The Things I do for this Woman.

Helping Hand

Tw/Tags: Kimetsu no Yaiba, Sex Pollen, kind of, Praise Kink, Fluff and Smut, Top Douma, Bottom Akaza | Hakuji, Mildly Dubious Consent, at the beginning, Biting, Mild Blood
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Cold hands settled on his waist. “Akaza-Dono,” Douma whispered.  His breath fanned across the back of Akaza’s neck. 

“What.” Kokushibo had told him to work on his temper, scowling at him during the last meeting, wiping blood off his purple patterned haori for the nth time, threatening him in low tones with his hand placed on his katana. This was him working on his temper; not immediately punching Douma off him.
He regretted it almost instantly. Douma’s hands slipped under the waist of his pants without preamble and slowly began kneading the point of his hips. “You get one warning.” That would have to be sufficient for Kokushibo. 

“Mm.” Douma pressed a searing kiss to the underside of his jaw. 

“Three.” Another kiss, this one closer to the corner of his mouth. He shivered. “Two.” Douma moaned softly, pulling him closer, eliminating any space between them. “One.” His head was tilted to the side, long fingernails scraping his skin except– and he blushed furiously at the realization– Douma’s middle and index nails, which were conspicuously blunted. Lips were chastely placed on his, Douma’s eyes fluttering closed.

Akaza took his head off for daring to assume he could be kissed. That was never in the cards, Douma had tried before and been rebuffed with violence. It’s like he didn’t have the capacity for basic learning. “Akaza-Dono, you’re so mean.” 

“You’re so needy! Go bother Kokushibo!” Because if Douma had his way Akaza would be splayed out on his bed with Douma’s cock inside him, squirming helplessly. It was embarrassing. Degrading. “Douma! Off!” He grit out. 

The other demon had no concept of personal space. Again he’s draped across Akaza’s back, this time rolling his hips and panting hot in Akaza’s ear. “Mm. No.”

He was being oddly to the point. Short, choppy, no flowery metaphors or euphemisms for his dick going in Akaza like he always did. ‘Oh Akaza, it feels delicious inside of you, like the cold embrace of the moon,’ blathering on until Akaza told him to shut up, and that would be his signal to reduce Akaza to a pile of twitching limbs and and heaving groans as he came down from his high. 

“Douma!” His protest sounded entirely too whiny as Douma ground against his thigh. “What happened?” He resorted to initiating conversation. Douma took any scrap of affection he threw out like a starving dog, eagerly providing him with favors and gifts and hours of his time for a few sentences that weren’t overladen with obscenities and threats. Akaza speaking to him– Willingly no less! – Was a rare and highly sought after gem. 

“Challenge,” came the clipped reply. 

“Challenge?” 

“Mm. Yiss.” Douma kissed up the side of his neck haphazardly. He wasn’t coordinating well. The instant his fingers began clumsily undoing the knot of Akaza’s belt his hips would stutter to a stop, barely even breathing, completely focused on the mountainous task of getting Akaza’s hakama off. 

“Am I supposed to extrapolate what–” He cut himself off with a drawn out groan as Douma finally wrapped fingers around him, stroking gently. “Challenge means in response to ‘what happened’?” 

“Mm.” A second hand trailed down the wispy ends of his hair, the curve of his back, grabbing his ass through the fabric of his hakama. 

“Hey!” An apologetic kiss laid on his ear, as though Akaza would accept a kiss as an apology. 

“I thought it went well…” 

“You have thoughts?” The dual motions of Douma’s hands stopped abruptly and Akaza gloated silently on how he’d offended Douma to the point of abandoning the neat little idea of fucking him. Fangs scraped two white lines across his shoulders, his vest yanked off in a blink. “You–” Sharp fangs, followed in short order by human teeth, sank into his collar. Douma lapped at him, sucked the purpling bruise, reopening the wound when it tried to string itself together.