty of affection from his siblings and parents. But it could never help the shudder that ran through him when he imagined what would happen if they never realized that they could lose their children because of their love, of their expectations, of things that they had thought were the best for their children. It sobered him up even more when he found out that there were parents who still blamed their children for not being good enough to stay alive and bear this heavy burden for the rest of their life; condemned for trying to escape the pain.

His parent never held back from hugs and little pats on his head, even when he wasn’t doing something particularly good enough. But their relatives and people around them had never quite understood that fear of losing something precious to them. They saw Toast, understanding beyond his years, and treated him like someone of their caliber. Suffice to say, they didn’t stay around him long enough because they didn’t want to be told off by this small child with eyes too sharp and presence too intimidating for reasons they didn’t understand. When Toast was particularly pissed off, sometimes he would glare at someone and they would—throw up, get sick, suddenly bleeding from their nose, had an intense fear that they started screaming and making ruckus.

They started saying that he was cursed, and oh, how fantastically it had turned out.

When he knew what was going on, after Lily, after his parents had to calm him down when he came home crying and confused, when his siblings hugged him without really understanding what made him so upset—he started to stay away from people, intentionally.

His parents might say that they were okay, but he noticed the strain in their face when they got particularly close to him; noticed how misfortunes started piling up around him like carcasses whenever he was in a bad mood, or was lashing out from anger. It jog-started his father’s sickness, reaching out its tendrils to his siblings’ mood, kept his mother awake at night as Toast pretended to sleep and his mother cried as he caressed Toast’s hair gently.

They said that touch-deprived people had the symptoms of being anxious, stressed out, depressed, multiple physical ailments, and a deep sense of longing that grew from his loneliness. It wasn’t self-imposed, not at first, but he had to reap the consequences anyway. His parents suggested that he should see a therapist, so he did. But it didn’t quite work out the way he wanted it to be, because he couldn’t exactly reveal the actual cause from everything. In the end, he still went to therapies for advices, to vent out his emotions, and to try to control himself. As he had expected, he went through multiple therapists like collectible cards. One after another fell down to sickness or some sort of waking-nightmares the longer that they dealt with his emotions. It took him two years before he gave up completely.

He started to seek out help from the other side of the coin. If humans couldn’t help him, then maybe the creatures could. Lily helped him, and his mother had somehow given him a string of contacts. His parents didn’t really understand about his curse, or how the supernatural world worked. To be honest, he didn’t either, on both of those things. But they would still ask him about his recent attempt, and touched his hand briefly nonetheless despite his warnings.

When things started to get way, way worse, he told them he wanted to live by himself. His mother was adamant in keeping him close to her, and his siblings thought that he had felt dissatisfaction with their parents. He didn’t know how to tell them that he just wanted to stop bringing so much misery to this family. It was only when Toast had brought his mother to the hospital, and stood close enough to his father, watching with a deep sense of resignation and sorrow when the heart monitor suddenly spiked out of control, only calming down when he stepped away, that his mother let him go.

“I can’t stay and keep doing this to you,” Toast said as he hugged his mother tight.

His suitcase was packed up, he had a one-room apartment waiting for him where he would live by himself and no longer in danger of hurting his own family. His mother was crying again, tears seeping down through his jacket. He had said goodbye to his siblings earlier this morning before they went to college and school. They didn’t understand why he had to leave so suddenly, but Jenny had understood when he said that he needed to. Jimmy was a bit more difficult, but Toast was sure that he would come around.

“It’s not your fault,” he remembered his mother kept saying to him. “It’s not your fault, Jeremy.”

“But it is,�� he said, tired and so, so afraid of holding his mother close like this. He gently pried off her hands around him, kissing them as he tried to muster up a smile. “I’ll be okay. I’ll keep in touch.”

He did, keep in touch. He just never came back, not even for a visit. Not after a shaman had told him that the curse grew stronger the longer than he lived. He had wanted to end it, right then and there. Because what more could he expect if this fucking thing would just haunt him for the rest of his life? But Toast was afraid, of not being able to come home to his parents, of making them lose him despite their best efforts. He was afraid of giving up after so long searching for an answer.

He took Lily out for a drink instead, and she didn’t say anything when he gripped her hand tight before letting go. “I’m scared,” he whispered, as if admitting a sin.

“I know,” she said, unshed tears clear in her eyes. “I’ll stay with you until you’re not afraid anymore. Fuck the curse, you’re my friend. I don’t want to see you losing yourself, Toast.”

He felt that way too, that he was losing himself. He wondered, sometimes, if this was what people with cancer felt like. Battling something that they couldn’t see, going through multiple therapies as it ate away at their body and spirit, could only watch as the sorrow in the faces of their beloved etched deeper than yesterday. His cancer was infectious, however. It spread and it grew bigger with each person that decided to stay in his life. He just wanted it to stop.

He tried, Gods did he try, but when he stood in front of the mirror, looking at the blurry shadow oozing out of him with venomous tendrils spreading out like a thousand knives, he couldn’t even recognize himself anymore. The man standing in front of him was an empty shell of the person he used to be. Nothing but the bitterness of disappointment and despair on his face. Toast tasted ash inside his mouth for the first time, the first thing that he could physically feel on himself from his curse. It tasted like death, it tasted like the lightning that shocked him through the core.

No, he denied, didn’t know to whom he was aiming it at. No, he repeated as he bashed the mirror with his bare hands. He wasn’t going to die because of this godforsaken parasite that sucked the happiness out of everyone around him. At time he wondered if it really was the curse, and not himself instead. But Toast had never asked for this, for the misfortunes that befell his friends and family. It had taken a lot of things from him, and he wouldn’t let it take even more.

He was selfish, prideful, egocentric, a mess with his feelings—he was afraid. And it was that fear, of leaving this world not even as himself, of giving up all the things that he didn’t have the chance to take back yet, of losing to this goddamned parasite, that kept him awake at night. It kept him going through years of his life, through introductions of the people that he could safely surround himself with, through an unexpected meeting on a bench in front of a convenience store.

Toast realized that it was possible that he could have had this curse for his entire life. Because while he had known happiness, serenity, exhilaration, euphoria—he couldn’t remember the time when he had felt the way he did around Sykkuno. He was less anxious; he felt the ache in his bones, the churning in his gut, lessened over the months that the man had spent by his side. It wasn’t just the touches; Toast knew by now. It was this sense of being in the right place, at the right time, with the right person.

Maybe it was because Sykkuno’s magic and physic could withstand his curse like nobody else had ever managed to. Maybe it was because he had been the only person in Toast’s life who was able to be this close to him, closer than the tip of the knife of his curse against his beating heart. Maybe it was because he was something else that Toast couldn’t quite understand.

He could be snappish, rude, a downright cruel bastard in his life. He had detached himself from people and his own feelings to the point that he sometimes felt disconnected from them altogether. He limited his sympathy and empathy to only a handful of people, and spared none for the rest. Sykkuno was the first person that had never truly tasted the coldness of Toast’s apathy. His family had had it in the way that he had never come back for more than ten years, in the way that his calls kept lessening over the time; his friends had experienced it in the way that Toast sometimes couldn’t be bothered in understanding or caring about some plights in their life when he couldn’t find it in himself to gather his feelings and affection enough. He had made Lily and Poki cried more than he could count—fuck, he even made Brodin trembled in silent anger that seemed to encompass the room that one time. The guy couldn’t even be bothered to be upset when someone had insulted his mother to hell and back. He just looked at them with a raised eyebrow, and said, “Listen to you. You sound even more pathetic that the one you’re talking about.”

But Toast had been drawn to Sykkuno like he had never been to anyone else. Not even his past romantic endeavors could compare with the way he readily made a space in his bed, in his mind, in his heart, for this man. This wasn’t love, he realized. It wasn’t enough to be that, and yet it felt like it had surpassed that emotion altogether. Like there was a searing chain around him that pulled him into Sykkuno’s strong, gentle arms and assured him that he was meant to be there.

It wasn’t a restriction of freedom, quite the opposite actually. The chain felt like a connection, a bond that was so strong that not even Toast’s curse could tear it apart. Sykkuno gave him the freedom of touching, connecting, needing, caring about someone to the point that he felt less and less fear in his heart. There was no disappointment even when he knew that Sykkuno wasn’t who he seemed to be; he wasn’t terrified in the way that he kept reaching out for him, assured that he would find warm hands pawing at his shirt and comforter; there was no lasting anger and anxiety as they argued over a dispute; there was no mind-numbing fear that he would lose this altogether, even if Sykkuno went back to his home.

The chain wasn’t one that tied him to one place, wasn’t one that made him unable to break free or to move away; it was one of conviction, of certainty that Sykkuno would stay in the chambers of his heart, no matter what happened.

It was the fastest he had ever felt this deep affection for someone else. It had taken him years to even reach the barest acceptable meter of connection with his friends, his past lovers. Toast had felt the fear, too, for this. That he was freefalling out of control, with no certainty of where he would land. It had only been months, only slightly more than half a year since he had met Sykkuno. He was afraid of what Brodin said to him. That he had seen Sykkuno as this object where he could escape his curse for a moment, where he had put his desperation and hope and larger than life expectations while fully expecting him to carry the responsibilities through.

It had made him afraid, enough to startle him awake with the sense of loss that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He felt like he was losing himself, again. But this time, he didn’t know whether the comfort and affection he had felt for Sykkuno was something that genuinely came out of him, or simply because he was desperate enough to cling onto him so tightly. He feared that he was the chain that was wrapped around Sykkuno, suffocating him and depriving him of freedom altogether.

“You’re here,” Sykkuno whispered softly, climbing on top of him to bear his weight down onto Toast, so he could feel, so he could know, he was here. “You’re here with me, Toast. I’m not going to let you go where you don’t want to.”

He had embraced Sykkuno so tight, tighter than he could ever do with his other friends. It was more than humans and creatures alike could withstand, but Sykkuno could. He clung onto Toast as tightly, gripping his shoulders so hard he could feel it echoing in his restless lungs. He didn’t remember crying, but Sykkuno’s face crumpled as he leaned up to lap at the tears rolling down his cheeks with kitten-licks that felt ticklish and grounding at the same time.

“What did you dream about?” Sykkuno asked, eyes darting around on Toast’s hair, and had decided to grab onto some strands to pull. He looked down and apologized as Toast grimaced from the pain. It was sobering, at the very least.

I’m losing myself. I’m losing the only thing that I keep so tightly with me. I’m losing the only thing that keeps me from tipping over the ledge of the building. But Sykkuno’s eyes had that red-yellow hue again in the dim light, and all the unsaid words died on his tongue. It wasn’t just his sense of self and ownership of his own feelings—it had been specifically about losing the certainty that what he had felt for Sykkuno was through his own accord instead of desperation.

“I’m losing you,” he said, voice cracking in the middle. He didn’t feel like crying anymore, but Sykkuno looked he did.

“You’re not,” Sykkuno said, breath warm against his skin. His fingers were slipping lightly through strands that had caught his attention, but his gaze were heavy and intent on Toast. “You’re not losing me, I’m here. You can feel my heartbeat, can’t you? I’m not going anywhere.”

“You will once you’re done helping me,” Toast said, hesitant in his admission.

There was a sad little smile on his lips when Sykkuno said, “If that’s the only reason I’m staying, then my leave is long overdue, don’t you think? This isn’t—this isn’t just about me needing a place to stay, or about you needing me to touch your hands anymore, Toast. I stay because I want to be here, with these people. With you.”

He breathed deep, let out an exhale at the same time with his pained groan when Sykkuno finally gave up on his restrain and pull the strands of hair again. He looked as sincere as the last time he shot the apologetic look, but his fingers were already sifting through Toast’s hair again. He let out a low growl, and tugged the hand away, clenching it tightly even when Sykkuno instinctively tried to pull away. When Toast had exerted his strength, and Sykkuno finally realized he couldn’t pull anymore strands of hair that interested him, he gave Toast a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” he whispered. He was a warm weight on Toast’s chest, legs tangled together like they had done this far longer than they actually did, one of his hands kneading the comforter and the other kept in a tight grasp of Toast’s hand. He felt like comfort, he felt like his biggest fear in the most perfect form.

“What about your responsibilities, then?” Toast asked, occasionally had to squeeze tight when Sykkuno’s hand itched to land on his hair again. He ought to buy some restraining belts for him. If this went on, he would end up with bald patches all over his head, just like the lawn.

Sykkuno bit his lip, licking over the sting afterward. Toast followed the little flash of pink with his eyes. Sykkuno wasn’t the only one who could be distracted in serious conversations. “I have to fulfill them, one way or another. I’m bound by my birthright. But I don’t need to be there right now. They want me at home because they think that it’s the best for me, to keep me safe. I don’t think they realize that by doing that, they’re just exposing the danger of their expectations to me, the danger of myself. I can’t run away from my own fears, but I can run away from one of the perpetrators.”

When he tugged at his hand again, Toast let him. when his eyes darted around Toast’s face, tracing his cheekbones, his nose, the lids of his eyes, his eyebrows, his lips—Toast let him. “My responsibilities will consume me whole, leaving nothing but the carcass of myself. I’m just a vessel, you know? Even if people keep telling me that this is what I’m born for, even if they keep saying that I’m such a wonder for them, I feel like I’m just a doll. An idol. Something that they bow down to, but never really care about enough to know who I am, what I want. I don’t feel happy about being born like this, Toast. I never do.”

“Maybe you are,” Toast said, thumb caressing Sykkuno’s jaw slowly. “A vessel. But you don’t necessarily have to fill the emptiness with what they wanted from you. I’m losing myself, too, Sykkuno. I wake up everyday not knowing whether I’ve been completely taken over by my curse. I don’t know whether my emotions are my own or just its bidding. I feel empty, sometimes. Like a vessel, like you. But you and your stupid kneading proved to me that I can still fill up the emptiness with things that I wanted, things that matter to me.”

“You matter to me,” Sykkuno said, soft smile filling Toast’s peripheral. “You matter a lot to me, beyond the touches. A company, a patch of grass to pull on your head, someone who understands what I went through.”

“Let me fill your vessel, then,” Toast pleaded, thumb resting on Sykkuno’s lower lip. “Let me fill you to the brim so that they can never touch you anymore even if you have to go back. Let me fill you in that all you can ever think of is only me.”

Sykkuno’s other hand lifted up from the comforter, framing Toast’s face in a gentle cradle, leaning in so close their breaths mingled together. Toast closed his eyes, a shudder whispering sweetly down his spine. “Fill me in, then. Completely. Until I can’t think of my responsibilities or my fears. Stay with me until you’re the only one I can ever bear to have inside.”

Toast let out an exhale, feeling Sykkuno inhaled the toxic air straight into his lungs. Let it be, let it intoxicate them both to the point of suffocation. Let them rot away, two vessels with nothing but each other inside the fragile porcelains. When he pulled Sykkuno down, the touch of his lips was warm and gentle. He breathed out his prayers and fears and hopes into the plus, willing mouth; inhaling Sykkuno’s own litanies of damnation, of wishes, of pleads.

It was something slow, the slide of lips wet with saliva; the assured, languid tangle of tongue, the slightest bit of touch as he bit Sykkuno’s lip into his mouth, sucking until he felt a reverberating moan against his chest. He clutched at the nape of his neck, bringing him down harder, firmer this time. He let out a gasp when Sykkuno flicked his tongue, tickled the roof of his mouth before withdrawing it and kissed him with a tinge of urgency in each press.

His breath was coming out slower, shaking. He slipped a hand inside the shirt, feeling the smooth expanse of skin on Sykkuno’s back. The dip of his spine, the swell of his ass, the curve of his hips, Toast wanted to put his mouth on them. There was another sense of desperation in him, one that was born out his need to touch, to taste, to feel Sykkuno encompassing this room, drowning out even the whispers of his curse.

He tightened his grip when Sykkuno dragged his thigh against his clothed cock, eliciting a small gasp that turned into something deeper, something filthy. In a blink of an eye, the kiss turned heated. Toast grabbed onto the back of Sykkuno’s thigh, pushing up the leg so he could him closer, more real. There were fingers grasping harshly on his hair, and he let go of the hold he had on Sykkuno’s jaw to place his hands underneath each thigh, spreading them around his waist so he could heave them up.

Sykkuno cried out when their cocks brushed together in the new shift of position. The kiss was messy, saliva running down his chin from how harsh he was kissing Sykkuno, unafraid of sucking his tongue into his mouth, biting his lips hard enough to feel the tug on his hair. His hand roamed around the slender frame, feeling muscles underneath deceptively soft looking flesh. He hooked his fingers on the collar of Sykkuno’s shirt, and pulled until he heard the rip of fabric. He couldn’t even stop to apologize when Sykkuno whined so beautifully into his mouth, disposing the mangled clothing and throwing them away haphazardly.

“That’s my favorite sleeping shirt,” Sykkuno hissed, eyes progressively getting redder and redder with each second.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Toast said, as he hurriedly pulled his own shirt off, fumbling to get Sykkuno’s sweatpants too. He wanted these offending articles to be off, off, off from their bodies. Anything that kept them from feeling the heat searing on their skin, in their bellies, they were a hindrance and he needed to dispose of them right this second.

He was about to shimmy off his own pants, when Sykkuno hissed again, sounding more animalistic than human this time. The sound went straight down to Toast’s cock, as if he could get any harder than this. He lowered the waistband just enough to free his cock, grasping it alongside with Sykkuno’s, drinking his sharp moans like it was a fire whiskey that burned his throat, warming his chest and stoking the desires in his gut. He was drunk even just from a little sip.

He jerked them off with rough tugs of his palm, mouth slipping away from Sykkuno’s so he could trail down kisses and sharp teeth on the skin of his neck; so the cries could come unbidden from this man, this vessel, this everything’s mouth and filled his head until he floated away. So he could etch his marks on the places where Sykkuno could see and touch every single day, even when they were within each other’s arms.

The hand in his hair, clenching around his shoulder, they both tightened when he whispered fervently, “So pretty, you’re so filthy for me, Sykkuno. I’ll mark you down you so can never be owned by their desires. So you can look at them and remember that you’re mine.”

“Please,” Sykkuno breathed out, hips moving in helpless jerks into the tight circle that he had created around their cocks. “Please, want you—want you.”

“You have me,” he promised, more sure of himself than he had ever felt in his entire life.

His other hand pressed lightly around Sykkuno’s throat, hearing his stuttered breath before he moved it down to brush over his nipples; squeezing the pectoral muscles and mercilessly pinched the hardened nub between his fingers, rolling it between them before flicking his nails on the tip. Sykkuno’s moans were getting lower and lower the faster Toast moved his hand.

“Where is it?” Sykkuno grunted, pulling at his hair hard enough that Toast had to let of the patch of skin he was marking. He stared up into the eyes that were now completely red—so red it burned into the back of his mind. The rings around them were tiny lines of yellow that lighted up like a thunder. Toast could see the barest hint of fangs, and he let go of his hold on their cocks to flip them both, pushing Sykkuno down into the bed with a hand pressing hard on his shoulder to keep him still.

He reached out a hand into one of the drawers in his nightstand, a string of condoms that Sykkuno slapped out with a quick reflex that he couldn’t quite follow with his eyes. When he looked at his face, Toast felt like he was punched through his lungs, a gaping hole there for Sykkuno to settle into. Sykkuno looked terribly, terrifyingly beautiful underneath him, hair splayed around the dark pillowcase, claws extending on the both of his hands. The breaths that he let out was accompanied by a faint growl that reverberated through their chests.

“You said you’ll fill me up, didn’t you, Toast?” he taunted, so, so sweetly. The lilt in his voice that had always niggled on the back of his mind now a tight rope around his throat. He couldn’t escape, he didn’t want to. It was a sweet nectar that he drank up greedily, knowing that it was poisoned. Sykkuno saw the dilation of his pupil, the twitch of his cock, the way he couldn’t quite breathe right. He crooned, smiling at him so painfully pretty that Toast couldn’t help the helpless whine on the back of his throat. “Then, fill me up, Toast. Let me feel, I want—I need to feel you inside of me, filling me to the brim. I’m yours, aren’t I? Mark me, then—on my skin, inside, mark me so deep no one can reach far enough without find you.”

“Fuck,” he growled out, disbelief and exhilaration in his voice. This was his sweet Sykkuno? This was the kind, gentle Sykkuno who grasped at the hem of his shirt, laughing like a dying chicken at the lamest of jokes? How did he change into this—this fucking minx with eyes so pretty, words dripping with lust and confidence that he could play Toast right between his dainty fingers?

He didn’t change, though. Toast realized as he gripped Sykkuno’s jaw, kissing him with a renewed vigor and desperation that painted his insides with hot waves of molten lava. This was another part of Sykkuno that he trusted Toast to see, believed that he could handle him in his entirety. This was the cat that he picked up from the streets, the one who had curled in on himself so tightly he nearly disappeared. But this wasn’t just a cat, his mind whispered as Sykkuno clawed at his back, sinking sharp nails until Toast cried out. This was an entirely new beast that existed alongside Sykkuno in the deepest, purest cradle of his essence.

“So desperate for it, aren’t you?” Sykkuno whispered against his lips, grunting when Toast bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. In just a second, his face morphed quickly into a fluttering, delicate beauty that hit him just as hard with a titanium bat. He knew that he was being played so hard right now, but he couldn’t quite find it in himself to care when Sykkuno reached out gently, brushing a hand to keep his hair away from Toast’s face. “But you’re not inside yet, Toast. And I’m so empty, I’m so empty I can feel the ache right now. Help me,” he whispered, voice shaking as tears gathered in his still red, red, yellow, red eyes. “Please.”

“You’re not a cat, aren’t you,” Toast spat out, grinning hard enough to make his cheeks ache. “No, no… you’re a fucking filthy, cruel fox. Aren’t you? Sykkuno?”

The fragility on Sykkuno’s face morphed into a cruel, terribly polite smile as he trailed the tip of his claws up the ridge of his spine, the vulnerable skin of his nape, before his palm spread and clenched tight. “Don’t you like it?” he said, saccharine sweet as his other hand yanked roughly on Toast’s pants. He couldn’t help the shiver that wracked his body when he felt those sharp claws being inches away from his cock. Sykkuno laughed, high pitched and so fucking hypnotizing that Toast understood why so many men fell to the traps of the fox in all those mythologies that he read.

“Aren’t I so pretty like this, Toast?” he whispered, the breathy, sultry cadence washed over his skin like a sigh. “Willing, begging, filthy—so, so empty and so, so ready to be filled by you.”

Toast gritted his teeth, forcing himself to look away from Sykkuno’s sinister beauty long enough to completely shuck off his pants, smirking when the man let out a soundless moan as he pressed his entire weight on him. They were bared, skin to skin in all the right places, the slow push and pull of his desires making as dizzy as the smile on Sykkuno’s lips.

He leaned down to taste it, letting the bottle of lube slip from his grip to put a hand on each of Sykkuno’s thighs, pushing them even further apart so he could thrust against his cock, the friction making them both growl low. He felt the legs immediately clamping up around his waist, drawing him in even closer than before. He swallowed down the trickle of saliva from Sykkuno’s tongue, feeling like he was a man lost in Sahara, and this cruel, complete version of Sykkuno was the only oasis that could quench his thirst.

“Wanna taste you,” he whispered, letting out the curse enough to mar Sykkuno’s hips with the ghost of his fingers. He heaved out a breath when Sykkuno closed his eyes from the rough treatment. Figured that he would like it when he was being like this. “Wanna taste you down my throat so bad, want you to fuck my throat until I’m gagging for it, Sykkuno.”

The fox fluttered open his eyes, half-lidded and shining ominously in the dark room, inside Toast’s mind. He let out a light chuckle, something air despite the faint growl that poured out with it. “We’ll always have the chance for that,” he said, deceptively gentle as he reached down to wrap his fingers around Toast’s cock, dragging a breath out of his lungs. His claws clicked together as he made a circle with his large palm, sliding up and down with tantalizing torture. “But you promise me something, Toast. Foxes always remember, be it in the living realm or death. So, be a good boy and keep your promises.”

Toast couldn’t help the helpless jerk of his hips, couldn’t believe that he let this cruel fox played him like this. He was dancing on his palm, completely at Sykkuno’s mercy. He felt his fingers trembled as he reached for the lube, slicking them and feeling the inexplicable joy and satisfaction when Sykkuno smiled at him as if he was a dog who had just performed a particularly spectacular trick.

Foxes didn’t like dogs, did they? Maybe that was the reason why Sykkuno was doing his best to push on all of Toast’s button, making him plead and beg despite the words that came out of that sinful mouth. He wanted to see Toast kneeling at his feet, licking at every path that he treaded. He felt the legs tightened, the hand on his nape pulling him closer when Toast circled a finger around his rim. It was hot, hotter than a normal human would be down there. He let a moan slip past his lips as he imagined how it would feel to be inside, at last.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, dazed as he finally pressed his finger inside and Sykkuno’s back arched off the bed from the sensation. Tight heat enveloped his finger immediately, sucking him in so thoroughly that Toast loathed to pull his finger out.

“We’re meant to be,” Sykkuno replied, moving his hips in undulating motion because Toast was a fucking useless wimp who couldn’t even move in the face of this enthralling creature.

“No,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I mean you. Only you.”

Sykkuno laughed, the humor in it blending in seamlessly with the sharp edge of his cruelty. “You flatter me, Toast,” he smirked, red-bitten lips tilting at the side and Toast leaned down again to feel it against his own, on his tongue, residing along the gentleness that Sykkuno had kept there.

He circled his finger, finding a slight bump that had Sykkuno exposing his neck as he moved his hips faster. Toast took it as an invitation to add even more of his traces on this man. The fingers on his nape was lax, but the tip of the claws was pressing threateningly against his carotid. He slid his finger on that place over and over again until Sykkuno didn’t have a time to take a breath, to voice out his sultry mockeries. He bit down hard on the juncture between his neck and his shoulder, adding the second finger in tandem with his teeth sinking in.

Sykkuno strained against him, sheens of sweat coating his skin, legs tightening and loosening on his back with the ruthless rhythm of his thrusts. He really was beautiful, wasn’t he? Made him wonder if he were born in the same place as Sykkuno, would he be another one of those mindless followers who bowed down obediently at his feet, or would he defy the rules altogether just so he could touch this idol, this vessel, with his bare fingers?

He lapped on the blood from the wound that he had just created. He wasn’t a vampire, he was barely a supernatural creature with his curse, but there was the same ashen taste that had coated his tongue on that day. That memory seemed hazy, the ashes inside his mouth renewed it with flashes of Sykkuno’s sadistic smile, his cries, the way he was pressing up so desperately against Toast’s fingers. This was a memory that not even his curse could take. In the presence of an entity so powerful, with too much hold at Toast’s heart, his curse was quiet, retreating into the corners of his mind. Because there was no room for it in here; it all was already saturated by the scent of rain and whispers of lightning, of death and deceit—and Toast embraced it all within the cradle of his soul.

He slipped in the third finger, finally focusing enough to move them on his own. He glided over the bundle of nerves, missing it with such precision just to hear the frustrated whine out of Sykkuno’s lips. The growl was louder now, with each intentional drag on his walls, bypassing the place that he wanted to be touched the most. Toast smirked against the torn skin; Sykkuno wasn’t the only one who could be cruel.

“How does it feel?” he asked, sliding up to lick at the shell of his ear, nipping at the fragile skin. He spread his fingers as wide as he could within the tight confine, and let out a shaky breath when Sykkuno let out a long, drawn out mewl that reminded Toast of his own cock, heavy and hot between his legs, pressing up against Sykkuno’s. “Tell me, filthy baby, tell me how it feels.”

“G-good,” Sykkuno choked out, eyes barely opened. There was only the faint red glow underneath his fluttering lids, hips bearing down to meet Toast’s thrusts. “Feels so good, Toast. Can’t- ah, God—can’t wait until you’re inside, fucking me full of cum.”

“Your mouth needs to have a label warning,” Toast rasped, reaching down to still Sykkuno’s hips with a bruising grip. He grinned cheekily when the man’s eyes snapped open, narrowing down as he pressed his claws on the flesh of Toast’s shoulder. He was probably bleeding now, but he didn’t care. If anything, this was the time for his curse to be useful. “What’s wrong, little fox?” he murmured, a coy smile pulling at his lips. “You want something?”

“Yes,” the growl came out, the octave deepening as Sykkuno gripped his arm with his free hand. “Your head on a silver platter.”

He tsked, stopping his fingers altogether. He couldn’t help the sense of satisfaction when Sykkuno grunted in irritation that was steadily climbing up to anger. Toast feared and desired to see his wrath in the same breath that he exhaled into Sykkuno’s mouth. “Wrong answer,” he whispered, a warning in his tone that left no room for argument or further teasing. “Try again. Nicely, this time.”

The irritation melted away as Sykkuno immediately turned this into some sort of a twisted game. “How do you want me to beg, Mister Toast? Do you want your sweet, shy Sykkuno begging you to gently defile him? Do you want me to beg you to fuck me like an animal? Hmm?”

He laughed. It was fucking terrible of him to be this elated when he knew he was treading a dangerous line. But Sykkuno was looking at him with red, red eyes, a shock of electric yellow slit forming in the middle of his orbs. It really was a sight to behold; a fox that could snap Toast’s neck within a blink of an eye, strung tight on his desires as Toast bore down on his unrelenting grip.

“In the best way you can,” he finally decided.

Sykkuno looked at him contemplatively, then smiled. It wasn’t something cruel, wasn’t a mockery. It was one that chilled him down to his soul, fed gasoline into the flame of his lust. “Hold me,” he said, voice gentle with that undertone of growl. “Hold me like I’m your last life line, like I’ll perish without your touch. I want you to reach inside so deep that I can taste you on my tongue. Hold me like I’m your stolen heartbeat. Hold me until you’re the only one I can ever bear to have inside.”

Jesus fuck, he thought faintly. He was feeling faint himself, his knees going weak with each assured word out of those lips, the conviction in his eyes that Toast would follow through with his promises. If he weren’t kneeling already on the bed, he would let his knees buckle so he could fall in front of Sykkuno. He mouthed at the corner of Sykkuno’s lips, smiling when red eyes were falling shut at the barest of touch. He licked at the blood on those plush lips, gathering it on his tongue, and delved it inside Sykkuno’s mouth, tasting his moan as he tangled his tongue languidly with Toast’s.

He moved his fingers suddenly, ruthless and unrelenting as he pressed on the nerves harder and harder each time. His breath stuttered when Sykkuno just straight up purred; the vibration from his throat making Toast’s mind went numb for a split second before he pulled out his fingers and slicked his own cock instead. Sykkuno let out the softest of sigh at the feeling of blunt, hard cock pressing up against his tender hole. He tilted his head slightly, not saying anything despite the way his cock looked so hard it was nearly painful.

His silence was deafening; the soft sighs making Toast’s hand find their way onto Sykkuno’s waist, clenching tight and finding unyielding strength beneath his fingertips. This was someone that Toast could lose himself into, one that could withstand it if he were to lose the iron grip control of his own mounting strength. Despite the serenity on his pretty face, his eyes were sharp, taunting. Daring.

Gently defile me, he thought as he slowly, so slowly pushed inside, gasping at the absolutely wonderful heat enveloping his cock. Sykkuno’s mouth was slipping open as filthy, continuous mewls filled the room. He was boneless, almost like a ragdoll; the way he always was when he wanted Toast to manhandle him everywhere. It felt like forever until he felt his cock completely swallowed by soft muscles clamping down on his, making him dizzy with want and need. He was pressed flush against the skin of Sykkuno’s thighs, connected so deep within him that Sykkuno lolled out his tongue to taunt him. Until I can taste you on my tongue.

Fuck me like an animal, he thought, gripping the slender waist impossibly tighter as he started moving without preamble. There was no need to be careful, no need to control his strength, no need to curb his inhibition when Sykkuno came alive under him with his harsh touches. He surged up to put his arm around Toast, sharp claws scratching down his back as he kept his pace. He trailed his mouth to the finely shaped jaw, sucking on every single place he could with his current position.

Sykkuno had him on a near confining hold; with his legs, his arms, the tight heat of his walls clenching around him as if reluctant to let him pull out. Toast groaned out filthy whispers in his ears, telling him good, how tight, how wet he was. He angled his thrusts when he heard the hitch in Sykkuno’s breath, and felt his climax creeping closer and closer when Sykkuno howled.

He was loud, unabashed, unashamed in voicing out his pleasure. He wondered if the whole house heard him railing Sykkuno like a bunch of animals in heat, even through the magically barricaded walls. He found that he couldn’t care either way. There was nothing more than important than the way Sykkuno called out his name in his breathy, sultry voice; in the growled that kept going lower and louder around the room. Nothing was more important than him crying out how good, how thick, how deep Toast was reaching inside him.

He was fulfilling his promises; filling this despairing vessel to the brim, claiming him in his deepest core than nothing could replace him, taking him down into the maddening spiral of lust and desperation to be closer, closer still despite the filthy slaps of his hips meeting Sykkuno’s thighs, the wet squelch of his cock thrusting inside the warmth of his body like there was nothing he could do better than this. There was something akin to pride that bloomed in his chest, because he knew that he could provide Sykkuno with everything that he had begged for—the gentleness in handling him when they were quiet and soft in the cradle of each other’s arms, the filthy roughness when they let out all their beasts. He could give everything for Sykkuno, and��more.

He would give him more, and more, and more until he was full of it, until there was nothing, nothing that could take this away from them; nothing that could replace the heartbeat he had put into Sykkuno’s lungs; nothing that he could think and feel and own and desire but Toast. Nothing.

When the clutch on his back became tighter, when Sykkuno’s cries were going lower and lower until all Toast could hear was the growl and something else that he recognized as the complete entities inside of him, he pushed as deep as he could, letting go of his grip to brush away the sweaty bang from his face.

“Let go,” he said softly. “I’ll catch you, I promise.”

The yellow slits in Sykkuno’s red eyes were dilating until they were nothing but mere thin lines. He looked incredibly animalistic, like he was something so ethereal yet so feared. But there was gentleness in his eyes, something that Toast recognize as the way that Sykkuno looked at him when they held hands, when he was still learning how to place his arms properly when they lay together in this bed, when Toast held him like he would never let go and Sykkuno trusted that.

Sykkuno came with a punched out growl that made even Toast’s curse shudder; a beast that had lived for so long, had seen so many wars and fields of flowers blooming after the bloodbath, something that made Sykkuno what he was, something that wrapped its encompassing presence around Toast like a caress on his soul.

Toast’s hand went back to the dip of Sykkuno’s hips, moving his body to chase his own pleasure, spurred on by the small, private tilt of those pretty lips. He reached out his arms, and Toast went down willingly, letting go of his hips to hold onto Sykkuno properly. He cried out when those hips bore down to meet his increasingly erratic thrusts.

“There’s nothing I can think of right now,” Sykkuno whispered, voice hoarse and soft. The growl was no longer there, the nails that raked down his back was no longer as sharp as knives. This was Sykkuno, the softer part of him that could still handle Toast, would still be willing to accept everything that he offered. “Nothing I can feel,” he breathed out, patting softly on his hair when Toast let out a desperate moan. “No one that I can bear to be inside of me, but you. Only you.”

There was something guttural that was dragged out of his gut, raking its sharp talons across his lungs as it made its way out through his lips. He clenched the curve of Sykkuno’s arms as he felt his orgasm being ripped out of him in waves. There was a soft keen from the lips on his ear when he felt his come filled Sykkuno to the brim. He felt like it dragged on forever, but maybe his head was just spinning by how good, how satisfied and content he was feeling.

There were only heavy breaths that filled the sudden silence of the room when he could finally snap out of his trance enough to carefully pull out his cock. He could hardly breathe right with how hard his heart was beating, gulping down air like he was on the verge of drowning.

“I can feel it,” Sykkuno said with a voice so frail, so pleased. “Inside of me, I can feel it.”

He heaved in a deep breath when he felt the cum flowed out, wetting his cock all over again. “Fuck,” he whispered hoarsely. “God, fuck, Sykkuno, spare me, please.”

There was a soft laughter as the grip on his back loosened, the legs around his hips falling away. Toast pulled away, enough to see the sight he was presented with—Sykkuno, dazed and smugly satisfied, hair a mess, skin littered with numerous marks, the wound already closing up on his shoulder, his spent cock, the spread of his legs as Toast felt the clench in his gut as he watched, entranced, by the way his cum was trickling out of the reddened, gaping rim.

He was breathless, from how much he had exerted himself—emotionally, physically. But this—this was what took the hard-earned air back out of his lungs. Sykkuno’s eyes were only glowing faintly red now, going back to the red-yellow hue before his fox had taken complete control of his instincts. It was the way he smiled at Toast, breathless and limp on these sheets, that made him laugh.

“I can’t believe you,” he said fondly. “I can’t fucking believe you, Sykkuno.”

“You should,” Sykkuno replied, slowly closing his legs to lay them across Toast’s lap.

“Yeah,” he said, scooting out from underneath those long, long legs to lay down next to him. “Maybe I should.”

There were weak fingers carding through his hair, Sykkuno’s head resting on his shoulder as Toast wrapped an arm around him without much thought. “How are you feeling?”

“Aside from the shock at how absolutely filthy you can be?” Toast chuckled, he looked at the ceiling. His breath was coming in easier now, the rise and fall of his chest no longer as frantic. “Like I’ve just breathed air for the first time after being underwater for so long,” he said, repeating what he had thought back then. “Like I finally did something right in my life for once.”

“What, me?” Sykkuno teased, the slip of his feigned innocence was so effortless that Toast marveled at it.

“Stop ruining the afterglow,” he swatted weakly at his thigh. “Was that really the first time you’ve ever hold someone like that?”

“It was,” the man confirmed. “But foxes are naturally gifted in seduction and sexual prowess. Easier to lure in people when they can only think with their dicks. You can’t exactly seduce someone with the right intent if your body doesn’t know what it is doing, after all. There are people who like that kind of virgin, innocent persona. But most people will expect a sort of experience from their bed partner in sex. Plus, internet exists.”

“I love it when you say filthy words with such a proper tone like that,” he told the man earnestly. This was the first time he had ever witnessed Sykkuno actually cursing out loud, and he was treated with a string of it throughout their fornication, whispered and groaned out in the filthiest voice he had ever heard. Gods, how did he ever live without knowing this bone-deep satisfaction? He didn’t really mind anyone as long as they both were willing and wanted it. He knew how to use his cock, after all. But this was the first time that Toast had ever believed in the right person instead of the right technique.

They were silent for a while, letting out the last bout of breathlessness and letting the fatigue and soreness settling into their muscles. He was aching all over, and though he knew the claw marks on his back was already healing, the memory of them still made his cock twitch pathetically. Wouldn’t have thought that he would be such a masochist, getting off of pain like that.

But maybe it wasn’t the pain, he thought as he glanced down at Sykkuno. It was just the pain from the right person that actually mattered, in all the ways that didn’t count. He hoped that neither of them would make it count. In the span of a few months alone, he had found hope and companion in this little cat, this deceitful fox. There was something niggling on the back of Toast’s head, telling him that this was too risky. Hadn’t it been too fast? Even if his feeling were somewhat genuine, who was to say that desperation wasn’t one of the pushing factors?

He sighed, Sykkuno immediately perked up at the movement. He eyed Toast, the red-yellow in them already fading to his usual warm brown. “What’s on your mind?”

“You can’t read it?” he teased, slipping down to rest his head on Sykkuno’s shoulders. Sometimes they slept like this, with him being held in these strong arms, the incredible body heat radiating from the body next to him. It had been a long time since Toast was held so completely, as if he was a fragile child; precious and loved. He supposed he was all of that in Sykkuno’s eyes.

“You want me to?” Sykkuno asked, wrapping his arms around Toast, letting out a pleased sigh when he buried his nose in Toast’s hair.

“Wait,” he paused, “you can actually do that?”

There was a tinkling laughter, just a notch away from the chicken hiccups that Sykkuno usually let out. “No,” he said. “I can only focus on reading body language and give off strong suggestion to make people think the way I want them to.”

Allure, Toast’s mind whispered. That was the thing that he had heard the first time they met. The one that kept making him irritated from his confusion. Knowing that Sykkuno was a fox helped in understanding that, though barely. “You know, when we first met, my mind thought that you’re a cat. It’s pretty weird because as far as I know, cats in America are just cats. Sentient and magical, yes, but not in the way that you are.”

He expected an immediate reply, maybe a confirmation of his lack of awareness and skill in actually seeing someone’s aura. But Sykkuno stilled for a moment, before laughing heartily. Toast moved a little bit to look up at him. His face was flushed, eyes crinkling like he knew something that Toast didn’t, something obvious yet obscure. “What?”

“Nothing,” the man replied, still lost in laughter. “Just—for someone who’s not an actual creature, you’re pretty spot on for your senses.”

“You’re an actual cat?” he asked incredulously.

The laughter died down to a simple tilt of lips. There was a hint of red and yellow in those brown eyes. “It can be said that I am somewhat one, yeah.”

He reached down to ground his thumb on the dip of Sykkuno’s hipbone, smirking when the man let out a silent groan and dropped his head on the crook of his arms. “Stop talking like a politician,” he said flatly.

“Why?” Sykkuno whined. “You like it. You think it’s hilarious.”

“True,” he nodded. “Still irritating.”

“I’ll take that,” Sykkuno said, smile more genuine this time around. His fingertips reached out to smooth the crease of frown on Toast’s face. “I’ll take everything that you can give, that you’re willing to give.”

There was—something. A point of warmth that spread throughout his lungs, slipping into the chambers of his heart, running alongside blood in his veins, embracing the chaos of his mind. He swallowed with difficulty, leaning forward to kiss Sykkuno softly. “You’re too much.”

The answering smile against his lips told him that Sykkuno knew that, that he knew about that point of warmth, aware of the chain that connected them. Toast was still in the dark about a lot of things, but this? This at least he knew for sure—that he wanted it, he wanted Sykkuno to be by his side. A cat, a fox, a man who ran away from his crushing responsibilities, someone who held his hand without hesitation and told Toast that he wasn’t leaving. It was more than enough, considering what his life had become.

He scooted back into Sykkuno’s warm embrace, listening to his erratic heartbeat and the faint echo of the rain and thunder, enveloping himself in the storm of death and deceit.

#video blogging rpf #shiki writes #from ao3 #toastkkuno #disguisedtoast #sykkuno #brodin plett #pokimane #lily pichu #scarra #yvonne ng #supernatural elements #chaptered fic #kiss me with your lies #michael reeves

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